The first few months after Justin came out were so busy - Brian, school, avoiding Mom, praying Dad never found out - that he was almost completely self-absorbed.

When he realised exactly what was going on it didn't stop everything else from scaring the shit out of him. He still worried that Mom was going to turn her back on him, that Dad was going to freak, that Chris Hobbs was going to make his life a living hell - over one measly handjob. There was just something else for him to focus on.

Like the fact that every time he spent the night at the loft, Brian was never sober.

It hadn't seemed weird at first. Brian always hung out at Woody's and Babylon after work and that was what you *did* at Woody's and Babylon - you drank and you danced and you fucked.

But the more Justin thought about it, the more he realised that none of Brian's friends drank anywhere near the same amount as he did, and there were some nights where Brian smelt like Justin's alcoholic Grandmother.

It had nothing to do with age.

Justin knew the basic dangers of alcoholism and excess drinking - they'd covered it in health class - but he didn't really know any specifics, so one Saturday morning when Brian was in the shower Justin snuck onto the internet.

Ten disturbing minutes later he slipped out of the loft, leaving behind a note thanking Brian for the fuck (he figured Brian would probably get a kick out of it).

Justin seriously needed to talk. His first instinct was to call Daphne, but he really needed someone who knew Brian and knew him well. Michael was an immediate no-go. Not only did he hate Justin's guts, but he had Brian on such a high pedestal that he wouldn't be any use at all.

Debbie was rejected for almost the exact opposite reason - she seemed determined to always think the worst about Brian - and Ted was...Ted. Justin wasn't entirely sure that Ted and Brian actually *were* friends, so that left only one person Justin could think of in the immediate vicinity of Liberty Avenue.

The twenty-minute walk from Brian's loft proved good at clearing his head, and when Justin pushed his way through the door to Torso he didn't have to fake a smile at all.

Emmett saw him immediately. "Hi, sweetie!"

While not putting up with Brian's bullshit, at least Emmett didn't think he was the son of Satan. And he'd never once treated Justin like some silly schoolboy twink. "Hi, Emmett. How's work?"

Hoisting up the skin-tight top he'd been putting on a hanger, Emmett lifted his eyebrows. "Skimpy."

Justin grinned. "What time do you get off? I need to talk about something when you get a minute. That is...if you don't mind." Emmett was still really more Brian's friend than his, but he seemed to love talking to anybody.

Justin had no idea what Emmett's work schedule was, but he lucked out. Emmett only worked until two on Saturdays and promised to meet him outside the store when his shift finished.

Heading home - it definitely took longer without Brian around to give him a lift most of the way there - Justin spent the next few hours avoiding Mom's worried gaze and studying as much as possible to get it out of the way. Later he'd need to concentrate on something else.

Leaving home just after one, Justin rushed out the door with a "HangingoutwithDaphnowbye!" and caught the bus that'd take him towards Liberty Avenue.

He got there a few minutes early, but as advertised Emmett came sweeping out when he was done and - apparently judging Justin's mood nicely - suggested they go back to his place rather than the diner.

"Don't worry," Emmett said with a wink, "Michael's off with the darling doctor."

That was one less thing to worry about, at least.

Their place was nice, if cluttered, but there was colour everywhere and Justin loved it. Even most of the superhero stuff seemed kinda cool - not that he'd ever say that to Michael.

"So, honey," Emmett began, after passing Justin a drink and sitting next to him on the sofa, "spill."

Hesitating, Justin fumbled his glass of soda onto the small table. There was a difference between thinking there was something wrong and actually having to say it out loud. "I..." He blew out a breath and just got on with it. "I think Brian has a problem."

"Well, that doesn't really narrow it down," Emmett teased, albeit kindly. "I think we all know that Brian has more than just *one* problem."

Grinning despite himself, Justin nodded. "Yeah, but this..." Losing his smile, he stared at his glass on the table. "Have you noticed how much he drinks?"

Emmett grew still. Justin wasn't even sure how he noticed because it wasn't like Emmett had been moving around, but there it was. He was almost frozen.

"Brian's always drunk a lot..." Emmett began.

"It's not just drinking a lot, Em," Justin interrupted, turning to face him. "I know, I *know* I'm the new guy, that you guys have known him years longer, that Michael's been his best friend since they were kids, that you think *I'm* just a kid, but...you don't see the same things I do. You don't go home with him almost every night. You don't see him *after* he's spent the night drinking."

Lifting his eyebrows, Emmett tilted his head to one side. "'Almost every night'?"

"Uh," Justin flushed, "yeah. Whether I hang out with you guys or not, I usually get invited to the loft later on." Which was probably because Brian didn't want them to know. "Don't mention that to anyone, okay?" If Brian found out he'd probably think he was gloating about it or something and that'd be that - no more time with Brian Kinney's cock.

"Despite my reputation, I *can* keep a secret," Emmett declared, pretending to zip up his lips. "You should hear some of the things I have over the years. I swear Jerry Springer has *nothing* on me." Letting his hand fall away, he sighed and grew serious. "As for the drinking, I...I really didn't think it was that bad, sweetie. But if it is that serious, I'm not sure what we can do."

Emmett was right, of course. Brian was the last person who would ever ask for or accept help. One mention in the loft of leaflets or groups or meetings and Justin would be out on his butt so fast he'd probably leave skin on the stairs. Like with every addiction - as it'd said on one of those websites - the person with the problem had to want to do something about it.

He spent the next few days trying to decide what to do and generally getting nowhere when the shit seriously hit the fan.

Mom told Dad. Dad beat the shit out of Brian. Justin moved into the loft.

Three little sentences and his entire world was turned upside-fucking-down.

It was a dream come true and his worst nightmare. He was living with Brian - just like he'd told Daphne he would someday - but his parents had disowned him. He slept next to the man he loved every single night but he got a much clearer picture of just how much Brian drank.

The sound of vomiting in the bathroom always made him shudder.

He didn't know what the fuck to do, and then one night after he'd got off the phone with Mom, a teary-sounding Lindsay called for Brian.

Brian listened quietly, stoically, before saying "I'll be right there," handing the phone to Justin and practically running out of the loft.

Justin spent the next few hours panicking. Lindsay could only have been that upset about Mel or Gus, and he kept conjuring up nightmare images of car crashes and babies who went to sleep and never woke up. Fuck, he wished Brian had taken him with him.

When Brian got home not long after 2 am, Justin wasn't even remotely tired.

Bolting up from the sofa, he ran over to him. "Is everything okay? Is Gus all right? Did Mel-?"

"Everyone and everything's fine," Brian interrupted, shucking off his jacket and throwing it towards the sofa. "The kid got a little warm and the munchers had a shit-fit over it." He grinned, obviously tired. "They should know better than to think a little fever is enough to stop my son from playing with himself for long."

Relieved, Justin clutched at Brian's arm. "He's really going to be okay?"

Seeming to realise just how concerned Justin had been, Brian poked him in the side. "Worried about my kid, huh?"

"Of course I am," Justin pretended to squirm away, not-so-secretly loving it when Brian was playful.

Pulling away, Brian stepped towards the kitchen counter and picked up a bottle of Beam. "Little shit, giving us a scare like that. Shit, I need a drink."

Going with his first impulse, Justin moved closer and covered the hand that was opening the bottle with his own. "Why don't you fuck me into the mattress instead?"

Turning his head, Brian eyed him. "I could do both."

"True," Justin nodded, "but my form of pain management is *way* more fun."

Justin tried not to hold his breath as Brian studied him for a while, and then eventually Brian placed the bottle back on the counter.

"Into the mattress," Brian said deeply, moving a hand around to cup Justin's ass, pulling their bodies together, "against the door. On the floor."

Justin would take the victories any way he could. Besides, it wasn't like it was a hardship.

*

Two days later and Brian was off to Mel and Linds' to visit Gus. Justin had somehow been invited even though Brian never actually said the words "You're welcome to come along," (Brian was good at that) and they sat on the sofa together, playing with Gus. It was stupidly domestic and Justin loved it.

He decided not to mention that part to Brian.

That was when Mel and Linds let it slip - they wanted Brian to sign over his parental rights.

"You can't!" Justin was horrified. "He's your son!"

Mel probably made very logical statements about why it was a good idea but all Justin could think was badbadbad wrongwrongwrong.

And for once, it seemed, Brian Kinney was actually agreeing with Melanie Marcus.

Justin didn't, couldn't let it drop. He'd just lost his own father - he wasn't about to let the same thing happen to Gus. He took every opportunity he could to mention it, point out what Gus would be missing out on. He knew he was being an annoying shit, but what the hell did that matter? Gus was more important.

Brian didn't agree. He left Justin to his homework and stormed out of the loft.

The door rumbled open at - Justin opened his eyes and squinted at the clock - 4:30? Sitting up, he stumbled to his feet and rubbed at his eyes. Brian had never left him at night for so long before.

And Brian wasn't alone. But instead of a trick (thank God), it was Michael (not much better). Light in the loft was dim, but it was obvious that Michael was supporting Brian's body.

"Is he okay?" Justin asked, scampering down the steps to the wooden floor, helping Michael with the weight.

"Bad night," Michael grunted, pushing Brian up into the bedroom. "He crashed at my place for a while, but insisted on coming back..." he paused, and Justin wasn't sure if it was because they were trying to get Brian down onto the bed or because of something else, "...home."

Brian was down but, according to the groaning, apparently not out.

"Make sure you look after him," Michael said, voice subdued, and it was the first time Justin had every intention of doing what Michael said.

That was until Michael left and Brian managed to sit up and ordered Justin to bring him a bottle of Beam.

"Fuck off," Justin snapped, because he'd tried to relax but he'd been worried all fucking night and hadn't slept at all. "If you want it, get it yourself."

Later than night, Justin discovered that there were things worse than being kicked out, or seeing your dad attack the man you love or worrying all night that Brian wasn't coming home - it was facing away from Brian, pretending to be asleep, trying not to listen as he threw up over himself and forcing yourself not to help because maybeGodplease *this* time would make him realise that he needed help.

It didn't happen. Brian just passed out, fell asleep, lost consciousness. It didn't fucking matter.

Wiping the tear tracks from his face, Justin turned to make sure Brian wasn't in danger of choking on his vomit, pushed the bottle of Beam onto the floor and knew that he'd officially reached his limit.

That was it. He wasn't putting up with this anymore. Brian needed help, and if his friends were too cowardly or blind to do something about it, then it was simply up to him.

He'd make Brian want to give up drinking if it fucking killed him.

*

Subtle wasn't going to cut it. Justin had considered starting out by watering down the Jim Beam - maybe even silently removing entire bottles - when he realised he was planning how to react to anyone *other* than Brian Kinney.

Brian wasn't subtle or quiet or timid. He was a constant presence you were always aware of, and even if he wasn't in your fucking face at that particular moment, you sure as hell weren't going to forget about him.

Brian would never back down. Justin couldn't afford to either.

One early morning phone call later and Emmett was buzzing for entrance. Brian was still out cold. Justin knew from experience that nothing short of a nuclear bomb - or his multiple-time zone, hand-crafted, ridiculously expensive and unbelievably loud alarm clock - was going to wake him.

"Here I am," Emmett said when the door rolled open; his usual greeting somewhat subdued as he hoisted up the bag he was carrying. "And I brought the requested supplies."

"Thanks, Emmett," Justin managed a tired smile and even went so far as to kiss his cheek. "I really appreciate it."

Sniffing heavily, Emmett suddenly pulled him into a hug. "Oh honey, you are so good for him! Don't you *ever* believe anyone who tells you otherwise."

He never had.

"Help me get his clothes off?"

"Now there's an offer I can't refuse!" Pulling back, Emmett was obviously trying to keep it together. "Just let me put the food away and then we'll have ourselves a very special strip show, okay?"

A few minutes later they were up by the bed, carefully peeling off Brian's clothes. Emmett didn't say a word about the smell or the stains or how unbelievably gross it was; he just prattled on the entire time about the latest guy he'd fucked like they were sitting in a booth at the diner.

It was the only thing that kept the tears from pouring down Justin's face.

When that was done they both washed their hands and Justin ran a facecloth under the tap to clean off Brian's skin. Leaning over him, Justin sat on the edge of the bed and softly wiped the cloth over Brian's chin, neck, chest.

God, he was perfect. God, he was so fucked up.

"Sweetie?"

Startled, he left his hand on Brian's chest as he turned to look up at Emmett. "Yeah?"

"Do you have any likely suspects?"

Moving his hand away, Justin nodded and stood up. "Just the one. Which is kind of disappointing. You'd think a guy like Brian would be more prepared in the bedroom." It was a lame joke, but he meant it. God knew it would've been much more comfortable if they could use the bed.

Leading the way into the bathroom, Justin threw the facecloth into the sink before opening the door to the shower. "In here."

Spying the shower rail and recognising it for what it was, Emmett immediately began testing how much weight it could hold. Justin had tried that himself earlier and when the two of them tried to pull it off together and nothing happened, he was more convinced than ever that there was no way Brian would be able to accomplish that alone.

Thank God he was into spending ridiculous amounts of money on excellent workmanship.

Ensuring that the shower was dry, they transferred a few pillows into the bathroom before beginning the not particularly enjoyable task of getting Brian into the shower stall.

Brian made more fuss at being moved around than Justin expected. He mumbled, groaned and generally expressed his displeasure, but thankfully didn't try to fight them. They had to move sideways to get all three of them through the shower door, but soon enough they got Brian there, lowering him down onto the pillows.

Thank God he had the world's largest shower stall, too.

Muttering, Brian clutched at one of the pillows. It would've been cute the way he murmured Justin's name if he hadn't said "Fuck off" right afterwards.

"Wow," Emmett drawled deliberately, "that's probably the most romantic thing he's ever said."

Thankful for the attempt at humour, Justin grinned before heading out to the bedroom. When he returned, he placed a blanket over Brian's naked body and opted to leave the sweatpants on the floor. Brian could put those on himself later if he wanted, or just stay naked.

It was Emmett's turn to disappear then, and when he came back Justin couldn't help but stare at what he was holding.

"I'll do my best to run interference with everyone else," Emmett said, "tell them he's not going to be around for a while. But that probably won't be good enough for some."

Justin knew who he meant. Michael. Maybe Debbie.

"Remember to lock the door and set the alarm after I go," Emmett continued before eyeing him carefully, "to make sure no one can just barge in. Unless you've changed your mind and want me to stay with-"

"No, no," Justin interrupted. "It's better that he doesn't know you were involved. He'll be pissed enough just at me. No point in putting you on his shit list, either."

"Honey, if this works," Emmett replied, utterly seriously, "I really won't give a shit."

Nodding tightly, Justin just wanted to get it the fuck over with and held out his hand.

"You know..." Emmett hesitated. "I...I know he likes you. Really likes you; more than the others suspect. But I don't know if this is something he'll ever be able to forgive."

It was a warning. Something they already knew but something Emmett was obviously making sure Justin *understood*.

He did. He knew Brian would probably never trust him again, would probably never even want to see him again.

But it didn't matter. There was only one thing that did.

"If this works," Justin mimicked, the back of his throat burning furiously, "*I* really won't give a shit."

Emmett simply gave him the handcuffs.

*

"What. The. FUCK?"

So, Brian was awake then.

After Emmett left, Justin had stripped the sheets from the bed and tried to get some much-needed sleep. When it'd become obvious that wasn't going to happen, he'd huffed to his feet and ended up printing off information from the internet, drinking too much coffee in the process.

He realised, belatedly, that the coffee had probably been a bad idea. He wanted to try and keep calm, and caffeine really didn't help with that.

Picking up the phone he tightened his hold on it, took a deep breath, and walked forcefully into the bathroom.

Brian was where they'd left him - propped up with his back against the wall, left hand raised above his head due to the handcuffs that were connecting his wrist to the shower rail. Only now he was reaching up with his right hand, trying to get himself free.

Noticing Justin's entrance, he lowered his free hand and stopped struggling - for now. "Sunshine," he said in a tone of voice that wasn't pleasant at *all*, "I'm sure you're about to tell me this is all part of some kinky sex game."

Justin didn't say anything.

"You've turned into a psychopath?"

Justin still didn't say anything.

"What, the fuck," Brian continued, enunciating perfectly - a clear sign he was pissed, "am I doing here?"

Justin wanted to lick his lips, but didn't. "You need to call work," he replied, hating how dry his throat felt. "You need to call work and tell them you're not coming in today." Technically he was already late, even if it was only a little after ten.

It felt much later in the day.

"And why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because you're not going into work today," Justin answered simply.

Brian stared at him in obvious disbelief, and it was kind of weird seeing that much open emotion on his face. "You've locked me up in my *own fucking bathroom*, obviously intent on keeping me here for whatever fucked-up reason...and you're giving me a phone call?"

"What're you gonna do, Brian?" Justin forced an arrogant smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Tell them that the silly blond twink you keep fucking is holding you hostage in your shower?" Pride goeth before a fall and Brian was going to fall - hard. "In fact, you can use the phone anytime you want and call anyone you want - but if you tell someone to come over, I'm not going to take off those handcuffs. They'll have to get you out themselves, and you'll have to explain why you're even in them."

"And just why *am* I in them?"

Justin didn't look away. "You're an alcoholic, Brian, and you need help." Being careful of any sudden movements, Justin edged towards the shower and placed the phone just inside. "I have some things to do. I suggest you make some calls."

As soon as he entered the bedroom Justin shut his eyes, holding his right hand over his face. God, this was harder than he'd anticipated and they'd only just started. What the fuck was he doing? Who the hell did he think he was? He was seventeen years old and though he'd never liked being called a kid, right now that's exactly what he wanted to be.

Lowering his hand he breathed deeply, calming himself. There was no point in overreacting - he'd be no use to anyone. He just had to take this one step at a time and ignore the ball of emotion lodged at the back of his throat.

Brian's voice echoed quietly out of the bathroom - he didn't sound happy, but he was definitely telling his assistant (Cynthia, wasn't it?) that he was sick.

Good.

Exhaling one last time, Justin opened his eyes and made his way over to the computer. Picking up the documents he'd printed off he stared down at the contents. He was doing the right thing; he was definitely doing the right thing. Lifting his head, he moved to the counter in the kitchen and picked up one of the stools. Carefully carrying it across the loft - Brian would kill him if he scratched up the floor - he settled it down in the bathroom a few feet from the shower.

By now Brian was on the phone with Michael, telling him he was going to be out of town on business. No, he didn't know how long he was going to be gone (he shot an unmistakable glare at Justin) and he had to fucking go.

Justin hoisted himself up on the stool.

Brian pressed the button that ended the call, and let the hand holding the phone fall until it rested against his thigh. "Ignoring for the moment," Brian began deliberately, "your ridiculous assertion that I'm an alcoholic, your idea of help is to handcuff me to my shower?"

Justin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I know you, Brian. You're not about to go to AA meetings or talk to a counselor. You don't have to listen to anything I say," even though he was planning on saying plenty, "but I figure going through withdrawal might give you the wake-up call you need." Shit, that was going to be hard to watch.

Brian rolled his eyes, trying to pull his left arm away from the wall and not getting very far. "I'm not a fucking alcoholic."

Forcing himself to smile, Justin shrugged. "Well if you don't start developing any withdrawal symptoms over the next few hours, then I guess you're right and I'm wrong and I'll give you the keys to the cuffs."

"I'm not a fucking alcoholic," Brian repeated, "and even if I was it's not your fucking place to do anything about it. You're not my mother."

"No," Justin replied, "I'm not." Of course, he didn't know anything about Brian's mom other than the fact that she didn't know he was gay. Before Brian'd left last night Justin had gotten the impression that Brian's dad might have been more of an asshole than even his own dad, but Brian's mom was a complete mystery.

Didn't mean he couldn't keep going with a bravado he didn't really feel. "But I love you anyway. So shut the fuck up." Lifting up the papers in his hands slightly, Justin began to read. "In the U.S., alcohol contributes to 100,000 deaths annually, making it the third leading cause of preventable mortality."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Brian muttered, staring at him.

Justin simply continued. "Excessive drinking over time has been associated with loss of brain cells, liver failure, irritated stomach lining and bleeding from stomach ulcers, high blood pressure - which can lead to strokes - certain types of cancer, nerve damage, heart failure, epilepsy-"

"You have *got* to be fucking kidding me."

"-vitamin deficiency, obesity, sexual problems, infertility," he glanced quickly at Brian, "muscle disease, skin problems and inflammation of the pancreas."

"I'm not just gonna sit here and listen to one of your after school specials!" Brian ranted. "Jesus Christ, if the alleged 'withdrawal' doesn't put me into a coma, God knows that will."

Lowering the papers, Justin looked at him. "Admit you're an alcoholic. Admit you're an alcoholic and I'll stop reading."

Shifting, Brian pulled his cuffed arm away from the wall again. "My arm's starting to fucking hurt."

Justin kept reading. "Although alcohol initially makes you feel relaxed, long-term excessive use can ultimately increase anxiety and cause depression. It is also related to problems with sleeping, mood swings, violence, and suicide. Approximately two-thirds of suicide attempts are thought to involve alcohol."

"Justin," Brian interrupted, "I know you care about me,"

"Of course, one of the most well-known dangers of alcoholism is cirrhosis of the liver, a condition that can lead to jaundice, intense itching, gallstones-"

"And I know that for whatever fucked up reason you think you're actually helping me..."

"-type 2 diabetes, liver cancer-"

"But are you OUT of your FUCKING MIND?!"

And there was the money shot.

Brian yanked his body forward, held back only by the handcuffs. "Let me out of here you fucker, or I swear to God I'll make you wish you'd never set foot in this building." He was leaning, stretching as far as he could, and even naked the sheer hatred was pretty terrifying.

Brian really was never going to want to see him again. Everything was completely *fucked*.

Trying to stop his voice from wobbling, Justin cleared his throat. "It is apparent that a wide variety of temporal problems stem from drinking alcohol, as just shown. The above-cited dangers and sufferings for the drunk, however, are inconsequential and almost not even worth mentioning compared to the *greatest* danger in the entire universe - that of being thrown into the lake of burning sulphur, which is *forever*."

"Shit," Justin said, voice cracking as he wiped the tears from his face and blinked messily at the man who now hated him, "I meant to delete that one."

*

Brian had started sweating a while ago. He said it was nothing, that there was something wrong with the thermostat in the loft and as soon as Justin let him the fuck out of his shower he'd get it fixed.

Then his hands started shaking. Small tremors, and he'd accused Justin of slipping him something.

"Don't be ridiculous," Justin snapped. "They're a result of the alcohol coming out of your body, not me putting something in."

"My head fucking hurts," was Brian's reply, his free hand coming up to rub at his temples.

There was no choice but to wait it out. The one good thing - if anything really could be good at the moment - was that Brian was showing the symptoms of moderate withdrawal. It'd been fifteen hours since Michael had brought Brian back to the loft, so it'd been at least that long since Brian had had a drink - and there were no signs of DT's, seizures or stroke.

Fuck, he was in way over his head.

But the point, the fucking point was that although Brian was an alcoholic, he wasn't so chemically dependant that going cold turkey was going to kill him. Which was definitely a good thing.

Shit, was he ever going to stop feeling the urge to cry? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Are you crying?" Brian demanded.

"No," Justin insisted, eyes burning as he stood up and off the stool. "I'll get you some more water." Outside the bathroom, he took the opportunity to regroup. Running the taps in the kitchen, he cupped the water into his hands, threw it up over his face and just stood there for a few minutes, breathing.

Eventually, he forced himself away from the sink, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. He'd made the decision the first time he'd given Brian a drink that there was no way he was giving him a glass - he didn't think Brian would get *that* violent, but he also wasn't taking any chances.

The first time he'd brought him a bottle of water, Brian had managed to grab him and immediately started groping for different pockets. When Justin had calmly told him he didn't have the key to the cuffs anywhere on his body, Brian had pushed him away and told him to get the fuck away from him.

Tossing the cap of the bottle into the trash, Justin swallowed hard and forced himself back into the bathroom.

"I have a question," Brian began when he saw him, running a shaking hand over his head. "What do I do if I need to piss?"

Doing his best to look unaffected, Justin placed the water bottle just inside the shower. Brian didn't try and make a grab for him this time. "You're in a shower. I'd be happy to take the pillows and comforter away, and you can put the water on anytime you like."

"Not exactly hygienic."

"Better than nothing," Justin retorted, standing with his arms folded across his chest. It was obvious Brian was trying to bait him.

"And what if I have to take a dump?" Brian questioned, smirking up at him dangerously. "You into scat, Sunshine?"

Justin absently bit his lower lip. He really should've given this a hell of a lot more thought, but showing weakness right now was a bad idea. "You know, you'd probably be a lot more entertaining if you didn't look like an addict waiting desperately for his next fix."

The smirk faded. "I'm not an addict."

"Sure, Brian. That explains the headaches and the sweating and the shaking - *and* the nausea you've been trying to hide for the last few hours. You're not an addict at all."

And so it went on. Brian would bitch, yell, glare, and try not to roll around in pain. At one point he actually started vomiting and it freaked Justin out so much that he almost ran out of the room to get the keys to the handcuffs.

But he held his ground, biting the inside of his mouth as he quietly cleaned up the mess and tried to help in whatever way he could. He'd offer Brian something that'd ease the symptoms, Brian would tell him to fuck off and then sit against the wall of the shower, muttering as his eyelids flickered.

It was fucking scary.

At some point, Brian passed out, fell asleep - whatever it was he lost consciousness in one way or another. After carefully checking his pulse, Justin was so guiltily grateful for the reprieve that he stumbled into the bedroom and cried himself to sleep.

It was Brian's voice that woke him up. The sound of talking in the bathroom jerked Justin out of sleep, and he blinked blearily for a few seconds before realising what was happening. Clambering out of bed, he yawned and rubbed a hand over his face, not really feeling refreshed but appreciating the chance to sleep anyway.

Brian's voice echoed into the bedroom again. Frowning, Justin walked into the bathroom to see that Brian was pretty much where he left him, still unconscious.

He was also talking in his sleep.

From what Justin could make out it didn't make much sense, but as Brian didn't seem to be stuck in a nightmare Justin left the room to get a quick bite to eat. One peanut butter and banana sandwich later and Justin was back by the shower, watching over Brian as he slept. He stayed that way for thirty, maybe forty minutes when Brian's head jerked to the left.

"No..." he murmured.

Justin couldn't tell if he was still asleep or not. "Brian?"

His head jerked again. "Don't..." His body moved suddenly, hand pulling harshly against the cuffs. "Let her go! Please! Just stop fucking hurting her!"

Horrified, Justin got into the shower as quickly as he could, grabbing Brian's shoulders and shaking him. "Brian!"

"Stop it! Just fucking stop it!"

"You're dreaming!" Justin screamed. "It's not real! Wake up!"

Brian's eyes snapped open and he jerked away, scrambling as far away from Justin as the handcuffs and the confines of the shower would let him. "Stay the fuck away from me," he ordered, scrunched up into a ball.

Holy shit. Brian was scared of *him*? Justin bit his bottom lip, trying not to spook him further. "I'm not going to hurt you, Brian. I'm here because I care about you."

"Yeah, care," Brian snorted as he shivered, looking around the shower as if expecting to see someone else, "handcuff me t-to my own shower. Make me do this. Not even Dad d-did this."

He was *not* about to start crying again like some little pussy, even if Brian really did think he was worse than his father. Instead, he crept slowly towards him, kneeling on a pillow. "Brian? *Brian*." Grabbing Brian's face, Justin forced Brian to look at him until he had nowhere to go. "I have some Thiamin - vitamins. Em...a friend got them for me." Fuck. "I did some reading - they're supposed to help relieve withdrawal symptoms. Do you want them?"

Dark, dilated pupils stared back at him. "I'm not a f-fucking alcoholic. I'm not my parents. I'm n-not them."

Justin tried again, still holding on. "It'll *help*. Stop being so fucking proud and let me help you."

He waited for a few moments and Brian just looked back at him. When he didn't get a negative response, he fled from the shower and delved into the bag they'd left on the counter in the kitchen. Opening the bottle of tablets, Justin shrugged and took out two, slamming the bottle back on the counter and running into the bathroom.

Back in the shower again, Justin slowly settled himself down next to Brian. Brian, for his part, kept eyeing Justin warily.

"Look," Justin said, holding out the tablets, "I take one, you take one. I'm not trying to hurt you or poison you, okay? You can even pick which one I take."

Seeming to warm to the idea, Brian gestured to the tablet closer to him. Justin duly picked it up with his left hand and put it in his mouth. He'd taken enough pills that he could swallow it dry, and he made a point of showing his empty mouth to Brian afterward.

Licking his lips, Brian cautiously reached out a shaky hand and picked up the tablet, awkwardly shoving it into his mouth.

Relieved, Justin moved closer, wrapping his arms the best he could around Brian's scrunched-up body. "You're not your parents," he whispered. "You're Brian fucking Kinney, and you can do anything."

Brian didn't resist. Brian didn't do anything except rock back and forth. "Hate you. Hate you," he muttered. "God, I fucking hate you."

Justin kept holding on, blinking back the tears.

*

Coming to on the floor of a shower was just about the worst way Justin had ever woken up. There was something under his legs - a pillow, his brain duly informed him - but his top half was lying on nothing but hard flooring. Shifting, he groaned at the aches and pains he was sure he wasn't supposed to be feeling at seventeen and opened his eyes.

Brian was still in his corner, watching.

Suddenly feeling nervous, Justin carefully sat up - wincing as he did so - then shifted backward until his back reached the side of the shower. Something told him Brian needed the room.

Physically, Justin wasn't sure if Brian looked better or worse. He wasn't scrunched up and the shakes seemed to have stopped, but his skin was definitely still clammy. As his gaze travelled over Brian's body it inevitably travelled up to the left arm and wrist. Shit. The skin on Brian's wrist was badly red and raw, but Brian didn't even try and keep it away from the metal - his arm just hung forward, limply. God knew how much it ached from being held up all the time.

Asking how he was feeling would be really dumb right now.

In fact, Justin couldn't think of anything that wasn't trite and stupid, and God knew Brian hated anything trite or stupid.

He needn't have worried. Brian knew exactly how to break the silence.

"Why the fuck did you do this?"

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Justin wrapped his hands around his shins. "I told you. You're an alcoholic." He stared down at his knees, absently thinking his clothes could probably do with a change and trying not to think about the man sitting across from him. "You need to accept that you have a problem-"

"And that," Brian interrupted, "gives you the right to chain me up like a fucking dog?"

Closing his eyes briefly, Justin opened them again as he lifted his head, forcing himself to meet Brian's monumentally pissed-off gaze. No backing down about that decision. Not ever. "Yes."

"Fine," Brian spoke deliberately - and he must have been feeling more like himself if he was talking more like himself, "I'm an alcoholic. I have a 'problem'. Now give me the fucking key."

Justin's teeth clenched together. "You don't mean it."

"And how would you know?" he asked smugly. "Oh. Oh, yeah, that's right," he pretended to think about. "You're Justin Taylor. You know everything. In fact, I don't know how I ever got anything done before you came along."

God, he was exhausted. "Stop it."

"My life was meaningless until *you* showed me how to make it worthwhile."

Brian was trying to bait him, he *knew* Brian was trying to bait him - it was a classic Kinney move - but he was so tired. "I said stop it," he breathed, hands moving up until the bottom of his palms were pressing against his closed eyes.

He was pretty sure right about now, that no one was ever meant to go through this. It didn't matter that he'd only just slept. He was so tired.

"You make life better all around, Sunshine. I mean, just look how you treat the man you claim to-"

Something happened.

"Stop it! Stop it, just fucking stop it!"

Brian didn't stop anything. "Give me the key."

No back-up. Alone.

Fucking stop it.

"Fine!" Pushing himself to his feet, Justin stormed out of the shower. "Drink yourself to death, see if I care!" He was done being an emotional punching bag. He'd more than made his fucking point; the rest was up to Brian.

It didn't take him long to get his things together. Brian had thrown a shit-fit right after Justin had moved in and made himself 'at home', and ever since then he'd made a point of keeping most of his stuff in one place. He didn't cry as he jammed the rest of his belongings into a rucksack, didn't cry as he emptied every bottle he could find down the sink; didn't cry as he left the print-outs about alcoholism next to Brian's bed.

He didn't cry even when he took his toothbrush out of the bathroom.

Eventually, he slid open the loft door, placing the rucksack and a couple of drawing pads just outside. After one last search through the loft for anything he might have left behind, he picked up the key from the kitchen counter and walked into the bathroom.

Brian looked as exhausted as he felt, eyes closed with his head leaning back against the wall, and he knew Brian wasn't really the asshole he pretended to be and just for a brief second-

staystaystaystaystaystay

-but then he took a step towards the shower and spoke. "I've left the Thiamin in the kitchen." Brian's eyes flicked open. "You should keep taking it." Silence. He wasn't really expecting anything. "And...this probably sounds like a really dumb idea considering that you hate me now, but if you ever don't want to be alone, or need someone to be with..." Still nothing. Fine. Justin made a point of looking directly at him. "I won't ever tell anyone about this."

At some point, he left the key and walked out of the loft. Time had lost all meaning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at a clock and knew only that it was early morning because of the light and the level of traffic around.

He couldn't think straight. He was terrified of leaving Brian alone and equally terrified of staying with him. Brian would be craving alcohol even now and Justin could only hope that sheer exhaustion would keep him in the loft. At least he didn't have anything to drink there now.

There had to be some use of willpower. Brian had to, on some level, want to quit himself. And if it turned out he didn't...

When Justin saw the pay phone he didn't even think about it. His hands searched his pockets for change, and then he was dialling the cell phone number Emmett had given him.

Em answered on the first ring. "Hello? Justin?"

And he wasn't alone anymore.

*

Emmett had the tackiest bedspread he'd ever seen. Not that it mattered - the two of them were cuddled up together under it, and it could've had pictures of naked women plastered across both sides for all Justin cared.

It had come as no surprise whatsoever to discover that Emmett loved cuddling, and that was just what Justin needed. Well, not cuddling specifically - but comfort of some kind. He still didn't know what the fuck he'd done and what the fuck he was doing, but things didn't seem quite so bad when he was snuggled up beneath a tiger-print bedspread.

When he'd called asking for help, Emmett had told him not to move and immediately dialled a taxi service. When Justin reached the building that housed Emmett and Michael's apartment, Emmett had been standing outside, waiting. Paying the cab driver, he'd hustled Justin inside - whispering to keep quiet because Michael hadn't spent the night at David's.

Emmett had made it clear that the sofa was an option, but Justin had no qualms about sharing a bed so they quickly stripped down to their underwear and settled in. Emmett didn't ask questions at all. He talked for a few minutes about absolutely nothing but then lapsed into silence, his arm wrapped around Justin's waist.

Justin began to feel a little more human - or at least like his head wasn't about to explode anymore - and dozed for a while, but he couldn't really sleep. Images of Brian kept popping into his head - the first time they met, the first time they fucked; Brian standing up to Justin's dad.

Brian screaming for the key.

"Sweetie?" Emmett asked quietly, "do you know what your plans are today? I mean you're perfectly welcome to stay in bed all day if you want. Goodness knows you deserve to relax. I just need to start getting ready for work soon."

Justin tipped his head, looking at the clock. 7:03.

The bed was so warm and Em was so warm, and Justin would've loved to bury under the covers and sleep the entire day away.

But he couldn't seem to sleep at the moment. And he couldn't keep skipping school. Yesterday morning on the phone he'd managed to convince Mom to call in sick for him - she was so upset about everything Dad had done that he could get away with a lot right now - but maybe going to school today would be a good thing. Even if he was dead on his feet, at least he'd have something to focus on that wasn't Brian.

Brian.

Barely a day since Michael had brought Brian back to the loft, and it felt like Justin's entire life had shifted yet again. Strange how fast that happened.

"I might go to school," he mumbled. At least at school, there was Daphne. "See Daphne."

"Now that sounds like an excellent plan," Emmett replied, and Justin couldn't help but smile slightly - Emmett's emotions were always so obvious, even if you weren't actually looking at him. "I say we get up, take showers, and grab that big gay world by the balls. What do you say?"

Someone knocked on the door to Em's room, then opened it slightly. "Em? Are you...?" Michael stopped, staring, hand still wrapped around the door handle as he took in what he was seeing.

He shouldn't, he really knew he shouldn't, but after what he'd been through Justin needed a little fun. Michael always made it so easy. "Hi, Michael," Justin greeted, his voice huskier than usual as he pulled the covers down further.

Michael's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God. Don't tell me you're fucking your way through everyone I know."

"Of course he isn't," Emmett insisted, slapping Justin lightly on the stomach. Pouting, Justin relaxed back against the bed. "Justin here just needed a little TLC - the no sex kind, thank you very much. He's been having a tough time lately, and since Brian's...um..."

"Away on business?" Michael offered.

"Exactly!" Em replied, clearly flying by the seat of his pants. "It fell to me, his wonderful Auntie Em, to provide some much-needed words of encouragement."

"And some much-needed nudity," Michael pointed out.

"Well, the boy *is* divine," came the reply, "you can hardly blame me."

Snorting, Michael began shuffling back out of the room. "Just make sure there's no funny business, that's all."

That statement made no sense, and when the door closed Justin turned towards Emmett. "I don't get it. He doesn't want me anywhere *near* Brian, but he's worried about us getting together. You'd think he'd be happy I was fucking someone who wasn't Brian."

Emmett grinned. "Ah, but he's also worried that Brian would hear about us fucking and get annoyed about it."

"You mean like jealous?"

He nodded. "I mean like jealous."

Justin smiled at the idea for a while - Brian Kinney being jealous, ha - before remembering the truth. Brian would never want to see him again. Sighing, he threw back the covers and sat up. If he was going to mope about Brian, he could at least accomplish something while he was moping. "Do you have an iron I can borrow? I just shoved my school uniform into the bag when I left Brian's." Justin couldn't remember the last time he'd used an iron, but if he went to school with wrinkled clothes he'd get pulled up by every teacher he came across.

"Even better than that," Emmett declared, hopping out of bed and pulling open his closet, pointing to the iron and ironing board propped up against the right side. "I can do you a two for one deal."

*

Having to rely on the buses, Justin barely made it to school on time and his mood didn't improve when he saw his mom parked near St James.

"Justin!" she rushed along the sidewalk when she spotted him, looking very much like she was getting ready for a hug. The look he gave her stopped her cold. "I hope you're okay," she continued, straightening her handbag over her shoulder. "When you asked me to call in for you yesterday I was so worried but I didn't know what else to do. I called the loft but no one ever picked up."

Shit. He'd turned the ringer off and forgotten to tell Brian that before leaving.

Turning towards the steps, Justin started climbing. "Thanks. But it was a one off thing, it won't be happening again. You don't need to worry about my grades."

"Justin, please," she chased him up the steps, "if something's going on...if you need help..."

Help? He didn't know where he was going to live. His dad didn't want him. Brian didn't want him. He couldn't stay with Emmett indefinitely. He had half a mind to run off to LA and become famous.

But he needed to know what happened to Brian.

"Everything's fine, really, and if I ever need help I'll contact you." He was pretty sure he'd never lied so much in one sentence.

Without saying another word, he walked into St James' Academy.

*

Daphne, as usual, acted like she was hopped up on caffeine - which she probably was. At recess, they sat at a table and she demanded to know why he'd been off and if he was okay. He'd shared everything with Daphne in the past and normally he would have shared this - he would have loved to have talked about it with someone - but he'd made a promise to Brian.

So he told her they'd had a major argument, but he couldn't share the details. That he seriously doubted they'd see each other again and that it wasn't Brian's fault. Wisely steering clear of calling Brian an asshole, Daph wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

"You know you can stay at my house anytime you want."

"What about your parents?"

She nudged him with the side of her head. "Fuck my parents."

Justin blinked heavily, deliberately ignoring the sentimentality. "Eww, Daph!"

Laughing, she pulled a notepad out of her bag and started going through her notes for the classes he'd missed.

It didn't take long for her to get distracted.

"Oh my God, did I tell you who I saw Billy Houser with yesterday?"

*

Just like he'd thought Justin walk-slept his way through school - at least Chris hadn't bothered him - and when it finished he was more than a little lost. Emmett wasn't at Torso, his apartment, or answering his phone. Justin had been wary of going to Liberty Avenue in the first place in case he saw Brian, and now the only other place he could think of checking - the diner - was a hotbed of Brian activity. He didn't *think* Brian would be around at the moment but, being Brian, that'd probably be when he was most likely to turn up.

Bracing himself, Justin peered through the diner windows.

No Brian. No Michael. No Emmett, either, but at least he could ask Debbie.

Opening the door he stepped inside, ignoring much of his surroundings as he moved towards Debbie. She was standing behind the counter, pouring coffee for a customer.

"Deb?"

Glancing up, she pointed to an empty seat by the counter when she recognised him. "You. Sit."

Shit.

Nonetheless, Justin sat himself down on the stool, waiting while she filled a few more cups with coffee. When she was done she put the coffee pot back on the heating pad and stood opposite him, hands on her hips and chewing gum. "So, Sunshine, a little birdie tells me that you need a place to stay."

Emmett had obviously talked to her. "Uh...maybe." Debbie always made him feel like he was five years old.

Finally, she smiled. "Well, as it so happens, I have a spare room that needs filling and a busboy I need to get rid of. Or was it the other way round?" She cackled once, snapping her gum.

That was...really convenient. "Seriously?"

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorily. "Completely and utterly. The latest kid to wait tables in this joint is so bad he can't tell his dick from his dildo." Snorting quietly, Justin lowered his head. It was a great offer, but Debbie was Michael's mom and Michael was Brian's...she grabbed his face, pulling it back up and studying him seriously. "Hey. Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but it's this or nothing. And you are worth more than nothing. Am I right?"

Yeah. Yeah, she was.

*

Emmett had made an appearance not long after that, apologising for being out of touch but, "I swear to God, this guy had the *biggest dick* I have ever seen! Well, you know, outside porn movies. And let me tell you - it was definitely the real deal. I'm going to need a cushion for the next month."

Justin could hardly blame him.

He honestly wouldn't have minded staying with Em forever at this point - if Em was just Em. Unfortunately, he shared the apartment with Michael. And although Justin made fun of him, and although Michael wasn't really a bad guy - Justin had seen him around Debbie enough to know that he was a good son - Michael also hated Justin's guts. Which would probably start to get irritating.

So Justin moved into Debbie's that night. Vic welcomed him with open arms, Deb with copious amounts of pasta, and Michael - when he heard about it - with complaints and badly-veiled threats about not touching any of his stuff.

The opportunity was too good. "Didn't you move out, like, ten years ago?"

"That's not the point!" Michael huffed.

Justin just kept smirking.

And he wasn't really okay, he didn't feel *that* okay, but mocking Michael and hearing Deb laugh made it feel like any other day, and it was enough to pretend that he wasn't upset about anything. He could almost forget the reason he wasn't at Brian's anymore.

Debbie had already called Mom about the fact that he was staying with her, and Mom - predictably - was thrilled by the idea. In Mom's eyes, Debbie Novotny was undoubtedly a big step-up from his older, extremely crabby, promiscuous and definitely *male* lover.

One good thing about staying in Michael's old room were the memories he had of being there with Brian. So when he lay in bed that night, and there was no more talking and no one holding him and images of Brian shackled in the bathroom trying to peek in, he forced it all away and remembered being there with Brian instead.

Brian pretending he didn't want him.

Ever since that first night, he'd always pretended he didn't want him, but Justin knew better and he'd proven it that night. His blowjob had been a little sloppy - he still hadn't known much then - but Brian hadn't cared, and afterward he'd pushed Justin down onto the bed he was lying on now and-

"Justin?"

Wiping at his eyes, Justin sat up. "Yeah?"

Vic stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway creeping around his body and into the room. "You okay, kiddo? Got everything you need?"

"Fine," Justin said, fiddling with the covers.

Pausing for a moment, Vic evidently made the decision to come inside and stepped into the room. When he reached the side of the bed he sat on the edge, regarding Justin for a while. "You know," Vic began, "I don't know what's going on lately - no one ever thinks to keep an old queen like me up to date with the latest gossip," he pretended to look offended, "but we all go through shit of one kind or another. If you ever need someone to talk to...well, let's face it, it's not like I have anything better to do."

Justin laughed, once, but quickly shook his head. "I'm fine," he repeated, but Vic just kept looking at him and Vic was like Em - he didn't ask questions, he just accepted. And Justin had been strong, he'd been so strong - he hadn't cried once all day - and he'd been fine, just fine, hadn't been fine at all and he'd been keeping it all in, scared shitless about Brian but unable to check on Brian and he couldn't believe what he'd done and he couldn't talk about it and Brian could probably have him arrested and he didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to be doing.

Vic just held him, not saying a word.

*

In retrospect, Justin felt really dumb for queening out the way he had. Crying - and probably snotting - all over Vic was the last thing he remembered before waking up that morning, and the image was more than a little humiliating.

At least he'd had a good night's sleep.

Making his way downstairs, he spotted Vic sitting at the kitchen table and immediately felt his face flush. There was no way to avoid him, however, so Justin stuck out his jaw and shuffled into the kitchen. "Mornin'."

Glancing up from the paper he was reading, glasses settled near the end of his nose, Vic smiled. "Morning, Sunshine. Deb had the early shift today, so I'm afraid those of us with a Y chromosome are left to fend for ourselves." Throwing his paper down onto the table, he stood up and drew his robe closer around his body. "Luckily for you, I used to be a gourmet chef. Take a seat, and I'll whip something up."

Grateful for the normal behaviour, Justin wasn't about to turn down the offer of a cooked breakfast. Sitting at the table he glanced at the paper - and then he was picking it up, turning the pages, scanning the articles.

Vic noticed after a few minutes, standing next to him with a spatula in his hand. "I didn't think you'd be very interested in reading the paper."

Justin wasn't offended, but then he wasn't paying much attention anyway. "I'm not really," he murmured, relieved when he reached the end and there was no mention of Brian's name.

It may have been stupid, but he had to check anyway.

Pleased as he could be, Justin closed the paper, folded it in half and put it back on the table.

Breakfast turned out to be delicious and he grunted in admiration at everything he ate. Vic laughed at the appreciation as Justin cut into another slice of bacon.

"It's kind of nice to cook again," Vic admitted. "I don't get the chance much around here. I love Sis, but she's territorial about her kitchen."

Justin found that easy to imagine, taking a bite out of his toast. "Why don't you get a job as a chef or something?"

Snorting from the other side of the table, Vic held out his arms as if to say, 'look at me'. "Who would hire me? I'm old, I have HIV - both things are death knells to a prospective career."

Shrugging, Justin swallowed a gulp of juice. "So start your own restaurant or something. If it was what I really wanted, I wouldn't let anything stop me."

Leaning his elbow on the table and his chin on the palm of his hand, Vic smirked. "Somehow I knew that already."

*

His first few shifts at the diner were an interesting experience. He spent most of his time keeping one eye on the door just waiting for Brian to turn up - which he never did. The thought of Brian strolling inside was playing havoc with his nerves and apparently bugging the shit out of Deb, because she pulled him aside one day.

"I don't know why you're so skittish about him," she glared, poking him in the chest, "but Michael told me he hasn't been around much. Apparently, some business trip he went on drummed up a lot of business so he's been working overtime. Figures it'll stay that way for a while. Okay?"

Justin didn't know whether to be thankful for the reprieve or not, considering he knew for a fact that there'd been no business trip. "Okay."

After that, the job was okay. He hadn't particularly wanted to work - he'd never had a job before - but he needed his own source of money and he needed to pay Deb back for letting him stay at her place. She refused to take any money from him at all, of course, but he knew working at the diner was helping her out.

He felt comfortable in the diner. He could flirt with the customers (they really liked his ass), get good tips, and it didn't take him long to go from busboy to waiter.

Of course, at the diner, they were pretty much the same thing.

There was a constant fear that Brian would suddenly walk in, but after a while, it dropped to an underlying buzz and Justin just tried to keep on top of the latest Brian gossip. That mostly consisted of insisting on serving any of the guys when they came in, and then eavesdropping on their conversations. Sometimes Mikey would be on the phone with Brian or Emmett would deliberately bring the subject up, and Justin would always hear the same things.

Working a lot. They barely saw him. Hadn't gone to Woody's or Babylon in ages.

Justin tried not to get his hopes up.

That lasted about five seconds.

*

Daphne loved coming to visit him at Deb's because - as she put it - they could do anything they liked and Deb didn't care. That wasn't entirely true, of course, but it was only after Daph said that that he realised just how good he had it at Debbie's. She'd informed him of the rules of the house the night he'd moved in, but he'd been too busy mooning over Brian to think about what they really meant.

He could fuck, drink, do drugs - there were just limits. No tricks after midnight. No stomach pumps required. Deb's ultimate credo was 'play safe' in sex and everything else. So yeah, she didn't mind if he got drunk or brought someone home - or both.

The only problem was he didn't feel like doing either of those. Part of him was worried that if he went out to Babylon to pick up a guy he'd see Brian there, and after everything that'd happened he just couldn't watch Brian drinking again, not when he could avoid being in that situation. And, quite honestly, at the moment he didn't want to fuck anyone else.

It sounded ridiculous, he knew, and one night he did bring someone home just to see what it was like. It wasn't bad at all, and he got off and it felt good, but...it wasn't Brian. So Justin said fuck you to theories about seventeen-year-old gay boys wanting to fuck everything that moved, and decided he'd only fuck someone if he honestly wanted to.

Of course, he was still extremely familiar with his right hand.

A poke in the side brought him back to earth. Daphne.

"What are you thinking about?"

They were laying across the bed next to each other - Justin on his front, Daphne on her back - and he tipped his head towards her. "Sex."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "I knew it. It's true what they say about men. And you don't even have the decency to be thinking about me."

Grinning for a moment, he pushed himself up and crossed his forearms, resting them on the mattress. "Actually, I was thinking about *no* sex." His gaze moved away from her, looking down at his arms. "I haven't really done it since Brian...well there was kinda this one time, but that doesn't really count. I don't really want to, to be honest."

"That's good, Justin," she told him seriously, and the tone in her voice made him look back at her. "Sex is one of those things that you should only do if *you* really want to. At least," she grinned, "that's what Mom always says." She paused as if a thought had just crossed her mind, then her entire face formed a question mark. "I wonder how different gay sex feels from straight sex."

Justin really didn't want to know. He'd gotten the impression that Brian and Lindsay might have fucked in the past, but he wasn't in the slightest bit interested in knowing what it was like. He was definitely a cock man.

"So," she continued as if she hadn't just wandered off on a gay sex tangent, "are you going home today?"

Frowning, Justin cocked his head. "Why would I?"

"Well, I saw the balloons on the mailbox..."

As her voice trailed off, it hit him. Shit! "Oh, shit!" He pushed himself up and nearly toppled Daphne off the bed. "Molly's birthday!" He'd completely forgotten and had no idea what to get her. He had some money from working at the diner, but he didn't even know what Molly liked anymore.

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

The huge shriek from downstairs - that could only have come from Debbie - made Daphne sit up too, and then Justin was pulling open the door and running down the stairs. "What? What is it, what is it?"

Debbie was standing between the kitchen and the lounge, hugging Michael so tightly it looked like he was about to pass out. Vic was sitting at the kitchen table, chuckling quietly.

Pulling away from Michael, Deb planted a kiss on his forehead before turning to face them, and the grin on her face was huge. Justin didn't think he'd ever seen her smile so much before, and that was saying something. "My Mikey's moving in with the man he loves!" she declared.

A little surprised, Justin moved closer to the kitchen. "David?"

"Of course David!" She sounded insulted, slapping him lightly on the arm, but then forgot all about it and turned back towards Michael. "Oh, honey." She leaned forward, cupping his face in both hands.

"Ma..." Michael squirmed.

Sometimes Justin was seriously glad Debbie wasn't his mom.

"I always knew you were meant for a doctor."

"Chiropractor."

"Same thing," she was adamant. "But you know, I wouldn't care if he was a doctor or a trash collector, or if he shovelled shit in space - as long as you really loved him." Releasing his face, she lowered her arms and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I was always worried that you wouldn't let yourself get close to anyone, that you'd keep hoping for someone who...couldn't give you what you needed," there was no mistaking who she was talking about, and Michael's gaze moved over Debbie's shoulder to look at Justin. "I am so happy for you!" she finished, pulling him into another squeezing hug.

Justin cleared his throat, not really sure how he felt. "Congratulations, Michael."

"Yeah," Daph agreed, peering over Justin's shoulder. "Congratulations, Michael. That's great."

"Uh," Michael replied, still trapped, "thanks, uh...?"

"Daphne."

"Right, Daphne. Thanks, guys. Uh, Ma? You think you could let go sometime this century?"

"Come on," Daph murmured, tugging on his sleeve, "let's go do the homework we were totally ignoring earlier, and then you can go visit Molly."

Justin couldn't think of any reason not to, and followed her up the stairs.

*

He wasn't surprised to see that Molly was having a party - she was a bit of a brat, really, and would've thrown a fit if she hadn't had one - and he jogged down the stairs towards the backyard, the portrait he'd drawn of her rolled up in his hand. It wasn't much but he hadn't known what else to get her, and maybe she'd appreciate it more as she got older.

Yeah, right.

Molly was sitting around the table with her friends, blowing out the candles on her cake. After the applause died down Mom saw him and stepped out towards him, smiling awkwardly. "Sweetheart! You came!" She leaned in for a hug and this time he decided to go with it. Over the top, as Debbie's reaction may have been earlier, seeing her with Michael had made him a little nostalgic.

"I couldn't miss Molly's birthday," he replied, pulling back and letting her guide him towards the table. His voice fell. "Where's Dad?"

"Inside," Mom replied quietly. "Watching the game. Kid's parties aren't exactly his thing."

Of course not. It'd be easy to say Craig Taylor wasn't much of a father to either of his kids, but before Justin'd come out things had been good. Really good. He'd taken so much for granted.

"Molly," Mom called, and Molly turned in her chair.

She saw him instantly and dived out of her seat. "Jus!"

"Happy Birthday, *Mollusk*," he greeted, taking the hug she gave him and lifting her up a little. He wondered sometimes how she was dealing with all this - if she knew why he was gone, or if she even really understood what gay was.

If she knew what a jackass her father was.

"Whatcha gonna give me?" she demanded, bratty as ever.

"Permission to live," he warned, putting her down on the ground and handing over the sketch. "Here."

Unrolling it, she studied the contents and looked back up at him, not seeming very impressed. Justin rolled his eyes.

"Justin, this is beautiful," Mom told him and then, ever the WASP, urged Molly to return to her seat before she could say anything bad before turning back towards him. "She's thrilled you came," she joked.

"Yeah?" Justin smirked. "How could you tell?"

They walked further away from the girls, giving themselves some privacy. Mom, being Mom, was convinced that he wasn't eating enough and asked if he was staying for dinner.

There was only one answer for that.

"Well...that depends if Dad wants to see me."

"Of course he wants to see you," Mom replied sincerely, "he's as upset about this as you are."

"Really?" Justin had some serious doubts.

"He wants you to come home. As you know I do."

The idea of Dad wanting him back home took him completely by surprise. Since Dad had told him to make a choice, Justin hadn't even considered coming back. He'd meant what he said in the alley - he was never coming home again. But now... "Well...I wanna come home too." And it surprised him how much he *did* want that; to be in his own room, to bitch at Molly when she took his stuff without permission, to see his parents be happy with each other again.

Despite the freedom he had at Deb's, it wasn't home.

But things changed. Everything changed. Nothing stayed the same.

"Oh, God, Justin. I'm so glad to hear you say that," Mom sounded so happy as she pulled him into another hug, and just that tone in her voice almost convinced him to actually try. Smiling, she let him go. "Let's go tell him."

Almost. "Wait. What about the rules?"

Her smile faltered, her posture becoming defensive. "Which rules?"

She knew which rules.

"That I can't go out, or see Brian. Or talk about my disgusting lifestyle." Yeah, that phrase was going to stay with him for a while.

"I don't..." Mom fumbled for words. "I don't think he meant it quite that way."

"What did he mean?"

"I think he just wants...everything to be...as it was."

"But it can't be the way it was," Justin argued. "I'm not the way I was."

"And I don't want you to be anything other than who you are," she insisted. "I just..." she paused, lips pursing together. "I have to consider the needs of this whole family. Not just your desires. You have to understand that."

Molly called for her, and then Mom just left him there. Justin couldn't believe it at first, blinking as he watched her move back towards the girls to start cutting the cake. Forcing his legs to move he turned away from them, making his way up the stairs that led out of the yard. They were pretty steep but he was long used to them and it didn't take long. Near the top he hesitated, swinging round to look at his family one last time.

His resolve hardened.

He wasn't hiding who he was. For anyone.

*

The journey back to Deb's gave him a lot of time to think. With all the worrying he'd been doing about Brian it'd taken his mind off all the crap happening with his family, and the visit with Mom and Molly had left him feeling pretty shitty about life in general. He seriously needed a distraction.

When he got back to Debbie's he picked up the phone and called Emmett's cell phone.

"Torso, how can I...shit, I mean Emmett Honeycutt speaking. Sorry, I'm so used to answering the work phone."

Just hearing him speak made Justin smile. "Hey, Em. You're at work?"

"Hey, there! I most certainly am. How's my ball of Sunshiny goodness doing today?" They'd been keeping in contact since the thing with Brian; the occasional phone call, dinner at the diner. Daph was great, but it was kind of nice having a guy friend.

"Not so good - I'm in the mood for a distraction, but don't think I'm up to Woody's or Babylon. Any suggestions?"

"Wellll," Emmett mulled, "we could go eat in a fabulous restaurant, or maybe go see a movie. *Or* you could come over and we'll pig out on pizza and watch the best of Jeff Stryker."

"Any of those sounds good." God, did they.

"Well, tell you what," he humphed as he paused - he was probably folding something, "seeing as I'm working a few extra hours today, why don't you come by Torso when I get off at five, and then we'll decide what we want to do."

Sounded just like what he needed. "Thanks, Em."

"No proble-oh, have to go, customerrr! Wow," his voice lowered, his mouth obviously moving closer to the phone as he whispered, "I cannot believe he's wearing *those* pants with *that* ass."

Laughing, Justin hung up the phone.

It wasn't all that long until five so Justin checked his appearance, let Vic know what was happening, and headed out of the house. He arrived at Liberty Avenue with about ten minutes to spare and window-shopped for a while before moving closer to Torso. He was eyeing the shirts in the window - he loved shirts with slogans - when someone bumped into him.

Although it wasn't his fault, Justin found himself turning and apologising anyway. "Sorry..." And then his gaze travelled up the body of the man now standing in front of him, familiar in absolutely every way.

His heart may have stopped beating.

"Not a problem, Sunshine."

Oh, shit.

"Brian."

He looked good. Really good. Which may have seemed an obvious thing to think about Brian Kinney because - hello? He was Brian Kinney. But he did look even better than he used to. Of course, it probably helped that the last time Justin had seen him Brian had been shivering, covered in sweat and...

So wasn't thinking about that right now.

Horrible memories aside, Brian *did* look better. His eyes were clearer. The slight puffiness around his facial features - Justin hadn't even realised he'd noticed it before - was missing. His hair was clearly freshly washed, and styled to create maximum horniness in the general observer.

There was a word for the look, Justin thought, besides absolutelyfuckinggorgeous.

Sober.

Joy imploded inside him and although Justin *knew* it wasn't that easy, that it was far from over - he'd done enough reading on the subject - he fought against the urge to throw himself at Brian. Though he may have looked better physically, he really did *not* look happy to see Justin. "H-haven't..." Shit, he was stuttering, but Brian just kept *watching* him. Justin swallowed, forcing himself to grow another pair. "Haven't seen you for a while." It was a stupid thing to say, he realised that the moment the words were out of his mouth, but at least he hadn't asked Brian how he was feeling.

"Imagine that," Brian smirked, tipping his head to the left slightly and frowning deliberately. "I wonder why that is?"

The temperature dropped five degrees, and it wasn't because Pittsburgh could get fucking cold.

Justin chose to completely ignore the probably entirely rhetorical question. "How's work?"

"Fine," Brian answered, still watching. "Busy."

Fumbling for something to say that wouldn't sound completely retarded - he hated this conversation and never wanted it to end at the same time - Justin latched onto the last piece of news he'd heard that could possibly relate to Brian. "Heard the good news about Michael?"

"What good news?" he sneered.

"He's moving in with David."

Just for a second there was a flash of something - surprise - and then Brian wiped the emotion from his face, replacing it with amused annoyance. "Well, isn't that nice?" he mocked. "I guess *some* people get their happy ever after, after all. Even queers." He smirked at Justin deliberately.

That was low, even for Brian, and Justin felt the emotion like a punch to the gut. But he had to take it. What else could he do? After what he'd done to Brian, how could he object?

Emmett's voice - at a much higher pitch than normal - broke the tension. Work must have finished. "Brian! Look! You're here!"

Rolling his eyes, Brian sighed his displeasure. "You noticed. Well done."

"Uh..." Emmett edged closer to Justin. "So, we haven't had the pleasure of your company for a while."

"Sunshine here was just saying the same thing," he retorted, "but you'll be pleased to know that my little exile from Liberty Avenue is ending today." His gaze shifted from Emmett, back to Justin. "You'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on."

Justin felt like he was about to pass out.

"Well...that's wonderful!" Emmett enthused. "Liberty Avenue just isn't the same without Brian..."

Brian had already turned around and walked away.

"...Kinney..."

Exhaling heavily, Justin slumped back against Em. Holy shit. That went about as bad as he'd suspected it would.

"Even if he is an asshole," Em finished, and started rubbing Justin's upper arms. "Is that the first time you've seen him since-?"

"Yeah."

"He really didn't seem happy to see-"

"No."

Emmett paused.

"Wanna come back to my place and get shit-faced?"

Fuck, yeah.

*

"The problem isss," Justin slurred, waving his shot glass around, "he doesn't love himself."

They'd watched some Jeff Stryker, laughed at some Jeff Stryker - got horny at some Jeff Stryker (Em was bigger than Justin would've suspected). They'd been drinking for a while and now, only now, was Justin ready to talk.

"Brian?" Em asked, before pausing to sip his fizzy pink whateverthefuckitwas.

"Brian," Justin nodded, and kept nodding for a while. He shifted on Em's sofa, folding his right leg under him. "He has this asshole persona - don't care what anyone thinks. Fuck 'em. Ha!" He paused, looking around. "Where's the bottle?" Finding it, he managed to fill up his glass without spilling most of it on his lap. "Where was I?"

"Asshole persona," Emmett prompted.

"Right!" Justin remembered. "But the truth is, Brian Kinney only *exists* because of what other people think. He's *always* worried how we see him. He has to be the hottest stud, the best fuck, and God fucking help anyone who implies he isn't perfect." He downed the shot, licking his lips afterwards. Slumping forward, he sighed. "But you should see how he is when he's with me, Em. When we're alone. Sometimes he's just..." Justin stopped when his eyes started burning. Fucking alcohol. "I'm trying to make Brian stop drinking and I'm sitting here getting drunk myself." Groaning, he closed his eyes and brought both hands up to the side of his head, the press of the glass in his right hand cool against his temple. "Oh my God, I make *no* sense."

Leaning over to place his martini glass carefully on the table, Em shook his head. "You make perfect sense. Come here." He held out his arms and Justin didn't even think about it - he just went, moving until he was laying on top of Emmett, wrapped in his arms. "Things'll work out," Em told him. "You'll see."

"How do you know?"

Em rubbed his arms. "Because they always do."

Letting out a long breath, Justin closed his eyes and relaxed. "Em?"

"Hmm?"

"Jeff Stryker has a really big dick."

Laughing, Emmett agreed. "That he does."

Brian had a big dick, too. Brian had a magnificent dick. Justin really missed it. "I really love him, Em."

The arms around him squeezed tighter. "I know you do, honey. Although I am, of course, presuming you're not talking about Jeff Stryker."

Snorting, Justin shook his head. Which kind of made him dizzy. "I love him," he continued. "The problem is that he doesn't love himself." This was an important point that needed to be made.

"Yeah, well," Emmett replied sadly, "just try telling him that."

That...was an *awesome* plan. "Where's the phone?"

"Sorry?"

"I need to call Brian."

Emmett froze. "Uh...I didn't mean that you should *actually* call him and tell him that he doesn't love himself."

"Why not?" Justin pulled away, kneeling up on the sofa and scanning the room for the phone.

"Because he's really not going to appreciate..." Sighing, he shrugged. "Oh, what the fuck. It could hardly make things worse."

That was the spirit!

Finding the phone under a cushion on the floor, Justin picked it up and plopped back down onto the sofa. The keypad looked a little blurry, but Brian's number was pretty much engraved on his brain by now.

Ohhh. That'd be *cool*. He should totally see if that was possible.

Dialling, Justin held the phone up to his ear and started examining his nails.

"Who the fuck is calling me at two in the morning?"

Oops. "Brian! Look, the problem is-"

"What the fuck? Justin?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Look, the problem is-"

"Why are you calling me at two in the morning? Why are you calling me at all?"

Justin huffed. "Well if you'd just *listen*-"

"Are you drunk?" Brian snorted. "Fuck, some role model you are."

"Shut up," Justin ordered. "I've had a very small amount to drink, and you need to hear what the point is." Honestly, Brian could be so irritating sometimes.

A heavy sigh passed through the phone line. "Fine. Fine, just tell me what the fucking point is, and then I can go back to sleep."

Finally. "The point," Justin declared, "is that you don't love yourself." Definitely doing the right thing. "So I have to do it for you."

Nodding, pleased with himself, Justin ended the call and threw the phone on the table.

*

Morning brought with it the utter belief that his head was about to explode.

Groaning, Justin rolled over and barely stopped himself from falling off the sofa. Groaning some more, he rolled right back.

"Good morning!"

Emmett. Shit. Emmett was great (probably the understatement of the century) but so *not* what he needed right now. Keeping his eyes closed Justin moved his tongue, licking it over dry lips. "Fuck off and die." He wasn't moving for anything.

"Now really," Emmett began cheerily, "is that any way to talk to someone who made you coffee?"

Justin's head shot up, which he instantly regretted. "Fuck..." He had to focus on the important things. Like coffee. Em said there was coffee. He couldn't smell it at all, but then Justin was pretty much convinced that his sinuses had been obliterated last night.

Coffee...

"Okay," he said, "I'm moving."

He didn't.

"You okay, sweetie?"

"Your sofa is really comfortable," Justin mumbled, although in all honesty he probably would've found a table with metal spikes sticking out of comfortable at this point. Em's sofa...fuck! *Em's* sofa. "Shit! I didn't get back to Deb's last night." He tried sitting up again, but didn't get much further than last time.

"Don't worry, I called her last night and let her know we were having a little slumber party." He paused. "She wanted pictures if I painted your toe nails."

Feeling something land on his face, Justin fumbled for it as he struggled to get his eyes open. They had trouble focusing, so it took him a few seconds to realise exactly what he was holding in his hand.

A polaroid. Of his toe nails. His purple toe nails.

"Oh, yeah." Justin felt too much like shit to be bothered about it. Closing his eyes, he let his hand - and the photograph - fall to his chest.

For some reason, that was the very moment he remembered the phone call to Brian.

Holy fucking shit.

He was one dead twink.

He was one dead *embarrassed* twink.

The sofa cushion his feet were resting on dipped - Em must have sat down, and Justin let the movement distract him from the embarrassment and impending Death By Brian. "And as for my sofa," Emmett continued, "while it is extremely comfortable - as well as the site of many fabulous fucks, by the way - you can't lie there forever."

"Why not?" Moving was *such* a bad idea.

"You have a shift at the diner today."

Fuck.

*

Debbie was talking way too loudly. No great change from usual, but Justin was convinced she was doing it deliberately.

"Sunshine! How was your sleepover?"

He'd done the hood with shades look all the way home (they were Emmett's sunglasses, of course, so the frames were yellow. Justin had been beyond caring). He'd never done that before - he'd always thought that look was for losers who couldn't handle their alcohol.

Of course, he'd never been that hungover before.

Sunglasses were *good*.

"Don't ask," he mumbled, dropping the polaroid off on the kitchen table. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Before my shift." It was entirely his own fault, he knew that, but it still didn't stop life from seeming unbelievably unfair. He had to work when he felt this crappy? Brian was going to kill him soon, anyway. What was the point?

"Hold it!" She yelled before he could shuffle off, letting the pan she was holding clank against the counter. Justin winced. "Lemme see your eyes," she ordered.

Taking off the sunglasses, Justin's eyelids fluttered before he could force them to stay open. "I'm not tweaked, Deb, just hungover."

She 'hmmed', holding his face with both hands and staring into his eyes. "I can see that. You gonna do this every night?"

There it was. He'd been waiting for Deb's version of a lecture. "No."

"You gonna do this every weekend?"

"No."

"Did you finish all your homework yesterday?"

What? "Yeah."

"Good." Smiling, she smacked him lightly on the face. "Go sleep it off." Stepping away, she picked up the pan from the counter, placed it in the sink and started scrubbing.

Justin managed a frown. "But I have to get to the diner to-"

"I'll cover your shift."

No way. Even if the idea was really nice. "I can't let you do that, Deb, you work so hard already." Even if the idea was really, *really* nice.

Hoisting up the scrub brush she pointed it at him, splattering soapy water all over the floor. "Don't argue with me, Sunshine."

"Deb..."

"I mean it," she argued, pointing some more. "This is not typical behaviour for you, and I know you have a lot of shit going on even if you never talk about it." She eyed him as if to say, 'why the fuck not?'. "You're a good kid. So I'll cover your ass this time. But..." She and the scrub brush came closer. "You get this shit-faced again when you know you have work or school the next day? You'll have to carry your own ass all the way through it. Understand?"

He kinda felt depressed, but knew she was right. "Yeah. Thanks, Deb."

Shrugging it off, she turned back towards the sink. "Go get some sleep, kiddo."

Making the effort to walk the few steps towards her, Justin kissed her on the cheek before gratefully heading towards his room. He was pretty fucking lucky, really.

He was halfway up the stairs when she yelled again.

"And drink some fucking water!"

*

Two headache pills, four glasses of water, and one vivid dream about Brian fucking him to death later, Justin woke up. Yawning and stretching, he was pleased to realise that the pain had definitely abated. He still didn't feel his best - far from it - but he also didn't feel like his head was about to split open.

Heading for the bathroom he took a leak, brushed his teeth, and stood under the shower until the hot water ran out.

He spent most of that time staring at his toe nails.

It was only in his room, as he dried off and got changed into clean clothes, that he thought to look at the time. 4pm. Feeling guilty for pretty much just sleeping while Deb was out covering his shift, Justin slinked downstairs. Vic was perched on the sofa in his robe, watching a Lana Turner movie.

"Hey," Justin greeted.

Turning at the noise, Vic smiled as he got to his feet and threw up his hands. "He lives!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Justin tried to look offended, but ended up grinning.

"How you feeling?" That question at least was sincere.

"Not...too bad," Justin admitted, pausing by the end of the sofa, scratching the side of his neck and definitely not thinking about the phone call to Brian. "Don't ever want to feel that shitty again, though."

"I bet," Vic grinned. "You feeling well enough to eat? Did you have anything this morning?"

"Just a dry bagel at Em's," Justin confessed, and he'd barely had two bites of that. "And...yeah. I could eat something." He knew where this was leading - Vic was going to make him something. Justin could've objected but Vic just would've insisted, and besides, he knew by now that Vic definitely liked cooking for others. Made him feel useful.

"Well, that's hardly enough for a growing stud like you," Vic sounded appalled, but winked. "Let's go see what we have in the kitchen."

Justin helped out this time. He was mostly holding and passing things, but Vic insisted that was important ("Like the assistant who passes the scalpel that the hunky surgeon then uses to cut into someone's spleen." "That's gross, Vic.") And it was fun, getting to see Vic work. Justin didn't love cooking enough to ever think that he personally had a future as a chef, but it was good to see Vic enjoying himself.

When the phone rang, Vic nodded towards it. "You mind getting that?"

"Sure," Justin answered, feeling well enough now that he leapt to the side of the kitchen and picked up the phone with his free hand. "Novotny and Grassi residence. How may I help you?"

Vic chuckled.

"You don't get to do that."

Justin dropped the spoon he was holding, shock running up his spine. "Brian." Brian. Brian. Why the fuck was Brian calling?

Vic was staring.

Brian kept talking.

"You don't get to fucking do that."

Uh. "Do what?" Why the fuck was Brian calling? It had to be because of last night, but...

"You don't get to call me at the ass-crack of night and tell me some bullshit about loving myself."

He flushed even though Brian couldn't see him, but managed not to back down. "Why not?"

"One, it's bullshit. Two, we're not and we never were anything even remotely resembling 'a couple'. Or friends. You have no fucking right to think you know me." He paused, probably just to let his point sink in. "Three, after what you did, you *really* don't have any fucking right to tell me shit like that. And four?" Another dramatic pause. "It's bullshit."

Justin bit his lower lip, trying to figure out exactly what to say. Being drunk last night had obviously given him the courage he needed to say things he'd never have dreamed of saying to Brian in person.

Technically, Brian wasn't there in person at the moment. And right now, for some reason, that gave him what he needed. "I don't think it is."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Justin. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He remembered Dad ordering him to make a choice. Talking to Mom yesterday and deciding that he wasn't hiding, for anyone. Deb and Vic always telling him to be proud of who he was. Em sharing horror stories of his youth in Hazlehurst, Mississippi. Brian always telling him - telling everyone - to not be pathetic.

And it came out, his whole body shaking.

"I'm Justin fucking Taylor," he hissed, "and I'm on to you."

*

Emmett thought it was a good thing.

"What?" Justin asked incredulously. "That he called to bitch at me?"

"That he called at *all*," Emmett said. "Brian Kinney called you. *He* called *you*. Brian Kinney never calls anyone."

Justin had to admit, Em had a point. Still... "But he called to bitch at me."

"Like the saying goes, there's a thin line between love and hate."

He wrinkled his nose. "I thought that was a song. Or a movie."

"Honey, my life *is* a movie."

Justin just snorted.

He really wasn't sure what to make of Brian's phone call. He'd hung up right after hissing down the phone at him and avoided Vic's questioning gaze until after dinner, when he'd asked for some privacy and called Emmett.

When he'd hung up on Brian he'd felt powerful, confident, like he could do anything. But the time spent eating and thinking had eroded his belief that he'd done the right thing. He didn't know what the fuck to think.

"I guess," he sighed down the phone, "we'll just have to see what happens."

He didn't have to wait too long. The next time he worked at the diner, Brian walked in.

*

It was early, the pre-work breakfast rush. Justin didn't work it often but sometimes he dropped by to lend a hand before school, if only for an hour. He was carrying a tray holding three different orders, making his way to a booth near the front of the diner when the door opened and Brian stepped inside.

Justin was so surprised, he stumbled. The only thing that stopped the tray crashing to the ground was the fact that when he stumbled he'd ended up leaning against the edge of a table, and it gave him the extra purchase he needed to grab securely onto the tray. Trying to pass the moment off, Justin fake-smiled at the customers sitting at that particular table.

"How is everything?" They murmured and nodded their satisfaction. "Good," Justin replied, not actually caring either way, "I'll be right back." Completely ignoring Brian, Justin stuck his chin out and strode to the front of the diner. After dishing out the food, he held the tray vertically and walked straight into the kitchen.

After putting the tray down he allowed himself a few precious seconds of freaking out. It shouldn't have been a surprise - Brian'd said he wasn't in exile now, whatever the hell that meant - but it'd still been shocking to actually see him standing there, after everything.

He started psyching himself up. He could do this. He could. He breathed in and out a couple of times, deeply.

Paulo grunted at him in confusion, then shrugged and went back to frying bacon.

Justin stepped back out into the diner area, heading for the coffee pots behind the counter. As he went he saw that Debbie had noticed Brian, and moved over to the table he'd managed to grab. Refilling coffees for the customers along the other side of the counter, Justin tried his hardest to listen in.

Debbie's voice, of course, was unmistakable. "Well, if it isn't the asshole," she greeted, although she didn't make it sound like a bad thing. "Haven't seen you for a while."

"Work's been busy," Brian shrugged. "You know how it is. And I'll have an egg-white omelette."

Scrawling the order down on her pad, Debbie spoke again. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to eat something with calories in it from time to time. You're looking even fucking skinnier than usual."

"I'll keep that in mind," Brian retorted, sipping his coffee and plainly having no intention of doing so.

"Hey!" a voice yelled, pulling Justin's attention back to the fact that he'd just over-filled someone's mug.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry." As there was a 99.9% chance the guy was gay, Justin cleaned up the mess, flirted with him for a while, and all was forgiven.

By the time that was dealt with Debbie had left to put the order in, and Michael was sitting across from Brian. Justin hadn't even seen him come in.

Mentally calculating just how he'd be able to eavesdrop without Brian noticing, Justin was saved when the people at the table behind him started to leave. Grabbing a cloth, he zoomed across the diner and tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

By the time he got there, Brian was talking.

"So, what's this I hear about you moving in with your beloved?"

Justin quietly stacked dishes, trying to look like he was actually working.

Flushing, Michael shrugged. "He asked me to move in. I said yes."

"And without even consulting me," Brian sighed dramatically.

Michael glowered. "I don't need your permission. Besides, it's not my fault you've barely been around lately. I keep calling and most of the time you don't get back to me, and whenever I drop by you're never in."

Brian's mug clunked on the table. "I know. It's not your fault. You know what it's like when you have responsibilities."

That seemed to mollify Michael and he sighed, slumping a little before brightening. "So, hey - I've got plans tonight, but do you wanna go to Babylon tomorrow? We haven't been out together in ages."

"You sure your husband won't mind?"

He must have been grinning when he said it, though, because Michael grinned too. "Fuck off. He doesn't control me; of course, I can go out with my best friend."

Brian shrugged. "Sure, let's go out. I'm not in the mood for Babylon, though." This was an interesting development.

"You're not?" Michael sounded stunned.

"It's always the same fucking music and the same fucking tricks. It's getting old." This was a *very* interesting development.

"But we've...we've always gone to Babylon. Ever since we were kids."

Lifting his cup, Brian pretended to knock it against Michael's. "To all good things there comes an end. Besides," he lowered his drink, "I'm sure there's something fantastically geeky you're just *dying* to see at the movies."

"Well..." Michael's face warmed with excitement. "Actually, there *is* something I've been wanting to see..."

"Sunshine?"

Justin had no idea how she did it, but one minute he'd been alone and the next Debbie was standing right next to him. Jumping in shock, he dropped a fork and instantly snapped it back up. "I'm fine," he told her, picking up as many dishes as he could manage and ferrying them into the kitchen. When he returned to finish cleaning up the table, she was giving him The Look.

Brian didn't help matters, spotting him as he walked by. "Oh, waiter? When you're done listening in to other people's conversations, I could do with some more coffee."

His whole face flushed red.

Brian just smirked, holding out his mug.

*

It kept happening. every time Justin worked at the diner, Brian came in. Either he had unbelievably bad luck or Brian somehow had access to his shift schedule - which was ridiculous, because the only people who knew his shifts were him and Deb.

Still, that didn't stop Justin from grumbling and theorising conspiracies each and every time Brian antagonised him. And no matter how many times he asked, Deb never gave him permission to dump a pot of coffee on Brian's lap.

He'd even offered to pay the dry cleaning bill himself.

Deb gave him advice. Vic gave him advice. Em gave him advice. Daph gave him advice.

All of it was different.

His shift had only just started one Thursday evening when Brian walked in, and Justin officially reached his limit.

Waiting until Brian chose a booth, Justin sat down opposite him.

Brian lifted his eyebrows.

"What does it accomplish?" Justin asked.

"What does what accomplish?"

"The general torment and antagonism. Are you trying to force me into apologising at some point? Because that's not going to happen. I am never, ever apologising for what I did." That was one opinion he was never changing.

Sticking his tongue between his teeth and beneath his upper lip for a few moments, Brian regarded him curiously. "I thought you were 'on to me'?" Justin glared. Brian continued. "So...you feel no need to apologise, but you can see how what you did pissed me the fuck off." Justin nodded. Brian nodded too. "And that doesn't strike you as reason enough to make your life miserable?"

Well...it *did*, but it just didn't feel like that was all there was to it. He'd been around Brian Kinney a while now and he...he just *knew*. "I don't expect us to be friends. After everything that's happened that would be..." Justin didn't go any further with that line of thought. He didn't need to. "But stop being the asshole I know you're not," he warned, "or I'll pour the next pot of coffee I pick up all over your lap. Fuck what Debbie says."

He was beginning to warm up to Brian's way of life. Do what you want, say what you want; no regrets or apologies.

Except that wasn't really how Brian was at all.

Justin didn't wait for a reaction. He walked away and let someone else serve Brian.

*

When his shift ended he said goodbye to the others and stepped out onto Liberty Avenue. It was dark out and the temperature was seriously starting to drop - it was getting to that time of year again - so he was fumbling with the zipper to his jacket when a car suddenly screeched up to the sidewalk.

Shocked, Justin instinctively stepped back before realising the car wasn't going any further. And that it wasn't exactly a car, it was a...

...very familiar Jeep.

The passenger-side door opened. The man who'd reached across to open it - Brian - was settling back into his seat.

Justin blinked.

The door was still open - a clear invitation.

Brian stared. Watched.

Waited.

He could've been planning anything. Some elaborate plan to humiliate him. Maybe Brian was going to chain him to something - get revenge. He didn't really think so, but he couldn't be sure; not after what he'd done.

But Justin wouldn't know - would never know for sure - if he didn't go. It wasn't a choice, or a decision. There was only one thing he *could* do.

Feeling very much like he had the night they met, Justin climbed up into the Jeep, settled into the seat, and pulled the door shut.

*

They didn't talk in the Jeep, although Justin honestly wasn't expecting conversation. In fact, as far as verbal communication went he was anticipating no more than the occasional word. Brian wasn't one to talk at the best of times and this...this was *far* from anything even remotely resembling the best of times.

It wasn't much of a surprise when they pulled up outside the loft, and Justin climbed out of the Jeep as soon as it stopped moving. Doing his best to hide his nervousness (Brian could still make him feel that way, no matter how pissed Justin got at him), Justin walked towards the building, holding the door open for Brian without looking back. A short journey in the elevator later and Brian was unlocking and sliding open the door to his loft.

Taking off his jacket as he strode inside, Brian threw it onto the sofa and headed for the fridge. "Close the door," he ordered, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

Justin was suffering a severe case of deja vu.

This time, however, Brian simply opened the bottle and took a sip of water. If he found anything about this in the least bit familiar, he gave no indication.

Duly sliding the door shut, Justin turned back around - his eyes shooting all around the loft, trying to find the trolley Brian kept his alcohol on.

He couldn't see it anywhere.

Twisting the cap back onto his bottle, Brian placed it on the counter and started pulling his tie loose. He was still in his work clothes, and gorgeous though Brian was at all times, there was something about him in his work clothes that *did* something to Justin's insides.

And his cock.

Loosening the tie completely, Brian tugged it off and started moving towards the bedroom. "Call Deb. Let her know you're not coming home tonight."

Justin considered arguing, watching as Brian disappeared up the steps and into the bedroom. Considered demanding to know exactly what Brian had in mind (even if the clothes removal seemed an obvious indication). He knew he had the courage to ask all of that - but also knew he could only push Brian so far. He had to pick his moments.

Locating the phone, Justin immediately called Deb's.

Vic picked up.

"Hey, Vic. It's Justin."

"Oh hey, Justin. Shouldn't you be on your way home?"

"Uh, actually, I called because I'm going to be staying at a friend's tonight."

"Daphne's?" Vic asked.

He could've lied, but Vic and Deb had both done so much for him. Besides, knowing his luck Daphne would end up calling Deb's for him tonight. "No."

There was a pause, before Vic continued with a knowing tone in his voice. "Let me guess - this 'friend' is tall, dark, handsome and has an insatiable thirst for a particular blond twink."

Grinning stupidly despite himself, Justin ducked his head. "Well...something like that. Just...make sure Deb doesn't worry too much, you know?"

"Kid, you're talking about Debbie Novotny," Vic said wryly, "she's going to worry. But that's okay. As long as you're safe, she won't come and drag you back home."

Justin heard the clunk of Brian's belt hitting the floor.

And was suddenly incredibly, unbelievably, horny.

Assuring Vic that he was very safe indeed, Justin ended the call and turned just as Brian emerged from the bedroom. He was wearing a pair of jeans - and nothing else. His feet and chest were bare, and the jeans had been left unbuttoned and unzipped and Justin absolutely knew why he was there. He'd known on some level ever since he stared at Brian from outside the Jeep, but convinced himself that this step from Brian was a sign, and that he'd be able to fix things.

But this was how *Brian* fixed things. And for the moment, Justin could give him what he wanted instead of what he needed. And fuck - Justin wanted it too.

So he walked across the loft, wrapped his arms around Brian's neck, and kissed him.

*

Brian'd been eating his ass for the last ten minutes. Justin was in agony, his dick throbbing with pleasure-pain, dying to come. Brian just kept taunting him, telling him to wait and slapping his hand away whenever he reached for his cock.

Holy shit. Maybe Brian really was going to kill him with sex.

Brian teased, nibbled, tongued - and whenever Justin got too close to coming he'd stop, pulling his mouth away and running a hand softly over the back of Justin's thigh.

Justin couldn't stop shaking and knew that when he came, he'd bring the whole fucking building down.

Finally, *finally* Brian took mercy on him, turning him onto his back and spreading his legs. He stared down at Justin as he opened the condom and rolled it onto his cock, slathering it with lube.

Justin didn't care about lube. Justin didn't care about waiting. Justin didn't care about anything except Brian's huge fat cock, and then Brian was pushing inside and Justin was tipping his head back, groaning.

Wrapping arms and legs around him, Justin urged Brian deeper, faster. The pain was minimal from being opened so thoroughly and Justin wanted more; everything. He thought he'd never have this again; that the two of them would be doomed to glare at each other from across the diner for the rest of their lives. He'd tried not to think about it, the idea of moving on, finding someone else.

No one compared to Brian. No one ever would.

When Brian stopped moving, Justin frowned up at him in confusion. It was only when he blinked that he felt the water escaping from the corner of his eye. Justin wasn't sobbing, or acting like some big, emotional mess - but he was definitely crying, the occasional tear rolling down the side of his face.

Reaching up his right hand, Brian caught the latest tear on the edge of his thumb and showed it to Justin, as if waiting for an explanation.

"I thought I..." Justin stopped, staring up at him. It might have been cheesy, it might have been a sentiment that Brian hated, but it was the truth. "I thought I'd never have this again." He waited apprehensively, expecting some diatribe about emotions or lesbians, or ruining a good fuck.

Instead, Brian lowered his hand and placed it against the side of Justin's head, speaking quietly. "Sometimes I forget how fucking young you are." Pulling the hand away, Brian planted it into the mattress, did the same with his left hand, and drew his lower body away from him. "I guess I'll have to fuck the tears right out of you."

He thrust back in, hard, and Justin yelped as his prostate was hit. Unable to do much more but hold on for the ride as Brian kept moving, Justin grabbed at whatever skin he could find - arms, back, ass - pulling him closer. "Do it, fuck me," he urged, panting.

Brian did.

*

Brian didn't hold him.

They fucked through most of the night, and when Justin finally collapsed - his bones having all the consistency of a wet noodle - Brian pulled the covers up and rolled away.

Lying on his side, Justin closed his eyes and catalogued everything he could. Every mark, every bruise; every part of him that felt sore, every physical reminder of what they'd done - just in case it never happened again.

"I didn't do it."

Surprised, Justin's eyes flew open. Forcing himself not to turn around, he stared through the side of Brian's bedroom. "Didn't do what?"

"Give up Gus. I told them I'm not signing away my kid."

Justin was surprised that he hadn't heard anything about it, but then he hadn't really seen Mel or Linds for a while. Frankly, he'd kind of been avoiding them, annoyed that they'd wanted Brian to give up Gus.

And he wasn't sure what to say now. Approval would probably piss Brian off, but saying nothing would probably piss Brian off, too.

Life tended to piss Brian off in general.

Speaking of things that pissed Brian off, Justin decided to try the Mel route.

"Bet Mel wasn't pleased, huh?"

Brian let out a big breath. "I believe she mentioned something about removing my balls with a rusty spoon."

Justin winced at the imagery. "I'd never let her anywhere near your balls."

They lapsed into silence after that. Justin wondered if he should say anything else when Brian spoke again.

"Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why the fuck are your toenails purple?"

Flushing, laughing briefly, Justin sighed. "Emmett."

Brian seemed to consider that. "Suddenly it all makes sense."

"Yup."

More silence.

"Justin?"

Feeling the mattress dip, Justin turned over to see that Brian had done the same. They were facing each other.

"Don't ever do anything like that to me again."

Not waiting for a response, Brian rolled away.

Saying nothing - promising nothing - Justin closed his eyes and tried fruitlessly to sleep.

*

It wasn't the last time they fucked.

It developed into some kind of routine. A few times a week Brian would pick him up. If he was working Brian would wait outside the diner in the Jeep; if Justin had no shift that day he'd pull up outside Deb's and honk the horn. He never gave any warning, never called in advance to let Justin know that he was on his way. Brian would simply turn up.

Deb didn't like it and made no secret of it.

"I don't like it," she snapped, one particular night not long after Brian had honked. Moving to the front of the house, she lifted the net curtains and peered outside. "He honks; you come. It's not right."

"I like coming," Justin replied cheekily, hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder. After that first night, he'd learned to always have a bag ready in case he needed a uniform or change of clothes for the next day.

"Of course you do," Deb replied, rolling her eyes as she let the netting fall and turned towards him. "And God knows I'm sure you're good for him, it's just..." Moving to intercept him before he could reach the front door, she grabbed his shoulders. "Is he good for you?" She studied him seriously. "Is he treating you right, Sunshine?"

The question drew Justin up short. "It's not like we're in a relationship," he argued, even though he wished the statement were anything but true. "We're just fucking." Although he was, personally, trying to devise a plan that would change that. At the moment that entailed being around whenever Brian needed him.

Yeah, it wasn't much of a plan.

"Fuck buddies, huh?"

"Exactly," Justin agreed, slipping out of her grasp and stepping around her to get to the front door. "I go over, we fuck, we pass out. What could be wrong with that?"

Nothing.

Almost nothing.

Except that Brian never kissed him when they fucked.

*Before* they fucked, definitely. There were all kinds of kissing during the foreplay, but when they actually started fucking? Nothing. At first, Justin had thought he was just being paranoid and decided that he'd make the move to kiss first.

Brian had turned his head away, never stopping thrusting.

It'd kind of ruined the moment for Justin, but Brian'd managed to get him off anyway.

Justin wasn't sure what it meant. Maybe Brian saw it as a way of proving that he was in charge. Maybe it was a form of punishment. Maybe he wasn't even consciously aware that he was doing it. Whatever it was, Justin knew he was going to have to bring the subject up soon. Sure, there was nothing particularly *wrong* about fucking without kissing - it was still Brian, so it was still amazing - but he'd had the kissing before, and he was determined to have it again.

He just wasn't sure of the best time to bring it up. Things with them still felt shaky. They hadn't talked at all about the fact that they were fucking again, several times a week, or about the more important fact that Brian didn't seem to be drinking. Justin still didn't know what Brian had done when he hadn't been around. Had he checked himself into rehab? Or just holed up in the loft, testing his willpower? Or something else completely?

Emmett's input would've been appreciated, but he'd been incommunicado lately. He'd been working overtime to make some extra money, and when he wasn't working he was making up for lost time with Ted. He'd felt guilty for spending hardly any time with Ted for weeks, and he'd been determined to make sure their friendship was okay.

He'd been thrilled to hear that Brian and Justin were fucking again, though.

Realising that he'd reached the Jeep, Justin pulled open the door and climbed inside. "Hey," he grinned.

Nodding in reply, Brian pulled away from the curb.

*

After another night of no-kissing fucking, Justin blearily woke up. Sprawled on his front with his head turned to the right, Justin shifted when he realised Brian wasn't next to him and that he could hear the shower running. Deciding he felt - and probably smelt - pretty rank after all that no-kissing fucking, he pushed himself up, ran a hand through his hair, and padded naked into the bathroom.

He wasn't disappointed by the sight that greeted him.

Admiring Brian's naked body - his hands were itching for a sketch pad - Justin pulled open the shower door and stepped inside.

It was only when the door shut behind him that he realised; that he remembered the last time they'd been in Brian's shower together.

He'd showered at Brian's since they'd started fucking again, yeah, but always by himself. Either he woke up and used the shower first, or by the time he woke up Brian had already finished. This was...this was...a mistake.

He'd seen - could still see, in fact - the faint marks around Brian's wrist. The worst of them were gone and you'd only know something was there if you really looked for it, but Justin knew. Even now, Brian was still healing from what Justin had done to him. In this very place.

Brian stared at him, unmoving.

Justin suddenly felt unbelievably nervous. "I'm sor..." No. No, he wasn't apologising, just in case Brian thought it was an apology for the wrong thing. "I'll come back when you're done," he said instead, moving backward, arms feeling behind him for the door.

"That makes no fucking sense," Brian replied blankly, making Justin stop. "We'll use twice as much water." He turned away, facing the shower head. "And as long as you're here, you might as well wash my back."

Surprised, but not about to question his luck - he'd take any development with Brian any way he could - Justin picked up the soap bar and slowly started rubbing it over Brian's back. "So what're your plans for today?"

"Meeting my new trainer at one," Brian answered, shaking his head under the water. "Meant to do that a while ago, but shit happened. Haven't been to the gym for a while. Need to get back in shape."

"Nothing wrong with your shape," Justin teased a little too much, well aware that he was the shit that'd happened.

"And what about you?" Brian asked, ignoring the comment. "What's our young Sunshine up to today?"

"Well it's Saturday," he said, "which means homework." Pouting, he didn't care if Brian could see his face or not. Homework meant pouting, wherever the hell you were. "Then I guess I'll try giving Daphne a call - or maybe Em. It's been a while. See if he wants to hook up after work. Although he's been spending a lot of time with Ted lately. I don't wanna get in between their friendship."

"Oh, please," Brian replied sarcastically, "Emmett is perfectly capable of having more than one friend. And frankly, you're far more interesting than Theodore ever was."

Ridiculously, Justin blushed. And tried, of course, to act like it hadn't happened. "Well, we'll see either way."

Shrugging, Brian turned his head from side to side beneath the spray of water. "Maybe I'll see you at the diner later."

Only an effort of herculean proportions stopped Justin from dropping the soap. That was the first time since 'the incident' that Brian had made even the vaguest hint about maybe, possibly, conceivably actually planning to meet up. Do something. Together.

"Sure," Justin replied, convinced his voice was about ten pitches higher than usual.

He didn't care. He grinned all the way home.

*

Once his history paper had been conquered and the sketch for Michael's birthday completed, Justin got caught up with Daph over the phone. She couldn't get away from home this weekend so they chatted for about half an hour, and ended the call with promises to see each other at school on Monday.

When Justin phoned Emmett, the call was answered on the first ring.

"Emmett Honeycutt!"

Surprised, Justin frowned. "Em? You okay?"

"Oh," Emmett's voice dropped. "Oh, hi, honey. Fine, fine, I just thought someone might be calling back about something important, that's all."

Clearly it *was* important. "I can call back another time if you're waiting for someone to call."

"No, no, it's okay," Em insisted. "It was false hope anyway. I know very well that they don't open again until Monday."

Justin was seriously starting to wonder what the fuck was going on. Em sounded like he was doing a very bad job of not crying. "Em, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," he replied. "You know me. I'm just a silly old queen who gets worked up about anything. So, what's the latest with you and youknowwho?"

Justin wasn't falling for it. "Don't try and change the subject. Tell me what the hell's going on."

"There's really no need. Things have been getting better for you lately, and you don't need to hear all about my little-"

"Emmett!"

"It's nothing!" Em repeated, sounding desperate now. "I'm just having this...teeny tiny little HIV problem."

Disbelief filled Justin's mind, dread running up his spine. No. God, no. Not Em... "Em? Are you...?" He almost didn't want to ask.

"I don't know!" he admitted. "Teddy needed to get tested so I went along for moral support, and Teddy's good, he's fine, but the clinic left a message on my voice mail just asking me to get back to them, they didn't tell me *anything* and now they don't open again until Monday! And what else does it mean when they ask you to call back? It *can't* mean anything else and-"

"Em," Justin interrupted, blinking heavily. "Are you at home?"

"I couldn't go into work," Em confessed. "But Teddy's here with me, aren't you Teddy?" Ted murmured his agreement in the background. "And he's gonna stay with me and we'll be absolutely-"

"I'll be right there."

*

This called for more than Jeff Stryker and fizzy pink whateverthefucks. This called for every Barbra Streisand movie ever made.

After raiding the nearest video rental store and dipping into Emmett's own movie collection, the three of them were sprawled out on the sofa, eating whatever junk food they could get their hands on.

"I have to say," Em sniffed, picking up another handful of microwaved popcorn, "Barbra made a fine looking man."

Wrinkling his nose, Justin tipped his head to one side. "I don't see it."

"You don't?" Emmett asked in disbelief. "I mean she's not really my type, but there's definitely something there..."

He shrugged. "Her nose is too big. It's way too distracting."

"You know," Ted began, "some might say Brian's nose isn't exactly small."

Justin sat up. "Are you saying Brian has a big nose? Brian is..." Oh, fuck! They were on their third movie, and Brian was probably waiting at the fucking diner! "Shit, I need to use your phone."

"Sure, honey," Em replied, gesturing with a popcorn-laden hand, "feel free to..."

Justin was already dialling.

It rang. And rang. It kept ringing and Justin was not so quietly freaking out, pacing back and forth behind the sofa, then changing his mind and stampeding into the bathroom to get some privacy. "Come on, pick up, pick up..."

"Kinney."

Thank fuck. "Brian, I am *so* sorry I didn't make it to the diner, but things were completely out of my control and-"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Breathing heavily, Justin faced the mirror in the bathroom cabinet. "You said we should meet at the diner."

"It wasn't set in stone or anything," Brian blew it off. "If you have other stuff to do, then do it."

Now really wasn't the time for Brian's unemotional bullshit. He had to make him understand. Em hadn't explicitly given him permission, but... "Brian, swear to me that you won't repeat what I'm about to tell you."

"What the fuck?"

"I mean it, Brian. I'm completely serious." If he didn't get the guarantee, he wasn't sharing a thing. Screw Brian.

There was a long pause - during which Justin was sure he could hear the sounds of the diner - before Brian finally agreed. "I promise."

"Emmett thinks he has HIV."

It was out there. The truth laid bare, and somehow the fact that he'd told Brian made it hit even closer to home.

Brian didn't say anything for a while. "Did he get tested?"

Justin shared the whole story - getting tested with Ted, Ted's result, the message. "...so now he has to wait until Monday and he's seriously freaking out."

"He's over-reacting," Brian argued.

"Of course he is," Justin threw up his free hand. "If it was you and this happened, wouldn't you be over-reacting too? I know I would."

"He doesn't need to," he replied, before sighing. "Look, do they know the name of the doctor or whoever the fuck did the test?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Well have you tried looking him up in the phone book?" Brian asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Holy shit. Holy shit! They might not find anything, but it was worth fucking trying. "I have to go," Justin said urgently, "Thank you! I'll call you back later. And Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"I really am sorry about not being there." Ending the call, he ran out of the bathroom. "Emmett!"

*

The guy from the doctor's office - Steve Calvert, apparently - had been shocked to hear from them, given Emmett's reaction.

"I know, I know," Em had rambled, clinging onto the phone, "it probably seems creepy and a little stalkery - we've already gone through two other Steve Calvert's just to get to you - but I swear, all I want to know is why you asked me to call the office."

As it turned out, Emmett's check had simply bounced and there was nothing wrong with him at all (he'd sworn on his Aunt Lula's recipe for Egg Custard Pie that he'd come in first thing Monday morning to pay with cash if Steve told him. Justin didn't know if giving out results without getting paid first was policy or not, but Steve'd been a nice guy and given them the good news).

Hugging and crying of historic proportions had consequently taken over Em's apartment, and when he just a little bit tipsy Justin called Brian again.

"Kinney."

"Brian? I'm still at Em's - he's fabulous. He's fucking negative. If you come and pick me up I'll give you the best fucking thank you blowjob you've ever had."

Brian made it there in six minutes.

*

Work the next day was pretty good. Well, it was work so it could've been better, but Justin was cheered by the thought of seeing Brian in the evening. Deb had arranged a dinner at her place for Michael's 30th, and everyone was invited. The guys, the girls, Gus, David. He actually wasn't sure what Brian behaviour to expect, how he'd treat him in front of the others - he assumed everyone knew they'd stopped fucking only to start again - but it had to be good for Brian to go somewhere other than work and the diner.

So Justin floated through the day, concentrating on work when he had to, but otherwise remembering last nights thank you blowjob and the appreciative fucking he'd received afterward.

When he arrived back at Deb's, he wasn't surprised to see that she'd gone all out. There were bright, rainbow-coloured decorations all over the place - hanging on the walls, from the ceiling. Balloons, ribbons, banners. It was quite the spectacle.

"Hey Deb, Vic," he greeted, tugging his jacket off and hanging it up by the front door. "The place looks great."

"Thanks, Sunshine!" she grinned, in the process of tying the end of a balloon off as Vic waved and headed upstairs to get changed. "How was work?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "You need a hand with anything?"

Stupid question. Quickly recruiting him, she had him help hang another banner - this one read 'HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY' - and then he started putting the dishes and cutlery out on the table. It was going to be a tight fit with all the people they had coming, but that'd probably just make it more interesting. The kitchen was filled with the smells of fresh cooking, and as Justin eyed the finished dishes sitting on the counter his stomach rumbled.

"Ha," she laughed, hearing it and patting him on the stomach as she brushed by, "at least one of you's going to be eating well tonight. And I don't just mean protein. Okay," she paused, looking down at the table. "Pass me that lasagne?"

It wasn't long after everything was ready and Justin had changed shirts that people started arriving. Michael arrived first - being his mother's son, he'd known he was expected to be there early - and Justin offered both him and David a drink. Justin wasn't sure what to make of David. He didn't really *know* David but he seemed a bit old, even to him. Yeah, Brian was twelve years older than him but David was...what? At least forty. More than twenty years older than him.

Gross.

Still, deciding that the only thing that mattered was the fact that Michael was happy, Justin plopped down on one end of the sofa and waited for the rest of them to arrive.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, everyone started appearing. Ted and Emmett were next, followed by the girls. Dragging Emmett to the corner under the stairs, Justin discovered he'd called Steve again - this time for a date.

"That's great!" Justin grinned.

"I know!" Emmett practically bounced. "I was feeling a little spooked, you know? I was starting to think the most ridiculous things and then I just said to myself - fuck it! Emmett Honeycutt, you've never let fear run your life and you're not about to start now. Girl, you have to get back on the saddle again! Literally," he winked. "Life's too short not to."

"Couldn't agree more," he smiled.

"And, honestly," Em replied, his expression turning serious, "thank you *so* much for helping me. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

Shrugging it off, Justin grinned. "I was glad to be there, but really - don't thank me. Thank Brian. It was his idea."

"What was my idea?"

Turning around, Justin saw Brian standing just a few feet away. Resisting the urge to jump him, Justin restricted himself to a smile. "Hey, Brian. And I was talking about your idea to check the phone book."

"Oh, *that*," Brian retorted, shrugging dismissively. "Any amateur PI would've figured that one out."

Emmett was in too good a mood to get annoyed. "Well, no one ever accused me of being Miss Marple! Oh my God, did you ever see that Angela Lansbury version? She was barely on screen, it was just-"

"Where's my kid?" Brian interrupted, heading towards the girls. Crossing the lounge, he leaned in to take Gus off of Linds' lap. "Hey, Sonny Boy." As he communed with Gus, Mel and Linds greeted him.

Well, Linds did. Mel just glared.

Making a point of saying hello to both of them - no doubt to piss Mel off even more - Brian then headed towards Michael. "And here's the birthday boy," Brian told Gus, carefully holding one of his little arms and waving it back and forth at Michael. "Happy Biiiirthday, Mikeeeey."

Laughing, Michael stood up for a hug, careful not to squish Gus. After the hug and a brief kiss, Brian pulled away, already speaking. "You're officially an old man. Congratulations."

"Just wait," Michael teased, obviously not that bothered by the age comment, "you're only a few months behind me you know."

"Don't remind me," Brian sighed melodramatically. "But at least," he continued, "we'll always be younger than Ted. Oh. And your husband." He smirked at David.

Thankfully Debbie chose that moment to interrupt, declaring that now everyone had arrived the festivities could begin. The first order of business - food. "So grab yourselves a seat around the table!"

Still holding Gus, Brian took the seat next to Justin's. Justin didn't know if it was intentional or not but tried not to make a big deal of it, instead taking the opportunity to talk to Gus. Not seeing Mel and Linds for a while had also meant unfortunately not seeing Gus. "Hey, little guy," Justin murmured, as Brian got into some discussion with Emmett about carbs. "You miss your daddy?" Gus waved a little fist, which Justin took as a yes.

"Brian, you can't hold him properly while you eat," Mel pointed out, drawing everyone's attention. "We need to put him in his chair. Besides, he'll start falling asleep soon, anyway."

Glaring briefly, Brian lifted Gus up and kissed him gently on the forehead before passing him over to Linds, who seemed to smile apologetically for Mel. After a few seconds he realised that everyone was staring at him and, probably embarrassed at being seen doing something sentimental, Brian spoke. "Let's fucking eat, shall we?"

The food was good - but that was to be expected. It was also filled with so many calories that Justin probably wouldn't need to eat for a week - again, that was to be expected. Debbie didn't like cutting corners and was a firm believer in traditional recipes.

The night went pretty well. People were laughing, Michael was clearly enjoying himself, and no one seemed to notice that Brian wasn't drinking any alcohol.

The gift-giving went well, too. Michael had loved the sketch of him and Captain Astro that Justin'd drawn ("This is *so* cool! I'm framing it as soon as I get home!"), and every other present he received he genuinely seemed to love - even the Easy Cake oven from Emmett.

Things turned ugly after Debbie dished out the birthday cake. Justin had no idea why, but for some reason, David chose that moment to get pissy.

The chocolate fudge cake had been really, really good, and Justin had eagerly shovelled fork after fork of it into his mouth. There was definitely something to be said for high-fat, high-sugar recipes.

Realising he was being over-enthusiastic with his eating and drawing some amused stares, Justin slowed down and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "Sorry," he grinned, feeling a little embarrassed.

"No need to apologise," David told him, "you're a growing boy." And then his gaze slipped towards Brian, his expression changing into a smirk. "I'm surprised *you* don't eat more. I'm sure it requires a lot of energy to keep up with someone so very...youthful."

Where the fuck did that come from? Justin wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or not.

Brian, of course, wasn't about to let it go. "Remind me again, Doctor Dave - what exactly *is* the age difference between you and Mikey?"

David's smirk faltered. "I don't see how that's relevan-"

"No," Brian snapped. "I'm sure you don't."

The two of them stared at each other, and Justin felt very much like he was watching two Alpha Males vying for dominance. He was all for putting his money on Brian when Debbie spoke.

"So! Who wants more wine?"

The rest of them quickly raised their glasses, obviously eager to break the tension. Leaning across the table, Deb gave everyone a top up, pausing when she noticed Brian's glass.

"Brian, honey, you haven't had any wine?"

Brian shifted in his chair. "Do you have any idea how many calories alcohol contains?"

"Never bothered you before," Ted argued.

"Well it bothers me now," Brian replied sarcastically.

"If you don't want wine I have some beer in the fridge," Deb offered, gesturing with her thumb.

"I'm fine, really," he answered, shifting some more. "Besides, I have to drive later."

Justin bit his lip.

Michael frowned. "You drive after you've been drinking all the time."

"One glass isn't gonna kill ya," Deb argued. "Look, I'll just pour some in your glass for later."

"Deb, I really don't-"

"You don't even have to drink it."

"Deb..." Justin said quietly, but she wasn't hearing him.

Brian stretched his hand out, covering the glass. "Seriously, I don't-"

"Nonsense! You don't have to touch a drop, but-"

"I don't want any fucking wine! Okay?"

Finally, Deb seemed to get the message, eyes shocked as Brian pushed back his chair and stomped out of the kitchen.

Pushing his own chair back, Justin ignored everyone and ran out after him.

Brian was already lighting a cigarette by the time Justin stepped out into the back yard. Closing the door quietly behind him, he hesitated for a few seconds before moving forward, stopping just behind Brian. Cold, he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

Exhaling a puff a smoke, Brian laughed darkly. He hadn't turned around but he obviously knew Justin was there. "Seems Brian's little secret is getting harder and harder to keep."

Surprised, Justin's eyes widened. That was the first time Brian had even vaguely admitted to having a drinking problem, and he felt ridiculously proud and stupidly depressed at the same time. Cautious about touching him just yet, Justin leaned closer. "They'll probably just think you had a bad day or something. I'm sure Mel's in there right now telling everyone how this is typical behaviour for you."

Snorting, Brian took another drag, staring up at the sky. "And how I'm a shitty father, a drug addict, and a bad role model for queers everywhere. Shit," he continued, "telling them wouldn't make it any better either."

Justin had never believed for one second that Brian would tell the others, but the fact that the idea had even crossed his mind definitely interested him. "Why not?"

"You think I wanna take that bullshit sympathy? Or blame?"

What the hell? "Blame?"

"Oh, poor Brian," he replied in a mocking tone, gesturing with the hand holding the cigarette, "it's so horrible that he has to go through this. But you know, he brought it on himself." Pausing, he shook his head and took another drag. "Fuck that." Exhaling another breath of smoke, he flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped it out.

His friends weren't like that. Not really. "Brian..."

Sighing, Brian finally turned around to face him. "Is this the part where you try to give me some spiritually uplifting and entirely too muncher-like speech?"

Trying not to smile at the fact that Brian knew him so well, Justin finally felt safe to touch him. "Shut up," he warned, grabbing Brian's sides and looking up at him. "Your friends are good people. Yeah, they can be assholes sometimes, but so can you. They're human," he shrugged. "No one's perfect."

Studying him for a few moments, Brian somehow managed to nod mockingly. "That was very...deep."

"Fuck off," Justin grinned, glad that he seemed to be feeling better. "You know, I was going to offer to suck you off but now I'm not so sure."

"Well, we can't have that," Brian arched an eyebrow before swooping in for a kiss.

Startled, Justin quickly recovered and pulled Brian closer, kissing him back. They still weren't kissing when they had sex so Justin loved any moments like this one. When Brian's right hand made its way down to his ass and pushed their groins together, Justin groaned loudly, the feeling nudging his arousal up another notch.

It was always like this with them. Always.

"Ahem," a voice interrupted - Em. "Sorry to intrude..."

Cursing, Brian glared over Justin's shoulder at Emmett.

Closing his eyes, breathing heavily, Justin held onto Brian's forearms as he tried to come down without getting off.

"Really, really sorry, because that was extremely hot," Em continued, and Justin finally opened his eyes and turned to face him. He was standing inside the doorway, holding the door open. "But the 'getting old photo albums out and humiliating Michael' portion of the evening is about to begin. You two should be in here."

"Another proud Novotny tradition," Brian muttered.

With his arm wrapped around Brian's waist, Justin turned his head towards him. "I bet you secretly love it."

Brian rolled his eyes, and Justin knew he was right.

"I, uh..." Emmett began, obviously fumbling for words and looking anywhere but at the two of them. "I told them you were trying to give up smoking."

Justin winced internally. He really wasn't sure how much Brian knew he'd shared with Em - he knew he'd slipped up in the shower at one point, saying Em's name, but he'd been hoping Brian'd been too out of it to notice. Now there was no denying that Emmett at least knew the basics.

Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that that was a nice diversionary technique. It'd certainly go some way to at least keeping the others off the trail. "Thanks, Em."

Saying nothing, Brian started walking towards the house, tugging Justin along with him. When he got close enough that Emmett would have to move out of the way, he spoke. "Heard you were negative."

"I certainly am," Em replied, sounding delighted. "This is a good day for guys who want to fuck me everywhere."

Brian didn't smile, didn't smirk. He simply pushed passed him as he walked into the house. "See that it stays that way."

*

Their kind-of-routine continued. They worked, they fucked; Justin went to school. Daph had been ecstatic over the fact that he and Brian were 'seeing each other' again and continued asking for details at every opportunity. Chris Hobbs was still an asshole but Justin only had run-ins with him from time to time. Most of the time it was just an angry glare or being shouldered out of the way - nothing, really.

Mom started dropping by Deb's or the diner more and more frequently to see how he was doing. Justin wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was nice that she wanted to check on him, he supposed, but it still felt like too little too late.

The one good thing was the fact that she kept asking him what he wanted for his birthday, and Justin was pretty sure her guilt meant he was getting a kick-ass present this year.

He brought the subject up with Brian one night, as they lay on the bed post-fuck.

"Mom came by to see me again yesterday."

"Fuck," Brian groaned, reaching out to the bedside table for a cigarette. "Do we have to talk about your mother when we've just fucked?" Lighting up the cigarette, he tossed the lighter back onto the table and fell onto his back.

Laughing once, Justin nonetheless ignored the question. "It's just...weird that she's suddenly giving me all this attention. I mean I know she loves me and this whole thing isn't easy for her, it's just..." He felt the anger starting to burn inside him, something he'd been ignoring for a while. "She said she couldn't just think about my desires. And I get that she has to worry about Molly and Dad, it's just..." It came back to that phrase again. "She said she couldn't just think about my 'desires'. Like being gay is just about who I want to fuck."

"Isn't it?" Brian asked, taking a drag.

"No," Justin argued, staring up at the ceiling. "Being gay is part of who I am, but it's not my defining characteristic. She made it sound like it was."

"Christ, you like to use big words."

Justin ignored him. It wasn't his fault he did so well at school. "I don't see how my being gay is any different than my parents being straight."

"It's not," Brian replied, turning on his side to face him and resting his head on his free hand. "They make it different. And you're a little drama queen, you know that?"

Yeah, Daphne called him that sometimes. "I'm not little," he sniffed defensively.

Brian smirked, shaking his head. "You're a fucking short ass."

"I am not!" he argued, rolling onto his side so he could lean over Brian. "I'll tickle you. Don't think I won't."

Shooting him a look that said 'just try it', Brian glared. "You tickle me and not only will you be a short ass, you'll also find yourself short two balls."

Pushing Brian onto this back, Justin straddled him. "Like that'll ever happen." Tugging the cigarette out of Brian's hand, he took a drag. "You like my balls too much."

Brian seemed to consider that, snatching the cigarette away from him. "They are *very* big."

"And you're definitely a size queen," Justin murmured, leaning down to kiss him and rubbing his ass over Brian's cock. In no time at all Brian was hard, his hand reaching out to stub out his cigarette. Moaning into a kiss as Justin rotated his hips, Brian's hands slid down to Justin's ass cheeks, running over them before pulling him closer.

Gasping, Justin broke the kiss. He wanted to get off but Brian had been in a playful mood and...fuck it. He was saying it. Slowing the movement of his hips completely, Justin looked down at him. God, Brian was gorgeous. "You don't do that anymore."

Obviously unhappy with the fact that Justin had stopped moving, Brian grabbed his ass again. "What don't I fucking do anymore?"

"You don't kiss me."

"I kiss you all the-"

"When we fuck. You don't kiss me when we fuck." Pausing, he licked his lips. "Is it because of what I did?"

Frustrated, Brian tipped his head back and looked away. "I'm not into revenge. And I..." he hesitated. "I didn't think you'd fucking notice."

Surprised, Justin tried to keep the mood light. "You're seriously underestimating your kissing technique. Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice that Brian Kinney wasn't kissing me? Maybe you need to boost your self confiden-"

"Fuck you," Brian interrupted, looking at him now and maybe smiling - just a little. Maybe.

In some parallel dimension.

When the phone started ringing, Justin slumped a little. Brian would definitely use this to weasel out of the conversation. Whoever was calling had the worst fucking timing.

"I should get that," Brian said.

Sighing, Justin leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Brian's chest. If he just stayed there and didn't move, then Brian simply couldn't answer the phone.

The phone switched over to messages.

"Helloooo! Is anyone there?" Justin sat back up. Emmett? "I'm sorry to interrupt, especially if you two are fucking, but I really need to talk to Justin. Pick up, pick up, pick up!" Giving Brian an apologetic look, Justin pushed himself up and off the bed, making his way through the loft. "It's not a matter of life and death, but I definitely need to-"

Justin picked up the phone. "Hey, Em. What's up?"

"Hi, sweetie! I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Only maybe an actual Brian confession about something...but it was Em, so he couldn't really be angry. "Not really. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's *delightful*," Emmett chirped. "You will never believe the amazingly fantastic news I just heard!"

"What is it?"

"Zack O'Tool is coming to Pittsburgh!"

He instantly recognised the name. "The porn star?"

"Oh, good," Em sounded relieved, "I was afraid you wouldn't know who he is. You're so young!"

"Everyone knows who The Manrammer is." Personally, he didn't think much of the nickname. "So is he filming a movie?"

"Even better - he's doing a play! Twelve Horny Men. The flier describes it as 'a compelling look at our criminal justice system. Can anyone really receive a fair trial?' And it assures fans that he definitely gets naked. After our Jeff Stryker marathon a while back, you *have* to come and see it with me and Teddy. That's why I called - I want to book as soon as possible and get front row seats."

"Oh. Well..." Why not? "Sure." He'd never seen a porn play before - he'd try anything once.

"Wonderful! I'll try and book this now but if I can't I'll call them first thing tomorrow. I'll give you the details as soon as I get them."

"Okay. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too, sweetie. Gotta dash - Steve awaits. See ya!"

"Bye." Ending the call, Justin shook his head as he hung up the phone. Emmett could get seriously excited about things that might seem silly to others - and he wasn't in the least bit ashamed. Justin loved him for it.

"Everything okay?"

Jumping, Justin stumbled, turning to see Brian standing just a few inches away. Jesus. "Yeah, Emmett just wants to go see a play. It's Zack O'Tool, though, so he wants the best seats in the house."

Brian pursed his lips. "Zack O'Tool, huh?"

Justin shrugged. "Yeah." Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and one on his chest, pushing him back against the nearest solid surface.

"Speaking of Manramming..."

*

Operation: Get Brian Out More entailed Justin wiggling his ass as Brian let him into the loft. Things with the two of them were continuing to go well.

Or at least Brian hadn't threatened to throw him out recently.

But in his time away from the loft, Justin had been reading up on alcoholism more and more, and he was worried about Brian. Apparently, a lot of recovering alcoholics were scared of going to places where they knew they'd have access to alcohol - which made complete sense, and explained why Brian had been avoiding Babylon. The problem was, Brian wasn't just avoiding Babylon, he was avoiding most places he usually visited. Which also made complete sense, because there tended to be access to alcohol wherever Brian went.

The solution was simple - Justin would have to convince him to start going to places that he usually didn't deem worthy of his time.

Brian said nothing as he walked towards a table he'd obviously been working on. There were papers spread all across it and he picked a few of them up in one hand, studying the contents as he sat down.

Following him, Justin bent over the table and rested his forearms against the surface. "Let's go do something," he said, "you and me."

"How long have you known me?" Brian asked, not looking up. "I don't do dates."

"It's not a date," Justin argued (although he certainly wouldn't object to the idea if it turned into one). "I just wanna know if you wanna come out with me."

Brian seemed to hesitate for a moment as if actually considering it. And then he wasn't considering it. "The answer's no. I have work to do. Go do something with Daphne," he suggested, barely glancing up from the paperwork in his hands as he stood up.

"I don't wanna do something with Daphne," Justin whined, following Brian around the loft as he picked even more paperwork up from the kitchen counter. What the hell was he working on, anyway? "I wanna do something with you."

"I thought you were studying for your SAT's?" Brian queried, turning around to gesture at him with the papers in his hand.

"I am," Justin admitted, searching for an excuse, "but..." Ah ha! "Going out and having fun helps me concentrate."

"Uh huh."

"Seriously. It releases certain endorphins that help me concentrate...harder and for longer periods." He was so bullshitting.

Amused, Brian smirked. "Right. Not doing your homework is good for you. That's a new one."

Brian's door buzzer sounded. "I'll get it," Justin grinned, knowing Brian loved it sometimes when he was bratty. Case in point: Brian grabbed him just before he reached the speaker, stopping just short of actually tickling him.

"*I'll* get it." Nudging Justin into the corner by the door and trapping him there, he pushed the talk button. "Yeah?"

An unfamiliar voice came through the speaker. "It's Kip."

"Come on up," Brian replied, pressing the button that unlocked the door downstairs.

"Who?" Justin asked, curious. What kind of a name was 'Kip', anyway?

"It's none of your business."

"Kip?" he mocked.

He patted Justin lightly on the side of the face, but there was no venom in it. "And it *is* business, believe it or not," Brian concluded, reaching around Justin to start pulling the door open.

"Fine," Justin gave in melodramatically, just as he heard the elevator start to move. It seemed Brian really did have work to do. He'd picked a bad night for Operation: GBOM. "I guess I'll have to go find someone who *does* want to do something with me. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. Then you can study, longer and *harder*," Brian taunted, gently pushing him away as Justin left the loft - glancing at the elevator shaft - then trotted down the stairs, turning the corner.

Of course, he didn't actually go anywhere. As soon as he made it around the corner he stopped, pushing himself up against the wall. Waiting quietly, he heard the elevator stop and the safety door being pulled up. Brian and the guy - Kip - greeted each other, and Justin decided to risk it, peering around the corner.

The Kip guy was carrying a portfolio or something, and although Justin didn't think he was all that attractive he had little doubt that Brian had fucked him. There was no way Kip was straight; not from the way he was fawning over Brian's place.

When the loft door was pulled shut, Justin sighed and continued down the stairs, intent on heading back to Deb's. He'd known - he'd always known - that Brian fucked other guys, ever since those first few days. He hadn't liked it but it was fruitless to keep thinking about it, so he didn't. Still, he was curious as to how much tricking Brian had actually been doing lately.

Obviously they'd been fucking a lot, but Justin didn't classify himself as a trick - and he wasn't about to ask for Brian's stance on that subject just yet. He wouldn't have been surprised to discover that Brian was tricking less, simply because he wasn't going to Woody's or Babylon anymore. He didn't have to work for sex at all at either of those places - men practically threw themselves at him which made for easy pickings.

Still, he *was* Brian Kinney - the man who could fuck anyone he wanted - and Justin was sure he was getting plenty of sex elsewhere. He could probably pick guys up in the diner. While he was shopping.

Hell, just on the street.

Annoyed at himself for conjuring up images of Brian fucking other guys, Justin shook his head and crossed Tremont. At least - besides him - Brian never fucked the same guy twice.

*

Justin kept a wary eye on Brian over the next week or so. After a few days he seemed a little tenser than usual but claimed everything was fine. Justin didn't buy it. Sometimes when he was staying at the loft Brian would check his messages and there'd be one from Kip, asking for another chance. Brian would immediately delete it, and Justin would worry more. What if this guy was after Brian the way he'd been?

Things started going seriously downhill one night when Brian picked him up from Deb's. He was quieter than usual - even for him - and didn't say anything at all until he'd fucked Justin twice.

Normally Justin would've been pissed at him, but he could tell it was more than just Brian being an asshole. "What happened?"

Blowing out smoke, Brian kept his cigarette hand lifted up, staring at the ceiling. "I'm being sued for sexual harassment."

The idea was so mind-boggling that it genuinely took Justin a while to be able to formulate any kind of response. "But...you...I..." It was the last thing he ever would've guessed. Finally, he produced a response. "Why would *you* need to sexually harass someone? It's not's like it's hard for you to find guys to fuck."

"Thanks, Sunshine," he replied, although he didn't really seem amused. "And I wouldn't need to sexually harass someone. I didn't. It's bullshit."

"Of course it is." That much was obvious. "Was it that Kip guy?" That would explain a lot. Justin *knew* he was bad news.

Nodding, Brian took another drag. "We fucked a couple of times. He seemed to think that meant he should get a promotion he didn't deserve, and he's pissed at me because I didn't give it to him."

He fucked Kip? He fucked Kip more than once?

Internally freaking out, Justin tried to focus on what was actually more important - how this could affect Brian's job. "Could he cause serious trouble?"

He seriously fucked Kip more than once?

"He's an idiot," Brian insisted. "He has some talent but he's an idiot. This'll all blow over in a couple of days."

"You sound so sure." Frankly, Justin was worried about how Brian was handling the stress of the situation. He'd always pretend he was fine, of course, but putting this kind of pressure on a recovering alcoholic could in no way be a good thing.

"Of course," he glanced towards Justin. "I'm always right. Anyway, let's move on to less unpleasant subjects."

Eager to stop Brian thinking about anything depressing, Justin encouraged him. "Liiiiiiike?"

"Liiiiiiike...I hear it's your birthday soon."

Shit. Justin had been purposely avoiding the subject, not wanting Brian to think he was going to bug him for a gift or anything. "How'd you hear about it?"

"Oh, some big fucking bird told me." Debbie. Of course. He really should've seen that coming. "Wanted to make sure I was 'nice' to you, even if we are apparently just 'fuck buddies'." Turning his head towards him, Brian smirked a little, raising an eyebrow.

Flushing red, Justin covered his face. He was never telling Debbie anything ever again. "She had us one step away from a commitment ceremony," he defended, knowing it wasn't exactly truthful but that the very idea would have the most effect on Brian. "I had to tell her *something*."

Rolling his eyes, Brian's smirk started to fade. "Everyone's a fucking romantic."

Wanting to keep him in a good mood, Justin rolled onto his side and slipped his hand down to Brian's cock, grinning. "You can be fucking *this* romantic in about...twenty seconds?"

When the phone started ringing, Justin groaned, letting go of Brian's dick and resting his head on his shoulder. Not again. "Why don't you have a phone next to the bed?"

"Wouldn't wanna interrupt a good fuck."

Of course not. Except they *kept* getting interrupted.

By that point, the phone had rung enough times that it switched over to messages. Lindsay's voice echoed through the loft.

"Brian? Brian, if you're there, pick up, please." Shocked, Justin started sitting up - she sounded like she was crying. Shit, what if something was wrong with Gus? Apparently thinking the same thing, Brian practically shoved Justin out of the way and ran out of the bedroom. "I really need to talk to you, please-" Linds' voice cut off as Brian picked up the phone.

"What's wrong?"

Padding to the top of the steps, Justin waited anxiously. When he saw Brian's shoulders slump, the tension draining out of them, relief flooded through him. Whatever it was, Gus was okay.

Finding his underwear, Justin tugged them on and headed into the kitchen, pulling open the door to the fridge. Opening a bottle of water, he closed the door with his shoulder and stood by the counter, pretending he wasn't listening to Brian's half of the conversation.

He seemed surprised by something, that was for sure, and he said a lot of bad things about Mel (although that was hardly different from usual), so Justin could only assume Mel was the one who'd made Linds cry.

When Brian hung up, after promising to go and see Linds tomorrow, he turned towards Justin.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Seems Smelly Melly fucked around with someone."

Justin's mouth almost fell open. No fucking way! "Holy shit! Seriously?" They'd always seemed so happy together, but when he thought about it for a while he realised Mel and Linds hadn't really said much to each other at Michael's party. Maybe this'd been going on for a while. "Another dyke?" Brian gave him a look. "Hey, you never know. It could've been a guy. Weirder things have happened."

"Not to Melanie Marcus they haven't," Brian retorted, walking towards him. "That is one lesbian who seriously likes pussy."

Justin wrinkled up his nose, letting Brian take the bottle out of his hand and swallow a gulp of water. Putting the bottle down on the counter afterwards, Brian looked from the counter to Justin, and back to the counter again.

Later, when Justin was bent over the counter, trying desperately to hold onto *anything* as Brian fucked the shit out of him, a voice hissed near his ear.

"Sunshine, don't ever turn straight on me, will ya?"

"Wouldn't, ah, dream of, fuck!" A particularly well-aimed thrust rendered him speechless. "It. Oh my God..."

*

There was no one waiting for him outside the diner the next day. It wasn't all that unusual - Brian didn't often bring him back to the loft two days running - but with the sexual harassment suit Justin really wanted to see how Brian was doing. So instead of heading straight for Deb's, he decided on a little pit stop to Brian's, first. He'd just drop in, make sure Brian was okay, and leave.

Unless Brian actually invited him to stay the night. In which case, he was *so* there.

Taking the elevator up to the loft, Justin spent the time pondering just how many blowjobs had taken place inside the elevator over the years. He knew he'd performed six.

When it shuddered to a halt, Justin pulled the safety door up and stepped out onto the landing. He was all set to knock on the door when he glanced to one side and noticed something.

It was open.

Just an inch or so, but the door was open.

Panicking, not even thinking about his own safety, he rolled the door open further. "Brian!"

He smelt it instantly.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No!

Running through the loft, he only stopped when he reached the edge of the bedroom, his world shrinking to the image his brain was trying to process.

Brian, passed out on the bed, with a half-empty bottle of Beam propped up against his side.

Fuck!

*

Sitting on the end of the bed, Justin brought his knees up and sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around his legs. Holding on tightly, he lowered his head to his knees and closed his eyes. He felt...

pissedsadangryanxioustiredsickstressedguiltyfurious

...he didn't know how the fuck he felt; which emotion was most predominant.

Keeping his eyes closed he stayed there for a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes, just concentrating on breathing. On being okay. Not flipping out.

When he could breathe again without feeling like a fifty-ton truck was sitting on his chest, he opened his eyes and quietly unfolded himself. Wincing slightly, he stretched out his body and got to work. He'd be useless to anyone if he just kept sitting there feeling sorry for himself.

Leaning up the bed - Brian was out cold, even producing the occasional snore - Justin jerked the bottle of Beam away from him. The lid was MIA until Justin found it on the floor next to Brian's side of the bed, and after he picked that up too he thumped across the loft and into the kitchen. Throwing the lid into the trash, Justin emptied the rest of the bottle down the sink before throwing that in the trash, too. Turning on the taps to wash away the smell of alcohol, Justin closed his eyes and breathed again, just for a moment.

He searched the loft, like he had before, and found no other bottles. He supposed that made sense. Brian's tolerance for alcohol would've reduced a hell of a lot, which explained why he was unconscious after 'only' drinking half a bottle of scotch.

Asshole. Fucking *asshole*.

Yeah, it was anger.

Calling Debbie, Justin then climbed up onto the bed and waited for Brian to wake up.

*

He sat there for hours. Sometimes he got up for food or something to drink, but otherwise, he sat next to Brian, thinking. By the time Brian started to stir - which actually meant groaning loudly - he'd been there for over five hours. Five hours was a lot of time to think, and Justin had reached more than a few conclusions. Something had to change, and it wasn't him.

Justin would be there, would be ready to support Brian in any way possible as he fought this, but Brian *had* to take that first step. Until then, Justin wasn't doing anything.

Even if it killed him.

Getting up from the bed briefly, Justin made a quick call to a cab company. Fuck the cost. Once it was booked and he was told the cab was on its way, he moved back to the bed.

"Fuck," Brian muttered, grabbing his head and rolling onto his side. Slowly opening his eyes, they widened dramatically when he realised Justin was next to him. "Oh, *fuck*."

Justin almost smirked. Yeah, that was it. Brian should be fucking scared to see him. "I'm so fucking angry at you I can't even think straight." Brian tried to roll away from him. "Don't turn away from me."

"Head hurts," Brian complained, not turning back.

"Good," he snapped. "It fucking should. That's what happens when you haven't drunk anything for a few months and then suddenly decide to drink half a bottle of Beam."

"I got suspended from work. Because of Kip. Kip fucking Thomas." Fuck. "I'm gonna lose my job. I'm gonna lose fucking everything."

Justin fought against the initial wave of sympathy. He was determined not to be taken off track. "The only way you'll lose everything is if you keep drinking," he argued. "So what if you lose your job? Get another one. Come and share the room with me at Deb's if you have to. No one'll think any less of you. The only thing that matters to us - that matters to *me* - is that you're alive and healthy." Grabbing Brian's shoulder, Justin forced him onto his back and stared down at him. Brian really did look like shit, trying to cover up his eyes.

Justin wouldn't let him, grabbing his arms and pulling them away from his body.

"Listen to me," he continued, making Brian look up at him. "Why am I even here? Why have you let me stick around lately?" He didn't get a response, but he didn't expect one. "I know why." He'd figured that much out earlier. "It's because I'm convenient - I already know what's been happening. You don't have to hide your deep, dark secret from me. And you can fuck me whenever you feel like it. Well, fuck that," he paused. "From now on, when I'm here it'll be because *both* of us want me here. And when we fuck, you'll kiss me - no more of this no kissing bullshit." Part of him couldn't believe he was actually saying all this, and part of him felt like he should have said it weeks ago.

Brian looked like his head was about to crack open. "What-?"

"Yeah," Justin interrupted because he'd been thinking about this for hours and knew what he wanted to say. He had his speech all down. "I know. You don't do demands. Ultimatums make your dick soft. But you're going to have to deal with them this time. I'm willing to go through this with you, but I mean *with* you. I can't cope with this alone. I'm seventeen years old, Brian." Annoyed to realise that he was dangerously close to crying, Justin let go of Brian's arms and pushed himself off of the bed.

"Justin..."

"I love you," Justin said, keeping his back towards Brian and trying not to let his voice shake. "And I want to help you. And I want to be with you. And I may be a tough little shit," Brian had said as much himself, "but I can't do everything. So," he straightened his back, "I'm leaving now. There's no more alcohol in the loft. What you do next is up to you."

Taking a step towards the door, Justin hesitated when he thought of one last thing to say. "If at some point you decide you want to talk, then come to me and talk. Don't call Deb's and bitch at me over the phone. Talk to me."

He'd always kicked ass in debate team.

*

The euphoria lasted about five minutes. Three minutes into the drive home Justin started crying, scaring the fuck out of the cab driver.

Assuring the guy that he was fine and that he wasn't an escaped mental health patient, Justin left a huge tip and bolted for Emmett's building the moment the cab stopped moving. In what seemed like a matter of seconds he was being let into the building and running up the stairs, right into Emmett's arms.

"Sweetie..."

"I'm sorry, I know it's late." Em was in his PJ's.

"Don't be ridiculous, you know you can come here anytime."

"He's started again, Em. He's fucking drinking again." He let go, then - really let go, sobbing against Emmett's Muscle Mary shirt.

"Oh, baby..." Hugging him tighter for a moment, Em quietly guided him into the apartment, closing the door behind them. Settling them both down on the sofa, he kept an arm wrapped around Justin, rubbing his hand slowly up and down in comfort.

When Justin was eventually all cried out - and had been passed about two hundred tissues - he started feeling embarrassed. "Sorry," he sniffed, wiping at his nose again.

"No need to apologise," Emmett assured him, "I happen to be thoroughly absorbent. How else do you think I deal with all that come? I'm a human sponge."

Managing a chuckle, Justin stopped suddenly when he saw a guy standing in the doorway to Emmett's room. He realised immediately that it had to be the infamous Steve - and Emmett had been right. Steve was definitely a hottie.

"Hey," Steve said quietly, smiling a little awkwardly.

"Hi," Justin greeted, blinking heavily to try and look as normal as possible. "Sorry, I didn't mean to barge in-"

"I said don't worry about it," Emmett told him. "Justin, I'd like you to meet Steve." Steve lifted a hand and waved. At least he wasn't naked. "Steve, this is Justin, a very good friend of mine. He needs a place to stay tonight. Now..." he looked between the two of them. "I wonder if the three of us can manage to squeeze into my bed?"

*

Since Michael had moved into David's a while ago his bed was free, and that was where Justin woke up the next morning. Other than the skin on his face feeling a little dry - probably from all the crying - he didn't feel half as bad as he had the previous night. He'd made his decision and last night he started to accept it. Brian was going to have to work on this as much as he was - Justin wouldn't make any more first moves until he did.

Stepping out of the bedroom wearing the sweats and t-shirt Emmett had given him last night - they were a little long, but otherwise okay - Justin mustered up a small smile when he saw Em sitting on the sofa with his legs tucked under him, watching TV with the volume on low. "Hey."

Turning his head towards him, Emmett muted the TV completely. "Hey, gorgeous! How'd you sleep?"

"Okay, thanks," he said, sitting down next to him. "Where's Steve?"

"Oh, he's gone already. *Some* people have to work normal office hours." He shuddered. "I simply can't imagine."

Hours...shit. He looked at the VCR for the time, panicking, when he remembered that he'd told Emmett last night not to wake him up for school.

He'd had other plans.

Still did.

"I'm sorry if I ruined things for you and Steve last night."

Emmett 'psshed'. "Honey, you sleep like the dead. Steve and I got up to all *kinds* of perverted things last night, believe me. So..." he continued carefully. "Do you want to talk about it? Or pretend it never happened and go shopping?"

Shopping would only remind him of Brian. "Can I have some coffee first?"

Smiling, Emmett stood up. "I already have an empty cup out for you."

*

He told Emmett everything. How he found Brian, what he did, what he said. The ultimatums.

"...and the funny thing was, when I was ranting at him I wasn't really angry. At least not with him. I was pissed off with the situation, that this happened to him at all - but I knew I had to use that to try and get him to listen." And it'd been hard. Harder than he thought when all he wanted to do was hold onto Brian and never let anything hurt him again.

Emmett said he was, "the bravest fucking boy I've ever met! SuperQueer!"

Justin had laughed for a good thirty seconds. Therapy with Emmett was cheap but extremely effective.

When Emmett sadly had to leave later for work, Justin saw him off to Liberty Avenue before heading off on his own. Making his way further into the city, he only had to ask for directions a couple of times - he knew the address of his destination, he just hadn't been there before.

It was approaching 12:30 when Justin found the building, and he immediately planted himself outside, hoping he wasn't too late. He'd been waiting there for about forty minutes - never looking away from the front of the building - when a familiar figure walked out through the automatic doors.

Taking a moment to confirm it was him - he'd only seen the guy once - Justin pushed himself away from the wall and started jogging after Kip Thomas.

There were some things Justin couldn't change, and some he could.

*

Letting himself into the house, Justin shut the door behind him quietly. Silently taking off his jacket, he hung it up and - seeing no one - moved quickly towards the stairs.

He really needed a shower.

"Hey there, stranger."

Jumping - nearly screeching - Justin jerked around, watching as Vic emerged from the kitchen. He must've been just out of sight. "H-hey, Vic," he said, trying to act normally as he got his breath back. "Didn't see you."

"I can see that," Vic smirked, and he seemed to be watching Justin carefully. Very carefully. "How was school?"

Justin was very much aware that he wasn't in his school uniform, and if he tried to think up some excuse for changing into his regular clothes Vic would probably just trap him in a lie. So he tried another lie. "I felt really sick this morning - couldn't make it in. Brian let me stay at his place." What did he have to be worried about, anyway? He'd contacted Mom after talking to Emmett, and she'd called in for him again (he was *so* gonna hear about that later). He was covered.

Vic didn't let up. "You know, it's not very nice to lie about being sick to someone who actually *is* sick."

Fuck. Vic was *good*. Mom and Deb had nothing on Vic Grassi. Hanging his head, Justin told as much of the truth as he could. "I needed the day off, okay?"

"Was it important?"

God, yeah. Lifting his head back up, Justin met Vic's gaze. "Very."

Studying him for a while, Vic eventually seemed to realise he was serious. "Okay, kid. Just be careful - you shouldn't be taking too much time off school right now."

Some things were more important than school. "I'm not planning on doing it again."

Vic chuckled. "That's what *all* the young gay boys say. Then they decide they like cock too much."

Sometimes it was blatantly clear Vic was Debbie's brother.

"Now get out of here," he continued, "and do everything you can to make sure Sis doesn't know you missed school."

Grateful though he was, after being mock-chased out of the lounge Justin pounded quickly up the stairs. He still really wanted a shower and started pulling his shirt off before he even reached his room. Leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, he grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The shower felt good, really good, and Justin started scrubbing at his skin, hard. He wasn't some pussy; he wasn't about to start freaking out, but he wanted to erase everything, clean every part of him that that creep may have touched.

"Haven't I seen you before?" he asked, standing next to Kip's table in the coffee house.

Snorting, Kip barely looked up at him. "Yeah, that's original."

"I'm serious. I *have* seen you before." Justin made his voice go up a little, as if he was just remembering where from, and sat in the chair next to Kip's without invitation. "You were at Brian Kinney's place the other night."

At first, looking annoyed at the intrusion, the mention of Brian's name made Kip pause. "You...you know Kinney?"

"Unfortunately," Justin replied. "He's kind of a friend of the family so I have to put up with him, but ugh - what an asshole."

"You think so, huh?" he asked non-committally.

"Definitely," Justin continued. "Thinks he's so much better than everyone else. It's fucking irritating."

"You don't think he's hot?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "He's not bad to look at. But he's too much of an asshole to ever be my type. But enough about Brian," Justin leaned closer, moistening his lips and rubbing his leg against Kip's. "Tell me about you. What's your type?"

Kip hadn't pulled away, but he still didn't look amused. "Not you."

Eyes falling to the obvious boner in Kip's pants, Justin smirked. "I can be."

When the shower turned cold Justin fumbled for the taps, cutting of the water supply and just standing there for a while. If he concentrated hard enough he could feel each individual drop of water running down his body, falling from his skin. Slowly but surely Kip was being removed, and soon he'd have no power over Brian at all.

Sliding the shower door open, Justin stepped out carefully and started drying himself off. The towel felt good after the cold water and he rubbed it harder and harder against his skin, increasing the blood circulation and warming himself faster.

There was only one bathroom with one toilet, and it'd been equipped for the disabled so it was pretty big. As soon as Justin locked the door Kip turned him around and fell to his knees, unzipping and tugging at Justin's cargo pants until they were around his ankles.

So, Kip liked being a cocksucker.

Somehow that didn't come as a surprise.

Justin pretended to be into it, pulling off his own shirt, and when Kip saw the nipple ring he was up like a shot, his fingers playing with it.

"You're a hot little fucker."

Oh, please. So much for trying to play hard to get. "You're hot yourself."

"Oh, yeah." His started lowering his head, his intentions obvious.

"Go on, lick it," Justin encouraged, glad Kip couldn't see the expression on his face when he actually did start licking. "You're hotter than the guy I had last week," he bullshitted, trying to think what would turn him on most. "He wanted to put me in short pants and spank me."

"I wanna do much more than that," Kip breathed, pulling away from his chest. "I wanna show you." Falling to his knees again, he started mouthing Justin's cock.

Justin swallowed heavily. "Better hurry up."

"What's the rush?"

"I have to get home on time so my parents don't know I skipped school," Justin said, crossing his fingers internally.

Freezing, Kip pulled away from his cock and looked up at him. "You go to school? You live with your parents?"

"Where else would I live?" he asked innocently. "I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen?" He didn't sound particularly horrified - more intrigued. Shit. "So, do you go to bars and stuff? How do you get in?"

"Duh - fake ID?" Time to take it up a notch. "I don't tell my dad, though. He goes totally psycho. Like he did when he found out I was gay."

Now he was starting to look worried. Good. Fucker. "Your dad went psycho?"

"He went after the guy I was fucking and turned him into the police."

Serious concern. "The police?"

Justin grinned sweetly. "He'll be out in ten years." Hesitating, Kip slowly went back to working on his cock. Shit, this guy was stubborn. But so was he. "If he knew I was here..."

Pulling away again, Kip sighed, frustrated. "How would he know?"

"Oh, there's no way," Justin assured - before pausing deliberately. "Unless I told him."

"But you wouldn't do that, would you?" Kip asked, frowning and looking more than a little concerned - like he was only just starting to realise what he'd gotten himself into. Idiot.

"Justin?"

Jerking - shit, he had to stop doing that - Justin wrapped the towel around his waist. "Yeah?"

"You want some hot chocolate?"

Truly, Vic was a gift from the Gods.

*

When Debbie got home, she seemed to have no clue at all that he hadn't gone straight to school from Brian's. The only problem that Justin foresaw was that Mom might mention it in one of their occasional phone calls, but he'd just have to deal with that if it ever came up.

Justin really would've liked to have escaped up into his room for the entire evening, but living at Deb's meant having to deal with more than a few things - and one of those was having a decent conversation with Deb when you hadn't seen her all day. He didn't mind it, usually - even enjoyed it - but today, he just...wasn't feeling in the right frame of mind.

But he listened to her talk about the diner, about the latest gossip, and he made up some bullshit about his classes at school.

"So, Sunshine," she said eventually, "you looking forward to your birthday? Not long now!"

In two days he'd be eighteen.

He already felt like he was ninety.

"Sure, Deb. Just as long as I can have that chocolate fudge cake you made for Michael."

"Honey," she grinned broadly, "I wouldn't dream of making you anything else." Leaning down to where he was sitting at the kitchen table, she gave him a big kiss on the forehead. "Shit," she said as she drew back, "you look fucking exhausted. Go get some rest."

Justin didn't argue with her. When he fell into bed he decided it'd never felt so comfortable and, drawing the covers tightly around his body, Justin closed his eyes and tried to think about being there with Brian.

It didn't work.

"But you wouldn't do that, would you?" Kip asked, frowning and looking more than a little concerned - like he was only just starting to realise what he'd gotten himself into. Idiot.

"Of course not," Justin said almost kindly, looking down and touching the side of Kip's face with two fingers. "I would never do that." He could at least do this much for Brian. "Provided you do something for me."

*

Daph gave him the Spanish Inquisition the next day at school. All through math she kept passing notes.

Is everything okay? Were you really sick?

Justin didn't look at her.

Did you and Brian stop fucking again?

He still didn't look at her.

Am I still coming over for your birthday tomorrow?

Nothing.

I just thought, I'm totally making you look straight by doing this. Want me to stop?

Well, he did, but not because he cared what anyone thought.

What am I talking about? Nothing could ever make you look straight.

Having no idea how he was supposed to take that statement, he crumpled the note up and finally met her gaze.

She was grinning.

Shaking his head, Justin found himself smiling back.

*

"I swear," Daphne sighed at lunch, "you guys have more issues than Romeo and Juliet." She frowned. "At least your families aren't trying to kill each other or anything."

"More or less," Justin pointed out, absently picking up a fry. Sometimes he wondered how far Dad would've gone if he hadn't pulled him off Brian in the alley.

He was sad about keeping Daphne in the dark yet again, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't about to tell her the whole truth about Brian, and there was no way in hell he'd ever tell her what he'd done with Kip - she'd totally freak out. Sometimes a Daphne rant was worse than a Debbie or Mom rant.

Women were pretty much scary in general. Or at least the women in his life.

So he'd told her he and Brian had had another argument again, something about Justin wanting too much romance and Brian insisting he was still nothing more than a fuck.

Depressingly, it wasn't all that far from the truth.

All he wanted, just once, was for Brian to admit that he wasn't letting Justin hang around just because it was easy.

"He totally doesn't deserve you," Daph encouraged, obviously seeing that he was still moping. "And he's obviously not that good for you if you keep skipping school because of him."

Surprised, Justin lifted his gaze from his fries and looked up at her. She'd never really gone that route before - starting to say bad things about Brian. The first time she'd seen him she'd thought Brian wasn't much to look at, but since then she'd changed her tune.

Until now.

"Daph, he didn't make me skip school - it's not like he held me hostage or anything. It was my choice. I could've come in yesterday but decided not to. Stop blaming him for my fuck-ups." He was getting kind of sick of Brian being attacked. At breakfast, he'd dropped by the diner and most of the gang had been there. The hot topic of conversation, of course, was the lawsuit against Brian, and Ted had kept going on about how Brian had brought it on himself, that this time he'd fucked the wrong guy.

Justin's mood had been less than stellar when he'd arrived at school. Maybe Brian shouldn't have fucked Kip - it was a bad call, not his smartest move. But that didn't mean he deserved to lose everything.

Everyone made mistakes.

"But you said you were off because you guys 'broke up' again," Daph argued, obviously confused, "You said-"

"I know what I said," Justin replied, getting irrationally angry with her. "That was just how *I* handled it. I needed to take the day off. It's my problem, not his. Leave Brian alone." Standing up from the table, Justin hooked his bag over his shoulder and walked away.

"Justin...Justin!"

*

His mood hadn't improved by the time school ended. When he got back to Deb's he mumbled to Vic, then stomped up to his room and slammed the door behind him. Moving on instinct, doing what *he* wanted to do, Justin grabbed the first sketch pad he could find and started drawing.

It was only after he started that he realised just how long it'd been since he'd drawn anything that wasn't for art class. This wasn't about completing an assignment and handing it in on time - this was just for *him*, and he could draw whatever the fuck he wanted. He had nothing in mind; he just kept moving the pencil. He only half-noticed when he started crying, wiping at his face with the back of his hand occasionally or when a tear landed on the pad.

Justin didn't care that the paper got wet. That only made it better art.

Shit, he'd missed this. How absorbed he'd get, the buzz he felt from creating something whether anyone else saw it or not. He was working and it was *his*, and nothing could ever take that feeling away from him.

Not Kip, or Brian, or his friends, or Justin's own family - and definitely not fucking alcohol.

He was invincible.

When the knock at his door came Justin was almost panting, dropping his pencil and clutching at the edges of the sketch pad.

The door opened to reveal Vic, carefully peering inside. Looking at Justin, and the bed, and the floor, he lifted his eyebrows. "You've certainly been busy."

Following Vic's gaze, Justin sniffed and blinked in disbelief at the paper that littered his room. He'd drawn something on every single one of them. It was all abstract, nothing anyone else would be able to identify, but they were there. "I guess." No wonder his hand was starting to get tired.

"You've been up here for nearly six hours."

Holy shit. He sniffed again. "Guess I missed dinner."

"You seemed to need the time," Vic confessed. "Mind if I..." he gestured inside the room.

Feeling a little more ready for company - especially Vic's - Justin wiped at his face. "Sure."

Being careful not to tread on any of the sketches, Vic perched himself on the end of the bed. "They're good," he said, picking one up and inspecting it carefully.

Justin didn't actually care if anyone liked them or not, but it was still nice being told that. "Thanks."

Putting it safely back down on the bed, Vic looked up at him. "How's Brian doing?"

Panic suddenly registering, Justin feigned ignorance. He couldn't know. There was no way Vic could know the truth. "I don't know what you're talking abo-"

"Sunshine," he interrupted kindly, "after all the shit I've seen, do you honestly think I don't recognise an alcoholic when I see one?"

But...but...that was impossible! If Vic knew all this time, why the hell didn't he say anything? "How long have you known? Why didn't you say anything?" He moved until he was kneeling, leaning towards Vic.

"Since Michael's birthday," Vic admitted. "I always knew that Brian drank too much and smoked too much and..." he paused, smiling fondly. "Brian always did everything too much." That was putting it mildly. "But I didn't know how bad it was until then. When he yelled at Deb and ran out of the kitchen, I just...knew."

Grateful though he was to have another ally, Justin couldn't let it go any further. "You can't let anyone else know," he pleaded. "Please Vic, if anyone else found out-"

"Don't sweat it, kiddo," Vic smiled, and Justin started to relax - at least slightly. "I've been keeping secrets for years. This is just one more." Pausing, he sighed. "I've been looking into ways to help him, but it hasn't been going well. There are quite a few groups in the Pittsburgh area, but..."

"Brian would never go to one."

"Exactly," Vic nodded. "Especially not AA. He has issues with religion." Justin hadn't actually known that, yet it didn't come as a huge surprise. "And...AA...I'm sure they're a great organisation and they've helped some friends of mine in the past, but it's not for everyone."

"I guess everyone's different," Justin said quietly, before managing a small smirk. "We need a 'hot studs who need a kick up the ass' group."

Laughing quietly, Vic definitely liked the idea. "What would we call it?"

"Alcoholic Assholes 'R Us," Justin declared, finding the whole thing ridiculously funny until he started feeling depressed again. Shit, he was going through some serious highs and lows. Still, it did make him feel better that he had someone else to talk to. "It is bad that I'm happy you know?"

"Not at all," Vic assured him. "Besides, now Brian has to deal with you *and* me."

"And Emmett," Justin confessed.

Vic paused for a moment but looked only vaguely surprised. "And Emmett. Who can resist in the face of that?"

No one. Absolutely no one.

When the doorbell rang, they both looked towards the front of the house and said, "I'll get it."

Smiling, Vic pushed himself off the bed. "How about you get the door, and I'll get you a plate of food?"

Justin smiled, really feeling it this time. "Thanks, Vic."

The journey downstairs was made quickly, and the doorbell had just been rung a second time when Justin swung open the door.

Brian.

"Hey."

Justin just stared at him.

Holy shit.

"What are you doing here?" It probably should've come out nicer than that, but Justin was too surprised. He'd been hoping - seriously, *seriously* hoping - that Brian would come and see him, but he hadn't at any point hoped it would be this soon.

Well, okay. He hadn't *expected* Brian to turn up this soon.

Brian looked good, too. Better than the last time he'd seen him. "To," Brian paused, moistening his lips, "talk."

Holy *shit*.

"Okay!" Justin all but yelled, opening the door wider so he could come inside. Stepping into the house Brian looked around anxiously as if he was just about ready to crawl out of his own skin.

Shit, Justin really needed to help him relax. Knowing that a lack of audience would help, he cleared his throat. "Uh, Vic?"

"Brian!" Vic said, emerging from the kitchen, "this is a surprise." He gave Justin a significant look.

"I bet," Brian replied tightly.

"We're just gonna go upstairs for a while," Justin told him, dispelling the tension. Grabbing Brian's hand on the way up the stairs, he noticed that Brian was holding something in his other hand - a picture or a painting, but it was facing towards him so Justin couldn't see what it was of. Intrigued, he led Brian into his room before letting go of his hand and turning to face him.

Justin very, very carefully didn't ask how Brian was feeling. In fact, he didn't say anything at all, figuring he'd let Brian take control.

He did, just not right away. Bending at the knees, he stared at the paper on the floor. "You've been busy. Is this of me?"

Brian could see that? "Someone's full of themselves."

"I'm right, though." He sounded absolutely sure.

He had reason to be. "You are."

Nodding, Brian stood up smoothly and seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before speaking. "Kip dropped the lawsuit."

Yes! Finally, the fucker did something right. "That's great!" Justin enthused, trying to sound surprised at the same time.

"Yeah," Brian mumbled like it was no big deal. "No idea why."

"It's a mystery," Justin shrugged awkwardly, feeling like there was a big sign above his head that read 'BIG FAT LIAR. I'M LYING RIGHT NOW!'.

Either not noticing or not caring, Brian shoved the picture he'd brought with him into Justin's hands. "This is for you."

Frowning, Justin took it from him and carefully turned it over until he could see the front.

Holy shit.

It was his drawing. His sketch of Brian, sleeping in the nude. The one Lindsay had seen and convinced him to put on display at the GLC art show.

The one that'd been sold to a mystery buyer.

"You..." He couldn't believe it. "You bought this? Why?"

Turning away, Brian ran his hand through his hair and paced the small confines of the room, careful not to step on any of Justin's work. "You being there...yeah, of course, it's convenient, but...even then," he gestured towards the sketch, "even then you were..." he paused, obviously searching for something.

A dictionary of every conceivable answer raced through Justin's brain.

"...an anomaly."

Except that one.

It was probably the least romantic thing he'd ever heard, and it was so utterly Brian than hope bubbled inside Justin's chest.

This was something. This was a start.

It didn't fix everything, didn't make it all better, but it was a first step.

Vic brought them food. Brian barely touched his, sitting on Justin's bed looking like he was ready to bolt at any second. Worried about him doing just that, Justin placed the plates on the bedside table and crawled onto Brian's lap. Several sweaty minutes later, they were rolling naked around the bed.

"The drawings..." Brian warned.

"Leave them," Justin said, feeling better than he had in days. "It'll make better art."

*

Brian kissed him when they fucked, and was still inside him when he turned eighteen.

Justin considered it a good start to the year.

After that, Justin's birthday went much better than he'd been expecting.

Waking up with Brian wrapped around him and realising they'd spent the night at *his* place for once, made Justin grin so hard his cheeks started hurting. The same thing happened to Deb, who - as always, having no sense of privacy - barged through his bedroom doorway in the morning to make sure he was up for school.

"Okay, Sunshi-" She stopped mid-speech, staring and bringing her hand up to her chest as she took in the way Brian was draped across him. "That is the fucking cutest thing I've ever seen."

He probably should have been worried about Brian waking and overhearing, but Justin just grinned harder.

Something seemed to change in Deb after that. Making a point of waking Brian up, she ordered them quickly downstairs.

"Come on boys, hustle and get yourselves downstairs for breakfast." Pausing, she winked as she stood by the door. "After you've washed the dried come off - and don't use my good towels."

Grumbling, they nonetheless followed her orders. Of course, they ended up fooling around again, which meant cleaning up again, and only made their way downstairs when Deb screamed threats of castration up the stairs.

Brian, of course, insisted that he couldn't stay for breakfast. Debbie, just as insistent, told him he was staying if he was interested in keeping his balls in the near future.

Aside from their usual banter, Deb was being almost polite to Brian. Justin watched in disbelief as she made sure that Brian's coffee cup was never empty and asked how work was going, seeming genuinely interested.

Justin wasn't the only who noticed - and wasn't the only one freaked out by it. Could Vic have told her, even though he'd promised he wouldn't? Or maybe she'd figured it out for herself. Shit.

It didn't take Brian long. "Why the fuck are you being so nice to me?"

Looking completely guileless, Debbie shrugged. "Excuse me for being curious about someone I care about. Besides, it's Sunshine's birthday," she turned to smile at him warmly, "he'd want me to be extra nice to you." Well, that was true. "Anyway, Sunshine, you'd better get off to school."

Sad but true, but Justin felt better about inevitable schooldom when Brian offered him a ride. When he disappeared upstairs to take a quick leak before they left, Justin turned to Deb.

"What was that about, Deb? Really? What's going on?"

Slowly lowering herself into the chair next to his at the table, she held his gaze. "Sunshine, I've known Brian since he was fourteen. I've seen him go through so much shit you probably wouldn't believe it. Putting up with all that bullshit from his parents and his sister. Living life as a gay man and dealing with what that can mean. And I've been watching the two of you since you came along. I've seen you two swap spit and practically swap bodily fluids right in front of me, but not once, not once in fifteen years can I ever remember him looking the way he did upstairs." Smiling faintly, she cupped the right side of his face with her hand. "He's never let anyone get this close, Sunshine; not even Michael."

Stunned, Justin just stared at her.

"Sometimes he makes it so fucking hard to remember," she said quietly.

Justin swallowed. "Remember what?"

She smiled almost sadly. "That he's just like everyone else."

The sound of Brian's footsteps coming down the stairs jolted them apart, and Justin tried not to grin all the way to school.

School itself actually wasn't that bad. Daph forgave him for being an asshole the day before ("You are *such* a drama queen!") and Chris didn't so much as look at him. Classes were as good as they could be, and the day seemed to zoom by.

When he got back to Deb's he was greeted with a screech and an enthusiastic hug, and was told he could do whatever he wanted until 6:30. Justin thought about calling Brian but decided to hold off for now. He wasn't entirely sure if Brian was going to put an appearance or not, despite his hopes after last night. There were differences between Justin's party and Michael's party - the main one being that his mom and his sister hadn't been at Michael's.

At 6:30 on the dot the doorbell rang, and Justin wasn't surprised at all to see Mom and Molly on the other side. Mom hadn't talked about Dad when they'd discussed coming over for his birthday, and Justin could only assume he had no idea at all. There was no way he would've stood for Molly being in the face of such 'corruption'.

Molly, for her part, had been staring - with horror, he suspected - at Deb's idea of interior design, before being confronted with Deb herself.

"Well, hey there!" Deb greeted, standing with her hands on her hips. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing?"

He really should've warned Deb about saying stuff like that.

"I'm not cute and I'm not little," Molly insisted haughtily.

"Molly..." Mom rebuked.

Deb wasn't fazed, and just grinned broader. "My apologies, Miss Ugly and Big. Would you care for a drink?"

Amused, Justin watched Deb lead her into the kitchen as Molly clearly tried to figure out if she'd just been insulted or not. "I think Molly's finally met her match."

"Oh honey," Mom said, "Molly met you *years* ago."

Conversation between the two of them went pretty smoothly. The more they talked lately the more he felt like he should be less of a prick to her - although that was mostly Brian's influence. He'd always said Justin was lucky to have a Mom who cared about him, even if she wasn't perfect.

The others arrived in due course. Daphne had got out of the house by telling some lie about hanging out with September, and was high from the buzz of secrecy. Ted and Emmett arrived together, as usual, Justin and Ted having bonded a little during Emmett's HIV scare. He wasn't sure he'd called Ted a friend, exactly - and sometimes he was a bit of an ass towards Brian - but he'd been there during a crisis for Emmett, and that made him worth knowing.

Michael wasn't able to make it, his responsibilities as the manager of the Big Q having meant more hours and more work. Justin still wasn't sure if it was a great loss or not. He'd given Michael that sketch on his birthday, but they'd never really been friends. Michael definitely hadn't liked him when they first met, jealous over the attention from Brian, and now they rarely saw each other at all.

It was just as well, really. He probably would've wanted to bring David.

The girls weren't coming either. They'd both claimed they had important plans that they couldn't get out of, but Justin suspected they just didn't want to be in the same room together. He couldn't really blame them and they'd both called earlier to wish him a happy birthday, which he'd appreciated. Besides, even if they had both turned up, the tension probably would've ruined the party and he could hardly invite one and not the other.

The downside, of course, was that he wouldn't get to see Gus today, but Lindsay had promised he could come by and visit any time he wanted.

Just before seven the doorbell rang again and - knowing who it must be - Justin rushed over and opened the door. "Hey," he said, having a feeling he was grinning stupidly at the latest arrival.

"Hey," Brian replied, fiddling with the card he was holding before handing it over.

"Thanks."

Brian shrugged. "Don't open it in front of your sister."

Justin bit his lower lip, curious about the card and whether Brian was staying for dinner. "You coming in?"

Hesitating, Brian's glaze flicked into the house and out again several times. "Yeah. Okay."

And here was the problem: Brian didn't fuck his friends, and yet he was fucking Justin. So he was there in some capacity other than 'friend', and everyone knew it. Add to that the fact that Mom and Molly were there and...yeah. It was extremely easy to see how, despite his bullshit about not giving a fuck what anyone thought, Brian would be feeling awkward.

Okay. It was extremely easy to see how Brian would be freaking the fuck out.

Inside the house, Brian was greeted by his friends, and that seemed to help him relax.

Until Mom spoke. "Hello, Brian."

Somehow he seemed to shrink about two feet. "Hello, Mrs Taylor."

"This is Molly," Mom introduced, nudging Molly into holding out her hand.

Brian seemed bemused by the whole thing but shook her hand nonetheless. "Nice to meet you, Molly. I'm Brian."

Apparently, she knew that already. "Are you the guy Justin's fucking?" Also apparently, she did at least have *some* inkling of gay sex.

A bark of laughter came from somewhere, but mostly it was a mix of horrified and amused stares.

"Oh," Emmett said eventually, "I *like* this girl."

Ted sipped at his beer. "Seems shyness isn't a trait that runs in *any* part of the Taylor family."

"Molly!" Mom said, cheeks flaming. "You know it's not acceptable to use language like that!"

"But Dad says it all the time," she complained, like the whole world was being unfair. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Determined to have some fun with this, Justin moved and knelt until they were eye to eye. "Molly," he began, placing his hands on her shoulders. "When you get home, give Dad a message for me. Tell him that Brian's not the guy I'm fucking - but that Brian's the guy fucking *me*."

More laughter. Definitely Emmett, Debbie and Vic this time.

"Justin!" Mom *so* wasn't impressed.

What the hell? It was his birthday. He was allowed.

Besides, Brian didn't look so nervous after that. In fact, he looked fucking amused.

After Deb urged everyone to grab a seat at the table - Mom still not looking impressed - Brian wrapped an arm around Justin's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Have I ever told you how fucking brave you are?"

"I am?" Justin asked, delighted.

"Balls the size of Texas," Brian confirmed.

He looked down at his own groin. "That explains a lot."

*

Things had kept going well. The food had been great, the cake had been great, and the presents had been a lot of fun to open. Unsurprisingly he'd received a lot of art supplies, but he always appreciated those, and Mom had actually bought him a brand new easel (he'd been right about getting a good gift) that she'd kept hidden out in the car. He'd hugged her when he'd seen it, and felt distinctly boyfriend-like when Brian carried it up to his room.

Emmett had given him a CD and the news that their visit to Zack O'Tool's play next week was his 'real' present. Molly, of course, had demanded to know who Zack O'Tool was.

They'd all stared at each other for a moment, when Ted came out with,

"He's Pittsburgh's foremost expert on hardware."

Molly wrinkled her nose. "Sounds boring."

"Utterly tedious," Emmett agreed. "Your brother has appalling taste."

Justin had let that one slide.

Deb seemed to have learned her lesson and didn't force anything on anyone who didn't actually want it, and Justin smiled a little when Vic looked across at him.

Molly had seemed completely nonchalant about the fact that there were five gay guys in the room, and when Mom started making excuses and saying they should leave soon - Molly was still a kid, after all - Brian leant back in his chair and towards him. "Coming over tonight?"

Justin tried not to show his joy too much. "Sure," he replied casually, picking up his glass and sipping at his coke. He'd made a point of not drinking anything alcoholic, despite it being his birthday. Mom wouldn't have appreciated it in front of Molly anyway, but Justin'd decided it was a subtle way of showing support for Brian.

By the time everyone left it was a little after ten, and they'd been teasing each other for the last half hour. Justin was unbelievably horny, and when Ted and Emmett left the house he was all but ready to pounce on Brian.

"Jesus Christ," Deb muttered, obviously seeing the way they were looking at each other, "why don't you two get the fuck out of here before you combust?"

"Uh, you sure, Deb?" Justin asked, never looking away from Brian. "There's still a lot to clear up."

"Vic and I'll get it, Sunshine. Seriously. Now get out of here before Vic sets the camcorder up."

Well, if she absolutely *insisted*...

*

Three hours later, Justin felt delightfully sore as he stretched out on Brian's bed. "God, I love your bed," he sighed happily.

"I'm rather fond of it too."

Splayed out on his back, Justin kept smiling as he thought back on the day. It'd been a really, really good day. Probably his best birthday ever. And Brian had just been...Brian's card! Lethargy gone, Justin immediately sat up and spied his rucksack pushed up against the side of the bedroom. He'd put the card in there when he was getting his bag from his room at Deb's, and he searched through it now.

"What're you doing?"

Crawling back onto the bed, Justin held the card up, answering Brian's question. Not waiting for a reaction, he sat cross-legged on the mattress and ripped the envelope open, tugging the card out.

It was very simple - a white background, with a beautifully drawn image of a paintbrush and pencil in the middle, crossing each other to form an X. Justin liked it, but... "Why'd you tell me not to show this to Molly?"

Leaning on his side now, Brian smirked. "You think you know me so well. Gotta keep you guessing sometimes."

Rolling his eyes at the Brianesque move, Justin looked back down and opened the card. The inside was just as simple as the exterior.

Justin,

Happy Birthday. You deserve it.

Brian

But it was the two small pieces of paper that fell out that grabbed his interest. Picking them up with his free hand, he turned them over and squinted in the relative darkness at the small text.

And then he realised what they were.

Two tickets to see Yellow Submarine - at a movie theatre.

"Brian!" he exclaimed, his shock making him yell. "How the hell did you get these?"

Brian tried to shrug it off. "Turns out there's a Beatles retrospective at this cinema downtown. I heard about it and checked to see if they were showing Yellow Submarine, and low and behold-"

Grinning, Justin practically jumped on top of him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said, kissing Brian's face over and over again. He *loved* Yellow Submarine, but of course he'd never been able to see it at the cinema. That would be *so* cool. "Thank you so much!"

"Okay, okay," Brian said, doing - in Justin's opinion - a bad version of sounding gruff, "don't get your panties wet."

"You like it when I get my panties wet," Justin argued, leering, before pulling back. "So who's the second ticket for?"

"Whoever you want," he answered, turning his head away as he reached out for a pack of cigarettes.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, Justin didn't let him get away with it and touched the side of his face, making Brian look back at him.

Brian's arm flopped down, his hand grabbing nothing.

Justin spoke. "I want you to come with me."

He didn't look away, although he probably wanted to. "Okay." He said it dismissively, like he didn't care one way or the other, but Justin knew better. And while acting like that might have annoyed him sometimes, things had been so good today that he just didn't care. "Now get some sleep," Brian continued, pushing Justin off of him gently, "or you'll feel like shit tomorrow."

Justin gave in, for now. "Such a romantic end to my eighteenth birthday..." he sighed dramatically.

"Your birthday ended over an hour ago."

He grinned. "Aww, you noticed."

"Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to fucking sleep."

*

The closer they got to the movie theatre, the more Brian looked like he was about to throw up. Panicking, Justin started rambling on again about what Twelve Horny Men had been like - long and hard, and not in the good way - hoping the random conversation would help Brian calm down.

He knew (at least he thought he did) what this was about - Brian going on anything even resembling a date. Justin had gone out of his way to make it seem not-date like, too. He hadn't dressed up especially, had gone nowhere near mentioning the actual word, hadn't breathed a word about it to anyone (except Em. And Daph. Vic, too) and had made no fuss about it whatsoever since his birthday.

Still, Brian looked like he'd eaten some bad seafood, and Justin was starting to worry about him vomiting over the interior of the Jeep.

Control. Brian needed control. According to everything he'd read, one of the biggest steps in recovery was alcoholics taking control of their own lives - not feeling swept along and being forced into something they didn't really want to do. That same theory was also kind of useful for dealing with Brian in general.

"Hey, Brian?"

"Yeah?" He didn't look at him, hands straining tightly against the steering wheel.

"Just so you know, I don't consider this a date." Okay, so that was far from subtle, but - whatever worked.

"That's because it's not."

Brian was *so* not ready for dating. "Exactly," Justin agreed. "I just wanted you to come with me because you bought the tickets, and it seemed only fair."

"Right." Staring straight ahead.

"And if we ever do anything like this again, it's just because we enjoy hanging out, not-"

"Justin." The tone was unmistakable: shut up.

"Just trying to help."

"You're not."

It wasn't the best start to the first unconventional quasi-date Justin had ever been on, although Brian's reaction wasn't really unexpected. In the loft sometimes he was almost like a different man, but outside where people could see, the walls came up and the attitude came down.

By the time they parked and walked to the movie theatre, Brian seemed a little less edgy. Maybe the prospect of sitting in the dark where no one could see him for ninety minutes was helping, or maybe he was just starting to relax. It was definitely at odds with Brian's usual not giving a shit diatribe, but Justin decided not to mention that.

Very deliberately buying his own popcorn and soda, he handed the tickets over, got the stubs back, and walked into the cinema. Asking Brian where he wanted to sit, he wasn't surprised when he picked seats near the back. Less exposure there.

Not long after that, someone came in and made a speech about the movie - the reaction it received when it was first released, what people thought of it now, how pleased they were to get permission to show it - and then the lights dimmed and the movie started.

After the first few scenes, Justin was completely enthralled. He'd seen it so many times but the animation techniques always fascinated him, and he'd never seen it on a screen this big before. The music was pretty cool, too - even if it was way before his time. More than once he thought he caught Brian mouthing the words to the songs, but he simply turned his head and kept his mouth shut.

By the time the movie came to an end, Brian had relaxed considerably and might even have been humming 'Nowhere Man' as he pushed open the doors that led out of the screening room.

"So, what did you think?" Justin asked, walking beside him, trying to stay ahead of the crowd.

"Well," Brian mulled it over, "considering that's about the twelfth time I've seen it, it wasn't bad."

"You have not seen Yellow Submarine twelve times!"

Taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, he tugged one free. "You always have that fucking tape with you. Don't think I don't notice you putting it on when I have work to finish."

Well, that was true. "It's either that or get bored."

"Or go back to Deb's."

"But then you wouldn't fuck me later."

Brian shrugged, shoving the cigarettes back into his pocket. "True. But that doesn't negate the fact that you're addicted to that movie."

"Never said I wasn't," Justin argued snottily, stopping just short of actually sticking his tongue out.

Brian glanced over at him. "I bet you wish you even had a 'Blue Meanie'." He lifted his eyebrows lasciviously.

Brian could make really, really bad jokes sometimes - but they always made Justin grin. It almost seemed kind of dorky. "I'm not sure I'd want a blue *anything*," he laughed as he pushed open the door that led onto the street - stopping cold when he saw who was about to step inside.

Michael and David.

Staring, Justin still didn't move when Brian bumped into him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stunned.

Looking just as surprised, Michael shrugged. "Uh, we just read about this place so we thought we'd come see a movie. David's a Beatles fan."

Of course, he was. Jesus Christ.

"What about you guys?" David asked, looking suspiciously from one to the other. "Why're you here?"

Michael looked really, really interested in the answer, and Justin knew exactly what to do. Wrapping an arm around - a very still - Brian's waist, he smirked. "I'd never blown anyone in a cinema before."

Predictably, David rolled his eyes and looked less than impressed. Michael just frowned. Mumbling something about still having to buy tickets they moved on, and Brian and Justin escaped as soon as they could, spilling out onto the street.

Removing his arm from around Brian, Justin kept up with the fast pace he set as he walked determinedly towards the car. Justin said nothing until they were inside the Jeep, sitting silently. Brian had made no move to start the engine and his cigarette had vanished.

Taking a risk, Justin licked his lips. "You don't really see him much anymore, do you?"

Brian shrugged. "He has the doctor. I have...I don't go to the bars and clubs anymore." That slip definitely didn't escape Justin's notice. "Things have changed. Everything does."

Justin spoke quietly, intently. "Not everything."

Turning his head, Brian looked at him for a while - and it was almost scary, Justin almost looked away - before turning back and starting the engine. After they pulled out of the parking lot and into the traffic, Brian spoke.

"Linds called earlier. Wanted to know if I could take Gus all next weekend."

A whole weekend? With Gus? Cool! "That's great."

"Well, I have to take Friday off work and I think it's just because Mel couldn't take him, but..." he shrugged, and Justin understood. Anytime with Gus was good time. Justin had managed to visit with Gus earlier in the week, but he'd never spent a whole weekend with him.

Or Brian, for that matter.

Clearing his throat, Brian seemed very interested in checking his side view mirrors. "Wanna help out?"

What the hell. This time he *wasn't* gonna hide the grin. "Okay!"

Brian still didn't look at him, but he did smile.

*

Nearly a week later, Justin woke up with a hand on his cock and a mouth biting gently at his neck. Growling softly, he tipped his head to one side and bent his knees, planting his feet onto the mattress. The actions seeming to spur him on, Brian moved his hand faster and lifted his head up to meet Justin with an open-mouthed kiss.

This early it didn't take Justin long at all, wrapping an arm around Brian's neck as he came, groaning into the kiss.

Holy shit.

Feeling very, very content, Justin released his hold on Brian and relaxed completely against the bed. "Why can't all wake-up calls be like that?"

"No one would ever get out of bed," Brian answered, lifting his hand away from Justin's now-limp cock and studying the come there.

The knock at the door startled both of them, making them look at the far end of the loft.

"That'll be Linds."

Regretfully getting up from the bed, Brian washed his hands in the bathroom while Justin stepped into the shower. The wake-up call had certainly woken him up nicely but the shower revived him even more, and he spent quite a while enjoying the spray of water. By the time he got out and dried off he realised he'd spent much longer in there than he should've, and began the frantic search for his school uniform. Finding the clothes didn't take long, but the location of his right shoe was a complete mystery.

Half-dressed, he came out of the bathroom and back into Brian's bedroom. The others were in the lower part of the loft; Brian had pulled on a pair of sweats and was sitting in a chair holding Gus who was drinking from a bottle. Linds was flapping about, giving instructions and obviously worried about leaving her son.

"So, he takes a nap around eleven and another one at three," she continued.

"Lucky him," Justin grinned.

Linds threw him a small smile but kept talking to Brian, pulling a sheet of paper out of her Filofax. "Here are all the emergency numbers. Oh, if you wanna take him outside don't forget his little beanie cap. He looks so adorable."

Deciding to admit defeat, Justin gave in. "Does somebody see my other shoe?"

Brian shifted. "Oh, is that what I'm sitting on?" Making sure Gus was secure, he reached beneath him and pulled the missing shoe free, lobbing it at Justin. "I knew it wasn't one of my usual rubber toys."

Smiling, Justin caught it and remembered exactly what kind of rubber toys Brian *did* have.

Lindsay didn't seem to appreciate the moment. "Brian, are you listening to me?"

He rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on her. "Yeah, feeding time, nap time, beanie hat, I got it. He'll be fine, Lindsay."

Softening, she smiled at him. "I know he will be, and really appreciate you doing this." Sighing, she started going through her Filofax again. "But if I have to go back to work, I have to attend this damn teachers conference." Splitting up with Mel meant a definite loss of income. Justin was sure Mel was still giving Linds money for Gus, but that wasn't all they had to think about.

"Well, maybe you'll meet a nice lady P.E. teacher," Brian mocked.

"Don't worry," Justin said, jamming his shoes on. "I'm gonna help out too." After school and work, regretfully.

Linds stared at him before turning to give Brian a *look*. "No offence, Justin, but I hope it's helping and not *doing everything*." She kept giving Brian that significant look.

Brian sighed, not seeming amused. "I'm his father; I'm not going to fuck it up." Pausing, he looked down at Gus. "Would you please tell her to give me some credit?"

"I am," she insisted. "That's why I'm leaving him in your care."

"Bullshit," Brian argued, apparently knowing better. "You're leaving him here because Melanie had to go see her Yenta mother in Miami and won't be back until Sunday."

Ignoring the comment, Linds finally found what she'd been searching for and placed it on the table on top of the already pretty impressive pile of papers. "Here's my number at the conference. There you go."

Linds' near-panic about not being with Gus for the first significant amount of time since he'd been born was clear, and Brian obviously saw it too, reaching out to pull her closer with his free hand.

"He's gonna be fine, Mom."

Pausing, Lindsay's face relaxed a little as she nodded. "I know, Dad."

Looking down at Gus, Brian let go of Lindsay and lifted him up. "Are you ready to spend the weekend with your old man, Sonny Boy?"

Justin certainly was.

*

Daph practically jumped him by his locker at school, the way she had every day since his, "...big date with Brian!"

Jesus, she was obsessed.

"It wasn't a date," he argued for the fifth time, even as he felt his face flushing with the undeniable truth - at least as far as he saw it.

"Uh huuuuuuuh," she teased. "He picked you up."

"It was just more convenient," he said, closing his locker and walking towards class. He knew this routine well by now.

She didn't let up. "And he drove you there."

"Well, it's not like I have a car." He forced a shrug. This conversation was getting really old.

"You sat next to each other."

"Of course, we went together. What else would we do?" Sometimes Daph was such a *girl*. Even if she did have a point he'd never verbally agree with.

"And you kissed afterwards."

Technically... "We went back to his place and fucked." There was a lot of kissing that went with fucking, these days.

As if her point had just been made, Daph stopped at one side of the hallway and smiled smugly. "Daaa-aaate," she sing-songed. "Brian loves you *so* much."

Embarrassed yet secretly loving it, Justin turned and warned her again not to mention it to Brian, even in passing. "Seriously. The last thing he needs is people making fun about this."

Chewing on her bottom lip, she suddenly became a lot more serious and mentioned something she hadn't before. "Are you ever gonna tell me what's been going on lately?" Oh, shit. "I mean you still tell me everything else. Why not this?" She looked more than a little hurt.

He could've lied to her, but this was Daph and he'd done enough lying. "I promised I wouldn't, Daph." He hadn't realised how much she must've been noticing, and he really should've. But he couldn't pay attention to everything at once. "But if I could, you know I-"

"I know," she interrupted, because they'd known each other forever. "Maybe someday you'll be able to."

It'd be nice, not to have secrets anymore. "Someday. But hey," he continued, trying to cheer her up, "I get to spend this weekend with him." He'd been keeping that newsflash to himself, figuring until now that she didn't deserve it with all the teasing she'd been doing lately.

"The *whole* weekend?" she asked, eyes going wide.

Technically Justin was still working on that - Mel was coming back on Sunday, but he didn't know what time so he wasn't sure how much he'd be needed. He might have to try and get out of his shift on Sunday. "Pretty much. It's with Gus too, though. The three of us are gonna spend the weekend together."

"Oh my *God*! That's...that's..."

Pleased with himself, Justin smirked. He knew. He *so* knew.

*

He'd been working at the diner for just over two hours when Brian walked in. Seeing him and Gus immediately, Justin finished up with his latest customer before moving to the booth Brian had chosen. "Hey!"

Settling Gus in his carrier on the side of the table near the wall, Brian glanced towards him and smiled briefly. "Hey." Apparently sure that everything with Gus was okay, he sat down.

"How's Gus been today?" Justin asked.

"Perfectly behaved," he sounded proud. "Of course, that's how we know he's mine."

"Uh huh."

Brian looked up at him. "You sound unconvinced."

He didn't stop smirking. "Hard to believe, I know."

Smirking himself, Brian tipped his head slightly. "Well, if you can manage to tear yourself away from your paranoia, I would like to actually order some food. I believe that's what this establishment is for..." He let the statement hang as if it was almost a question.

Loving it when Brian pretended to be superior - as opposed to those times when he actually thought that he was - Justin grinned and took down his order. He half-considered planting one on Brian right there but decided against it, instead walking away with a deliberate wiggle in his ass.

Getting caught up with work again, he didn't get a chance to really talk with Brian for a while after that. He brought over Brian's order, but then there was a rush for the next ten, fifteen minutes. He knew the Leather Ball was tonight - they'd been plastering posters everywhere for days, and he figured everyone was grabbing something to eat before getting ready.

When it stopped being quite so busy and he wasn't needed anywhere just then, he headed over to Brian's table. Michael was there now, sitting across from him, and Justin sat on the back of the seat on Brian's side, perching carefully on top.

It was nice seeing the two of them together again, but Michael seemed worried about something - holding his burger yet not actually eating it. "He's a 12-year-old jazz playing webmaster. What if he hates me?"

"Who?" Justin asked.

"David's son."

Justin vaguely remembered something about David having a son. He also remembered being pissed at David at the time, and thinking his son was probably Michael's age.

"Fuck him, he's just a kid," Brian said, playing with Gus' wagging feet.

"He's not just a kid," Michael complained. "He's David's son. You know what that means."

Justin understood instantly. Grinning, he waved his hands in front of him and made his voice scratchy. "You're the wicked stepmother."

"What?" He obviously didn't get it.

"The wicked stepmother," he repeated the movement and the voice, pleased when Brian laughed. Ending the impression - and the waving - he continued talking normally. "It's like a fairy tale."

Now Michael did get it, and he didn't look amused. "Well, why don't you get your fairy tail back to work? Isn't there a toilet you need to spit shine?"

Some people couldn't take a joke.

Of course, that was exactly why Justin did it.

Brian cut in. "Don't be so pathetic, Mikey. He's not gonna hate you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"David's crazy about you." The statement didn't cheer Michael up any; he looked even more depressed which seemed to bug Brian. "What is *with* you?"

"He's right," Michael sighed, glancing at Justin. "I'm the stepmother. I'm a stepmother!"

"Who's the stepmother?" Debbie asked, approaching the table.

"Mikey."

"David's son is coming for weekend," Michael explained, still sounding far from happy about the prospect.

It didn't seem to bother Debbie at all, who sat next to her son and leant across him to tug gently on Gus' left foot. "Look at you. You're so beautiful." Pausing, she glanced across at Brian. "I swear to God, Brian, he looks more like you every day."

"Yeah," he nodded, reaching out to touch Gus' head, "but we're still working on the hair."

"Where's Lindsay?" she asked, distracted by Gus again.

Digging out a soft cow toy, he waved it at Gus. "She's at a teachers conference, so I'm watching him for the weekend."

"You?" She asked loudly, obviously surprised, but then she looked over at Justin before focusing back on Gus. "I think it's great that you want to spend time with your kid, sweetheart. But isn't this weekend the Leather Ball? I'd have thought your dance card would be full."

Putting the cow down, Brian reached into the carrier and held Gus securely with both hands, picking him up and holding him up in the air. "It was tempting," he confessed, still staring at his son. "But this year I'm trading in my leather jockstrap...for rubber pants."

Not saying anything for a while, Debbie eventually got up from her side of the table and moved to stand by Brian's side. Sliding off the back of the seat and out of the way, Justin watched as Deb leant in and kissed Brian on the side of the face and quietly walked away.

Brian looked stunned.

Justin grinned.

Michael didn't look happy about any of it. "You've got..." he gestured towards his own face, letting Brian know there was lip-stick mark on his right cheek.

"Thanks." Brian moved to put Gus back, obviously about to look for a napkin, so Justin decided to save him the trouble.

"Here," he said, picking up an unused napkin and dipping it into Brian's glass of water. Using his free hand to cup Brian's chin and hold his face in place, his other hand used the napkin to clean off the lipstick. When it was gone, he used the dry end to wipe the water off. "There you go."

Brian, of course, had stared at him the whole time. "Thanks."

Realising he was still holding on, Justin let go and stepped back, feeling a little shaky.

"Sunshine!"

Having never been more thankful to hear Deb's yell, Justin moved to turn away - only he didn't get that far.

"Justin?"

He faked a smile. "Yeah?"

Carefully shifting Gus around until he was facing Justin, Brian did the wave with Gus' hand again. "Gus wants another coffee."

Really smiling this time, Justin shook his head. "Later." And then he did turn away, deliberately not looking at Michael's expression as he left.

*

Gus should've been asleep. That was what babies were supposed to do - Justin definitely remembered Molly sleeping a lot when she was a baby. But Gus just. Kept. Screaming.

He'd been fine up until the moment they put him in the Jeep. He'd woken up from the nap he'd fallen into in the diner, started fussing, and ever since then they hadn't been able to make him shut up.

Justin was so never having kids.

Gus'd been fed, given water, changed, rocked and generally entertained. They'd waved toys in front of him, sang, acted out nursery rhymes - Brian had even tried juggling, the only time Justin had seen him do that since their first night together. In fact, the one good thing about all this was that he got to see Brian act like a complete idiot, all in the name of trying to comfort his son.

It made all the screaming worthwhile.

At the moment Brian was holding the pacifier again, trying to convince Gus - in his carrier, on top of the main kitchen counter - that he really wanted it. When the usual techniques didn't work yet again, Brian stuck it in his own mouth. The only reason Justin didn't laugh at the image was because Brian let him be here for this at all.

Still, he was definitely planning on drawing a picture of it later.

"That's how it's done," Brian urged after taking the pacifier back out, glaring down at his son with frustration. "This is *your* pacifier - you should be sucking it!"

When the door buzzed Brian sighed with something like relief, passing the pacifier to Justin. "Here, you try." Turning away, he nearly tripped over on all the toys on the floor. The loft was a disaster area at the moment; it was just as well Gus wasn't crawling around on his own.

"Hey, Gus," Justin waved the pacifier while Brian bitched through the speaker at the take-out place for being late. Gus kept crying. "You're a baby - you should like sucking things. Come on. Besides, this could be an important ability later in life."

Coming back to stand next to him, Brian kept encouraging him too. "Gus, think nipple. Think cock. Whatever gets you there. C'mon."

Finally, finally, Gus seemed to allow the intrusion, and Justin slipped the pacifier into his mouth.

Silence. Thank God. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like dealing with that on his own. Justin suddenly had a new respect for single parents.

Brian seemed oddly smug, beaming down at Gus. "Your old man's not so bad at this."

Turning towards him, Justin put his hands on his hips. "Excuse me?

He didn't look up. "Your old man and his assistant aren't so bad at this."

The knock at the door drew their attention, and Brian stumbled over the toys again to get to the door. They'd eaten earlier, of course, but Justin was always up for take-out. "You better not have forgotten the sesame noodles this time!" he warned, pulling the door open. "I ordered this an hour ago-"

He stopped, suddenly, making Justin frown and inch closer to him. Peering around from the kitchen, he frowned even harder when he saw the man standing in the doorway. He must've been in his late fifties, at least, and it was only when he spoke that Justin realised the truth.

"Hello, Sonny Boy."

Sonny Boy?

Holy shit. Brian's dad.

Justin knew instantly that this wasn't going to go well.

Brian still looked shocked. "Jesus."

"Well, you couldn't be more surprised if it was," Mr Kinney muttered awkwardly, taking a step inside. "You gonna let me in?"

Shaking himself, Brian stepped back and out of the way. "Yeah, sure." Staying by the door, he still looked stunned as he watched his dad make his way further into the loft.

"Hey, it's some place," Mr Kinney said, glancing around. "Big as a palace. Looks like a dump from the outside." It wasn't a surprise to realise he hadn't visited before and, feeling the urge to offer support if it was needed, Justin stepped closer to Brian. Seeing the movement, Mr Kinney turned towards him.

"Hey, who's this?"

"Justin," Brian said quickly, tightly. "That's Justin. He's a friend. Justin, this is my father - Jack Kinney."

Not minding that Brian didn't give any more detail about their 'friendship' - he obviously had very specific reasons for not coming out to his parents - Justin thought he could at least do what he could to be polite. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kinney." That said, he stopped short of actually offering a handshake. He had no intention of ever touching the man standing in front of him.

Regarding him curiously, Jack ignored the greeting and slid his gaze towards Brian. "Little young to be a friend, isn't he? Is he even allowed to drink?"

Justin was just about to say screw politeness and give Jack a lecture on how age didn't really matter, when Gus gurgled. It was probably just as well.

Turning towards the source of the noise Jack noticed Gus for the first time, his eyes widening. "And who the hell is *this*?" Shit. More than likely, Jack didn't even know he had a grandson.

As if proving Justin's theory, Brian brushed by him and moved to the counter, taking Gus out of his carrier. "This is Gus," he introduced, holding him securely. "He's Lindsay's kid. You remember Lindsay?"

"Tallish. Blonde," Jack nodded, still staring at Gus. "You used to take her out. She was a pretty girl. She has a cute son." He paused. "She leaves him with you?"

"Sometimes," Brian shugged, quickly changing subjects to get away from any discussion of Gus. "So, what do you doing wandering around town? A lady friend? Aren't you a little old for that?" The words seemed determined to get a reaction - pure Brian.

Jack didn't rise to it.

Hesitating, he flicked his gaze towards Justin again. "Justin, was it?" He nodded and Jack continued. "Could you give us a minute?"

Glancing towards Brian - he really didn't like the idea of leaving the two of them alone - he nonetheless acknowledged the small nod and started moving up towards the bedroom. "Sure. I'll go...do something in the bathroom." Stepping up into the bedroom, he only went as far as just inside the bathroom - and didn't close the door.

Despite several attempts at new body contortions Justin couldn't see them at all, and resigned himself to staying quiet and listening in.

Brian spoke first. "Need money?" It obviously wouldn't have been the first time he'd given Jack money.

Jack was clearly well aware of that fact. "No, I didn't come here for your fucking money."

"Mom finally leave ya?" Brian teased unpleasantly.

And Jack just said it.

"I've got cancer."

Jesus fucking Christ. Sighing heavily, Justin rubbed a hand over his face and ended up running it through his hair. He probably should've felt some sympathy for Jack, asshole or not, but all he could think was that this was the last thing Brian needed. Shit, couldn't they get a break? They were stuck smack bang in the middle of some great big fucking melodrama. Something was always going wrong.

Most importantly of all, how the fuck was Brian going to react to this?

Jack kept talking, and his prognosis wasn't good. The cancer had spread throughout his body and Justin figured he probably only had a few months left.

"Sorry," Brian said, and Justin couldn't remember him ever saying that before.

Brian's take out eventually turned up - along with the sesame noodles - and he invited his dad to share the food. Predictably Jack turned him down and said he had to leave - which he did immediately, sliding the door shut behind him.

So he'd come to Brian's loft, dropped the bombshell that he had cancer, then left right after. Jesus. No wonder Brian was so screwed up.

Coming out of hiding as soon as he heard the door shut, Justin hesitated at the edge of the bedroom. Sitting on the arm of his sofa, Brian was staring down at Gus.

"I take it you were eavesdropping."

It took Justin a few moments to realise Brian was talking to him and he stepped down from the bedroom, stopping short of actually making contact. "Brian..."

"Of course you were," he said dryly, not looking up, "queers love gossip."

"Brian," he said, firmer this time, and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

Wrong move.

Standing up immediately, Brian pulled away from him and crossed the loft, entering the kitchen to put Gus back into his carrier. Not staying there long, he ended up standing at the end of the loft near the bathroom, looking like he wasn't sure where he was going.

The lost expression on his face sent Justin's concern into overdrive - Brian feeling lost could never be good - and he made his way to Brian quickly, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down. "Fuck me."

Brian kissed him back, at first, but Justin's attempt as distracting him didn't last long. Wrenching himself from the kiss, he pushed Justin away. "Stop it."

Stumbling, Justin could only stare up at him in shock, his expression turning into horror when Brian walked into the bedroom and returned with his jacket.

This was not happening. No fucking way. He wouldn't let it.

Rational thought gone, he rushed towards Brian and grabbed onto his forearms. "Don't go out."

"Justin," Brian tried to shake him loose.

He just held on tighter. "Stay here. Fuck me. Play with Gus. Handcuff me to the shower. Do whatever the fuck you want, but *please* don't go out."

Glaring, Brian shook harder, making them shuffle slowly across the loft. "Let fucking go."

"*Please*," he said desperately, "you can't do this every time you get bad news, Brian. One of the biggest stumbling blocks for most alcoholics is stress, and you're-"

"Jesus Christ," Brian interrupted, and stopped struggling. "Do you ever listen to yourself?" Justin was so stunned after that that Brian was able to free himself easily, but he barely moved away, throwing his jacket onto the floor. "You've been the same since that first night," he ranted, "Justin Taylor's PSA's - like no one else ever knows any of this shit. It's like fucking an encyclopedia."

He'd definitely never been called that before.

"Do you really think," Brian continued, pointing at him with two fingers, "that you're the only one who knows anything about alcoholism? That reading articles and books and whatever the fuck else you've been looking at gives you some great insight into the reality? Into actually living with it?"

Justin's anger flared up, and he gave back just as good at he was getting it. "I haven't lived with it? I haven't lied next to you listening to you throw up all over yourself? I haven't seen you be so drunk that you left the loft door open, leaving yourself at risk to God knows what kind of danger? I've never had to clean up your vomit, or lie that you were fine, or watch you go through withdrawal, or do things that made me sick to my stomach and cried myself to sleep because I was so fucking afraid you'd end up killing yourself?" Pausing, panting for breath, Justin didn't care this time about the tears threatening to fall - he was proud of them. "I never did any of that. I never did anything at all."

The words seemed to hit home with Brian, the anger in his face faltering, replaced by surprise - like he hadn't really thought about it in detail before, what Justin had been going through.

Seeing Brian's anger fade made Justin's do the same, and he reached out again, this time to press their palms together and interlock their fingers. "You can fuck me," Justin said quietly, meeting Brian's gaze. "You can do anything you want to me. Just, please, don't start drinking again." Tugging Brian down, he released his hands and shifted until they were hugging, and when his mouth was near Brian's ear he whispered four words:

"I'll be your addiction."

Yanking away instantly, Brian looked horrified. "Jesus Christ. Jesus *Christ*!" he yelled, leaving Justin dumbfounded as he pulled away from him and strode across the loft. Looking pissed again, edgy, he turned back and pointed at Justin. "You don't get to do that. You do *not* get to fucking do that."

What the fuck? "Do what?"

"You're not fucking handing yourself over on a silver platter. You're just not. Have I taught you nothing?"

"You taught me to be my own man," Justin argued, "and this is *my* choice."

"That is so fucked up I don't even know where to start," Brian threw his hands up. "And it wouldn't fucking work anyway. Drinking and fucking you are not the same thing."

It was actually kind of nice that Brian said that, but he was clearly on a roll and Justin wanted to keep him focused on talking instead of going out. "Why not?" he goaded.

"Because when I'm fucking you I can't not-!" Stopping abruptly, he turned away and cursed.

Can't not what? Can't not *what*?

Pacing back and forth, full of nervous energy, Brian eventually collapsed on the steps near the bathroom, burying his face in his hands.

Justin was still trying to figure out what the fuck Brian had been saying. Slowly approaching from the side, he quietly sat next to Brian on the steps. If Brian considered drinking and fucking him different, what made them different as forms of release? Brian had turned to alcohol when things went bad; when he wanted an escape, when he didn't want to feel anything, and then it became a habit.

"You're not supposed to care about me this fucking much," Brian muttered.

Thinking about it for a moment, Justin studied his bent head. "Can't help it. I'm sure there are a lot of things that've happened that weren't supposed to since I came along." Not that his ego was *that* big, but he doubted anyone had ever pushed Brian as much as he had. More often than not, everyone else bought the bullshit act.

Lifting his head slightly, Brian let out a quiet laugh and looked towards the kitchen. "Gus has that effect. I wasn't supposed to feel anything. I wasn't supposed to feel anything at all."

And then it hit him.

"Because when I'm fucking you I can't not feel anything."

Biting his lip, Justin fought to keep the reaction to that realistion from his face. "Are you going out?"

Sighing, Brian lifted his head completely. "I wasn't going anywhere." At Justin's confused look, he continued. "I was getting my cigarettes, which were still in my jacket pocket. I was going for a smoke - outside, so it wouldn't bother Gus. I wasn't fucking going anywhere."

But...but...Justin was pretty sure his eyes widened to record levels, and he felt pretty fucking stupid, too. "Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

"You were being a demanding shit," Brian explained like that was a good answer, "and a complete princess. *You* try talking any sense into that combination."

Covering his face with his hands, Justin groaned quietly. "Daph's right - I am a drama queen."

Brian didn't deny it, but he probably just thought it wasn't necessary.

Knowing better than to apologise, Justin pulled his hands away and slumped against Brian. The quiet company was nice; even better when Brian shifted and wrapped an arm around him, and it would've been easy to forget how they got there in the first place.

"That sucks about your dad, Brian."

He felt the shrug and the words accompanying it; the tone vibrating through Brian's body. "Guess so."

Closing his eyes, Justin placed a hand on Brian's leg and squeezed once. Brian's arm tightened around him in reply, and nothing else needed to be said.

That, of course, was the moment Gus started crying again.

*

Brian was in a relatively good mood on Saturday morning - although the blowjob Justin had given him probably helped. Justin 'assisted' again while Brian changed, fed and burped Gus (all images that never failed to make him grin), and when Brian showered afterwards Justin spent time with Gus, feeling a little guilty about arguing in front of him the night before.

The two of them were sprawled out on the rug, wearing what Justin suspected were equally stupid grins - though Gus, at least, had a good excuse. Not caring either way, Justin helped him play with the toys Linds had brought with her. Gus was most fascinated with a plastic ring that rattled when he shook it, and he spent most of his time alternating between shaking it and biting it.

Well, gumming it mostly.

Justin kept talking nearly all the time, figuring it'd only help Gus learn to talk faster. He rambled on about life in general - school, work, how much Gus' moms and dad loved him, how he was so lucky because whatever he was in life, they would always accept him.

He only realised Brian was there when the man in question lowered his body down next to them, propping himself up on the floor. "You getting all sentimental on my kid, Sunshine?"

Justin stuck his tongue out. "Just talking. They say hearing people talk a lot at a young age helps develop speech and improve syntax."

"Great, so Gus'll end up sounding like a pretentious twat."

Hey! "I do *not* sound like a-"

"Where do you get all that information you come out with, anyway? Or do you just do way too much reading?" Gus shook his rattle, drawing Brian's attention. "Hey, Sonny Boy. You think that's it? Too much reading?" More rattling. "Yeah, I think he needs to get out more too. How does Woody's sound sometime soon?" Another. "Excellent choice."

It was almost like they'd rehearsed it, but that wasn't what was important right now. "Woody's?" Brian seriously wanted to go to Woody's? To drink? Fear lodged in his throat. "Brian-"

"Calm down, drama queen. I just wanna check it out. Play some pool. Maybe see the boys."

In theory it sounded good. Brian still wasn't often going anywhere other than work, the diner or the gym. But...it was Woody's. A bar. With alcohol. Was this because of his dad's news? "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked, anxious. Knowing Brian hated talking about it. "It wasn't all that long ago you relapsed, and-"

"I know," he cut Justin off, head tilted down with his eyes closed. "I need to do this."

Control.

Okay.

They could give it a shot. But... "Can you do me a favour?"

"Depends what it is." Eyes open now.

Justin managed an exasperated laugh. Brian would never stop being Brian. "Wait a little longer? We'll go, just...really make sure you're ready. Please?"

Quiet for a while, Brian still didn't look up, playing tug of war with the rattle with Gus. "I'll think about it," he said eventually, Gus 'winning' the battle with an excited squeal.

That was a yes.

Feeling better about the situation, Justin picked up a cuddly frog and threw it at Brian. "So what's the plan today?"

Brian threw it back.

The plan, apparently, was the diner, and Justin found himself there a few hours later surprised to see a familiar face. Vic didn't come into the diner very often and Justin plopped himself down next to him enthusiastically. "Hey, Vic!"

Smiling, Vic looked from Justin to Brian and Gus, who were settling in on the other side of the table. "Well, if it isn't the three hottest guys on all of Liberty Avenue."

"It isn't," Brian retorted, tugging Gus' beanie off. "It's the three hottest guys in all of Pittsburgh."

"Just Pittsburgh?" Justin mock-pouted, earning himself a rare Brian grin.

"Honestly, Gus," Vic sighed heavily, addressing the baby, "I don't know how you put up with these two."

"Easy," Brian shrugged. "He likes to watch."

"You better be talking about Teletubbies," Deb interrupted as she approached the table, fussing over Gus as if he hadn't been there just last night. "Heeeelllo, beautiful. Did you sleep well? Yes you did, you *did*."

Gus gurgled happily. So did Deb.

Brian shook his head. "It's like watching two members of an alien race communing with each other."

Justin tried not to laugh and didn't get very far.

Still talking with her baby voice, Deb rubbed Gus' tummy through his clothes, blocking most of Justin's view. "If your daddy wants any coffee he'd better stop acting like an asshole, isn't that right? Yes it iiiiis."

He didn't seem bothered. "If his first word word is asshole and Mel blames me, I'm sending her to you."

Hmpfhing, Deb straightened up and pulled out her order pad. "You want your usual, Sunshine?"

He nodded. "Thanks, Deb."

"And you," she addressed Brian, "I suppose you want your boring, no-calorie, taste-free on-rye sandwich?"

"Why, Deb," he said mockingly, "it's almost like you've known me since I was fourteen."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically, reaching out to ruffle his hair with one hand before leaving the table.

Frozen for a moment, Brian then reached up both hands to flatten his hair. "What is with her lately?" he tried to ask lightly, but the look he shot Justin held another question entirely: Does she know?

As far as Justin was concerned, if she did know there was no way in hell she wouldn't have said anything to him yet. And he knew for a fact that he certainly hadn't told her, so he simply shrugged.

When Gus yelled and kicked out his feet for attention, Brian got distracted and Justin felt a discrete nudge from Vic's elbow. Meeting Vic's gaze, Justin got the message and pretended to glance around the diner. "You know, it looks pretty busy at the moment. I think I'll give Deb a hand."

Brian barely noticed, wrapped up in entertaining his son. "Sure."

Deb appreciated the help but Justin was only half there; his attention kept returning to Vic's table, wondering exactly what it was he wanted to say. Would Vic talk about Brian's drinking problem? Justin doubted it and anyway, at the moment he was actually hoping more that Brian would talk to Vic about his father. Maybe Vic had somehow known something was wrong.

Well, something more than usual.

Since waking up that morning neither one of them had mentioned Brian's dad at all, and it couldn't be ignored forever - much as they both might like to forget that Jack Kinney had ever turned up last night.

So he kept staring over at the table while he was working until Deb started giving him funny looks. Realising his lunch would go cold if he avoided them forever, he slid in next to Vic and smiled too enthusiastically.

"Hey!"

Brian sipped his coffee in response.

Vic just smiled enigmatically.

Justin realised he was surrounded by impossible men and defiantly took a bite out of his lukewarm cheeseburger.

Neither one of them seemed particularly impressed.

*

"Vic knows."

Justin didn't insult Brian by asking exactly what he was referring to. It wasn't his dad. "Oh." Of course, he also didn't know exactly what to say, either.

After leaving the diner they'd stopped by the park for a while - Gus wasn't old enough to play with the other kids there, but he still found it fun - before driving back to the loft. It'd be time for Gus' afternoon nap soon.

Neither one of them had said much at all, and since parking Brian hadn't made a single move to get out of the Jeep.

"Did he tell you that?" Justin found it a little hard to believe.

"Not exactly," Brian replied, staring out through the windshield. "But he managed to let me know that he knows."

That sounded a lot like Vic. "I didn't tell him," Justin swore, worried that Brian might think he had.

"I know," Brian paused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel once. "Anyone else know apart from Emmett?"

Guilt thrummed through Justin's body - that he hadn't been able to do this without help, that he had to involve someone else and expose Brian's secret. It was stupid to feel that way, he knew that - all that ultimately mattered was that Brian got help - and most of the time it didn't bother him too much, but no attempt at rational thought made him feel better just then. "Not that I know of."

Nodding, Brian said, "Vic thinks I should come out to my dad," and climbed out of the Jeep.

Obviously that conversation *had* come up after all.

Justin's mind was racing as they disconnected Gus' car seat and carried him into the loft. He barely spoke a word as Brian checked if Gus needed anything before putting him down for a nap. Gus only fussed a little, and when Brian stepped up into the bedroom with the carrier Justin stared after him, thinking.

Brian coming out to his dad would obviously be huge. It was huge for anyone at all, but Brian had made the occasional hint that his father had been physically abusive. Normally Justin would've been the first to encourage anyone to be who they really were, to stop hiding the truth, but if that bastard laid a single hand on Brian...

Fear and anger urging him on, Justin tugged off his sneakers and stepped into the bedroom. Gus was in his carrier by Brian's side of the bed, and Brian himself was sprawled out on his back, looking like he really wanted a cigarette.

Crawling onto the bed, Justin snuggled up against Brian's left side, relieved when he didn't immediately pull away. They stayed there in silence for a while, not looking at each other, until Justin finally asked the question he'd been thinking ever since Brian'd left the Jeep.

"What do you want to do? About your dad?"

Sighing, Brian managed an almost-shrug. "Fuck knows."

Knowing from past experience that was about as much as Brian would discuss the situation at the moment, Justin shifted up the bed and started planting kisses on Brian's chin.

Brian hmmed. "Mr Taylor, are you trying to distract me?"

There was no point in denying it, and he didn't really want to anyway. "It seems you've discovered my fiendish plan." Another kiss. "I assume I'll have to be punished."

"Naturally," Brian retorted, moving suddenly and flipping Justin onto his back. For all Brian's well-deserved noteriety for fucking, sometimes there was nothing better than just kissing him.

Justin was the luckiest boy in all of gay Pittsburgh.

*

The knocking on the loft door came as a rude awakening.

Having made out with Brian for what felt like hours, Justin eventually fell asleep lying half on top of him. It was just about the most content he'd ever felt, and when the loud, repetitive knocking jolted him out of sleep, he moaned in complaint.

Then moaned again when Gus started crying.

Muttering, Brian started dislodging Justin. "Shit, we were out for a while. He probably needs changing anyway." Running a hand through his hair - Justin loved his bed head look but would never, ever tell him that - Brian sighed. "I'll get Gus. You kill whoever's at the door."

Amused, Justin slid off of Brian, then the bed, and scurried across the loft, barely stifling a yawn as he started pulling open the door. "Here, I'm here," he said around an unsuccessfully-stifled yawn this time, just wanting the noise to stop. It did, and when Justin saw who was standing there he frowned. "Mel. You're back early."

Doing some frowning of her own, Mel looked into the loft like she was about to brush by him. "Is Brian here? If he's left you alone with Gus..."

"He's here," Justin promised, stopping the rant before it really started - and wondering what *would* have been wrong in leaving just him with Gus. "And I'd never do anything to hurt Gus."

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Mel studied him apologetically. "Oh, honey, I know how much you care about him. I'm sorry, I just..." Closing her eyes, she sighed before opening them again. "I just spent more than twenty-four hours with my mother, which is more than anyone should have to spend with her in an entire lifetime."

Understanding the frustration, Justin smiled and stepped back out of the way. "Come in."

"Mel!" Brian's voice declared, making them both turn to see him walking towards them, holding Gus. It was only then that Justin realised that Gus had stopped crying. "I see you've returned from the mother ship early. What happened? They realise you had no interest in a rectal probing?"

Sometimes Brian really didn't make life easy for himself.

Justin would've expected Mel to rise to the bait, but this time she didn't - instead staring at Brian's hair before looking at Justin and moving back to Brian's hair again. "Jesus Christ, Brian - is he just here so you can fuck while you're supposed to be looking after your son?"

Expression darkening, Brian handed Gus over to Justin. Getting the message, Justin took Gus back into the bedroom and gave the two of them some privacy. He figured he was doing a pretty good job of distracting Gus, but Justin could still hear everything Brian and Mel were saying.

"One, you're never bitching at me in front of my kid again, and two, don't tell me you and Linds never munched with Gus in the same room because I don't fucking believe it."

"Whatever Linds and I did is none of your Goddamned business, and-"

"Actually," he interrupted, "it's none of your business anymore either. Not since you fucked around."

"And what would *you* know about monogamy?" she argued. "Don't tell me you suddenly believe in it; that you of all people are actually *judging* me for sleeping with someone."

"Don't be fucking ridiculous," he retorted. "You're both idiots for agreeing to monogamy in the first-"

"Although..." Now it was Mel's turn to interrupt. And she sounded smug. Incredibly smug. "When was the last time you fucked someone who wasn't Justin?"

Oh, shit.

Worried, Justin started bouncing Gus on his knee.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Yeah, Brian sounded about as pleased as Justin thought he would. He really didn't want Brian to get into some great descriptive list of all the guys he'd fucked who weren't Justin.

"All Michael's talked about for weeks now is that you're never at Woody's or Babylon anymore. That you're never in the backroom or in a toilet cubicle getting sucked off. In fact, you never seem to do anything 'fun' anymore."

Brian sounded bored. "You really think those are the only two places in Pittsburgh that I can pick up guys?"

Mel ignored the question - she was clearly intent on finishing what she'd started. "Or *maybe*," she continued smugly, "that little kid has got you wrapped around his little finger." She snorted. "More likely his cock."

Groaning quietly, Justin tried to take some joy out of how happy Gus seemed to be at the moment. Mel knew exactly how to press all of Brian's buttons - implying monogamy, attacking his 'studhood' - and the outcome wasn't going to be pretty. In fact, it was going to be so far from pretty that even Brian might look pretty fucking ugly.

And then Brian said,

"Nice try, Mel."

Justin blinked, and Brian kept talking.

"I applaud your valiant efforts to try and piss me off, but I know *you're* pissed off at life in general and I'm not fucking falling for it. Take it out on someone else." Justin shook his head to clear it; making sure he wasn't hallucinating. Brian not arguing with Mel was like Brian not liking cock - impossible. "And though it's none of your fucking business where I go and what I do when I'm not with Gus, I haven't been going to clubs and bars lately because I'm an alcoholic. Recovering."

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Justin moved off the bed so quickly he nearly fell over. Securing Gus into his carrier, he all but ran out of the bedroom empty-handed to find Brian and Mel standing a few feet apart. Mel looked stunned, and Brian looked vaguely bored - although he was clearly anything but.

"Go ahead," Brian taunted, not looking away from Mel at all. "This is the part where you tell me how I deserve it. That it was only a matter of time until something like this happened."

Mel didn't say anything like that at all, finally jolting out of her shock and walking towards Brian until she was scant inches away. "Have you ever, *ever* been drunk when you've looked after Gus?"

If he said yes, Justin had no doubt Mel would've disembowled Brian right there with the nearest blunt object.

"No," Brian swore, and there was absolutely no doubt he was telling the truth.

Mel stared at him for a long, long time before seeming to accept it. "Who else have you told?"

"Technically," Brian laughed dryly, "you're the first person I've told."

"But not the first person who knows."

Brian shrugged. "Emmett knows. Vic figured it out. Justin..." He flicked his gaze towards Justin before quickly moving it away. "He knew before I did."

"Really?"

"He's an observant little fucker."

Justin felt pleased by that statement, but he also felt a stunned sense of disbelief. He still couldn't believe Brian had told anyone at all - had actually said the words I'm an alcoholic. Least of all to Mel.

Mel seemed to be having the same problem wrapping her mind around the situation. "So...the one person you've told is the one person who likes you the least?"

He shrugged. "Save the worst for first."

Mel gave him the finger.

The earlier argument having deflated and Mel and Justin obviously still feeling surprised, Brian told them to sit the fuck down. Mel actually did what he said and headed towards the sofa - after stepping into the bedrom to get Gus. Justin, of course, wasn't going anywhere, still standing by Brian while he slid the door shut.

Looking vaguely uncomfortable, Brian scratched the back of his head and tried not to look at him. "Where's Gus?"

"With Mel. Brian..." he so wasn't letting him get away with changing the subject. "I...*why*?" This was such a huge change from the last time they'd talked about it.

Sighing, Brian stared off to one side. "Look, they would've figured it all out eventually. Vic and Emmett already know. Mikey knows something's wrong. Nosey fuckers that they are, they would've worked it out and probably tried to treat me like I was about to fall apart or some shit like that. This way I get to control how they find out and tell them upfront not to treat me any fucking differently."

Control again.

It was something Justin never, ever would've expected but the reasoning was so completely Brian that it actually made sense. "You really *don't* like being predictable, do you?"

"Yeah, that's it," Brian grinned even as he rolled his eyes, "I did this just to keep you on your toes."

He didn't object when Justin reached up to hug him, although he did make a point of coping a feel - probably to make it seem less sentimental than it was. Justin didn't care, and cared even less when he felt a few tears start to fall.

"Justin?" Brian asked quietly, obviously noticing. "What the fuck?"

"It's nothing," Justin pulled back, shaking his head and wiping at his face. But it wasn't nothing. It was being so *fucking* proud he thought he'd burst, that Brian had actually been able to come this far at all, that it wasn't going to be some big, dirty secret anymore. That Brian had no need to be ashamed of it.

"Nothing your magnificent ass," Brian argued, pulling him back for another hug.

Clinging tightly, Justin closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Saying nothing for a while, Brian just kept holding him. Eventually he moved his head until his mouth was next to Justin's ear.

"Silly twat."

Laughing once, Justin placed a wet kiss on Brian's shirt. "Love you too, asshole."

Brian slapped him on the ass.

But that was all.

*

Mel was kind of...*nice* to Brian after that. Not that she stopped thinking he was an asshole - that much was clear. They still called each other names and mocked each others issues, but instead it felt like a comfortable routine. Like something they were used to doing, with no genuine feeling behind it.

Well, not much genuine feeling behind it.

There was, certainly, conflict when Mel declared that seeing as she was back early, she could take Gus home with her immediately. Brian and Justin both resisted - Brian mostly using bad language - but eventually they reached a compromise. They'd keep Gus for another night, and Mel would pick him up in the morning and take him back to her cousin's with her. She'd been living there ever since she and Linds had separated.

By the time she left it was nearly 7pm, and both men slumped down onto the sofa together, staring at Gus as he gurgled from the comfort of his carrier.

"So," Justin began, bringing up the subject that'd never been far from his mind, "how are you gonna tell the others?" He still couldn't believe it.

Brian pretended to think about it. "Full page spread in Out." Holding up his arm, he moved his hand from left to right as if to demonstrate a headline. "'Kinney's An Addict - And It's Not Sex'."

Barely stifling a chuckle, Justin twisted his head towards him, resting it on Brian's shoulder. "Make sure they don't over-charge you."

"They'll be paying *me* for the exclusive."

"Of course," Justin sighed, kind of content. This whole thing was so weird - Brian actually making plans to tell his friends the truth. But if it was what he needed to do Justin would go along with it every step of the way. The reality of actually telling everyone probably wouldn't be that easy, but he had no doubt that Brian knew that. If they needed to deal with or talk about it when the time came, they would. Or at least Justin would, and Brian would simply have to listen to him. "What now?"

"Now?" Brian asked. "Now *you* do your homework."

Well that seemed totally unfair. "Brian, it's Saturday..."

"Do you not normally do the bulk of your homework on a Saturday?"

Time for another tack. "I'm with you and Gus."

"That first one is hardly unusual, and I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself. As for Gus," he gestured towards his son, his carrier resting on the coffee table, "right now he seems to be more fascinated with his own snot than in discovering what you're up to."

Babies could be totally gross sometimes. Still... "I'll suck you off."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

Good point. "I *won't* suck you off."

Brian wasn't having it. "Homework. Now. Or Gus'll throw snot at you."

Babies weren't the only ones who could be totally gross sometimes. "You'll regret this when I won't let you fuck me later."

"Yeah, like that'll happen."

Completely expectedly, Brian turned out to be right.

*

Justin moped when Mel took Gus the next morning. He still didn't want to be a full-time parent - or even a part-time parent, really - but he definitely missed Gus when he wasn't there. Brian moped too, just in different ways. They mostly consisted of fucking the shit out of Justin on every available surface, and Justin really didn't mind that form of pain management at all.

Eventually, however, Brian started to get antsy; snapping at him over stupid things and Justin quickly recognised the signs - he needed to be alone. He'd had a lot of company over the past few days, in Brian terms, and he simply wasn't used to it.

Leaving Brian with a particularly hot kiss to remember him by, Justin headed off to the diner. He'd told Deb on Friday evening that he might not be able to make his Sunday shift - Gus was an excellent excuse - but he could at least see if she wanted him to lend a hand for a while.

Surprised to see him when he walked in, Deb immediately pulled him into a hug. "Sunshine, what're you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he promised, extracting himself from her hold. "Mel came back early, so we figured she should spend some time with Gus too." Personally, he doubted Mel got to spend a lot of time with Gus since the break-up. "Anyway, I thought I'd see how things are here. Need a hand?"

"Bless you!" she mock-prayed, clasping her hands together. Justin laughed and pulled his jacket off.

When Em turned up for lunch he all but jumped on Justin, demanding details of the weekend with Brian. Taking his break, Justin divulged all he could in that time - including Brian's 'coming out' to Mel.

Eyes wide, Em lifted his hand to his throat in shock - although not quite for the reason Justin thought. "Mel? Of all the people he could've told, he chose *Mel*?"

Justin grinned. "You almost sound offended."

"I am!" he insisted. "Why couldn't he have told *me*?"

Now he was just being ridiculous, and they both knew it. "Because you already knew?"

"Oh pish," Em pretended to argue, waving a fork around, "that's never the same as hearing the news first hand. Anyway," he picked up his knife and cut neatly into a waffle, "tell me more about this fabulous fuck session. And don't forget to include any and all tongue-usage."

By the time Justin finished working, he was in a remarkably good mood and was glad he'd gone. Catching up with Emmett had been great, and not a single customer had tried to grope his ass. Hopeful that he had another hot session with Brian to look forward to, he practically bounced up the stairs to the loft.

Before he could even knock on the door it began to slide open, and Justin's smile faded the moment he saw Brian's expression.

Realising Justin was just outside the door, Brian froze. "Didn't expect you back this soon."

"Just helped out for a while," Justin murmured, staring up at him. "Where are you...?" No. He didn't need to ask. Judging by the blankness on Brian's face, he knew exactly where he was going. He didn't know how or why he'd made the decision, but he at least knew his destination. "Want me to come with you?" Justin knew Brian would probably refuse, but he had to offer. "I can wait in the car." And frankly, he was worried about what Brian would do if things didn't go well.

Shaking his head, Brian released his hold on the door, leaning against the doorway. "This...thing." He looked down. "Recovery. Part of its trust, right?"

Where was he going with this? "Right."

"You have to trust that I'm not gonna fuck up again. But I have to earn it. So I have to go alone."

There was that Brian logic again. "You don't have to do anything alone."

"I know," Brian said, finally looking back up. "That's why you're gonna be waiting for me. In my bed. With your ass lubed and ready."

Justin's cock twitched. "You sure know how to romance a guy."

"I know - I've been doing it for years."

Managing to huff out a laugh, Justin reached out and placed a hand on Brian's arm. "I *will* be here when you get back. For whatever you need." He didn't let any doubt, any fear show, letting Brian know that he had faith in him.

"Like I said before," Brian retorted, looking uncomfortable, "silly twat."

"Yeah," Justin agreed with a small smile. "That's the only reason I've stuck around this long."

Naturally, the moment Brian left Justin started to freak out. Not that he didn't trust Brian; he just didn't trust *life*. It always seemed to be fucking with Brian, delivering bad news, pushing his limits.

Brian was kind of OCD about keeping his loft clean, but Justin somehow found something to clean anyway. After that, he called Daph, listening to her squeal about her SAT scores and pretending he wasn't worried about anything - which didn't help. After *that* he called Em and panicked down the phone, while Em kept assuring him that everything was going to be fine.

Em was trying to distract him with tales of sex with Steve when the loft door started sliding open.

"Gotta go!" Justin yelled, hanging up the phone and running towards the door. Brian had been gone for a grand total of one hour and eight minutes. Not so long, really, but from the expression on Brian's face, also long enough to be a lifetime.

That wasn't all Justin saw on Brian's face.

A bruise.

There was a bruise just under Brian's left eye. It wasn't huge but it was there, and it sure as fuck hadn't been there before he left to see his dad.

Mother fucking piece of shit!

"You could say," Brian sounded exhausted, "that it didn't go well."

Not finding anything remotely funny, Justin took Brian's jacket and ordered him to sit down on a stool by the kitchen counter. Yanking open the freezer, he pulled out a chunk of ice, wrapping it in a towel before handing it to Brian. He didn't wait any longer to start the interrogation.

"Did he do that to you?"

Holding the towel carefully against his face, Brian hissed slightly anyway. "No, it was a giant squirrel."

"Brian!" Justin couldn't believe that even Brian would joke about this.

"Well, who the hell else do you think did it? Jesus, what a dumb question."

Okay. Maybe he had a point. Maybe. Besides, all that mattered was...Jack Kinney had hit Brian. Hit his own son. He hit *Brian*. "What happened?" Regardless, Justin still felt the urge to kick the shit out of Brian's dad.

"He didn't take it well."

"*Brian*..." Justin wanted details.

"I told him," he sighed, giving in, still holding the ice to his face. "He said I should be the one dying instead of him." Jesus Christ. What kind of father *said* something like that? "And..."

"What?"

"He..." Brian paused, slumping. "He said some shit about you. Figured out who you were. Accused me of molesting you."

Mother fucker. Biting his lip, Justin swallowed harshly. "What did you say?"

He actually produced a smirk. "That you're eighteen and love taking it up the ass. That was when he punched me. Or tried to. I saw it coming - he's not as fast as he used to be."

Understanding the smirk, Justin still didn't produce one of his own, instead pulling Brian into a hug. It was kind of awkward - Brian was still on his stool, still holding the towel and wasn't hugging him back - but he didn't care. "I love you," Justin whispered. "I love you so much. Your dad doesn't know shit."

Brian didn't say anything; didn't try to hug him back. He just let Justin hold him. When he spoke eventually, Justin tried not to notice that his voice was rougher than usual. "Are all my requirements for my return in place?"

"Not the naked and in bed part," Justin replied enthusiastically, trying to sound cheerful, "but that can be fixed in about ten seconds."

And it was.

*

After they fucked, and Justin pretended not to notice that Brian was shaking as he lay on top of him, the two of them wrapped around each other in the blue glow of the light above Brian's bed.

"Why'd you decide to tell your dad? What made you do it?" He still didn't know and he was curious. Even if Brian didn't give him an answer, at least he'd asked.

Brian didn't reply. Brian didn't even blink, as if he hadn't heard a single word.

And then he did reply.

"He never knew me. He never knew me at all."

Unfortunately, Justin had school the next day and there was no way Brian would let him skip it (this was despite Justin giving him what he considered to be an extremely hot blowjob and Brian enthusiastically fucking him in the shower).

Grumpy, he felt a little better when Brian dropped him off at school with a ball-drawing-upingly good kiss, but then felt frustrated when Brian shoved him out of the car and screeched away in the Jeep, leaving him standing on the curb.

As if she'd managed to develop a Just-dar over the weekend, Daph suddenly appeared from nowhere. "Soooooo?"

Still feeling dazed, he looked at her blankly.

She slapped his arm. "How was the weekend with Brian? Spill!"

Justin knew exactly what he had to say - Brian had more or less given him permission to tell Daph everything - but this wasn't the time or the place. "I'll tell you at lunch," he promised, turning and starting up the steps. "Just don't eat anything that stains."

Frowning, Daphne looked at him funny, clearly trying to understand.

At lunch she did, spitting out the fry she'd just started chewing.

"Oh my God. Brian's an *alcoholic*?!"

Justin just barely stopped himself from slapping his hands over his face. "Could you keep it down, Daph? Before everyone in school knows that my older male lover has a drinking problem?" He wasn't embarrassed by Brian or himself, but the jerks like Chris Hobbs already had enough ammunition as it was.

"Sorry," she mumbled, immediately contrite. "I just...that's just...holy shit!" Justin knew exactly how she felt. "How's he doing now?"

"Pretty good," he shrugged, going into some detail of his relapse, and what'd happened over the weekend he'd just spent with him - though he decided to leave out the part about Jack actually hitting Brian. "...and he said Brian should be the one dying instead of him."

Daph was fucking *scary* when she got angry. "Fucking fucker! How the fuck could he say something like that?" she ranted, apparently not noticing that her 'enthusiasm' was drawing a few curious stares. "I know Brian can be kind of a jerk sometimes, but that's just..." Daphne shook her head. "I guess you and Brian both have dicks for dad's."

Something about that phrase - dicks for dad's - amused the hell out of him and he started grinning despite the fact that Daph still looked pissed as hell.

It was funny, and bizarre, and he'd finally, finally told Daphne the truth and a pressure that he'd barely noticed pressing down on him was finally gone. He didn't have to hide anything anymore, and he just couldn't stop grinning.

Daphne frowned. "What's with you?"

He just kept smiling. "I love you, Daph. You know that, right?"

Eyes wide she sat up straight, her right hand clasped around a clump of fries. "I love you too, doofus. Now pass the ketchup."

Sharing almost everything with her had been emotionally exhausting, and Justin was wiped for the rest of the school day. When school finished part of him wanted to go straight over to the loft - even knowing Brian wouldn't be home from work yet and he'd have no way of getting in - but part of him also knew he really should put in an appearance at Deb's.

Besides, there was someone he wanted to talk to.

The person in question made it easy for him, already sitting at the kitchen table when Justin walked into the house. Not even stopping to take his coat off or put his bag down, Justin walked right up to the table. He wasn't pissed exactly (okay, maybe a little), just of the very strong belief that Vic's advice had been absolutely the wrong thing to say. "Why did you tell Brian he should come out to his dad?"

Vic's greeting died on his lips. Slowly and methodically removing his glasses, he folded them up and placed them on top of the newspaper he'd been reading. "Because it's his father."

"And that gives him the right to know whether Brian's gay or not?"

"Yes."

"He hit him," Justin argued. "Brian told him, and his dad hit him."

Closing his eyes, Vic sighed regretfully. "Stupid asshole. Me," he confirmed, opening his eyes again. "I'm the asshole." He paused. "But I stand by my decision, Justin. Sometimes it's harder never knowing how your parents would've reacted."

Justin stared right back at him. "And sometimes it's harder knowing exactly how they did react."

"Sometimes," Vic admitted.

Glad that he'd made his point, Justin's curiosity was suddenly piqued. "How did your parents react?"

Leaning his arms on the table and clasping his hands together, Vic smiled slightly in fond remembrance. "Dad was a good man, but he died long before I ever came out. Mom...she didn't exactly hate me for who I was. But every day, without fail, she'd pray for my soul."

It could've been worse, Justin supposed, but it still didn't sound very happy. "Then why did you tell Brian he should come out to his dad? If it didn't go so well for you and you knew what his dad was like..."

The answer, apparently, was simple. "Because Brian never takes any chances. Or rather," he amended, "the right kind of chances." As he looked at Justin he arched an eyebrow in a move so Brian-like, that Justin wondered if Brian had actually stolen it from him.

He knew what Vic meant, though. Brian had always drunk too much, taken drugs, gone home with complete strangers. And though he had every right to do any of those things, it didn't make them safe.

Of course, taking other kinds of chances were dangerous in their own way.

"Things change," Justin said softly, knowing better than anyone the truth of it.

Vic just smiled, apparently having nothing else to say - something that changed when Justin quietly turned away, intent on heading upstairs to get changed. "Justin?"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

Smiling, Vic held out an envelope that'd been resting on the kitchen table. "You got something today."

Knowing what it was as soon as he took the envelope, he turned it over and read the delivery address. It was still a little weird sometimes, not seeing his old address beneath his name. When he'd moved into Brian's, Mom had simply ferried over any mail he received - usually through Deb, or sometimes even Brian - but since moving into Deb's they'd actually gone through the process of getting his address changed and his mail forwarded.

And it was probably weird that he was focusing more on the outside of the envelope instead of the contents. He probably should've felt excited or nervous or both, but SATs felt kind of insignificant when you had to deal with people like Jack Kinney.

He knew they were important. He'd even applied to colleges, but there was no way in hell he was going to any college that took him away from Pittsburgh - or Brian. IFA was his biggest hope but the places were so limited, and...

Still holding onto the envelope, Justin turned back towards the stairs.

"You're not gonna open it?"

Justin kept walking. "No. Not yet."

*

He hadn't been sure if Brian was going to pick him up that night - they had just spent four nights in a row together, not to mention nearly the entire weekend - but when the honk came Justin was ready as ever, picking up his rucksack and thumping down the stairs. Grabbing his coat from the rack, he yelled out a "See you later!" and bolted out the door.

Justin easily imagined Deb rolling her eyes and Vic's smirk, but all he cared about was getting to Brian. He wasn't sure why he'd felt so uncomfortable and almost depressed since getting the envelope, but being with Brian always made him feel better.

"How was work?" he asked, tugging on his seat belt. Truthfully, although he did want to see Brian for his own selfish reasons, he also wanted to know how he handled his day after last night.

"It was work. I was brilliant." The bruise was still on his face, not hidden at all and Justin wondered how he explained it when anyone asked.

Shaking his head, Justin forced a laugh. He seemed okay, at least. "Good thing you're not advertising modesty."

Waiting for a car to pass, Brian pulled out onto the road. "Modesty is overrated."

Justin actually kind of agreed - how could he not, being involved with a guy like Brian?

Shifting about in the driver's seat, Brian glanced over at him. "So, how was your day, dear?"

The day Brian seriously called him 'dear' or 'sweetheart' was the day Justin was having him committed. "Pretty good. Okay. I told Daphne." He fell silent, then felt stupid for falling silent. "She thinks your dad's an asshole."

"Popular perception."

Justin didn't doubt it, but didn't want Brian to focus on his dad too much and quickly changed subjects. "My SAT scores arrived."

Brian looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"I didn't look at them yet."

"Why the fuck not?"

Before he knew it, he was blurting out everything he'd thought earlier - that in the grand scheme of things they had no importance; they were just a bunch of numbers. That they didn't seem to matter when there were Jack Kinney's, homophobic pricks, and addictions to deal with.

Brian wasn't impressed. "That's exactly *why* your SATs are important."

He didn't get it. "Huh?"

"To show that shit like that isn't gonna stop you from getting everything you deserve. Look," finding a place to pull over - Justin suspected it was highly illegal but wasn't about to point out - Brian turned in his seat to face him. "I know I'm not easy to deal with. I can be downright shitty to you sometimes." No point in arguing that - they both knew the truth. "And so can life in general. But don't ever let it take your enthusiasm away, Justin. That's how we'll know they've won."

That was probably the longest speech not fuelled by anger that Brian had ever given in his life, and Justin felt kind of stunned, fumbling for words. "What about you? What about you losing yours?" he asked, knowing full well that they weren't quite talking about enthusiasm.

Facing the front of the Jeep, Brian rested one hand on the top of the steering wheel. "Never had a chance," he replied, trying to make it sound funny - and not succeeding.

"I know what we should do," Justin suddenly declared, his mouth somehow getting ahead of his brain. "Every weekend - or whenever we get the time - we should go do something you always wanted to do when you were a kid." The that your parents were too shitty to let you do was left unspoken.

Obviously uncomfortable, Brian didn't look at him. "There's nothing I haven't done."

As a man, maybe. But as a boy? Justin's dad may have turned out to be an asshole, but at least he'd had a relatively good childhood. Brian, on the other hand...

Realising that Brian really, truly didn't like this concept at all, Justin began to think that maybe he'd pushed too hard. "Just something to think about," he said quickly.

Pulling the Jeep back out onto the road, Brian ignored the statement. "Open your goddamn mail."

*

Ultimately, Justin felt pretty proud of his 1500. In fact, he ended up having a great deal of enthusiasm for doing so well, purely because Brian was so clearly proud of him (Justin was convinced Brian had been about ten seconds away from letting him fuck him when he'd turned over and pushed Justin face-first into the mattress). After their first fuck, Brian even let himself be sprawled out on one of his designer chairs, while Justin straddled his body and force-fed him spoon after spoon of vanilla ice cream. He complained the whole time about calories of course, but not once did he actually stop Justin from feeding him.

Licking the latest dribble from Brian's chest, Justin enjoyed the gasp it produced and grinned, sitting back up. "One spoon left. You want it?" He held the spoon up carefully - the ice cream had melted so much by now that it was practically liquid.

"No, it'll mean ten more minutes on the stair master."

There was no real argument in his voice and they both knew it. "Come on, I wanna see you lick it off the spoon." Pretending to resist, Brian eventually obliged, licking the spoon until it was clean. Holding the empty ice cream tub in one hand and the spoon in the other, Justin leant down and rewarded him with a sticky kiss. "You should eat more," he said when he straightened up. "My mom says that you're too skinny."

"Your mom?" The disbelief was obvious.

Justin grinned. "She doesn't completely hate you, you know." Now for some fun. "I told her that you were always skinny, though. Even in high school."

Brian's frown was directed towards him. "You don't know how I looked in high school."

"I live in Michael's old room, remember? With all those old yearbooks. Pictures of you." He'd definitely gone through them more than once. "You were a geek," he teased.

Brian tried to look offended, but there was a smile beneath it somewhere. "I was never a geek."

Please. Sometimes Brian was still a geek even now. "Then explain the chemistry club."

"That's where I learnt to build the bomb to blow up the school. But Mikey talked me out of it," he concluded, sounding almost wistful.

It didn't escape Justin's attention. "Good thing he was around." The two of them still weren't spending much time together - in fact, he couldn't remember the last time Brian and Michael had hung out together with no one else around. Justin was sure that Brian had been purposefully avoiding him, trying to hide what he was going through, but now that he'd decided to tell everyone... "Maybe you should give him a call. See how he's doing."

"Probably fucking the doctor," he mumbled.

Jealousy? Interesting. Leaving it there to think over it some more later, Justin carefully leaned to one side, placing the tub on the floor with the spoon inside. "I'd prefer not to think about Michael and David fucking," he said when he was straddling Brian again. "Not when I have you right where I want you," he finished, bracing his hands either side of the top of the chair and moving his hips.

They'd both been hard for a while, and groaned in unison as their cocks rubbed against each other. Brian's hands instantly latched onto his ass, encouraging the rhythm as Justin's mouth descended towards his. They kissed open-mouthed, Justin still finding and enjoying the taste of Brian and ice cream, throwing a moan into the mix whenever there was a particularly good thrust.

They could've made it last for ages - they'd gotten good at that - but both of them seemed to be in the mood to get off quickly, so they rocked and rutted and licked and nipped, sticky with sweat, ice cream and come, and when Brian came this time he moaned and latched his mouth onto Justin's neck, biting but not breaking the skin. Throwing back his head at the pressure, Justin practically howled and came all over both of them.

Collapsing on top of Brian he panted for breath, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the hand slowly running over his ass.

Yeah, SATs were definitely a good thing.

*

Justin almost cried when he realised someone was knocking on the door. "You seriously need to move to Siberia."

Brian simply groaned.

It wasn't fair, Justin thought, as he regretfully peeled himself away from Brian. They never seemed to get any fucking privacy. Someone was always knocking or calling or generally butting in. Sighing, he padded up to the bathroom and wiped himself clean with a towel. Stepping out to lob it at Brian, he located his cargo pants - they'd been pulled off his body earlier, using only Brian's teeth - and slipped them on, waiting until Brian was safely out of sight in the bedroom before pulling open the door. He was vaguely aware that his chest wasn't covered, but whoever it was would just have to put up with it. Being interrupted post-fuck was not conducive to one of Justin's better moods.

The moment he slid the door open and saw who was standing outside, he slid it right back again.

Jack shot his foot out, stepping on the door track and effectively stopping Justin from shutting it.

It wouldn't stop him for long. "I'll keep this door moving and crush your foot," Justin warned, staring Jack down. "Don't think I won't."

He didn't seem particularly concerned, although he did look surprised. "You're a feisty one, aren't ya?" Justin was so *not* in the mood to be patronised. "Least you're not one of those effeminate types." Jesus Christ.

The anger just burned hotter. "Stay the fuck away from Brian."

"Justin." And there was Brian himself, wearing only a pair of sweats and deliberately wrapping an arm around him. Getting with the program - and maybe even liking it more than violence just then - Justin wrapped an arm around Brian, too, and let his head press against his chest.

Proud.

"What are you doing here?" Brian demanded.

"I'll only be a minute," were Jack's first words to him, his hands held up in supplication. "I found something when I was going through those boxes. I thought you might want it."

So far Brian had given Justin precious little detail about exactly what'd happened last night, so he could only assume Jack had been clearing something out when Brian'd turned up.

Digging into a pocket inside his jacket, Jack extracted what looked to be a photograph and held it out. Taking it from him with his free hand, Brian held it towards himself where Justin got a good look at the picture. Jack, much younger, holding a baby. Obviously Brian. Gus really did take after him.

"It's me and you when you were five months old," Jack confirmed. Was it meant to be some kind of peace offering? If so, why?

Brian didn't seem impressed. "Why are you smiling?"

"It's a photograph - isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Releasing his hold on it, Brian let the image flutter to the floor. "I don't want it."

"You might change your mind someday when I'm gone," he pointed out, maybe trying to appeal to his son's sentimental side. Yeah, right. Jack had probably done everything he could to destroy that himself before Brian was even a teenager.

"I doubt it."

"You know, you can really pack a wallop for a fag," Jack said, completely changing subjects and making Justin stiffen. Brian had made no mention whatsoever of defending himself or striking out after his dad had hit him, and he couldn't see any marks on Jack at all. What the hell *had* he hit? "Just don't tell your mother, you understand?"

"Yeah, because she'll take it so much worse than you did," Brian snorted. "You think some shitty old photograph suddenly makes everything right? That, once upon a time, you didn't treat me like you wished I'd never be born? Fuck that," he continued. "I have my own life now. A good life. And I don't fucking need you *or* your bullshit." Placing his free hand on Jack's chest, he pushed him back firmly and slid the door shut.

Justin stared at the photograph where it was lying face-up on the floor, before being dragged into the bedroom - not that he put up much of a struggle. When Brian collapsed onto the bed Justin went with him, but stayed kneeling up, rubbing a hand slowly over Brian's exposed back. He wasn't entirely sure what to do. For once Brian didn't seem to want to fuck, so he just stayed nearby, letting him know he was there.

Eventually, Brian spoke. "Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"There's a...in my briefcase," he faltered. "There's a bottle. Get rid of it."

Fear made Justin freeze momentarily, but it was quickly overtaken by the knowledge that Brian had told him before he'd drunk anything. Not knowing whether to hit him or hug him, Justin settled for a little of both - a kiss on his back and a slap on his ass - before pushing himself from the bed. Locating the briefcase by the sofa, Justin opened it up and found a small bottle of vodka inside. Seeing nothing else of any concern, he snapped the briefcase shut, left it on the sofa, and emptied the vodka down the sink.

After the sink'd been rinsed clean and the bottle thrown into the trash, Justin hesitated by the photograph still on the floor. Making a decision he bent down, picked it up, and shoved it into one of the many pockets on his cargo pants.

Back in the bedroom, he joined Brian on the mattress, sharing a toe-curling kiss (although he tried not to make it feel like a reward for good behaviour. Brian wasn't a kid or a dog, despite the fact that he could behave like both from time to time). Settling down next to him eventually, Justin sprawled on his front and threw his arm across Brian's body.

It was clear there'd be no discussion of Jack again tonight, and Brian telling him he'd bought alcohol was a huge step, so... "Did you know that back in the olden days - you know, when you were at school," he waited for - and heard - the expected snort, "Mensa used to accept people who scored higher than 1250 on their SATs? Which makes me, officially, a genius."

"What it makes you is a pain in the ass, Einstein."

Pleased that Brian sounded so very much like himself, Justin sat up and shifted until he was straddling Brian's back. "You wish."

Trying to turn to see what Justin was doing, Brian didn't get very far. "What are you up to back there? If you have plans involving your dick and my ass, think again."

"Nothing like that," Justin assured sweetly, "I'm just going to demonstrate what a pain in the ass I *can* be." Leaning over to Brian's bedside table, he tugged open the drawer and pulled out the string of anal beads.

*

During the drive to school the next day, Brian stopped off for coffee. Justin didn't want any himself, so simply watched Brian as he sipped his drink, driving one-handed.

"You drink too much coffee."

Briefly looking at his drink, Brian gestured with it. "This isn't coffee, it's latte."

"Just coffee that costs five bucks," Justin argued cheekily. "And it still causes high blood pressure, heart attacks...poor sexual performance." He emphasised his last statement by pointing at Brian's groin. He didn't really mean any of it of course, but it was fun to mess with him sometimes.

Brian, being Brian, didn't seem the least bit concerned. "Haven't had any complaints."

"Not to mention insomnia." That one he meant semi-seriously - Brian really didn't sleep well most nights.

"Well," he shrugged, "usually when I'm in my bed I'm not asleep anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

Grinning, Justin deliberately sounded smug. "See, fortunately, *I* have youth on my side. I can stay up all night fucking, and still, score 1500 on my SATs."

Obviously holding back a smile, Brian shook his head. Something in him seems to have revived since last night, and Justin was glad for it. "I was thinking last night, you could get into any school you wanted with a score like that."

Justin nodded, absurdly pleased that Brian'd been thinking about it. "I applied to Dartmouth, Brown..."

Brian's head snapped towards him. "You're going out of state?"

Oh, this was too good. "Why? Do you give a shit?" He knew perfectly well that Brian did.

"It's just the first I've heard of it, that's all," he shrugged, looking back through the windshield, seriously doing a bad job of hiding his concern.

Practically giddy, Justin almost started bouncing in his seat. "You so care about meee," he sang as they pulled up outside school. "You love me *so* much!"

"Get out," Brian ordered gruffly.

Opening the door, Justin stepped onto the sidewalk - but turned and leant back into the car. "Don't worry, Brian," he said with a grin. "I'd never let you live without me."

"Fuck you."

Laughing, Justin shut the door and watched the Jeep as it drove away. Pleased with himself, he started up the steps when he noticed Daphne already standing there.

"Well, *you* look self-satisfied," she greeted, smiling. "I'd even go as far as to say supercilious."

"We all know you got seven hundred verbal," he laughed. "Stop showing off." Nudging her shoulder with his own, he continued up the stairs.

"So, what did he say to you?" she asked.

His grin was *so* never going away. "Hmm. It's what he didn't say," he said mysteriously. Naturally, Daph bugged him all the way to class for details. When they reached homeroom, it was to see Chris Hobbs bullying Paul Mendelson.

"I'm not a faggot," Paul was saying, obviously defending himself from some name-calling.

"You look like one to me," Chris sneered. "Do you wanna suck my cock?"

Daphne was as disgusted as he was. "Christ. Can't they think of anything more original to say?"

"Leave him alone, Hobbs," Justin said as he walked between the desks, not willing to put up with that kind of shit - especially at his own school.

"Oh, must be a faggot convention."

Yeah, that was mature. "Don't take it out on him."

"Take what out?"

"Your dick." Okay, so that wasn't mature either, but it felt good - even if Chris did start pushing him. Pushing back, Justin tried to shove him to the back of the room when Mr. Dickson's voice intruded. He must've only just walked in.

"Okay, you two, break it up. Now!" he yelled, and the boys reluctantly separated, glaring at each other. "Taylor," Dickson continued, "next time you cause trouble you can talk to the principal."

What. The fuck? "What?" It was Chris who was the homophobic asshole!

Daphne was appalled, standing near the classroom doorway. "Sir, Justin didn't do anything. It was Chris. He called him a faggot."

"Take your seats," he ordered, clearly not willing to listen. "Both of you."

Mentally giving Dickson the finger, Justin slumped down into his seat as roll call started. Jerk.

Things did seem to calm down, though. Lipman turned up late but roll call was going fine until...

"Ruiz?" Dickson asked.

"Here."

"Taylor?"

Before Justin could say anything at all, Chris answered for him. "Queer!"

Everyone started laughing, and Mr. Dickson did nothing about it. Absolutely. Nothing.

"Okay, class, quiet down," he ordered. "Thomas?"

There was absolutely no way Justin was standing for that. Determined, he stood up. "Excuse me, Mr. Dickson."

"What is is, Taylor?" He didn't sound pleased.

"Chris just called me queer."

Feigning ignorance, Dickson shrugged. "I didn't hear anything."

Lying asshole! "How could you not hear it? Everybody heard that." Everybody had laughed.

"Sit down, Taylor."

"I want him to apologize." That was all he wanted, really. An acknowledgment that Chris had done something wrong.

"I said sit down."

"Aren't you gonna do anything?" he asked, disappointed that a teacher - someone who was supposed to care about the welfare of all his students - was letting Chris get away with this. "Or are you just gonna pretend that nothing happened?"

Apparently, he was. "One more word from you and I'm sending you to the principal's office."

Shaking his head, almost vibrating with anger, Justin picked up his rucksack and started walking out of the room, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Don't bother." As he passed Daphne she grabbed his arm, trying to get him to stay, but he shook her off. "The queer is going, the queer is out the door, the queer is gone!"

"That's enough of that!"

Pausing by the door, Justin swung back around to face Dickson. "Oh! What do you know? He says it," he gestured towards Chris, "you don't hear a thing. But when *I* say it..." Only one action, one response came to mind. "Well, listen up now that your hearing has *returned*." Leaning forward, he gave Dickson the finger with both hands. "This queer says *fuck you*!"

*

His feelings of triumph lasted until Mom started the drive to Deb's. Waiting outside the principal's office, being given what was probably meant to be a stern talking to, Mom being called into school and finding out he'd been suspended - none of it'd bothered him at all. He was right; Justin was absolutely convinced that he'd done the right thing. He'd stood up for himself and hadn't let Chris or that fucking teacher get away with anything.

Mom didn't agree, and let him know that as soon as they were in the car.

Away from prying eyes, of course.

Justin knew she was complaining, but only seriously tuned in to what she was saying after her first minute of ranting.

"...and honestly, Justin, things are hard enough already. If your father hears about this..."

Oh, yeah. That'd definitely been his main concern. "What's he gonna do?" he asked bitchily. "Throw me out?" Mom gave him another I am *so* not impressed look and Justin turned away, slumping in his seat and folding his arms. "Besides, I told you what happened - Chris was being a jerk and so was Dickson. I didn't do anything wrong. It's not my fault they're a couple of homophobic pricks."

"Justin..."

Rolling his eyes, he stared out the window moodily. God forbid anyone should ever use bad language, even in situations like this.

Neither one of them said anything else for the rest of the journey and when Mom pulled up outside Deb's, Justin immediately opened the door, fully prepared to get out without a saying a word.

"Justin," she pleaded again, reaching out to grab his arm before he could escape. Sighing, he settled back into his seat and turned to face her, expressionless. "Sweetheart," she continued, "it's not that I don't believe you, and I fully intend to have words with Mr. Dickson myself. It's just..." Letting go of his arm, she gently touched the side of his face. "I love you *so* much and you're *so* strong, but things are so difficult for you already." Shrugging, eyes glistening, she gave him a small smile that obviously wasn't real. "I just don't want you to make things harder than they have to be."

Having heard enough Justin pulled away from her, feeling a vindictive kind of satisfaction as he held onto his bag tightly and climbed out of the car. "I don't make things harder for myself," he insisted, bracing his weight on the edge of the car and staring in at her. "Pricks like Mr. Dickson do that for me." Slamming the door shut, he turned away from the car and walked into the house.

Vic was on the sofa, already turning to look at him when Justin let himself into the house - he'd probably heard the key in the door.

"Justin?" he frowned even as he stood up. "Why aren't you at school?"

No one at Deb's knew anything about what'd happened yet, so Justin spilled the whole story. By the time he finished venting he still didn't feel any better - in fact, he probably felt even more pissed off.

Vic was sympathetic, of course, calling Chris and Mr. Dickson more than a few choice names, but this time his words of wisdom about 'that just being the way life is sometimes' didn't make him feel any better. Stomping upstairs, Justin slammed into his bedroom and settled in for good sulk.

Well, Vic insisted it was sulking. Justin preferred to think of it as contemplating.

By the time Deb appeared most of the anger had drained out of him - which was just as well, because Vic had obviously told her everything and Justin had a feeling Deb's anger could wipe out entire city blocks.

"Those fucking assholes!" she ranted, releasing him from a hug. "All you're doing is what's right, and they suspend you? Assholes!" Shaking her head, she suddenly snapped her fingers. "I know what you need - cookies! I'll bring you up some cookies."

"Uh, Deb..." For once he didn't feel like eating much of anything.

"Cookies!" she yelled back, well out of his bedroom by now.

Resigning himself to the fact that he was going to be getting cookies whether he wanted any or not, Justin grabbed a sketch pad and sprawled onto this bed. Still feeling mopy, he was absently doodling whatever came to mind when Deb actually knocked for once. She'd been gone for a while, and seemed much calmer. Justin figured Vic had managed to talk her down.

"Hey," she greeted as she let herself in. Closing the door, she smiled as she walked towards him, glancing down at the mug and plate she was carrying. "You know the last time I brought hot chocolate and fig newtons up here?"

The answer seemed obvious. "When Michael lived here?"

"Smart kid," she nodded. "He'd lock himself in here for hours and hours. Told me he was playing with his model airplanes. Ha!" she laughed, smirking. "I know what he was playing with." Justin managed the barest smile as she set the hot chocolate down on the bedside table. "Here," she said, holding out the plate. "Want one?"

"No, thanks."

Sighing softly, Deb lowered herself down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's a lousy thing that teacher did."

No kidding. "Yeah, I could punch that dickhead Dickson's face in," Justin replied, making a stabbing motion with his pencil. "Chris Hobbs, too." Assholes, both of them.

"Only then you'd be just like them," she pointed out.

Some days that didn't seem so bad. "So what? They deserve it."

"Sure they do," she agreed, surprising him. "But there are better ways of handling it."

"Quit school?" Never having to see either of them again would be really, really good.

"And give them the pleasure?" Picking up one of the fig newtons herself, she took a bite out of it before offering him one again. Justin shook his head. "You know..." she continued, "there were people - when they found out that Michael was gay - who said and did the cruelest things. Friends...neighbors...family. My own goddamn sister wouldn't even let her kids come over here. Was afraid Michael was gonna molest 'em or something!" Obviously still understandably appalled by that, she took a moment to calm down. "Because that's the way people are. They're ignorant, and they're scared. And there's nothing you can do...except educate 'em, or shoot 'em." They shared a small smile. "Me, I joined PFLAG 'cause I figured it was more practical than shooting 'em." Chuckling, she took another bite from her cookie. "Do you have a gay club at your school?"

She so had to be kidding. "Are you crazy?"

"I've been accused of it," she admitted with a smile, not sounding the least bit bothered.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm, like, the only gay student there." No one else that he knew at school had ever come out.

Smiling broadly, Debbie regarded him fondly. "I doubt that, Sunshine. Gay kids are *everywhere*. Only they're not all like you," she reached out and touched his face like Mom had earlier, only this time it didn't bother him. "'Cause they're afraid to show their faces. That's why maybe...you've got to do something to help them know that they're not the only ones."

Do something? He wouldn't know where to start. "Like what?"

"You're the genius who got 1500 on his SATs," she smiled, "you figure it out." Her mood changing suddenly, she held up an index finger. "And don't think I've forgiven you for not telling me that personally, Sunshine."

Shit. He hadn't even told Vic, yet. "How did you hear about them?"

"Brian stopped by the diner for lunch," she said. "He tried not to look proud, but I saw right through him." Not even Justin's bad mood was going to stop the grin that *that* produced, and he smiled hugely. Snorting out laughter, Deb reached up and ruffled his hair. "Look at you, Mr. Innocent. You know you've got that man wrapped around your little finger."

Justin just blushed, shrugging, before flopping back onto the bed. He had a lot to think over, he knew, but now that he was feeling better about things he didn't feel like being cooped up in his room all night. It'd been ages since he'd just hung out with anyone. "Deb, you don't mind if I go out, do you?"

"Of course not, Sunshine," she pushed herself off of the bed. "It's not like you've got school tomorrow." Cackling, she walked out of his bedroom.

Following her out of the room and downstairs, he grabbed the phone in the kitchen and made a quick call. Pleased to discover that Emmett was already at Woody's - he hadn't been there in what felt like months - he finally got changed out of his school uniform and into something Woody's-appropriate, and headed out to Liberty Avenue.

When he arrived, he found an unusual grouping seated at the bar: Em, Ted - and Mel.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, taking the spare seat next to Melanie. "What's up?"

Mel was busy smoking what looked like the next in a long line of cigarettes. He hadn't even known that she smoked at all. "Linds is marrying some French douche bag to help with the mortgage and so he can get his Green Card."

It was his own fault, really. He *had* asked.

Linds was marrying someone? A guy? "Did she turn straight?"

"He's gay," the guys retorted.

Oh. Still... "Isn't that like a felony or something?"

"No shit," Mel muttered, furiously stubbing out her cigarette and immediately lighting up another one. "Believe me, we tried to reason with her. The four of us went over there-"

"Four?" Justin asked, knowing that his maths skills were good and that Mel plus Ted plus Emmett didn't equal four.

"Brian came."

"Oh." Brian went? Things really must've been serious. "That sucks."

"The way he insinuated himself!" she declared, for what Justin suspected wasn't the first time.

"Right, like...like it was his house," Em agreed.

Ted nodded. "That he belongs there."

She puffed some more on the cigarette. "Like Brian and I were a couple of strangers." Sighing, she hung her head. "This is all my fault. If it weren't for me, none of this would be happening."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Em told her. "You made a mistake, but now it's Linds that's making this one. Anyway," he continued cheerily, obviously trying to improve everyone's mood as he addressed Justin, "not that we aren't *thrilled* to see you, sweetie, but what're you doing here on a school night?"

"Don't you have homework to finish?" Ted quipped.

He shrugged. "I got suspended."

Mel stared at him. "You?"

"For two days. I saw this student getting bashed and my homophobic teacher wouldn't do anything about it. So I told him to fuck off." He felt proud telling his friends about it; even more so when they all laughed, and he was more convinced than ever that he'd done the right thing.

"You go, sweetie," Em toasted him.

"That brings back memories," Ted murmured. "Getting the shit kicked out of you on the playground."

"Mmm," Em replied. "Having lit matches thrown at you in the locker room." He paused. "Good times."

"Yeah."

After a moment's silence, they laughed, clinking their bottles together in understanding of their own individual rite of passage into queerdom.

Speaking of queerdom... "Oh, hey! While I have you guys here, I was thinking of starting some kind of gay-friendly club at St James. Any ideas?"

"Any ideas?" Emmett bounced precariously on his stool, spreading his arms wide. "Let's talk decorations!"

Not quite what he had in mind, but it was a start.

*

By the time they drove away from Liberty Avenue and turned onto Barker, it was after eleven and Justin was really, really horny. He wasn't drunk or even tipsy - but he was really, really horny (it was important, so he gave it a lot of attention).

"Ted, would you mind dropping me off at Brian's instead of Deb's?" Time for a booty call. He laughed at the thought, and decided that maybe he *was* a little bit drunk.

That was okay. Little was acceptable. He didn't think turning up at Brian's shit-faced would be nice, given that he was trying to give up alcohol. Although Brian was a big boy - in more ways then one, ha - so he had to get used to seeing other people being drunk even when he wasn't. This was an important lesson to learn. Yes.

"You sure about that?" Ted asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "It's nearly midnight. He could be sleeping or...have company."

Justin hadn't even considered the having company part. A quick blowjob would make Brian forgive him if he woke him up, but he didn't want to walk in on Brian fucking some other guy. But if he didn't even take the chance... "I'm sure. It'll be fine."

"Of course it will," Em assured, leaning over to give him a brief, one-armed hug. "He'll bitch and he'll moan, but he'll be happy to see you."

Confident that Emmett was right, Justin leaned against him for the rest of the journey.

After being dropped off just outside Brian's building, he waved the others off and let himself inside. Feeling too lazy for the stairs he pressed the button and waited for the elevator, smiling stupidly by the time he started knocking on Brian's door.

Okay, he may have been smiling stupidly for a while.

It didn't take long - three, maybe four attempts at knocking - for Brian to open the door. He didn't have bed head, so he couldn't have gone to sleep yet, but he did look kind of pissed off.

Oh, well. He who never took risks...something something. "Hi, Brian!"

His eyes narrowed. "You're drunk."

Shit. "I am not!"

Sighing, he just rolled his eyes. "What're you doing here this late?"

"I got suspended and I'm horny."

For once, Brian completely ignored the horny part. "Why the fuck did you get suspended?"

"Stupid homophobic teacher," Justin explained. "Total cunt. I told him to fuck off."

Looking vaguely amused now, Brian bit his lip before pulling the door open further. "Come on."

Trying not to look smug - and probably failing - Justin walked into the loft, turning around to face Brian as he slid the door shut and locked it, setting the alarm. "Thanks."

Brian shrugged it off. "So where'd you go?"

"Woody's," Justin answered, pulling off his jacket and throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the sofa. Brian was wearing a black wifebeater and a pair of jeans - and nothing else. There was something about Brian's bare feet that just drove him crazy. "With the guys." Moving forward until he reached Brian, he wrapped his arms around him and started nipping gently at his throat.

"The guys?" Brian asked, not stopping him.

"You know, the guys," he said, turning the nips into licks. "Em, Ted, and Mel." Pausing, he stuck his nose against Brian's neck and inhaled deeply. "You smell really good. I hear Linds is marrying a frog."

"Yeah, he looks like one too," was the reply as Brian slowly started walking them across the loft. "You are so wasted."

There he went with the accusations again. "I am not!" Brian gave him a look. "Okay, maybe a little." Guilt swept over him in a wave and he held on even tighter, stopping them from moving as he rested his forehead against Brian's chest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here drunk. Not when you're trying not to drink. It was thoughtless and inconsiderate." He sighed. "I was just so horny!"

Laughing, Brian resumed their journey across the loft and into the bedroom. "You're forgiven. The power of my cock is understandably persuasive."

"See? You get it." At least someone did.

"Besides," Brian huffed as he gently pushed Justin onto the bed and started tugging off his sneakers, "seeing you act like a complete idiot is really not encouraging me to drink in any way, shape or form."

So he'd totally done the right thing after all - he was an exhibit on the dangers of drinking. Score. "Will you fuck me now?" he asked, as Brian shifted him about until he was lying on the bed.

"Later," he promised. "Get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," Justin yawned.

"Uh huh."

Turning onto his side, he closed his eyes. "I'm not."

"Tell it to someone who buys it, Sunshine."

He was going to say something in response to that, he really was, but he felt the covers being pulled up over him and it was so *comfortable* that he started to let his mind drift.

Until Brian's voice prodded into his murky thoughts.

"I stopped by Deb's tonight."

And he hadn't been there. He hadn't even thought about that, and he was too tired to worry about it now. "Maybe you should call next time."

"Yeah," Brian said quietly. "Maybe."

*

When Justin woke up the lights were still on. Blinking momentarily against the brightness, he was glad to realise that his head didn't hurt at all - then startled when a bottle of water suddenly appeared in front of his face.

"Here, drink this."

Shifting until he was sitting up, Justin took the bottle and studied Brian - sitting next to him on the bed, propped up against the headboard as he went through some paperwork. "Thanks." Twisting the cap off, he took a healthy gulp. "How long was I out?"

Shrugging, Brian frowned at something on the latest piece of paper he was studying. "About ninety minutes."

That explained why he didn't have a headache. Yet. Even if his head did feel clearer. Taking another swig, he pursed his lips afterward and stared at Brian. "I'm sorry about-"

"Forget it," he interrupted, turning the paper over. "Frankly, if you *didn't* act like a normal teenager occasionally, I might get concerned."

"Are you implying that I'm not normal?"

Turning his head to finally look at him, Brian did the eyebrow thing. "I think you know the answer to that one, Sunshine."

Putting the cap back on the bottle, Justin placed it on the table on his side of the bed, before pulling Brian's paperwork out of his hands.

"Hey, I was reading-"

Letting them fall by the side of the bed, Justin straddled Brian even as he kissed him. Wrapping his arms around Brian's neck, pulling him close, Justin broke the kiss. "You haven't fucked me yet."

Brian didn't push him away; instead, his hands slid up to play with Justin's hair. "Maybe I did while you were sleeping."

"I think I would've noticed," he whispered, smiling, kissing him again.

When that kiss broke apart, Brian's hands were firmly tangled up in his hair. "Your hair's getting long."

His hair? They were kissing, enjoying the actual foreplay before the actual fucking, and Brian wanted to talk about his hair? "Maybe if you fuck me hard enough it'll fall out," he nipped at his ear.

Snorting, Brian had finally had enough and rolled them over and away from the headboard until Justin was lying on his back. "I like it like this." Tugging at Justin's top, he pulled it off over his head, placing a few kisses on his stomach. "Tell me about school."

And really, the things that happened at school didn't seem *quite* so bad when Brian was stripping him as he told the story - and even better when he got to strip Brian. It wasn't long at all until they were both naked, slowly kissing and biting, rubbing against each other. The whole time Justin talked about school, and as Brian rolled on top again he realised he could help.

"A gay-straight what?"

"Student Alliance," Justin repeated, kissing Brian's chin. The guys had helped him come up with the concept at Woody's.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a club. A forum where students discuss issues, plan events. You know," he nudged Brian, "to promote understanding."

"I'm asleep already."

He'd been willing to listen earlier, but by now he'd probably reached the 'too horny to care' stage. "I need your expertise," Justin insisted, slapping him lightly on the thigh.

Brian simply looked down at him. "I think I've given you plenty."

Moving back, Justin shifted a little. "Your *business* expertise. It's a tough sell, especially at St James." He made his best pleading expression face. "So say I bought this concept to you at your office. How would you market it?"

Debating it for a few moments with his eyes closed, Brian eventually caved and sighed. "Okay." Rolling away from Justin, he lay on his left side. "You're the client. Have a seat, Mr. Taylor."

Dutifully sitting up cross-legged, he frowned when Brian started laughing. Unfolding a leg, Justin kicked him playfully. "What's so funny?"

"Well, this is just how I imagine all my clients," he explained, getting up until he was standing on the bed. "I picture them naked. I can't believe I'm doing this. Okay!" Stepping off the bed onto the floor, he started walking back and forth across the bedroom - not caring in the least that he was naked. "So you have this concept. The 'Gay-Straight Student Alliance'," he made quote marks with his fingers. "Let's all live together. Power to the people. Peace. That's boring as shit."

Justin watched him. "I could take out an Uzi and shoot everyone. That would be exciting."

"Well, at least you'd get their attention," he pointed out. "Now, we have to figure out a way to sell it."

"Right. How?"

"Same way you sell everything else." Sitting back down next to Justin, Brian held out a condom he picked up from the bedside table. "Sex."

Taking the condom from him, Justin stared down at it. "Sex?"

"You wanna get them in the tent, hand out these."

"Condoms?" It seemed pretty obvious now that he thought about it. Everyone was fascinated with sex.

"You said it was an alliance," he retorted, leaning over to the condom bowl and taking out a handful. "What better way for everyone to *come* together?" he finished, dumping them all over Justin's head and squashing the last few against his face - but he was grinning playfully when he did it.

Ass. Grabbing a condom, Justin laughed and threw it at him but Brian was already swooping in for a kiss, and - well. He wasn't about to stop him.

Ending up on his back this time, it wasn't long until Justin was groaning as Brian thrust into him. He knew that (well, read about the fact that) some gay guys genuinely didn't like fucking. It was nothing to do with preferring topping or bottoming; they just found the whole ass thing distasteful or too painful, and they had other ways of getting off anyway.

But as Brian thrust back in, over and over, hitting his prostate, Justin just. Couldn't. Imagine. Not loving every fucking second of it.

Tipping his head back he moaned, squeezing hard around Brian's dick and enjoying the resulting grunt. Brian leaned down to kiss him, and their mouths were still haphazardly pressing together when Justin, then Brian, came.

Panting, Justin licked his tongue over Brian's lips before pulling his head away to suck in more air. Arms tightening around Brian's relaxed body, Justin willed him not to move. He loved it like this - relaxed and satiated, with Brian still inside him. It was almost better than the sex.

Life felt fucking good right now. Hobbs and Dickson still existed, but Justin still had Brian, and when he went back to school his plan to get people to join his club would be a big fucking success because Brian knew everything there was to know about advertising.

He ran a hand over Brian's rapidly cooling back. "Brian?"

"Mmm?" He didn't move.

"The jerk-offs at school...Chris, Dickson...did anything like that ever happen to you?" Justin couldn't imagine anyone bashing or bullying Brian, but then he also knew that Brian had been a geek in high school.

"Mmm," he snuffled against Justin's neck, his words faintly obscured but understandable. "Well, once this straight football jock picked me up and dumped my head in the toilet."

Dumped his head in the toilet? Shit. He could picture that happening to Michael at school, but to Brian - even a geeky Brian? "What did you do?"

"I followed him to his locker. It was open, and his hand was resting on the open edge, you know?" Justin murmured his understanding. "He was laughing, so I slammed the door on his hand so hard it broke three of his fingers."

Holy shit. He knew Brian had a temper, but...holy shit. "Wow."

Moving, Brian began to shift. "That was the end of the season for him." Carefully pulling out - and not looking at him, Justin realised - Brian removed the condom and tied it off, dropping it off the side of the bed. Even though he was moving, he seemed still. Too still.

"Brian..."

"I'm fine," he said, reaching down by the side of the bed to turn the light off. When the blue light flicked off, he got up and turned the rest of the lights off with the switches by the loft door. Returning through the darkness, he lay back on the bed and turned away from Justin. "'Night."

Pressing his lips together, Justin stared at Brian's back before reaching out to place his hand against it. "You were just a kid, Brian." He couldn't say that he'd thought he'd done the right thing, because there was quite a difference between getting your head dunked and actually breaking bones. Of course, he didn't know the full history either; if this kid had been messing around with Brian for a while, or...he sighed. Life would be so much easier if he could just stop *thinking* so much.

Shifting his body closer to Brian's, Justin draped an arm over his waist and closed his eyes.

*

Justin had no school-related reason for getting up the next day, but he definitely had a Brian-related one. Brian being awake at all pretty much meant that he wanted to fuck, and he had no intention of missing out. Waking up when Brian's alarm went off, they fucked, showered, then fucked again.

Rooting around later in the kitchen cupboards, Justin was trying to decide what he wanted for breakfast when he found it.

A box of Lucky Charms.

A box of Lucky Charms that definitely hadn't been there the last time he'd looked in that cupboard.

"Brian?" he straightened up, waving the box around. "Did you buy this?"

"Sure," Brian said smoothly, fussing with a cuff-link as he stepped down from the bedroom. Too smoothly. "I picked a few things up yesterday."

But...Lucky Charms? "For Gus?"

"Sure," he said, picking his coffee up from the other side of the counter and sipping experimentally. "Or whoever wants it."

Then again, there was no way Mel would let Gus anywhere near processed shit like this, and he was probably too young to eat it anyway. And Justin'd certainly never mentioned liking Lucky Charms, so Brian couldn't have bought it for...oh.

Okay. Every now and then, even he missed the obvious. "Cool," he said, taking two bowls out of the cupboard, and two spoons out of the cutlery drawer. "You wanna join me?" He made a point of asking the question as he turned towards the fridge, opening it to take the milk out. "Haven't had Lucky Charms for ages." It was a bad excuse and they both knew it - as if he couldn't manage to eat cereal by himself. But whatever helped Brian save face was a good thing.

As it was, Brian didn't make it difficult, settling onto a stool. "Why not?"

Not touching the box of cereal again, Justin let Brian open it and the bag inside, pouring some of the contents into their bowls. When he was done, Justin uncapped the milk and added that to the mix.

He didn't know what breakfast had been like for Brian when he was a kid - he had no first-hand knowledge. Jack'd seemed like the kind of dad who wouldn't want his kids to eat anything 'sissy', but Justin seriously had no idea what Brian's mom had been like. He'd never mentioned her at all.

Regardless, this whole situation - and the way Brian was acting - made him strongly suspect that Brian'd never had Lucky Charms or anything like it as a kid - at least in his own house - and once he became an adult his own personal code wouldn't have let him buy any, even if he did want them.

Until now.

Sitting on opposite sides of the counter in the kitchen, they both dug into their bowls of cereal.

It took Brian all of ten seconds to say something.

"These taste like shit."

Grinning, Justin totally agreed. "Yeah."

After Brian left for work, Justin spent most of the day helping out at the diner - he figured he might as well make some money while he was off from school - and was told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't spending the night at Brian's that night.

"Christ," Deb said, "can you remember the last time you actually spent the night at my place? Not that I don't think you're good for him - 'cause God knows you are - and I know you're one of the few who can handle him. But every time your mom's called lately to talk to you, you're over at Brian's. And as much as I love the two of you, the deal was that you live with me - not Brian."

He hated that she had a point. "Do you tell her where I am?"

"I just tell her that you're doing what gay eighteen-year-old boys do - out sucking and fucking," she winked, but Justin wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

There was no way he was hiding his relationship with Brian - it was part of the reason he'd left home in the first place - and he was over eighteen, so legally mom couldn't do anything anyway.

But...she'd moan. Look at him disapprovingly. And generally, irritate the fuck out of him with her passive-aggressive approach to everything. Mom hated open confrontation; instead, she used carefully chosen remarks designed to infiltrate his brain and lay there, festering.

And, quite honestly, staying at Brian's night after night was starting to get exhausting. Not just physically, but emotionally. And, as he'd also discovered, sometimes Justin needed to get away from him. Escaping to Woody's last night and hanging with the guys without Brian had been great. It may have gotten easier, but dealing with Brian still required a certain kind of...management, and it was nice to take a break from that.

"Okay," he sighed eventually, earning himself a facial cheek squeeze from Deb, eagerly pulling free when the bell dinged and his order was up.

Later that evening, he was alone in the living room when the phone rang. Deb was still at the diner and Vic was taking a nap - his meds made him drowsy, sometimes - so Justin crossed the room and paused at the edge of the kitchen, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"I wonder if you could help me with a problem I'm having."

Brian! Grinning, all thought of being tired vanishing, Justin just barely stopped himself from twisting the phone cord around his finger. Now was not the time to turn into a teenage girl. "What problem would that be?"

"I need someone to see to my needs."

He couldn't keep a straight face, which didn't matter because Brian couldn't see him anyway. "What kind of needs?"

"Physical labour," he replied. "It's quite strenuous activity, requiring a great deal of hard work."

Couldn't Deb have waited one more day to give him the guilt job? She seriously had the worst timing. "I'd love to assist you, Mr. Kinney. Unfortunately, I'm fully booked until tomorrow evening." Holding his breath, he waited to see how Brian would react.

He simply paused momentarily. "There's no chance of rescheduling?"

"Sadly not. My manager is insistent that I maintain former contracts - at least for one night. I'm sure after that we'll be able to return to our previous work schedule." At least for a while. Deb tended to get distracted easily; probably because she always had so much going on.

"I see," Brian hmphed, sounding every bit the disgruntled businessman. "I'll admit, that's not what I wanted to hear. But I suppose we can't let this one lapse affect our working relationship."

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Trust Brian to find a way of saying they had a relationship without actually *saying* they had a relationship. The man was infuriating. And brilliant. "I concur. We have an excellent track record." He was grinning when he said it, knowing how ridiculous it sounded - and just how far from the truth it was.

Brian's voice reflected the same humour. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Taylor. But, very well. I'll see you after your regular work hours tomorrow. And, if you're agreeable, I thought we might try out a gay drinking establishment."

Justin's grin faltered, but only a little. Brian had clearly been giving it more thought. "If that's what you'd like, Mr. Kinney, I'd be most agreeable." He'd go, and support Brian in whichever way necessary.

"Good. I'll contact some of our acquaintances and see if they'd like to join us, too."

They'd just about beaten the metaphor to death, and Justin fell out of character. "Including Michael?"

The pause this time was longer, Brian's breath the only audible noise passing through the phone line. "Yeah, I'll call him. See what he's up to."

Good. "Cool," Justin said, feeling like he'd managed to ruin both their moods with one question.

"Gotta go," Brian said quickly, "yet another new account to work my genius on. And...Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck with your gay club thing tomorrow."

Brian hung up.

Justin did too, smiling again, then almost jumped out of his skin when the phone rang immediately. "Hello?" he frowned, picking it up again, thinking Brian might have forgotten something.

"Hello, Justin."

His shoulders slumped in recognition. "Hey, Mom."

*

Back at school the next day, Justin got straight to work, giving no sign that he'd ever been away. Between classes and during recess he and Daphne hit the hallways, handing out condoms and flyers.

They ended up emptying the entire cardboard box they'd filled with condoms, handed out nearly all their flyers and - despite another run-in with Chris - Justin just *knew* things were going to go well.

The reality was a little different.

Eight people turned up. *Eight*.

Daph sidled up to him after school, in the classroom they'd commandeered. "I thought a lot more people would come, didn't you? I mean, considering all the condoms we handed out..."

"Yeah," he replied, glancing at the few students sitting at desks - most of them looked bored already, and were talking amongst themselves. "I guess they couldn't wait to use them." They shared a quiet laugh until someone else walked into the room.

"Hey!" Deb greeted, carrying a tray of...cookies? "Not a bad turnout, huh?"

Justin just stared at her. What the hell was she doing at his school? Had she ever even been there before? "Deb! What are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought you could use some cookies and moral support," she grinned, turning towards the other students and placing the tray on a desk near the front. "Here you go, kids. Enjoy yourselves." Embarrassed or astounded - maybe both - Justin smiled in bemusement and lifted a hand up to cover his face.

Daphne just laughed.

"Home baked," Deb continued, chuckling. "My great-aunt Faye - who was in Burlesque - said you should never go on in front of a hungry audience."

Appreciating the support in whatever form it came, Justin lowered his hand and smiled at her. He was really fucking lucky, sometimes.

Turning to face Daph, he shrugged. "Well, I guess we should get started, huh?"

Deb fussed over them some more - kissed Justin on the cheek, thankfully wiping the lipstick off afterward, wished them both luck - and then squeezed herself behind a desk at the side of the room.

Stepping forward, Justin cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Could we have your attention, please?" Nothing. None of them paid attention; they just kept talking, passing the cookies between each other. Why'd they bothered coming at all? They had to be at least a little bit interested to even turn up, but now they seemed more interested in eating Deb's cookies.

Fine.

Justin opened his mouth.

"Faggot!" That got their attention. The conversation stopped, but Justin didn't. "Cocksucker! Homo! Fudge-packer!" Sure now that everyone's attention was focused solely on him, he continued, making sure to look at everyone. "Those are a few of the names that I've been called...because I'm gay." He'd never actually said that at school before. Everyone knew, he was sure - it was an 'open secret', especially since Brian had dropped him off after that first night. But this was different. It felt good. "I've also been told that I'm going to hell and that I should die of AIDS." He paused, thinking - hoping - that he wasn't imagining a few understanding faces. He didn't seem to be alone, after all. "Maybe the same thing has happened to you. That's why we're here. To see if we can learn to accept our differences and recognise our similarities. Because, gay or straight, we all want the same things."

Naturally, that was when Mr. Dickson walked in.

"All right, Taylor. That's enough."

He glanced towards Deb instinctively. "We're just having a meeting."

"Did you get permission from the principal? Did you ask to use this classroom?" Shit. "Do you have an advisor?"

Standing up, Deb faced Dickson defiantly. "He's got me."

"And who are you?" he demanded.

She didn't back down. She was Deb - she wouldn't. "Debbie Novotny. Who are you?"

"I'm a member of the faculty."

"Then you'll be happy to know that we're having a little educational program here," she nodded towards the front of the class. "So why don't you sit down? You might learn something."

Clearly not impressed, Dickson held up a condom. "Is this a part of your curriculum?"

"You bet your ass it is."

That wasn't good enough for Dickson - he ordered everyone out of the room, then and there. The rest of the students put up no argument and slowly filed outside - but at least they left with some encouraging remarks.

Watching them walk out, Justin's mood darkened further when he saw Chris Hobbs outside the class with a friend, laughing. Justin and Daphne may not have been trying to hide what they were doing, but he wouldn't be surprised to learn that Chris had told Dickson exactly what was going on.

Fucker.

*

Brian picked Justin up from the diner, and could apparently tell right away that something was wrong.

"I take it your 'harmony for all sexual preferences' seminar didn't go well."

Justin wasn't in the mood. "Fuck off. And why are we driving, anyway? Woody's is just down the street."

Turning off of Liberty, Brian glanced at him. "You really don't take failure well, do you, Sunshine?"

Like Brian was any better. Instead of replying, Justin's response was a lack of response - a stony silence.

Sighing, Brian apparently elected to move on. "Mikey can't make it tonight - he and the good doctor are flying off to Paris first thing tomorrow. But he suggested we all drop by while he's packing. Ted and Emmett are meeting us there."

Oh. His mood lightened, just a little. He may have screwed up on the Gay-Straight Alliance front, but at least there was progress with Michael - surprising as it was. "Paris? Paris, France?" He couldn't picture Michael ever leaving the country, especially on his wage from The Big Q.

"Well I didn't mean Paris, Texas."

When they arrived at David's, Justin wasn't surprised to learn that he had a nice place. He also wasn't surprised to learn that David was paying for the holiday. Not that he thought there was anything wrong with that - Mikey didn't have the means to make that kind of money himself, and he and David were practically married anyway.

Ted and Emmett had already been there when he and Brian arrived, and the four of them had a lot of fun teasing Michael, accusing him of being a gold digger. The whole thing improved Justin's mood considerably - especially when Michael got defensive.

Justin even grabbed the video camera they were planning on taking with them, shooting film of the guys as they mocked Michael some more.

"Check out this luggage," Ted nodded towards the luggage in question.

"Ahh!" Em screamed dramatically, making Justin laugh. "It's even got his initials on it!"

Michael nearly blushed. "It does not!"

"My, my," Em regarded him with a smile. "Certainly going in style, aren't we?"

Rolling his eyes, Michael started poking Emmett in the side - making Em skip away. "You *told* me I shouldn't deny him the pleasure."

Ted smirked. "Oh, he must be delirious."

"Look," he explained, "I offered to help pay but he wouldn't let me."

"Don't worry, Mikey," Brian told him, coming to stand next to him. "You'll pay. One way...or another." Turning to Justin, he nodded towards the door. "Let's go to Woody's."

"Okay."

Wishing Michael a safe trip, everyone filed out of the house until Justin was the last one of the visitor's remaining. Turning the camera off, he handed it over to Michael. "You want my advice?" he grinned. "Hold out for a Rolex."

Michael just stared at him blankly.

Finding somewhere to park at Liberty at night was never easy, but they eventually managed to find a place for both cars. When they all met up by the Jeep, Brian turned to Ted.

"By the way, Theodore, I won't be drinking tonight because I'm a recovering alcoholic. Other than that, I'm the same asshole I always was." Turning away, he started walking towards Woody's, and Justin scrambled to keep up with him. Apparently, Brian decided to go for the band-aid removal technique - get it all out in one sudden moment.

They didn't say anything for the first twenty yards, so Justin reached over to grab Brian's ass. Before long they were teasing and nudging each other, and Justin was laughing as they took the steps up to Woody's.

But that was when he turned his head to the right and saw him. Chris Hobbs. On Liberty Avenue. He was with a bunch of his jock friends, obviously there to make fun or cause trouble.

"Shit!" Not even turning around, he reached out and managed to grab Brian's arm.

"What?"

"It's Chris Hobbs," Justin said, nodding towards him, still watching.

"That asshole from school?" Brian asked. "Forget about him."

Finally turning to face him, Justin met Brian's gaze. "He has no right to be here." Not if he was just there to point and laugh. Not after everything he'd done.

Brian studied him seriously. "He's not worth it, Justin. Forget about him."

He couldn't. He didn't *want* to. "No." Pulling away, he took the first step down when suddenly Brian's hand wrapped around *his* arm, and swung him back around until they were facing each other again.

"Justin..."

He was vaguely aware that Ted and Emmett were at the bottom of the steps, watching, probably wondering exactly what was going on. He was also vaguely aware that they were blocking the stairs for anyone who wanted to get in or out of the bar. But all he could see was Brian's other hand - his free hand - being held out towards him in clear invitation.

Fuck, he thought. I am such an idiot.

Standing up to jerks like Chris *was* important, but so were things closer to home. Brian was about to walk into a bar for the first time since he'd stopped drinking, and for once he was making it clear - absolutely making it clear - that he didn't want to do this alone.

There was no contest. Not when it came to Brian.

Taking his hand, Justin grinned up at him stupidly as he felt Brian's other hand release his arm. Stepping back up, Justin found himself on the receiving end of a brief kiss, and then Brian was turning away and tugging him up the stairs.

Feeling giddy for some reason, Justin laughed as they opened the door and strode inside.

Woody's was open for business, and its most popular visitor was back where he belonged.

It didn't take long for Brian to convince the group of bears using the pool table to leave - he may have been gone for a while, but he was still Brian Kinney. As far as Justin was concerned Woody's hadn't changed at all since Brian's last visit. There was the occasional new face, but nearly everyone knew who Brian Kinney was.

The downside of that was that everyone also knew that he'd been gone for a long time.

The whispers started almost immediately - fags were never subtle about gossip. Brian hadn't been in Woody's or Babylon for months, but he had been at the diner. Justin was a little surprised to realise that he must've been missing hearing gossip for a while - the boys of Liberty Avenue must've been talking about Brian after his sudden retreat from the club scene - but then he'd been spending most of his free time with the man of the moment, away from gossiping eyes.

Had Brian considered how the people who *weren't* his friends would react? Most of the men on Liberty had been fucked or rejected by him - which could lead to quite a nasty following.

So Justin kept a close eye on him, but Brian didn't seem to be bothered by anything at all. Well, except the game of pool they were playing.

"Fuck!" he cursed, as a striped ball ricocheted out of the intended pocket.

"Hmm," Ted mused with obvious amusement, "it seems you're getting rusty in your old age."

"Not as rusty as you," Brian retorted, squinting down at the table, still holding on tightly to the cue stick. "I bet you even squeak when you fuck." Sighing eventually, he held the stick out to Ted. "Here, you take a shot. I'm getting drinks. What do you guys want?"

Ted just asked for beer; Emmett a Dirty Shirley. Brian headed for the bar and Justin decided to join him, figuring an extra pair of hands would save him the trouble of making two trips.

Brian smirked towards him as they walked. "Come to make sure I don't drink anything bad, Sunshine?"

"Believe it or not," Justin replied, "I do actually think you can take care of yourself. Just thought I'd help with the carrying." He wasn't upset - Brian getting defensive wasn't exactly unexpected behaviour, especially given the situation.

Reaching the bar, Brian leant against it and turned towards him. He stared at him intently for a while, seemingly trying to figure something out. "I can take care of myself, huh? That's good to know."

"Sure," Justin agreed. "You can take care of yourself. You just have a lot more fun when you let me babysit you," he finished with a mischievous grin, knowing that just because they were at Woody's, Brian wouldn't want him to take it easy on him. Though it could frustrate the fuck out of him, Brian loved being challenged.

It had the expected reaction.

"You little *shit*," Brian grabbed him, tugging him closer - then immediately started tickling. "I don't need you to fucking babysit me."

Oh, shit. Justin hated being tickled, and Brian fucking knew it. "Brian. Brian!" he screeched, trying to slap his hands away, trying not laugh and failing miserably. "Stop, stop it!" Justin bumped into a guy on a stool behind him and heard a grumbled complaint, but it didn't stop Brian for a single moment.

"Say it," Brian insisted, grinning.

The man was *evil*. Justin was trying to pull Brian's right hand away from his side when he gave in. "I didn't mean it! I was - shit - joking, okay!"

Smirking in satisfaction, Brian released him. "That'll teach ya."

"Oh, yeah," Justin stepped back quickly, still feeling paranoid, "the big, bad, Brian Kinney tickled me into submission. That's one to feel proud of."

He nearly jumped when a smiling Brian reached out to grab him again, but this time it was to pull him into a kiss. Not about to resist that, Justin didn't fight it at all, enjoying the feel of Brian's mouth against his even as his quivering fingers pressed against Brian's sides.

"You tickle me," Brian said against his lips, "and I will never fuck you again."

Sighing, Justin slumped his shoulders and pulled away - and it was only then that he noticed they were the centre of attention. This wasn't just gossiping queens or nosey fags - this was absolutely everybody in Woody's staring at them. Flushing, Justin looked away and leant next to Brian on the bar as they ordered their drinks.

Oh, well. At least he was back with a bang. Brian had always loved melodrama.

"And what do you want?" Brian asked, completely unfazed as he turned to look at him.

Okay. Justin could be unfazed too. "Whatever you're having."

He wasn't impressed, frowning. "Have what *you* want. We're in a fucking bar, for Christ's sake. Don't avoid alcohol just because I-"

"I *am* doing what I want," Justin argued. "Haven't I always?" It was the truth, but he did have another reason. When they kissed later - and they would kiss later - he didn't want Brian to taste alcohol on his mouth or in his breath.

Eyeing him sceptically, Brian turned back towards the barman. "What's the most disgusting non-alcoholic drink you have on the menu?"

Justin slapped him on the arm, and Brian ordered two ginger beers.

The rest of the evening went as fine as it could, and Justin witnessed more than a few Brian highs and lows. Every now and then he'd start behaving like a defensive asshole, but then suddenly he'd be handling the situation so well that Justin was almost convinced that he was dealing with a different man.

They played pool, Brian and Ted made fun of each other, Emmett squealed about Steve - Brian told him he should bring the guy along next time ("If he's that hot, I've probably fucked him.") - and they all wondered how Michael would enjoy Paris.

"He's going to *love* it," Emmett told them sincerely. "I've never been there myself, but it's always looked fabulous in the movies, don't you think?"

"The problem with France," Brian lined up another shot, "is that it's full of French people." Taking the shot, he nodded triumphantly when this one went in.

Ted translated the implication. "The French aren't exactly Brian's favourite people right now."

Right. Lindsay and her French husband-to-be. That entire situation sucked. Justin didn't know what the hell Lindsay was thinking. "I know you guys have already talked to her, but do you think there's anything else we can do to talk Lindsay out of it?"

"She's pretty insistent," was all the help Brian gave, leaning over the pool table again.

"There's always reporting her," Ted suggested, but it was clear no one was about do that.

"Oh!" Em snapped his fingers as an idea came to mind. "We could report him for cruelty to animals!" Having no idea what Em was talking about, Justin just stared at him blankly until he started explaining. "He served rabbit. *Rabbit*. Bunny rabbit!" Huh.

"Need I remind you," Ted butted in, "that you ate some? And enjoyed it?"

"That's not the point," he sniffed. "I'm still opposed to the basic idea."

Justin had certainly heard of rabbit being served before, but he'd never eaten it himself. "What did it taste like?"

Ted and Emmett looked at each other. "Chicken."

Just then a hot guy passed their table - a newcomer since Brian's absence, Justin suspected - and eye-fucked Brian for a good ten seconds. Wasting no time at all, Brian stood up from his latest shot and lay the cue stick on the table. "I'm taking a leak."

He'd known this would be a possibility - Brian, back in his old stomping grounds after months away, reclaiming what he'd missed - so Justin plastered a smile on his face and let him do whatever he had to. "Okay!"

Ted didn't look at him. Emmett just smiled, very carefully not giving Justin a sympathetic look - thank God. Stepping around and away from the table, Brian approached Hot Guy and slowed right down as he passed him, scant inches between their bodies, initiating the eye-fuck himself this time...and then, completely ignoring Hot Guy, he turned back to face the guys at the pool table.

"Justin, you coming?"

Shock blinded him to a few things. Ted may have snorted out a laugh; Em may have been clapping, delighted; Hot Guy may have looked confused as hell - but Justin just saw Brian's small smirk, the fuck 'em all expression on his face, and the challenge in his eyes.

Don't back down, Sunshine. Not now.

In a few jogged steps he was next to him, ignoring Hot Guy and grinning up at Brian so widely his face was probably nothing but teeth. Realising that was a gross mental image he laughed but shook his head when Brian looked at him curiously.

Throwing an arm around Justin's shoulder - and yes, Justin was very, very aware of how it looked to everyone watching and yes, it did make him very, very pleased - Brian guided the both of them into the bathroom, and then a cubicle.

When Justin locked the door, Brian turned him around and pushed him back against it, leaning in for a demanding kiss. Pulling back afterward, Brian just looked down at him, and Justin waited to see what was going to happen.

Biting on his bottom lip, Brian spat it out. "I've given you plenty of reason to think so in the past, but..." he paused. "Even I'm not that much of an asshole."

"I know," Justin said quietly, "I *know*." And that was the kicker - he really *did* know. Probably better than anyone else. But sometimes even he forgot how far Brian had come, how much he'd changed. There'd been so many Brian behaviours he'd had to accept in the past, things he'd just had to get used to, and old habits were hard to break. As much as he liked to think he knew Brian well, could always judge his behaviour, every now and then the old insecurities cropped up and he forgot something vital he'd learnt.

But then he'd never claimed to be perfect. He was just doing the best he could.

"Good," Brian replied, accepting it for the truth it was. "Besides, shit like that really pisses me off."

"Shit like what?"

"Anyone with two brains cells could see that we were here together." Okay - there was *another* surprise. Jesus. "When I used to think you were just a fuck it didn't matter so much, but now that we're..." He stopped, either not knowing how to define it, or thinking he'd said too much.

The opportunity was there. Justin *had* to take it. "Fuck buddies? Partners? Happily monogamous?" With each question, Brian's expression got darker and darker. "Soulmates?" He knew he shouldn't be teasing him, that he was fucking up, but it was just so *surreal*. They were finally, actually talking about *them* - and they were doing it in a toilet cubicle in Woody's.

"Look," Brian warned, "all I know is that you're my best fucking friend and I keep fucking you. Which goes against pretty much everything I've ever believed in. Don't push it."

Justin's humour faded as the words sunk in. Holy shit. Best friend? He knew Brian and Michael hadn't been close for months now, but what about Lindsay, or...

Wow. He really *was* Brian's best friend.

Reaching up with his right hand, he tugged Brian's head down - meeting a glare, but no resistance - and spoke mere millimetres away from his mouth. "Promise not to tell if you won't."

When they returned to the pool table, their hair was mussed up and their clothes were wrinkled. Neither one of them gave a fuck.

Turning to Ted, Emmett arched an eyebrow. Sighing, Ted took a twenty out of his wallet and handed it over.

*

The rest of the week passed in a blur of near-delirious bliss. School was still annoying, but he and Brian seemed to have reached this...well, he didn't want to say 'point in their relationship', or 'level of understanding' or some shit like that. But for once they were both on exactly the same page. They could tease and mock and play with each other, but neither one of them got angry. In fact, Justin realised he was smiling nearly all the time - whether they were alone together or not, which seemed to amuse the hell out of Vic and Deb (she kept pinching his cheek at the diner; he kept adjusting his glasses knowingly).

Justin didn't care. Nearly every single night he got to fall asleep next to Brian who - though he'd long been hoping - he was seriously starting to think might love him back. He'd always known that Brian cared about him more than he wanted to admit, but love for Brian had been an alien concept, something he fought against.

These days he didn't seem to be fighting so hard.

When Michael and David arrived back in town, they invited everyone over to see their holiday pictures. Justin was looking forward to it, figuring it might be a good opportunity to see French architecture - and maybe some art - up close.

It turned out to be lots of pictures of Michael and David standing in *front* of great works of architecture, and that was something Justin had no interest in seeing. Luckily, Brian also turned out to be bored, and in the darkness - Michael was showing the images on a projection screen - it was easy to shift until he was sitting on Brian's lap, and even easier to start kissing him.

They stayed that way for a while, kissing, groping, sometimes whispering something to each other - and then Debbie whapped them on the head. They were curled up on one end of the sofa together; she was sitting on a chair behind them.

"Would you two cut it out?"

What the hell? They'd only been kissing.

"Ma," Michael complained, "you're interrupting."

"It's French," Brian explained, not looking away from Justin. "We're frenching." Moving his head in again, he stuck his tongue out deliberately. Grinning, Justin did the same until their tongues - then their mouths - met. Kissing Brian always felt good, but using tongues always felt a little more carnal, always made Justin's pulse speed up.

Michael continued his spiel about whatever picture they were looking at now - and then ended it. That, apparently, was the end of the presentation, and someone flicked the lights on.

Sighing in contentment, Justin regretfully broke the kiss but kept his eyes closed, enjoying the feel as Brian nuzzled his face into Justin's hair.

"Well, I hope everyone wasn't too bored," David declared.

"No, are you kidding?" Ted asked, who'd clearly been bored out of his mind, "I haven't been that entertained since Gandhi."

Justin snickered softly, earning a nip on the ear from Brian.

"*Oh*," Deb enthused, obviously pleased for her son, "just looked like the trip of a lifetime!"

Michael started going on again about how fantastic it was in Paris, and Justin immediately tuned him out. Ever since they'd arrived at David's it felt Michael had been acting as if he was suddenly an expert on the finer things in life, as if one trip to France had taught him everything. Frankly, it was kind of annoying, and Justin would much rather pay attention to the husky voice whispering things in his ear.

Sadly, they couldn't stay there forever. David had set up a table with different wines and cheeses, and while everyone else got up to stretch their legs or get something to eat, Deb told them off again - although quieter, this time.

"Hey, come on you two," she said, leaning down, "try being a little more social. And no fucking on David's sofa."

Brian shrugged. "He can afford to get the come stains cleaned out."

She whapped him on the head again - gently. "Not funny, asshole. Come on, get up."

Sighing, both of them slowly started to shift away from each other. Brian made it off of the sofa first, and Justin kind of gave up, still relaxed from earlier, slumping down and laying across the sofa.

The guys around the table started having some discussion about Catherine Deneuve, and Mel and Linds - who were still sitting next to each other, near the sofa - seemed to be locked in a private debate. Justin was a little surprised they'd both turned up given that things were obviously still awkward, but then he supposed they couldn't keep hiding forever. There came a time when you just had to stop running away.

But it was Brian, of course, who caught most of his attention. Standing in front of the sofa, walking back and forth, stretching his legs - staying out of any discussions.

It was only when he began to speak that Justin understood why.

"I want to say something," Brian announced, and suddenly Justin wasn't relaxed anymore, quickly swinging his legs off the sofa until he was sitting up properly.

They'd touched on the subject of Ted's non-reaction to Brian's news in the previous few days - if Ted *had* had any reaction other than surprise, he hadn't made it known to them, which Justin was actually grateful for - but Brian hadn't discussed yet how he was planning on telling the others.

Apparently, this was it. Brian had everyone's attention now, and Justin wasn't sure if he should go and stand next to him. He wanted to show support, but Brian had to do a certain amount of this on his own, too. Deciding to wait until Brian gave any clear sign that he wanted Justin with him, he bit his lower lip and waited.

It didn't take long, and came out in typical Brian style.

"Some of you know, some of you don't, but I'm an alcoholic." A pin literally could've dropped and they would've heard it. Even on carpet. It was *that* quiet. "That's why I haven't been around some of my old haunts for the past few months - I'm not drinking at all anymore. I have an addiction and I'm dealing with it. That said," he fixed each of them with a steely glare, "this does *not* mean any of you can suddenly go soft on me. You can still drink in front of me, and you're not treating me any differently from the way you always have. Nothing else has changed; I'm still me. Just sober."

Ending the speech, he glanced down at Justin - who gave him an encouraging smile. Pride bubbled up inside his chest.

Deb, of course, wasted no time at all, practically flying around the sofa. "You little asshole!" she all but wailed, pulling him into a hug.

"Jesus Christ," Brian looked uncomfortable but didn't immediately shove her away - probably only because that wasn't unusual behaviour. She wasn't treating him any differently. That was pretty much how she reacted to everything.

Linds looked stunned, standing and carrying Gus as she walked towards him. "Is it true, Brian?"

"Why the fuck would I say all that if it wasn't?"

Very good point. Linds' question had been a little dumb, but Justin understood her surprise.

"I just...you never..." she faltered. "You didn't *act* like an alcoholic."

"And just how *is* an alcoholic supposed to act?" Brian queried, but Linds just flushed and looked away.

Finally ending the hug, Deb leaned up to plant a kiss on Brian's face. "You're such a fucking drama queen," she told him, "but I couldn't be prouder of you if you were my own son." If it'd been biologically possible, Justin strongly suspected Brian would've blushed. Instead, he just mumbled at her to fuck off.

"And *you*!" she yelled, suddenly turning away and diving towards Justin. "You knew about it all along, didn't you?" And then he was being pulled up from the sofa and into a hug. "I knew it," she muttered, "I fucking knew something was going on, but Vic's tighter than a virgin's ass."

"Ma!"

Finally, Michael was about to step into the fray.

Justin watched as Linds stepped forward, giving Brian a hug and letting him play with Gus for a moment. The two of them had a quiet conversation, and when it was over she kissed him and moved away with Gus.

And that was when Michael made his move, stepping around the sofa and stopping in front of Brian.

Justin knew this was the reaction Brian had been most worried about, even though he never said a word. It just made the most sense. They'd been best friends since they were fourteen, sharing everything - at least as far as Justin knew. Michael had been there for Brian when his own family hadn't, but now Brian had locked him out of this part of his life.

It was a lot to face up to.

Rather than talk right there in front of everyone, Brian gestured towards the hallway, and the two of them left the room. Those of them left in the living room started murmuring amongst themselves, obviously all dying to know what was being said. When Deb left him, ruffling his hair (he was getting really sick of that), Emmett plopped down next to him on the sofa.

"Try the brie," he said, holding out a small plate with cheese on it, "I swear to God, it tastes just like come."

Anxiety still at an all time high, Justin nonetheless tasted some - and discovered Emmett was absolutely right. He'd had brie before, and it'd never tasted anything like that.

"Thanks," he muttered, fixing his gaze back on the doorway to the hallway. The voices they could hear seemed to be getting louder, although it was still impossible to make out more than a few words. God, he wanted this to go well. He really, really wanted this to-

"So instead of just telling me, you avoided me? Jesus Christ, Brian! You ignored me for months whenever I called or stopped by, but then I'd see you at the diner and you'd act like nothing had changed! How could you do that? Why the fuck couldn't you just tell me?"

"Because you were there! You were fucking *there*, Mikey! For years you saw better than anyone just how fucked up I was, and not once did you try to stop me. You fucking *encouraged* me. It's not your fault I'm an alcoholic, but you didn't fucking help!"

Fuck.

"Fuck you, Brian. Fuck *you*!"

Running in from the hallway, Michael didn't look at anyone as he stomped upstairs.

Justin didn't even think about it - he just moved, following him up the stairs. He thought he heard David call his name, but no one followed him so he simply assumed someone had convinced him not to come up.

Finding Michael in the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes with the back of a hand, Justin pushed the door open further.

Michael whirled towards him. "Leave me alone."

No chance. "Look, he fucked up. He *knows* he fucked up by not telling you, and that's why he's overreacting and being an asshole - you know how he operates, Michael. But do you have any idea what he's been going through? What it's like going through withdrawal? Giving up drinking? The shit going on with his dad-"

"But *you* know, don't you?" Michael asked rhetorically, anger flashing over his face. "You know everything! Little Justin Taylor, the twink who wouldn't go away. I saw you two on the sofa, earlier - it's not just fucking anymore, is it?" Rhetorical again. "Well, congratulations. You finally got everything you ever wanted!"

Holy shit. He couldn't have missed the point more if he'd been trying. "This isn't about me, or what I do or do not have! It's not even about you! It's about *him* - Brian. Your oldest friend. Your best friend since you were fourteen. Yeah, he's been an idiot, but he's also scared out of his fucking mind! What's more important? Your jealousy, or the fact that he's fighting this thing that could end up fucking killing him?"

Rearing his head back as if he'd been slapped, Michael apparently had no answer to that one.

Good.

Grabbing the door handle, Justin stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

*

To say that it hadn't gone well would've been an understatement of massive proportions.

Brian had been spectacularly quiet when Justin come back downstairs, saying nothing as he waited for him in the hallway. They didn't announce it, but it was clear to everyone that they'd be leaving immediately. Mel, Ted and Emmett went with them, although Justin didn't see it as any of them choosing a side - they just didn't want to stick around in the house after that.

Because she had Gus, David had insisted on driving Linds home personally, and Deb had told Justin just before they left that she was sticking around to chew Michael a new asshole - her own words.

As soon as they got outside, Mel launched right into it.

"Jesus Christ, Brian," she sounded almost in awe as they reached the cars. "You love putting on a good floor show, don't you?"

Seeming to appreciate it, Brian lit up the cigarette currently sticking out from between his lips. "What fun is there in *not* being the centre of attention?" His studied nonchalance was clearly an act.

And then she did that *nice* thing again, her smirk fading as she looked at him seriously. "Look, he'll get over it. He's just in shock."

"Maybe," Brian shrugged, blowing out a puff of smoke and looking off to one side. "Maybe not. Not all friendships are meant to last."

Justin just wanted to hug him.

"You're just trying to make it easy for yourself," she argued. "Yeah, you're a manipulative fucker who'd lead him around by the dick sometimes, and he should've called you on your bullshit. But that wasn't all your friendship was about. You guys grew up together, came out together, even - and I can't believe I'm fucking saying this - became *men* together."

Snorting, Brian scratched at his left ear. "The Brian and Mikey show."

She nodded. "So just...don't write him off completely. Not yet. Give him a chance to get the fuck over himself."

Pausing, Brian finally looked towards her as if considering something. "Is this something you learned in lesbian school? 'Cause if you think we're gonna have a 'moment' and share a hug, you can-"

"Kiss my ass," she finished, smirking. "You can act like an asshole all you want, Kinney - but just remember you called me on my bullshit, and I'm calling you on yours. I'm just trying to help. And before you tell me you don't need anyone's help, what's he doing here?" she asked, nodding smugly towards Justin.

Another plume of smoke escaped as he met Justin's gaze. "He's...different." He turned back to Mel. "And as much as I appreciate an offer of help from a dyke of such high, moral standards, this conversation is getting boring." It wasn't. It wasn't boring at all, but Brian obviously wanted to get off of the subject. "What the fuck were you and Linds talking about in there?"

Tilting her head down, Mel lost the strength in her voice. "She's really doing it. They're going through with it next week."

Em and Ted - who until then had been keeping decidedly quiet - stepped closer.

"It's not like they're really getting married," Ted pointed out, as if it was information they didn't already know.

Em nodded. "It's just so he can stay in the country."

"What if he never leaves?" Mel turned towards them. "What if he becomes a permanent fixture?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "What if my aunt had balls? She'd be my uncle."

"It's too late. It's all my fault. There's not a Goddamn thing I can do about it."

Sighing, Brian turned away and unlocked the doors to the Jeep. "This Melanie the Martyr stuff is boring as shit. Stop wasting your time thinking about how you screwed up, and start thinking how the fuck you can fix it."

Moving to the other side of the Jeep, Justin climbed in and shut the door behind him.

Mel didn't sound impressed. "That's very deep, Brian. Thank you."

"Oh, fuck you," he retorted, settling into the Jeep himself and rolling the window down. "Look, you still love her, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then fucking make sure she knows that." Starting the engine, he released the handbrake. "For a couple of dykes, you two really know fuck-all about communicating." Pressing on the gas, he drove the Jeep out of the driveway and onto the street.

Justin considered telling Brian he should listen to his own advice, but decided to keep it to himself. At least for tonight.

Back at the loft, Brian seemed surprisingly...*okay* about what'd happened with Michael. Predictably, he didn't mention it at all, but he also didn't drag Justin onto the floor to fuck it better, and didn't get so high that he'd have no memory of the whole thing by tomorrow morning. In fact, the rest of the evening was curiously calm.

Putting a Brando DVD in, Brian ordered Chinese and the two of them sat in front of the TV, eating out of the boxes. They read their fortunes and Brian gave him his cookie to eat, and just for one moment, Justin hoped that Michael and Brian would blow up at each other more often.

When they finally went to bed they fucked of course, but it wasn't hard and fast like Brian was trying to fuck a memory out of his brain. It was just a good - extremely enjoyable - fuck, and that was when Justin really knew something was wrong.

"Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I'll always call you on your bullshit, right?" It was reassurance and a reminder. Brian may not have been fucking his brains out or drinking to forget, but he wasn't dealing with it, either. In some ways that might've been worse.

"Fuck him," Brian muttered eventually. "Just fuck him."

Resting his head on Brian's chest, Justin closed his eyes.

*

The next time he was at school, Daph started ranting about the club again. She'd been doing it every day since they'd been shut down, and it was fucking getting on Justin's nerves. She was right, of course - she was absolutely right that they should've been allowed to meet, but at the moment he had bigger things to worry about. Brian required a lot of brooding.

"Welcome to the real world, Daph," he said as they walked through the doors into school. "Nobody gives a shit about a Gay-Straight Alliance."

"That's not true!" she argued, and he wondered when she'd become more of an activist than he was. "Look how many people came!"

"Yeah, like eight people in total," he rolled his eyes as they turned a corner. "I counted them. And they only came because we give them condoms." Knowing they were approaching his locker he glanced towards it - and almost froze. Sprayed across it in red paint were the words FAGS DIE!, and though it was closed it'd obviously been set on fire, smoke creeping out from around the edges.

Fuck!

He ran towards it, desperate to get it open. He had books in there, personal things, *sketches*. But as soon as he tried to touch the metal, pain flashed through his hand and he yanked it back. Cradling his hand, he stumbled about restlessly in disbelief, hearing taunting voices from further down the hallway telling him he deserved it, that he was a fucking faggot.

Running up to him, Daphne tried to look at his hand. "Oh my God, Justin, are you okay? What a bunch of assholes!"

He barely heard her, the shock giving way to an anger that lodged firmly in the pit of his stomach.

Nobody gave a shit about a Gay-Straight Alliance?

They fucking did now.

*

This time, Deb's fury could've flattened entire cities - but then Justin was still feeling much the same. As soon as Deb heard she immediately called his mom, and in under twenty minutes she was at the house. Justin had to give her credit for that - it was the only thing he could feel generous about at the moment.

"Everything was destroyed. My drawings, my books," he ranted, pacing back and forth, knowing Deb and Vic had already heard this more than once. He just...he just couldn't *believe* it.

"You know who did it?" Mom asked.

"I can guess," he stopped walking, facing her. "Chris Hobbs." Fucker. Chris had barely bothered him at all since the club got shut down, and now this? He had no idea what'd set him off - other than the fact he was a fucking homophobe.

Vic spoke up from his place on the sofa. "I say we go beat the shit out of him."

"Hey," Deb gave him a stern look. "Try being constructive." For all of Deb's rage, she'd never believed in violence.

"I thought I was," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Mom turned back towards him. "Did you tell the principal?"

"He doesn't care. It's all because of that group." It'd been his idea, his plan - with a little help - and not only had they taken away, now they were just being vicious. "We just wanted a place where we could talk. We couldn't even have that." God, he wanted to *do* something. He felt useless just standing there, not accomplishing anything, and whenever they planned anything it always seemed to take too long to get going.

His internal diatribe was interrupted mid-flow by a knock at the door. Deb was on the sofa next to Vic, so Justin sighed and headed over to answer it. "I'll get it."

He could tell from the outline through the door window that it was Brian, but he had no idea why he'd be there now. Normal office hours hadn't ended yet, and he usually worked overtime anyway. Swinging the door open, he frowned. "What are you doing here?" In retrospect, he realised he could've sounded a little happier to see him.

Brian didn't seem to care.

"Deb called," he said, brushing by him and stepping into the house. "I heard what happened. You okay?"

Finding something to be pleased about at last, Justin shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, just...incredibly pissed off."

"I get that," Brian nodded intently. "They get anything important?"

In the grand scheme of things probably not, but... "Some of my sketches." There'd even been one he'd been working on for Brian's 30th - he hadn't wanted to leave it at the loft or at Deb's, just in case Brian saw it. Now it was gone forever. They all were.

"Fuckers," he muttered, reaching out his right hand and cupping it around the back of Justin's neck. "I could arrange to have them killed, you know."

Justin was sure there were plenty of fags who would act out Brian's every whim. "I'm sure you could."

Brian nodded, almost grinning. "In fact, it's probably my duty as your..." There he went again. He kept screwing himself over like that these days, and Justin just waited, smirking in amusement as Brian fumbled for the phrase that was going to end that sentence. "...otherwise undefined sexual partner."

Shaking his head, Justin actually grinned as he held onto Brian's forearms. "You keep digging yourself into holes that you just can't dig your way out of lately."

Closing his eyes, Brian sighed dramatically. "Thank you for not noticing. Really."

"If you boys are quite finished," Deb interrupted, making both of them turn to see her standing in the living room, "there are three other people sitting right here."

"Sorry, Deb," Justin walked towards them, losing Brian's grip on his neck but tugging him along with him.

"Deb, Vic," Brian greeted as they moved further into the living room. "Mrs. Taylor."

"Hello, Brian."

Mom had a certain way of saying hello to Brian that added more subtext. Instead of just saying hello, she was *actually* saying, hi, and stay away from my son, you freaky child molester.

"So," she continued, "what happens now?"

"Actually," Justin addressed her, "that kind of depends on you." He absolutely knew what he wanted to do. It'd been his first instinct after finding his locker on fire, and he was sticking with it.

"How's that, Sunshine?" Debbie asked.

He looked at each of them in turn. "I want to start the club again. Through proper channels this time. If we can get it officially allowed, there's no way they can shut us down this time. Mom," he turned to her, "you said you'd talk to the principal again. I want both of us to talk to Mr. Perkins, convince him to let us run the club officially."

She looked a little shocked. "Sweetheart...I...it's not that I don't support you, but given what happened today maybe it's best that you don't draw attention to yourself."

Sometimes she just didn't get it. "You want me to hide?

"I want you to be safe!"

Brian butted in. "So you just want him to run away? Let them intimidate him his whole life? Fuck that."

"Mom," Justin tried again as she glared at Brian, "this isn't about me, or even what happened at school. This is about speaking out, demanding to be heard - whether people want to hear you or not."

His words, finally, seemed to be sinking in. "Where did you learn all that?"

Justin had the perfect response: "That's what you and dad taught me."

She seemed surprised - and maybe pleased. "We did?"

Deb shifted. "Well, he sure as hell didn't learn it at the St James Academy." Chuckling, she hoisted herself up from the sofa. "All this drama is making me thirsty. Who wants a drink?"

Brian spoke. "I wouldn't mind one, Deb."

"Sure hon," she said, working her way into the kitchen. "You want a beer?" She froze a millisecond after she said it, her hand coming up to her mouth. "Fuck."

He seemed to brush it off easily. "Coffee's fine." And, really, little mistakes like that were probably going to happen for a while, so making a big deal out of them seemed pointless.

Unfortunately, Deb's reaction to messing up hadn't passed Mom by - she frowned at Deb, then Brian, then him.

Noticing her curiosity, Brian shared a look with Justin - who barely shook his head. He hadn't told his mom a thing. Frankly, he hadn't been looking forward to the idea. It'd undoubtedly turn into yet another diatribe about why Brian was a bad influence.

"Mrs. Taylor," Brian said, drawing her attention back to him, "there's something you should know." She waited expectantly, and Brian didn't drag it out. "I'm an alcoholic. Recovering. I had a problem and I'm dealing with it."

Eyes widening to alarming levels for a few seconds, Mom quickly schooled her features into nothing but polite acceptance. "Thank you for telling me, Brian. And congratulations on your accomplishment. Craig's mother was an alcoholic - I've seen first-hand how destructive it can be."

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. Not looking at him, Justin caught Brian's left hand with his right, threading their fingers together.

"Deb," Mom called out. "I wouldn't mind a beer."

*

When Justin went outside to take a breather, Vic followed him.

Brian and his Mom had spent the last thirty minutes being excruciatingly polite to each other, and Justin felt a headache starting.

"How you doing, kid?" Vic asked, pulling the jacket he'd brought with him over his robe. It was cold out.

"I'm not exactly sure." He really wasn't. "Mom actually called my school and arranged an appointment with Mr. Perkins instead of just saying she would, and she and Brian are being unfailingly polite to each other. Brian, well, he's just doing it because he finds it amusing."

"And your mom?"

Exhaling, he rubbed at his arms. "Not sure. I think it might be because she knows Brian's an alcoholic now and wants to be 'nice' to him, like he's a charity case or something. Which of course spurs him on even more."

"They're almost made for each other," Vic chuckled, which at least made Justin smile. "Still, that's a pretty big thing," Vic continued, "telling her. I mean, telling everyone the other night was big news, but your mom?"

"Vic..." Justin warned. "Don't go there."

"Me?" Vic asked innocently. "I'm not going *anywhere*."

"Right." Of course, as much as he warned Vic off the subject, he was just as guilty of thinking about why Brian would want to share something like that with Justin's *mom* of all people.

They lingered in silence together for a while, before Vic spoke again. "How's he doing lately? Telling everyone must've been stressful."

"He's okay," Justin shrugged. "I mean he's Brian, so he's hurting more about Michael than he's letting on, but he's okay."

"Mikey'll come around."

"I know," he nodded. "I'm just not sure Brian does."

"He's scared," Vic explained. "Sharing something like that...it's not all that different from coming out. There's always the fear they'll reject you. That they won't be able to accept this new version of you. God knows, when I had to tell my friends I was sick, suddenly I didn't hear from some of them anymore. It wasn't that they thought I'd make them sick too, or didn't approve - most of them were gay anyway - they just..." he shrugged "...didn't know what to say."

That was really sad.

"You know what I've learned, Vic?" It was actually something Brian had taught him.

"What's that, kiddo?"

"Sometimes it's best saying nothing at all."

The drive to Brian's was quiet but comfortable. Mom had only given him a vaguely disapproving look when she'd realised he wasn't staying at Deb's that night, which was a least an improvement. And even if it hadn't been, even if she'd told him outright that she didn't want him going to Brian's, he would've ignored her. After the day he'd had, he was sleeping at Brian's come hell, high water, or homophobes.

When they did get there, Brian told him a little (ranted) about his day. When he'd paid Linds a visit at lunch she'd been trying on her wedding dress, and Michael apparently had an expensive new gold car, complete with personalised number plates.

As far as Brian was concerned, two of his oldest friends were going insane. Justin couldn't really blame him.

"It's like I'm stuck in one of Mikey's bizarro alternate universes," Brian mused in bed, letting Justin take a drag from his cigarette, "where I get on better with Mel and your mom than Mikey and Linds."

It *was* pretty fucking weird, and Justin found himself laughing out a breath of smoke. "At least I haven't changed."

"Yeah," Brian grinned, tipping his head towards him, "you always were a stubborn twat."

*

Mom had managed - thanks to her oh-so-polite manners and her general passive-aggressiveness (for once, Justin was thankful for it) - to get an appointment with Mr. Perkins the next day.

It went about as well as Justin thought it would.

Mom and Mr. Perkins quietly argued back and forth, and then he really got a good strike in.

"Suppose I gave you permission to organise your club. And then another student wanted to start a club for, say, white supremacists. Should I allow that, too?"

If Justin had had any doubts at all that his school wasn't being run by a bunch of homophobic jerks, that would've sealed it.

Mom was rightfully horrified. "Excuse me, Mr. Perkins, but I happen to find that analogy extremely offensive."

"Some of our parents would be hard-pressed to see the distinction."

"Well, I'm hard-pressed to see the similarity!"

Realising he hadn't been doing himself any favours, Perkins held up his hands. "Not everyone is as accepting of your son's sexual preference as you are."

Christ, there was that word. Justin wasn't staying quiet. "It's not a *preference*."

"I was that way at first, too," Mom said, understanding. "Which is why it's important that they *learn*."

"Mrs. Taylor, there are more important lessons to be taught here!"

She shot him a cold look. "Than tolerance?"

He didn't say this much - it went against the rules of the Teenage Son Handbook - but sometimes, Mom really kicked ass. For once, he actually told her that as they walked out of school. "Seriously, Mom, you totally kicked his ass." He couldn't remember when he'd ever seen her be so passionate about anything. Something had definitely changed.

Embarrassed at the praise, she glanced down. "Still didn't get your club started."

"That's okay," he smiled, "it'll happen somehow. I just appreciate the fact that you tried."

They walked down the steps from school together on opposite sides of the hand railing, but halfway down she stopped and suddenly turned towards him. "I don't think I realised," she blurted out.

Justin frowned at her. "Realised what?"

"I always knew, objectively," she continued, "told myself how hard things could be for you sometimes. But it never really sank in. Seeing that man in there...the things he was saying...it just...well, it pissed me off!" She lost her cool for once, and Justin couldn't help but laugh. "And I never really see you anywhere away from Debbie or Liberty Avenue. You're almost...protected there. But away from that, you have to face a lot of institutionalised homophobia." She paused, regarding him wryly. "Your dad...he was a special case. He was so completely irrational and over the top that I couldn't help but notice how ridiculously homophobic he is. But it's not the people like your dad that you have to worry about - it's the people like Mr. Perkins."

Wow.

She kept going.

"And since I seem to be talking so much," she smiled, "Brian is..." Pausing, she looked away until she figured out whatever it was she wanted to say, and looked back. "I kept seeing you with this older man, an older man that I was convinced was taking advantage of you." Opening his mouth to object immediately, he stopped when her hand came up. "I know better, now. I've known better for a while, and even though I've known that, I kept telling myself that he has too many issues, that he's not what I'd want for you, gay or straight. And yes," she told him, "I'm enough of a woman to admit that I'm not as open-minded as I wish I could be. But all I've wanted - all I've *ever* wanted - is for you to be happy, sweetheart. And if you have that - with him, or without him - then I'll be happy too."

Maybe Brian's theory about bizarro alternate universes had been right.

For once completely at a loss for words, Justin leaned across the railing between them and hugged her.

Hugging him back tightly, she sniffed. "This doesn't mean I'm ready to ask him over to dinner."

Justin just laughed.

*

Bizarre things kept happening during his shift at the dinner. Vic was there for one of his occasional visits, as well as Brian, Emmett and Ted. The four of them - and Debbie - seemed fascinated by something in the local newspaper, but Justin was swamped and couldn't get a good look, and could barely get close enough to listen in most of the time.

They seemed to form a kind of scrum after a while, and then it broke apart, and one by one the guys left the diner.

Justin had just started clearing a table off when two strong arms wrapped around him. "Brian!"

He nuzzled against his neck. "Nice to see you too, Sunshine."

Shivering, Justin carefully put the plates back down - because if he didn't do it now, he'd drop them. "Sorry. Been so busy today." He tipped his head to one side, sighing.

"I noticed that. So," Brian pulled back, turning Justin around. "Does this mean you're tired?"

Justin squinted up at him. Was this a sex question? "Not really."

"Good," Brian nodded. "We have a party to attend."

A party? "Is that what you guys were talking about? What kind of party?"

"You'll see," he replied, kissing the end of his nose. "I have to go, but I'll pick you up when your shift finishes." Pulling away, he started walking towards the door.

"What kind of party?" Justin repeated. "What am I supposed to wear?"

Turning towards him, Brian kept moving - backward. "Don't worry. Emmett's picking out the *perfect* outfit for everyone."

Well, Justin was certainly intrigued.

Good to his word, Brian was there when Justin stepped out of the diner a few hours later. He only noticed someone *else* was there when he swung open the car door and nearly hit Deb with it.

"Woah, Sunshine, careful how you handle that thing."

"Shit! Sorry, Deb." He totally hadn't seen her come out after him at all.

She grinned. "Don't worry about it, hon. Well?" she urged. "Get in!"

He just stared at her. She obviously wanted him to get in the back so she could sit in the front...he looked at Brian, sitting comfortably in his seat.

He splayed his fingers across the steering wheel. "I offered her a ride."

"I need time to get changed too!" she nodded exuberantly.

Apparently, they weren't the only ones going to the party. Shrugging, Justin climbed into the back of the Jeep and met Brian's gaze in the rearview mirror. "You really like this whole man of mystery thing, don't you?"

Smirking, Brian made sure Deb was safely inside the Jeep and pulled away.

After a brief stop at Deb's - promising to pick her up again later - Brian drove straight to the loft. Justin was curious as hell, but knew Brian wouldn't give any details up until he felt like it. Or until Justin got him alone in the loft and felt him *up*.

Quite liking his plan, Justin started kissing Brian in the elevator, but - despite his cock's obvious interest - Brian smiled and held him at arm's length. "Not right now."

Really, *really* curious as to what would make Brian turn down sex, Justin followed him out of the elevator, stood back as he unlocked and slid open the door-

And saw Emmett standing in the middle of the loft, dressed exactly like Jackie Kennedy.

Oh, fuck. No wonder Brian had been so secretive.

"Am I gonna have to go as Liza?"

*

Justin, thankfully, didn't have to dress up like a gay icon anytime soon.

That said, he was a little disappointed that the outfit Em had put together for him to crash David's party with wasn't a little more exciting. It was pretty much what he'd wear at any time - cargo pants and a tight top - with the exception that the top was so short that it barely covered his pecs.

Well, what there was of his pecs.

Em insisted he looked divine, and as Justin studied himself in Brian's full-length mirror, he decided he should probably take the word of a former First Lady.

Brian, of course, had yet to emerge from the bathroom. Ever the drama queen, he wanted to create as much impact as possible by making sure no one saw him until his 'look' was ready.

Justin was seriously looking forward to it. In fact, he was looking forward to the whole evening. Though he understood Michael's point of view about Brian and definitely wanted the two friends to actually start being friends again, he was still kind of pissed at Michael for not being more understanding. Plus, apparently, he was acting like a pretentious twat at the moment, too (Brian's words). After everything Brian had been through lately, unconditional support from all of his friends would've been great - even if the idea wasn't very realistic. No one was perfect.

A knock on the loft door made him turn away from the mirror, but Emmett was closer and gracefully took the few steps to open it.

Justin was pretty sure he'd never be able to walk that well in heels.

It was Ted at the door, who seemed to be wearing...a trench coat. Dropping his gaze as Ted walked further into the loft, Justin frowned, even more, when it looked like Ted might've been wearing...leather pants? And leather boots?

*Ted*?

"Teddy!" Em exclaimed. "I see you have the pants on, but where's the rest?"

Knowing better than to argue with a cross-dressing Emmett, Ted rolled his eyes and started unbuttoning his coat - but Justin could swear he saw something resembling pride flash across Ted's face. He was even more shocked when the coat came off completely, and he saw the rest of the outfit.

A black leather jacket, open, showing a great deal of Ted's chest. Ted's chest that was actually in much better condition than Justin would've guessed. Beneath the jacket it looked like Ted was wearing only a torso harness and then a hat was produced from somewhere - Justin really didn't want to know where - placed firmly on Ted's head, and the look was complete.

Holy shit.

Emmett clapped his hands together. "Oh Teddy, you look *fabulous*! You'll be the belle of the ball. Well," he grinned wickedly, "the *bear* of the ball."

Grinning, Justin agreed. "He's right, Ted - you look great! Em picked a great outfit."

"Oh, honey," Em smiled, "this is the one outfit that wasn't my work. This is *all* Teddy. Proof indeed that he's more than just an accountant - not that there's anything wrong with that."

Once again, Ted looked embarrassed - but proud. "Well, I already had the clothes," he shrugged. "They might as well get some use. Otherwise, they're a wasted investment."

Justin decided he really didn't want to know why Ted had started buying BDSM stuff.

"Soooooo..." Twirling around slowly, Em did his best Jackie impression. "How do I look?"

Pretty soon all three of them were complimenting each other, and Justin realised just how much of an impact it'd make at Michael and David's party if only the three of them turned up. With *six* of them, Michael would probably pop a blood vessel.

Yeah, Justin was definitely looking forward to it.

The mutual fan clubbing continued until they heard the bathroom door open. They turned towards the noise, and then Brian stepped down from the bedroom.

It took Justin approximately 0.3 seconds to get hard.

"Oh!" Emmett exclaimed, clasping his hands together in front of his chest. "I was *so* right!"

Brian...was...he was...Brian...Brian looked fucking hot.

The top was made of a light, partially see-through material, and it was cut low on his chest. The print on the shirt was kind of like animal skin - snakeskin, Justin thought - coloured in beiges and light browns. And the pants...beige again, made out of leather or PVC or some other kind of shiny material, and for once Justin understood the phrase 'like a second skin' because he had no idea how Brian had been able to squeeze into those - although he was personally having all kinds of fun imagining getting Brian *out* of them.

Shoes and a belt with a matching beige buckle finished off the outfit, and all Justin could do was stare.

The funny thing was, if someone had described the outfit to him, had told him exactly what Brian was going to be wearing, Justin would've snorted. It didn't sound like Brian at all - in fact, it sounded pretty ridiculous.

But in actuality, Justin was about ten seconds away from begging Brian to fuck him right then and there.

Brian couldn't have missed his reaction - couldn't have missed anyone's reaction - and smirked as he sauntered towards them. "Hello, Boys. Ted," he continued, "still learning a lot from The Master, I see." Getting a muttered "fuck you," in response, Brian ignored him and paused in front of Justin, meeting - and holding - his gaze. "Sunshine."

Justin's capability of verbal speech right about then was somewhere around the 'guuuuuuuuuuuuuuh' stage. Which was completely ridiculous; after all, he'd seen Brian in just about every kind of situation ever by now, but there was just *something* about him tonight that turned his brain to mush even more than usual.

"I like this," Brian breathed, stepping closer, his warm, hard hands grasping onto the bare skin at Justin's sides. "This way I don't have to move anything out of the way to touch your hot little body."

Justin suddenly loved the clothes he was wearing.

This party idea - wait. What was it for? - was sounding worse and worse with each passing second. Justin was very much of the opinion that they should stay home and fuck. A lot. And Brian should leave those pants on. Like, all the time.

"Uh, excuse me, boys," Em interrupted, and Justin had never hated anymore more than he had just then, "not that I don't understand why you want to rip each other's clothes off, but if you do that we'll never get out of here. And, for once, tonight is more important than fucking. This was *your* idea, Brian."

Grumbling, Brian grazed Justin's lips with the barest of kisses - Justin leaned into it, trying to make it last - before stepping away. "Okay," he sighed. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Maybe he could suck Brian off in the Jeep...

*

He realised that was a bad idea almost right away; trying to get Brian back into those pants in the Jeep would probably take a massive surgical operation. Horny and frustrated, Justin pouted in the back of the Jeep and waited for Deb and Vic to get in.

They'd all gone into the house briefly to share their outfits in all their glory, and everyone had been 'impressed' to different degrees. Deb was wearing red. A *lot* of red. Including a pair of red, heart-shaped sunglasses. Vic looked like some kind of 70's pimp - a sharp suit with solid blues and purples; a matching blue hat tilted at a rakish angle.

He was suddenly looking forward to the party again.

The drive to David's didn't take long. Unsurprisingly, when someone who'd presumably been hired to work the event opened the door, he didn't want to let them in. Brian just flashed the check he'd brought along, and one by one they handed the guy their jackets. Brian took a moment to make sure everyone was ready - and looked their very best - and then they all walked into the party together.

Immediately gaining surprised looks and murmured comments, they ignored the stiff suits around them. Coming to a stop in the middle of the room, Brian stretched up his neck, looking for someone.

Emmett spoke first, in a high-pitched impression of a female voice. "I hope we're not too late, I hate to miss the crudités!"

"Jesus," Debbie muttered, staring at the people who were staring at them, "this place looks like a wake. Who died?"

Brian found who he was looking for as Michael pushed by people to get to them. "Hey, Novotny!"

"What are you doing here?" Michael demanded when he reached them, clearly horrified.

Debbie leaned towards him, smiling. "We wouldn't have missed your party for the world, sweetheart."

"Our invitations must have gotten lost in the mail," Ted shrugged deliberately.

"Damn the postal service," Em complained in that voice again. "I'm going to write my Senator."

"You don't have to," Justin nodded towards Senator Baxter. "She's here."

Things just got better - or worse, for Michael - from there. Michael ranted about them 'breaking in'; Brian handed over the check and suddenly no one wanted to kick them out. The group began to split up and fan out, spreading through the room.

The background music was pretty crappy, and Justin made it his goal to find the stereo. When he did he flicked through the different options - David had the very best, of course, so his stereo held more than one CD - and found something that didn't totally suck ass.

An arm wrapped around him from behind, a mouth pressing against his ear. "Wanna dance, little boy?"

"I'm not a little boy," Justin smirked, even as he let Brian tug him back into the middle of the room.

"Sure you are," he retorted, his arms resting over Justin's shoulders, forcing them closer together. "Impossible though it may seem, that top makes you look like an even younger twink than usual."

Closing his eyes, Justin pressed his forehead against Brian's. "That must make you a pervert then, old man."

Brian didn't stop swaying to the beat. Well, it was Brian, so he was kind of swaying to a beat that no one with any sense of rhythm recognised, but he didn't stop. "Are you *trying* not to get fucked tonight?"

Grinning, Justin kept his hands hanging loosely onto Brian's sides. "You look really fucking hot."

"Now that's more like it," he replied, and Justin could hear the smirk in his voice.

He could've stayed like that all night. Sometimes he opened his eyes and looked around - he saw Ted dumping half a breadstick into someone's glass of wine, Emmett hoisting up the back of a guy's suit jacket, Deb and Vic cornering the Senator - and he didn't know why any of them were doing any of it and, right then, he didn't care.

When a waiter actually braved coming up to them and asked if they wanted anything to drink, both of them smiled and told him to fuck off.

Eventually, it was Deb - once again - who broke them apart, not caring that they were plastered against each other.

"Sunshine," she grabbed his arm, pulling him free, then pushing him in front of Senator Baxter. "Tell Diane about the club you started." Turning to the Senator, she pointed at Justin. "This is one goddamn brave kid. Talk to each other." And then she was gone and Justin was left to fend for himself.

Not that he wasn't capable of fending for himself, but he was still surprised and kinda horny, and as he stared at Senator Baxter he was starting to feel severely underdressed.

But. He could do this. "Nice to meet you, Senator Baxter," he held out his hand. "I'm Justin Taylor."

She shook it, smiling. "Nice to meet you too, Justin. So, tell me about your club."

She seemed genuine and interested, so Justin released her hand and started talking. "Well, uh, I started this club at school so that gay kids and straight kids could understand each other better, and-" Stopping when he felt a hand - then an arm - slide slowly across his lower back, he wasn't at all he surprised when he turned to see that it was Brian who now had an arm around him.

Brian, who was smiling much too innocently at the Senator. Brian, who didn't trust any politician as far as he could throw them.

"Uh, Senator," Justin began, "this is-"

"Brian Kinney," Brian interrupted, holding out his free hand. "The boyfriend. It's a pleasure to meet you, Senator." He just oozed fake sincerity.

Justin was in no way freaking out and/or stupidly giddy just because Brian had called himself his boyfriend. Especially because he knew Brian was just saying it to try and elicit a reaction.

Not at all.

Not hesitating at all, Senator Baxter shook the extended hand. "You too, Mr. Kinney. And I had a feeling you might be - I saw the two of you dancing earlier." They ended the handshake. "You're very good. Or rather," she looked at Justin, almost smirking, "I should say *you* were very good."

Brian's smugness crumpled. Justin couldn't have stopped the laugh from escaping if he wanted to.

Senator Baxter simply looked happy with herself, obviously used to dealing with arrogant men on a daily basis.

The humour quickly faded, however, when Michael's loud voice turned everyone's attention towards him.

"For embarrassing the hell out of me?!"

He and Deb were in the middle of the room, obviously having been talking - and, just as obviously, he wasn't happy with her 'behaviour'. Asshole. Justin's remaining good opinion of him was seriously starting to wane.

Naturally, Deb didn't let it pass, even knowing that everyone in the room was staring at them, listening in. "I know that I'm a little hard to take sometimes. My jokes and my appearance...and my enthusiasm. Sometimes you're ashamed of me. That's okay," she shrugged. "I'm your mother, and that's part of the deal. But Michael," she sounded so upset. "I never thought the day would come when *I* would be ashamed of *you*."

Ending it on that note, she brushed by him, and walked calmly out of the room.

Everyone kept staring at Michael.

Justin had to go after her. "I'm sorry," he turned back towards Brian and Senator Baxter, "I have to-"

"Go, Sunshine," Brian urged, frowning in Michael's direction, "I'll fill the Senator in on everything she needs to know."

Nodding his thanks, Justin gave Brian a quick kiss, then ran out of the house to find Debbie.

Justin didn't know where the hell Deb thought she was going - she'd reached the sidewalk by the time he got outside, and she didn't have a coat on.

Of course, neither did he, and his barely-there shirt let him know pretty damn quickly how fucking cold it was.

Dashing out after her, he ran awkwardly, his forearms crossing over his stomach in an attempt to try and retain some heat. It probably wasn't helping, but it was worth trying. "Deb!" She didn't stop at all, trudging along the sidewalk with her shoulders slumped forward; he'd be willing to bet she hadn't even realised anyone was even there until he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Deb."

Stopping suddenly, she turned towards him - probably blinking behind her sunglasses, although it was hard to tell. Her outfit looked all the more ridiculous now - nobody wearing that pair of shades should ever look *sad*. "Sunshine?"

"Come back inside," he coaxed, trying to guide her back to the house. "I know you're upset at Michael at the moment, but-"

She planted her feet on the ground, and there was no way Justin was going to be able to move her if she wasn't co-operating. "I don't wanna see that little shithead right now."

The Novotny temper definitely ran in the family. "You don't have to," Justin assured her, trying not to shiver. "But let's just go back inside and get you a coat, and then I'm sure Brian or Ted will drive you-"

"Holy shit!" she interrupted, as if just realising something. "It's fucking freezing out here and you don't have a coat on! What the fuck is wrong with you, Sunshine? Have you seen what you're not wearing?"

Giving up, Justin let Deb hustle him back towards the house because it was what he'd been trying to achieve all along - and, well, it *was* fucking cold.

Just as they reached the door, Vic stepped out with an arm full of coats. "I figured you'd need these."

"Vic, you're a saviour." Justin's teeth chattered as he grabbed his, quickly stuffing his arms through the holes and pulling it closed. It didn't really help all that much; he just had to wait to warm up.

Pulling on and buttoning up her own coat, Deb looked back at Vic. "I need to get one of the boys to drive me home."

Just standing there, Vic studied her for a few moments before nodding slowly. "Okay, I'll get-"

"Never fear!" Emmett's voice interrupted, making them all look behind Vic. "The queers are here!" Waiting until Vic moved out of the way, Emmett stomped triumphantly out of the house, with Ted and Brian close behind, each of them carrying their coats. It was almost like he was leading a marching band - although what kind of marching band would be comprised of Em dressed as Jackie, with Ted and Brian, Justin couldn't imagine.

"Oh, boys," Deb shook her head, "I don't want you all to leave because of me, it's not-"

"You're doing us a favour," Brian interrupted, shrugging his jacket on. "Don't know about you boys, but I couldn't put up with that hypocritical bullshit for another five seconds." Everyone murmured their agreement. "Good, then let's get out of here." Slinging an arm around Justin's shoulders, Brian started heading for the Jeep.

Justin held his ground, making Brian pause and turn to frown at him. "What's up?"

Why did Brian have to look *so* fucking hot, tonight of all nights? Being nice sucked. "I can't go home with you tonight. I need to stay with Deb." Truly and absolutely *sucked*. It was definitely the right thing to do; after Mikey treating her like shit, there was no way he could spend the night at Brian's. He just really, really wanted...ooooh. "But you know," the idea made him smile, "I don't see why *you* can't spend the night at my place."

Brian lifted his eyebrows. "Your place?"

"Deb's place," he admitted. "Yeah, your place has more room, the interior design, the enormous bed-"

"You're not helping your case here, Sunshine."

"But Deb's place has me. And a bed," he finished with a smirk, knowing almost for certain that it was enough to tempt Brian. Quite honestly, while the loft *was* gorgeous and had lots of room and probably cost a small fortune, all Justin really needed was Brian and somewhere to sleep.

Pretending to think it over, Brian put his arm back around Justin's shoulder, and this time Justin let himself be guided. "Isn't there some rule about no tricks after midnight?" he asked, both of them watching as Ted and Emmett climbed into Ted's car.

"Yeah, but Deb's let you stay over before," they were almost at the Jeep, and Justin realised they should probably hurry and let Deb and Vic inside before anyone's balls dropped off. "Besides," he glanced up at Brian, smirking, "you're not a trick. From what I heard earlier, you're my boooooyfriend."

Brian threatened to strangle him with the arm around Justin's shoulder, but didn't deny it.

The whole group ended up going back to Deb's for a while, all of them wanting to make her feel better without actually saying it. She served coffee, hot chocolate and cake, which they were all forced to eat - and only Brian grumbled about. After a couple of hours Ted and Emmett departed, and Vic started feeling tired and made his way upstairs.

"Well, go on," Deb urged, slicing herself another piece of cake, "I know you two wanna go fuck."

Well...yeah. But that wasn't the point. "Deb, you're more important than-"

"Of course I am!" she snorted. "I knew that before Mikey was an asshole and after Mikey was an asshole - but it was nice of you boys thinking you needed to remind me, and I appreciate the hell out of the fact that you were all here with me tonight. But, really - just go fuck, okay? Give Vic something to listen to. Sometimes even I need to be alone."

Not needing any more convincing, Justin hopped up from his chair, kissed Deb on the cheek, and made a break for his bedroom. Brian was right behind him, chasing him up the stars and Justin laughed, practically squealing and *fuck* he'd been waiting for this *all night*. He told Brian that when they barrelled into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

In response Brian practically picked him up and threw him down onto the bed, falling on top of him. Justin realised he wasn't the only one who'd been waiting all night as their mouths clashed together, hard, brutal; hands grabbing and grasping and bruising. Barely breaking the kiss, Brian rolled off slightly, using one hand to unbutton and pull down the zip on Justin's cargo's.

Feeling Brian's hand on his hard dick, Justin arched, breaking the kiss, and thrust into the warm hand repeatedly. "I love these," Justin whispered, hands falling to Brian's ass, rubbing over the material of his pants. "They're so hot. So tight. How the fuck...k..." Fuck, Brian had teased the end of his cock on that stroke. He licked his lips. "How did you get them on?"

Smirking down at him, Brian pulled his hand away from Justin's cock. "I've had some experience with tight clothes."

Some experience? That could be useful. "You ever fuck in them?" Brian kept silent, so Justin kept talking. "I want you to fuck me with them on. I want you to zip them open far enough to take your cock out, then fuck me fully dressed." Fuck, he was nearly getting off just talking about it. "Feel them against me whenever you press in, feel the zipper rubbing against my skin..."

Growling, Brian manhandled Justin, flipping him onto his front. Within a matter of seconds Justin's cargo pants were completely gone, he was being pulled up onto his hands and knees, and Brian had his tongue up his ass. "Fuck! Me!"

"That's the plan," Brian breathed behind him, lowering his head back down.

His whole body quivering as Brian's tongue delved into and around his ass, Justin's arms gave out and he folded them beneath him, his head resting on his forearms. Feeling like a whore - and loving it - Justin pressed back eagerly against Brian's tongue, gasping and panting and chanting something that may have been "fuck me fuck me fuck me".

Justin's small bedside table had everything they needed, so Brian paused his important and diligent work, hastily pulled open the drawer, and took out the condom and lube.

When he unzipped his pants, Justin actually groaned at the sound. He was sure anyone who heard it would've groaned at the sound. Fucking astronauts in fucking space would've spontaneously ejaculated if they had any clue who Brian Kinney fucking was.

"Fuck me," Justin whispered when a lubed finger carefully slid inside; "Fuck me," he repeated when it was joined by another finger, then two. "*Fuck* me," he demanded when he felt Brian's hard, sheathed cock pressing against his ass and finally, *finally* Brian did.

Groaning as Brian pushed inside, Justin spread his thighs apart, letting his body adjust. When he was ready he pushed back, and Brian got the message. Sliding out slowly, he thrust back in, hard. Gasping, Justin pushed his body up, one hand moving back to rest on Brian's thigh, encouraging, and the fact that he could only feel the smooth material and not Brian's skin at all made it so much fucking hotter.

Eyes rolling back in his head, he moaned, trying to process everything at once - Brian's pants sliding against him, the zipper catching his skin, Brian's thin shirt rubbing against his lower back, and Brian's own body heat permeating it all. Kissing - then biting - the back of Justin's neck, Brian's right hand started to travel across the exposed skin on Justin's body. Almost absently petting his back at first, before running along his right side, splaying across his stomach, and then finally the hand wrapped around Justin's cock.

Jerking him off, Brian thrust against his prostate once, twice, and that was it. Justin was amazed he'd lasted as long as he had; coming in powerful spurts, groaning as he collapsed onto the bed and felt Brian stiffen, fill the condom inside him, then collapse on top of him.

Fucking hell.

He was lying in his own come, the zipper had rubbed his ass raw, and he couldn't move to save his life - but it was so fucking worth it.

"That," Justin began, turning his head to one side so he could actually, you know, *breathe*, "was...fucking hot."

Running a hand through Justin's hair, Brian pressed a kiss against his neck.

An agreement.

*

Justin really needed to pee, and he blamed Brian for squishing his bladder. At another time he would've enjoyed the fact that Brian was sleeping on top of him, but not when he *seriously* needed to pee.

Dislodging him pretty easily - when Brian *did* sleep, only his alarm could wake him - Justin was so desperate that he risked it and dashed naked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Deb always kept the house ridiculously warm, so it was rarely cold inside. Closing the door behind him, he turned around and aimed for the toilet. Almost groaning in relief, Justin closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump in relief.

After washing up afterward, he crept through the hallway intent on going back to Brian, when he noticed light coming up the stairs. Someone must've been up. Vic wandered about at night sometimes, so Justin found his cargo pants on the floor of the bedroom, pulled them on, and quietly walked downstairs.

It was Deb. Still at the table.

Frowning, Justin moved towards her. "Hey."

Glancing up from what she was working on - a large piece of white cardboard, with the letters 'HOMO' written on it in blue paint - Deb gave him a double-take. "Walking about with no shirt on, Sunshine? This isn't Brian's place, you know." She winked, letting him know she was kidding.

Smiling, he sat down - squirming only a little - and watched as she painted a 'P'. It was kind of amusing that she had all this stuff ready to use in her house somewhere, but then Deb never threw anything away. "Whatcha working on?"

"We," she said, finishing the side arch of the P, "are going to protest at your school." Putting the paintbrush carefully down on a plate she'd obviously been using for a while, she picked up a couple more signs by her feet - one in red paint declaring 'BEING GAY IS O-KAY!' and another in green that read 'SAY NO TO ST JAMES!' "Get your club started," she shrugged, putting them back down. "Maybe get Diane involved. I'm sure that'll help."

Justin had never actually protested before, with the signs and the chanting - his kind of protesting usually consisting of being stubborn - but he had to admit that the idea of publicly showing St James that he wasn't going to stand for their bullshit felt...*good*. And Deb - despite claiming she was okay earlier - clearly needed something to focus on, something to *do*.

Why not?

"You know, Deb, I'm an artist."

Smiling, she leant across the table and touched the side of his face with a paint-stained hand. "I know that, Sunshine."

She seemed to be missing the obvious. "Well, I paint a mean alphabet."

Understanding lighting her face, she pulled her hand away to pick up the paintbrush from the plate. "Here you go, Picasso," she held it out to him, pushing the sign across the table. "Show me what an 'H' should really look like."

*

When Justin returned to his bedroom a couple of hours later, Brian was laying on his back, staring at him. He looked beautiful, cast only in the moonlight sneaking around the curtains.

"You were gone for a while."

It wasn't an accusation, exactly, although Brian didn't sound happy.

Grinning about the fact that Brian had missed him, Justin took off his pants and placed them on the pile of Brian's neatly folded clothes resting on the computer chair. "I was helping Deb," he explained, approaching the bed, slipping under the covers as Brian held them up. Cuddling up to him, Justin felt the covers settle back down and revelled in the warmth. "We're going to protest at school tomorrow."

Brian's hand rubbed up and down Justin's back. "Protest?"

"Sure. You know - signs, chanting, generally pissing people off. She's even gonna call the Senator in the morning, see if she can stop by." Shifting a little, Justin rested his head on Brian's chest; wrapped an arm around his torso. "Never protested before. Should be interesting."

"The point of protesting is to be loud and annoying," Brian told him. "Somehow I think you and Deb have that covered."

"Hey!" He slapped Brian lightly on the chest.

Chuckling, Brian let him. "Ah, my little activist..."

Justin appreciated the possessiveness in that statement but couldn't quite let it pass. "I don't belong to anyone. And I'm not little."

"Well, one of those statements is true." Forestalling any further objections, Brian kissed the top of his head. "Now, get some sleep. It's only a few hours until you have to be up for school and make the world safe for fags everywhere."

Well, there were worse things to do than squash up with Brian in a small bed.

By the morning, Justin's ass was seriously feeling the after-effects of the close encounter with a zipper. Finding a bottle of moisturising cream in the bathroom, Brian slowly and carefully rubbed the cream into Justin's ass. One finger 'accidentally' slipped inside, then two, and then Brian was fucking him over the side of the bed.

There was actually room to shower together, but only because Deb had a shower curtain on her bath instead of a door. They huddled together, trying to share the shower head at one end of the bath, and it was definitely a tight squeeze but that was something they were used to.

After that they got dressed - Justin in his school uniform, Brian squeezing back into those pants - and headed downstairs for breakfast. While they ate Deb rattled on about all the friends she'd called who were able to get to the school that morning, insisting they'd have quite an impressive crowd despite how last minute it was.

Inspired, Justin abandoned his toast and called Daphne, hoping she hadn't left already for school. Fortunately, it was Daphne herself who picked up, and Justin immediately launched into a description of their idea, asking if she'd be interested.

"Are you *shitting* me?!" she squealed, excited, before pausing and speaking to someone in the background. "Uh...sorry, Dad." It was a few more seconds until she spoke again; she must've been alone again by then. "Justin, that'd be *so* cool! We'll get to show the school exactly what we think of them!"

Justin suspected they had a future Debbie on their hands. "Great! There'll be a whole bunch of us, so we'll meet you outside school in a little while, okay?"

"Okay! Can't wait."

When breakfast finished Brian made a quick run to his place to get ready for work, before coming back to pick them up. He'd offered them a ride to school - especially considering the signs they had to bring with them - and he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Justin missed the pants, but Brian was in a suit instead - it wasn't *all* bad.

Sitting on the back seat with the signs jammed in next to him, Justin squeezed to one side and hoped they wouldn't crash because he'd probably end up getting impaled on one of them.

Outside school, Justin waited for Deb to get out before climbing out himself. Getting out of the car too, Brian helped him with the signs and they carried them over to the small crowd that was already there. Deb greeted some of them with enthusiastic hugs, and Justin watched with amusement as they began discussing 'strategy' immediately.

Moving a few feet away, Brian pulled his cell phone out and hit a speed dial number. Frowning, Justin watched, wondering who the hell he was calling.

When Brian started talking, he stopped wondering.

"If you give a shit about your mom at all, you'll get your ass over to the St James Acadamy, ASAP." Immediately ending the call, he jammed the phone back in his pocket.

Justin's insides shifted, and when Brian walked back towards him he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I love you."

"Uh," Brian said, obviously caught off guard. "I have to go," he continued, stepping closer and gesturing with his thumb to the Jeep. He looked kind of...awkward? Guilty, even.

"Sure, you have work," Justin smiled at him. "Besides, holding up signs isn't really your thing. You prefer to protest in...other ways." Leaning down, Brian kissed him then, right in front of Justin's school. Justin was smiling again when he pulled back. "Just like that." That was Brian - always trying to leave an impression.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Brian smirked. "Be as annoying as possible." With one last, quick kiss, he moved back to the Jeep, not looking back. "See ya, Deb."

Justin watched him go. And smiled.

Ten minutes later he wasn't smiling anymore. It was fucking *freezing*, and even with the scarf, gloves and extremely dorky hat Deb'd forced him to wear, he still wasn't keeping warm. Couldn't they have protested in the summer?

Of course, they still hadn't actually started protesting yet. Deb and the other adults were still discussing things - he suspected it was case of too many cooks - so Justin started walking up and down the steps in an attempt to keep warm.

The good news was that Daph had arrived, and she eagerly joined him. "It is soooo coooold. I swear to God, my nipples are about to fall off."

"Daph!" Talk about too much information. *Definitely* a new Debbie.

"What?" she asked, hopping up a step. "I have to hear all the sordid details about you having sex with Brian, and you can't stand a little conversation about my breasts? That's hardly fair."

"Uh, Daph? The difference is that you *like* hearing all the sordid details." Speaking of which... "By the way, you will *never* guess what we did last night."

Wrinkling her nose at him, she hopped up another step. "Does it involved whipped cream?"

Justin laughed, following her. "No, it was-"

"Okay, kids!" Deb yelled, and they teetered on the steps, turning towards her. "Let's get started!"

Finally.

Racing down the steps, they joined the rest of the group, not entirely sure what they were supposed to do. The adults started holding up the signs, and Deb was the first to start chanting.

"Hey hey, ho ho, homophobia's got to go!"

The rest of the adults joined in, and Justin and Daphne - shrugging at each other - joined in on the third chant.

They'd been getting weird looks from kids all morning, but now absolutely everyone was staring at them. Justin didn't care. It felt so good to be taking a stand, letting everyone know that he wasn't going to put up with being treated like shit just because he was gay. They effectively blocked the bottom of the stairs that led to school, and anyone who wanted to go in had to walk around them and make their way up the grass verge.

When Michael arrived, he wasn't in some fancy gold car or even in David's car - it was in a cab. Paying the driver, he stepped out and closed the door, standing in the road for a few seconds while the cab drove away.

"Deb," Justin said, touching her arm and drawing her attention towards Michael.

Her latest chant cut out halfway through when she saw him. Pausing, she slowly handed her sign to Justin and walked towards her son.

They met on the sidewalk. Michael looked like he'd kicked someone's puppy, and although Justin couldn't hear what they were saying - the chanting had continued in Deb's absence - he could see that they were definitely talking to each other. Not long after that, Deb suddenly pulled Michael into a tight hug. Michael held on just as tight, his hands sliding through the fake purple fur of her coat.

Pulling away just as abruptly, Deb walked back to Justin, took the sign from him, and handed it to Michael. "Here, you little asshole. Do something nice."

Flushing but smiling, Michael held the sign up and started chanting with the rest of them.

It was something.

They'd been protesting for a few more minutes - a couple of passing students had even joined in, which'd made Debbie beam - when Principal Perkins must've finally heard what was happening, and rushed down the steps from school.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, staring at them.

Justin faced him. "We're protesting St James's bigoted policy on school clubs."

Perkins wasn't impressed. "Taylor, I've had just about enough of this!"

"It's called Freedom of Assembly," Deb pointed out, just as a car pulled up. Justin watched, pleased when his suspicions were confirmed and Senator Baxter stepped out and started walking towards them.

Perkins hadn't seen her. "This is private property - you're all trespassing. I'm calling the police!"

Deb had, and smirked. "You might wanna stick around for this."

Realising she was looking behind him, he turned around and saw the Senator walking towards them. Shock replaced the anger, his eyes widening. "Senator..."

"Principal Perkins, I presume?" she asked, just as a television van pulled up behind her car.

For some reason, the principal suddenly wasn't so eager to throw them off school property.

After the camera crew set up - Justin was finding the whole thing unbelievably cool - Senator Baxter made a speech about Justin's club, private schools expecting public dollars, and freedom and civil liberties. He had no idea if she'd had time to plan out what she was going to say, but it was a good speech nonetheless.

"And," she continued, "it has also been brought to my attention that the school's policy on bullying is not only ineffective - it's practically non-existent. Some students have been bullied on a daily basis. They've been taunted and called names, had their personal property burnt - some have even been physically attacked and injured, and absolutely nothing has been done to stop it. I'm sure we can all agree that's not the kind of behaviour we want in *any* of our schools, and it's appalling that St James Academy has allowed it to continue for this long."

Amazed, Justin looked at Debbie. He'd never told the Senator about being bullied at all - he didn't want to risk coming across as some weak faggot - and the shocked headshake from Deb confirmed that she hadn't either.

The only other person who would've told her...

Shit.

Brian.

*

As soon as it was possible to get away from school, Justin raced home and got changed into the most respectable looking clothes he had. He needed to see Brian and he needed to see him *now*, but knew turning up at Brian's office in his school uniform would be a bad idea right from the start.

Pulling on a pair of cargo pants, he completed his outfit with a pair of dress shoes and a blue sweater. Running back downstairs, he gave Vic some vague indication that he'd be back later, grabbed his scarf and coat and bolted out the door.

Knowing where he was going this time, it didn't take Justin all that long to reach the Ryder office building. This would be, however, his first time actually in the building, so he looked around as he stepped inside.

A sign on the wall told him that Ryder, Inc. was on the fourth floor, and security didn't seem particularly tight, so Justin snuck into an elevator and headed up to the fourth floor.

Once out of the elevator, he saw what was obviously the front desk of the company, and took his coat and scarf off as he approached. The woman sitting behind the desk frowned at him speculatively, so Justin smiled.

She smiled back. "How can I help you?"

"Hello," he did his best to sound professional. "I'm afraid I don't have an appointment, but I'm here to see Mr. Kinney."

"Hmm, well, Mr. Kinney's a busy man, but he may not be in a meeting at the moment. I'll check with his assistant." Picking up the phone, she looked at him. "What was your name?"

"Justin Taylor."

"From?"

Uh...shit. She'd want a company name. "Novotny Enterprises."

Obviously not recognising the name, she frowned at him again until Justin smiled again - at which point she started dialling a number and brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello, Cynthia? I have a Justin Taylor here from Novotny Enterprises, asking to speak to Mr. Kinney. Yes, he knows he doesn't have an appointment, but...oh. Yes, of course. Thanks. I'll tell him. 'Bye." Hanging up, she graced him with a smile. "Cynthia will be here to take you back in a moment."

"Thanks," he nodded, stepping away from the desk and feeling pleased with himself. That feeling lasted until Cynthia arrived, introduced herself, and started walking him through the office. Brian had mentioned her - even spoken to her on the phone a few times while Justin was around - so it was interesting to see what she actually looked like.

"So," she said, "Novotny Enterprises?"

"Sure." He tried to ignore the growing feeling that she knew he was bullshitting.

"You know," she turned a corner by a cubicle, "I've been Brian's assistant for a while now. Who do you think Michael calls when he wants to talk to him?"

Fuck. "Look, I just-"

"Don't worry," she smirked, and it was eerily reminiscent of Brian. "You're the infamous Justin. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Wait. Infamous? What? Did that mean... "You've heard of me?" He couldn't remember actually calling Brian at work, but it might have happened.

"Not directly," she confessed, grinning. "I'm sure you know how Brian is. But being his assistant here, I see more than most. And sometimes he *does* slip up. Just between you and me," she paused at the end of a hallway, arching an eyebrow in another uncanny Brian imitation, "he hasn't fucked anyone for an account in months."

Holy shit. He hadn't...did that mean...? Fuck, Justin so wasn't going there. He'd accepted that Brian fucked other guys, and he wasn't about to start daydreaming again about being the only one he was sleeping with. Not right now. And why the hell was Cynthia telling him this anyway, when they'd only just met?

Continuing along the hallway - her legs were long, and Justin had to jog to catch up - she stopped by an office and knocked on the door. Peeking through the blinds on the windows, Justin could see Brian sitting at his desk.

Not waiting for a response, Cynthia opened the door. "Your next appointment is here."

Distracted, Brian didn't glance up at first. "I didn't think I had a..." And then he did look up, the words dying on his lips as he saw Justin. "Hey. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Justin stepped further into the room, holding Brian's gaze. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

They stared at each other.

"Ah," Cynthia said from somewhere behind him, "I'll leave you two to it. You...might want to close the blinds."

Justin heard the door shut firmly, and then he and Brian were alone.

Predictably, Brian feigned ignorance, leaning back in his chair and calmly clasping his hands together. "Maybe if you give me some idea of what you're referring to I'll be able to help."

Fine. Brian wanted to run this like a business meeting? Justin could do that. Throwing his coat and scarf onto the sofa behind him, Justin turned back towards Brian and remained standing. "It's been brought to my attention that you've been discussing my personal business without my permission."

Brian didn't back down. "Would you care to elucidate?"

He really *was* playing hardball. Justin would've grinned if he hadn't been pissed off. "Senator Baxter."

Finally, Brian began to look uncomfortable. "I merely informed her of the problems you'd had in trying to set up your club-"

"As well as the bullying and abuse I've taken from Chris Hobbs and his jock jerks."

Brian stared at him. "Yes."

"You had no right."

"Why not?"

Jesus. "Because that was *my* problem, Brian, it was specific to *me*. Getting the club started is one thing - that's for everyone. But this? I know I'm gonna get shit for protesting and fighting for the club anyway, but I don't need those pricks thinking that I can't take what they dish out. That I went running off to the Senator and asked for help. That I couldn't stand up for myself."

"Justin, anyone who even remotely knows you knows that you're more than capable of dealing with those assholes."

A compliment, at last. "Then why did you tell her about it?"

Pushing himself up, Brian glared. "Because there's no fucking reason you should *have* to be capable of dealing with those assholes - that you should *have* to put up with that kind of abuse. It's not fucking right."

The thought was nice...if kind of controlling. "I think you've said more than anyone else about how life just isn't fair sometimes. It can be shitty, but that's the way it is, and we have to deal with it. I think it's really, really sweet," Justin grinned. Brian glowered. "That you care so much about me and want to help, but just remember that it is *my* life. Maybe discussing things that might affect my life before you do them would be a good idea."

Making his way around the desk, Brian sat on the front edge dejectedly. "This means more of that talking stuff."

"Yes," he grinned. "Yes, it does." Taking the few steps closer to Brian, Justin calmly placed his hands on Brian's shoulders and leant closer. "Of course, it'll probably lead to more of this."

"Fair trade," Brian murmured, just before their lips met.

Sighing happily, Justin closed his eyes and just *enjoyed* the kiss. They seemed to get interrupted a lot lately, so it was nice just being able to touch Brian like this; to taste his mouth and his lips.

And, of course, tease him mercilessly when the kiss ended, Justin's eyes still closed as he gently butted Brian's face with his nose. "You so care about me."

Muttering warmly, Brian's right hand slid into Justin's hair and tugged a little too harshly.

Still, they'd seemed to get through that conversation with a distinct lack of melodrama. Not that Justin was disappointed. Not exactly. Fuck knew he didn't miss the riot of emotions they could build up in each other, but there was a certain buzz he got after they had a really good argument that he didn't particularly mind.

"So how did your protest go? I take it the Senator did actually turn up."

Nodding, Justin pulled back a little so he could actually see Brian's face without his eyes crossing. "Yeah, she did. It was pretty cool. We had a good-sized group. News crew turned up. The Senator got interviewed, Deb got interviewed..."

"Deb?"

"Yeah," Justin grinned, matching Brian's amused glance. "I didn't get to hear it all, but I'm sure she expressed her opinions loud and clear."

"Like she'd ever stop," Brian smirked. "So you think this'll get your club started again?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, and he really didn't. "Perkins seriously wasn't amused, but stopped complaining when the camera crew turned up." They both rolled their eyes. "As for if he'll actually bother to make any changes later...I don't know. Maybe being on the news could lead to an investigation or something. And even if it doesn't, at least we got our point across."

Seeming to think it over, Brian regarded him carefully. "I sense a great many protests in your future."

Chuckling, Justin shrugged. "I don't know. It was interesting and I definitely liked having my voice heard, but..." He'd classify the whole experience as *weird*. And maybe vaguely uncomfortable.

"You don't think that way of protesting is quite for you, either." It wasn't a question.

Justin met his gaze. "Yeah."

Brian nodded. "You'll think of your own way. Last I heard, you were a genius."

"That is *so* true," Justin grinned, pleased at the encouragement. "And what was your day like, old man?"

Not even rising to the age reference, Brian lost his smile and glanced away.

Losing his, too, Justin grabbed Brian's chin and made him look back at him. "What happened?"

"Nothing bad," Brian assured him. "Not exactly. It's just..." he sighed, slumping a little. "I saw Gui at lunch. With my kid." Right, Lindsay's French guy. "He's talking about adopting Gus."

Oh, that was just *wrong*. "Brian, I'm sure he's just trying to spook you. Linds wanted you to be the father so much, didn't she? I can't see her agreeing to that."

"I would've thought the same," Brian agreed, "but she's been acting so fucking weird lately. This whole sham marriage thing...yeah, she's always been generous with helping people out, but this is far beyond her usual brand of lunacy."

The whole thing really *was* ridiculous. Though she and Mel clearly had issues, he'd seen them be really happy, and they could be *good* together. Still... "Okay, you may have a point. But...you didn't sign your rights away, right? Which means he couldn't actually adopt Gus even if he wanted to."

"Yeah," Brian conceded, "I think so. It's just the idea of it..." He looked away again, and this time Justin didn't stop him. "I really didn't expect to fucking care about him. And I know I'm not a good dad - hell, I'm upholding a fine family tradition - but-"

"Bullshit," Justin interrupted, making Brian snap his head back towards him. "You're a good dad. Yeah, you're not around all the time, but not all dads are. That doesn't make you a bad parent. You love him, and care about him, and support him, and I know you'd do absolutely anything for him - whatever he needs. And you'll accept him for whoever he grows up to be, and when he reaches your age he'll be proud to say that Brian Kinney is his father."

Brian looked like he'd been hit by a bus - and, naturally, tried to ignore it. "Have you been watching those Lifetime movies again? Because seriously, your dick'll shrink up and you'll start growing a-"

"If you say the word 'twat' I'll never let you fuck me again."

Brian recovered quickly "-strange fondness for plaid." Pausing, he stared at Justin silently. "Sometimes I seriously think you need your head examined."

Justin knew what he meant, but decided to give him a break. "Always," he smiled, grabbing Brian's hand and placing it over his cock. "And if you're seriously worried about the adoption thing," he continued, although it was kind of hard to concentrate as Brian actually had started examining his cock, "we'll go talk to Mel tomorrow. Make sure. Um." The zipper on his cargo pants was down. "You know you've never actually fucked me in your office."

"The thought had occurred to me," Brian breathed, pushing Justin gently away and finally taking Cynthia's advice - he closed the blinds and locked the door.

Standing in the middle of Brian's office with his cock sticking out of his pants, Justin looked from one available surface to another. "Sofa or desk?"

"Not the desk," Brian answered, stalking towards him, and when Justin was pulled down onto the sofa he forgot to ask why.

*

When they walked out of Brian's office an hour later, Justin was grinning from ear to ear. He was also hobbling and not trying very hard to hide it.

Brian seemed pretty pleased himself as they paused by Cynthia's desk. "Unless there's anything urgent, I'm leaving for the day." By now it was pretty close to the end of office hours anyway.

She shook her head smugly. "No messages since you entered your meeting with Mr. Taylor, Brian."

Brian eyed him. Justin grinned.

"Good. Okay. Well, you can leave whenever you're done, Cynthia. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, boss."

Still eyeing Justin as they walked away, he missed Cynthia's wink. Justin didn't, flushing and smirking at the same time, lowering his head.

It didn't take them long to reach the elevator, and when they passed the front desk the woman who'd let Justin through smiled at them. "Goodbye, Mr. Kinney."

"'Night, Janice."

She gave Justin a bit of an odd look as he was obviously leaving for the day with Brian, but that was all. Amused that Brian even knew her name, Justin grinned all the way down in the elevator, but they couldn't talk about it until they were alone - in the underground garage, heading for the Jeep.

"What's so funny?"

Justin shrugged, still smiling. "I just think it's nice that you knew her name."

"Janice?" Brian asked, and Justin nodded. "I know everybody's name at Ryder. How bad would it look to prospective clients if I couldn't even be bothered to know the details of the company I work for?"

Of course. "Right," Justin said as Brian unlocked the Jeep. "So it has nothing to do with the actual people." He didn't buy it for a second. "You couldn't remember my name after our first night together," he challenged, staring at Brian over the top of the Jeep.

"Sure I did," Brian retorted. "I just said I didn't."

"I know," he grinned, and got into the Jeep.

The drive to Brian's was interesting - he'd never been driven home all the way from Brian's office before - and they battled traffic for a while but it wasn't too bad. By the time they parked on Tremont they were both horny again and spent a few minutes making out in the Jeep, against the Jeep, and then on the stairs that led into Brian's building.

Justin was anticipating another good night of 'quality time' with Brian, when a loud voice interrupted.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it!"

Frowning, both Brian and Justin turned towards the vaguely familiar voice - and Justin stiffened, horrified when he recognised the man crossing the street towards them.

Kip Thomas.

Fuck!

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Brian demanded, always having a good opening salvo.

Kip mostly ignored the question, stepping up onto the sidewalk. "Did you think I wouldn't find out, Kinney?"

Justin started fumbling behind himself for the door. "Uh, Brian, let's go inside."

But Brian still had an arm around him, and wouldn't let go - even though he never looked away from Kip. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. And why the hell are you even here?"

"Saw a news report a while ago," Kip spat, pausing at the bottom of the steps, glaring at Justin. "Saw that little shit behind you - causing trouble, big surprise. And then they interviewed some woman wearing a bad wig. She started going on about how 'her sunshine' got harassed so much just because he was gay. Let slip something about him having an older male lover - someone long out of college. Got me thinking," he continued, pressing his right index finger against his temple, "and though I figured I was just being paranoid, I decided to check it out. Something had been bugging me about our little encounter for months. And low and behold..." He dropped his hand, moving his gaze to Brian. "What did you offer him to mess with me, Kinney? Money? A fuck? Maybe a job at Ryder?"

Justin was dead meat. There was no escaping it. He almost didn't care that Kip was even there anymore, because when he and Brian were alone...

"I didn't offer him anything," Brian retorted, because although he had to be pissed at Justin, that didn't mean he couldn't be pissed at Kip, too. "Justin is his own man. If he wanted to mess with you, that was his business. Frankly, I haven't thought about you in months. You're really not that important."

"Really?" Kip asked rhetorically. "So he is your boytoy? And you really don't care that he's whoring himself out to get what he-?"

Justin almost didn't see it happen but suddenly Brian wasn't holding him anymore, and Kip was on the floor covering his now-bleeding nose with both hands. "Motherfucker! I'm suing you for assault! And him for obstructing an investigation!"

Justin's glee at Kip's pain was short-lived. Shit, could he actually do that?

"You could try," Brian stood over Kip, fists still clenched, "but then you'd have to explain that all of this happened because some little twink fucked you over. That a *teenager* got the best of you. You wanna admit that in front of people? You wanna admit in court that you couldn't outwit a kid?"

Pausing for a moment, Kip started muttering as he scrambled to his feet. Still covering his nose, he glared at both of them as he turned away. "Just stay the fuck away from me, or I'll get a restraining order."

Justin didn't relax at all until Kip got into his car and managed to drive away (he was still trying to hold his nose, so it couldn't have been easy). Of course, when Kip *had* gone Brian was turning around, facing him, and there was nothing to be relaxed about again.

"So," Justin coughed. "He's sure trigger happy with those lawsuits, huh?"

He was completely ignored.

"Sunshine," Brian said carefully, his expression sharp enough to rip bark from trees, "since you're so big on communication, is this something we maybe should've talked about?"

He may have had a point.

He still had a point by the time they were in the loft, the door closed, locked and alarmed - just in case Kip came back to try anything else. Brian was not-so-calmly sprawled out on the sofa, watching Justin as he stood on the other side of the coffee table, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. Coats and scarfs had long been abandoned.

Brian lifted his eyebrows. "Well?"

Shit. "Well, uh..." Shit, shit, shit. "It's a funny story, actually." He didn't know *why* he started with that, because it wasn't. It wasn't funny at all.

Turning his palms upwards, Brian shrugged deliberately. "Amuse me."

Justin closed his eyes. Fine, fine. Fuck it. "He was suing you with that bullshit lawsuit, you relapsed, and I was fucking scared." Opening his eyes, he forced himself to meet Brian's gaze. "I was scared out of my fucking mind, Brian. At that point, I really didn't know if you'd ever be able to give up drinking, and it was his stupid fucking lawsuit that pushed you over the edge so..."

Brian was maybe, possibly, not looking quite so angry as he had been.

"So?"

Then again, maybe he wrong.

"I did what I could." Justin stuck his chin out. "I may not have been able to make you choose to give up alcohol, but I could at least try and make him drop his lawsuit. Which I did."

"And exactly how did you accomplish that?" Bringing his hands together, Brian kept looking up at him and Justin had a brief flashback to their conversation at Ryder. "I believe the word 'whoring' was mentioned."

Fuck fuck fuck. "It wasn't..." he closed his eyes briefly, before opening them again. "I didn't fuck him, and I didn't let him fuck me." Brian might've looked relieved. It was hard to tell. "Nothing even really happened...really." Okay, so he was kind of lying, and Brian would know. "I let him start to blow me. That was all. I could barely get hard. And then I told him how old I was, and some story about how my dad would beat the shit out of him and have him arrested if he ever found out...and how my dad would *never* find out if Kip would just do one little thing for me."

"Drop the lawsuit."

"Right."

"And he did."

Justin nodded. "Yes."

Brian frowned up at him. "And he fell for that?" Justin shrugged. "Shit, he deserves to get humiliated in court." He probably should've been offended by that, but right now it didn't really matter. "And where did this take place?"

Justin fidgeted again. "In the bathroom at a coffee shop a few blocks from your office. I...followed him from work."

"So," Brian nodded, "let me get this straight. You seduced this guy in a coffee shop, and then - presuming there was only one toilet - put yourself in a locked room with him."

Umm... "Yeah."

"After you were in this locked room with him, he started to blow you, and you double-crossed him - threatening him with physical violence and the police if he didn't do what you wanted."

"Yes."

"And you were still in the locked room with him."

"Yes."

"With no witnesses."

"Yeah."

"Where he could've done absolutely anything at all to you and nobody would've seen a thing."

It was fair to say that Brian was pissed. Justin felt about two feet tall. "Yeah."

"You can see why I have a problem with this?"

Well, duh. "You could say that." And before he could stop it, his mouth got the better of him. "But shit, Brian, you're alone with guys all the time, or at least in the past, and you're never worried that they'll turn out to be some ax-murderer or something, and-"

"That's because I'm not trying to fucking blackmail them!" Finally moving, Brian pushed himself up from the sofa. "And after that little chat we had in my office today about doing things that might 'affect my life' I can't believe you have the gall to stand there and tell me that shit. Actually," he waved his hand through the air, "I take that back. I *can* believe you'd have the gall to do that because you're so fuckingly stupidly brave you think nothing and no one can ever touch you. What kind of universe do you live in? Do you really think you can take chances like that and never get hurt? I won't let you do that, Justin, I fucking *won't* and...what the fuck is so funny?"

Justin had started grinning, then laughing, about ten seconds ago. Brian had been ranting about taking stupid chances and getting hurt, and all Justin had been able to think was, "Wow. He must really care about me."

It was probably the closest Brian would ever get to saying I love you.

And he was still waiting for an explanation, looking extremely not happy about being laughed at.

"It's just..." he grinned again, shaking his head. "We're standing here arguing about how much we want to help each other. How much we *care* about each other. It just...struck me as funny. We care about each other so much, we're arguing over it."

Brian stared at him. "That's not...this is about you taking stupid risks."

"Risks that I took because I care about you. And you're pissed off that I took them because you care about me."

"I didn't..." he shook his head. "You were being a stupid twat."

"Maybe," Justin shrugged, because he probably was. "But if our positions were reversed, wouldn't you have done the same? Wouldn't you have done anything to help me?"

He kept glaring. "Justin, you fucked up. This is not some opportunity for you to try and weasel out my 'feelings' for you."

"I'm not trying to do that," he replied honestly. "I'm really not. I'm just trying to get you see my point of view. Use Gus as an example instead - if he was in trouble, if he needed help, wouldn't you do absolutely anything to help him? Wouldn't you risk it all, take every chance if he needed you? Sacrifice everything?"

The words obviously having hit home, Brian turned away slightly, hands resting on his hips. "You'd sacrifice everything?" For me? He seemed...disturbed, by the idea.

They'd kind of had this conversation before. "I know you don't like it," Justin said quietly. "But it's how I feel. And given the chance to do it over again, I'd do the same thing."

"Except you won't," Brian swung back around to face him. "You *won't* do this kind of thing again, because if I have to talk to you before telling a Senator about you getting bullied at school, then you most definitely have to tell me before you manipulate and blackmail some asshole who's suing me. Deal?"

Pursuing his lips together, Justin held back a smile. "Deal."

"Good. Right." Brian nodded. Moving back to the sofa, he sat down. "We're not finished, but for now come over here."

Humour fading a little, Justin squinted at him. "What for?"

"You were an idiot. You need to be punished."

That hardly seemed fair. "I wasn't the only one who did something he wasn't supposed to."

"Justin," Brian sighed, "you were alone in a locked room with the man you were blackmailing. I told someone you were being bullied at school. Do the math."

Well...shit, okay.

"What does this punishment entail?"

Brian eyed him wolfishly. "Making that perfect ass of yours a lovely red colour."

Eyes widening, Justin quickly unzipped and pulled down his pants. "Shit, why didn't you just say so?"

*

Justin had never been seriously spanked before, and he wasn't now - after less than ten spanks, Brian was fucking him on the sofa. It was more like play-spanking, messing around with each other, and Justin wasn't sure if he was ready for the 'real thing' anyway, despite his initial enthusiasm. He could imagine it being all kinds of hot, but also all kinds of humiliating. Besides, given his past, Brian probably had issues about not wanting to physically hurt someone he cared about, even during sex.

Not long after they collapsed on the sofa, Brian pulled out carefully and padded away. Frowning, Justin pushed himself up on one arm and peered over the top of the sofa, watching as Brian dumped the condom into the trash then opened the door to the freezer.

Frowning, even more, Justin got to his feet and walked naked across the loft until he was standing next to Brian in the kitchen. Having taken out a chunk of ice and wrapped it in a towel, Brian was holding it against his hand. "You didn't hurt yourself when you were spanking me, did you?" It hadn't been *that* hard.

"Hardly," Brian snorted, and Justin realised he was holding it against the outside of his fingers for a reason. "But I *did* hurt myself punching that asshole. I forgot how much hitting someone hurts," he hissed, wincing a little, flexing the fingers of his right hand.

Feeling guilty and biting his lip, Justin carefully took hold of either side of Brian's hand and tugged it away from the ice. Brian let him - probably curious as to what he was actually going to do - and as Justin studied the hand closely he could see that some knuckles and fingers were slightly swollen. Bending his head, he pressed a soft kiss to Brian's knuckles - then to dispel any sentimentality, quickly looked up at him and grinned. "You were very butch."

Rolling his eyes, Brian yanked his hand away and started icing it again. "Sure I was."

"And I very much appreciate the fact that you defended my honour." He said it purely to get a reaction - and it worked.

"I was *not* defending your honour," Brian bitched, sighing heavily. "You always have to fucking romanticise everything. He was being an asshole. Therefore, he got punched. And anyway, that's not the important thing here. You," he gestured at Justin with his bad hand, "sit."

Curious, Justin followed the order - this time.

Or at least tried to. When his bare ass came into contact with the hard seat of the kitchen stool, he winced and stood back up. He may not have been spanked a lot, but it had been a few times. That plus the fuck... "I would sit, but you spanked me and fucked me. My ass hurts." He grinned, trying to be cute.

"Stop trying to be cute," Brian ordered, and Justin's grin faded. "And I meant what I said before. What you did to Kip...that was...it's appreciated. And although it was your choice, and I'm not gonna stop you from doing whatever you want or need to do..." Brian stared at him gravely. "It was really fucking stupid."

Justin tried not to look away. "I know."

"I mean it, Justin."

"I *know*." Flushing with shame at being chastised - and amazed that he was ashamed at all - Justin finally looked down, away. He was still glad that he'd done what he'd done, but he'd expected more yelling from Brian - not this quiet disappointment. It was a shock to the system. "He was hurting you," he defended, "with the lawsuit. It was because of him that you started drinking again."

"No one else but me is responsible for what I do," Brian argued calmly, making Justin look back up at him. "Kip didn't make me an alcoholic, and it's not his fault I relapsed. The fucker didn't *help*, yeah, but the problem was mine. Not his." Placing the ice back in the freezer - towel and all - he moved until he was standing next to Justin. "And I also meant the other thing I said." Justin frowned up at him curiously, and Brian's left hand came up to touch the side of his face. "You're so fucking brave. Stupidly so," he added, as if he couldn't let the compliment stand by itself. "You see something happening and think it needs to be fixed - and do whatever it takes to fix it, regardless of the consequences."

Flushing again, Justin licked his lips. "I'm not about to plan my whole life out the way you'd like to, Brian. That'd be so...*boring*."

Most of the time, Justin completely forgot about their age difference. In fact, more often than not he felt like *he* was the oldest one in their relationship. Brian's childhood had been so fucked up that in some ways he hadn't grown up at all.

But sometimes, it became blatantly clear that Brian *was* more mature than him. That he'd faced things Justin hadn't yet, and knew what he was talking about. On those rare occasions when it happened, Justin usually ended up feeling about twelve years old.

This particular occasion...

...had passed.

"Are you calling me boring, you little shit?"

After that, it didn't take them long to tease and wrestle each other into the shower to get cleaned up. When they were dry, Brian ordered Thai - and ordered Justin to pick up their clothes from the floor by the sofa. Justin told him to fuck off. Brian fucked him again as further 'punishment' and ended up answering the door to the delivery guy practically naked.

Justin hid on the sofa, trying not to laugh.

Much later, Justin yawned and stretched in bed, eventually settling in with an arm across Brian's chest. They talked for a while about things that mostly didn't matter, until they agreed that Mel most definitely needed to be paid a visit tomorrow.

Yawning again, Justin closed his eyes. "You mind driving me to Deb's in the morning? I don't have anything I need for school tomorrow." He'd been in such a rush to get to Brian's office that he'd forgotten to bring anything - and besides, at that point, he hadn't exactly expected to spend the night at the loft.

Brian sighed dramatically. "You are *so* inconvenient."

"I know," Justin smiled sleepily, knowing he didn't mean it.

"Shit," Brian shifted, stretching out to switch off the blue light. "You might as well start keeping some of your shit here, anyway. You're here often enough."

Justin's eyes snapped open, and suddenly he wasn't so tired.

*

After school the next day, Justin stepped out of the building surprised to see Brian's Jeep parked in the street. They were due to see Mel together, yeah, but not until the evening.

Daphne winked and left (she waved frantically at Brian as she walked away. Brian simply nodded), and Justin jogged towards the Jeep. "Hey," he smiled, opening the door. "Couldn't keep away from me, huh?"

"Get in," Brian said, obviously not amused.

Dumping his bag on the floor of the Jeep, Justin climbed in and shut the door, quickly doing up his seat belt. "What's up?"

"Lindsay," he answered, indicating and then pulling out into the post-school traffic. "It's happening today."

Fuck.

As they escaped the school rush, Brian explained the phone call he'd received from Lindsay earlier. She was getting married today, late in the afternoon - they were fucking lucky with that bit of news, as far as Justin was concerned - and, even knowing he didn't approve, she'd asked Brian to be a witness.

Shit. Maybe she really *had* lost her mind. Or maybe trying to get Brian involved was a last, desperate attempt to get him to stop the wedding.

"I get why she asked me," Brian explained, although it didn't really sound like he was defending her. "It's just...fucking stupid. What is it with stupid blondes, lately?"

Justin would've hit him, but Brian was driving so intently he looked ready to go off the road at any moment.

By the time they pulled up outside the munchers...Linds' place, Mel was already there. Pushing off from where she'd been leaning against her car, she ran over to them. "Finally!" she declared, rubbing her hands together and watching as they climbed out of the Jeep. "I get a phone call from you telling me to leave work and get my ass over here right now but not to go in without you. Do you have *any* idea how frustrating that is, especially when it's about...well, it is what I think it is, right?"

Nodding, Brian seemed completely unconcerned by her rant, looking at the house. "They're getting married today. In about..." he glanced at his watch, "...forty-five minutes. But more importantly," he turned to look at her, "did she tell you anything about Gui adopting Gus?"

She frowned even harder, the skin between her eyebrows crinkling up. "No. I mean, he couldn't anyway because you didn't sign away your rights, but..." Pausing, she looked at him. "Gui adopting Gus? Seriously?"

"That's what he said they wanted," Brian shrugged innocently.

Expression flattening out, Mel swiveled on her heel and marched towards the house, and Justin began to understand exactly what Brian had done - let Mel deal with it. Let Mel and Linds actually start yelling at each other, and maybe something would get accomplished. They'd been stuck in that 'awkward politeness' phase for so long that they weren't getting anywhere.

"You're good," he said proudly.

Sliding an arm around Justin's shoulder, Brian checked for traffic and started crossing the street. "I know."

Mel was on the steps to the porch - and Brian and Justin weren't too far behind - when the door opened and Lindsay started stepping out, looking behind her as she emerged.

"Gui, if you don't hurry we'll be-" Turning to look where she was going, she stopped abruptly, shocked. "Mel!" She held tightly onto the handle of Gus' carrier, careful not to drop him.

Pausing at the bottom of the steps with Brian's arm still around him, Justin watched.

It didn't take long.

"Have you *lost* your *fucking mind*?!"

Some people would never need a megaphone. Mel was definitely one of them.

"M-Mel," Linds stuttered, flustered, "you knew I was getting married-"

"Not that," she interrupted, "even if it is fucking ridiculous. I mean," she nodded towards Gui, who was now peering out from behind Linds, "is it true? Do you seriously want that...that...fucking frog *stranger* to adopt our kid?"

Drawing herself together, Linds cleared her throat. "It's not like that," she insisted. "It was just an idea, something we were thinking about to make the marriage look-"

"Not like a sham?" Mel interrupted. "Too bad, sweetheart. Everyone from here to Liberty Avenue knows you're a dyke."

Flinching, Linds glanced back at the house. "Could we continue this inside?"

"Why not?" Mel asked rhetorically, stomping up onto the porch and pushing past both Linds and Gui to get into the house. "Heaven forbid anyone should ever see us fight."

Standing there awkwardly for a few seconds, Linds mumbled something to Gui and then passed Gus' carrier to him, disappearing into the house with a crooked smile for Brian and Justin.

It didn't take Brian long to remedy the situation. Letting go of Justin he jogged up the steps, taking Gus away from Gui. "*I'll* take *my* kid," he smirked, backing into the house with leer towards Justin.

Justin followed.

The girls had retreated into the kitchen - he could hear raised voices already - so Brian and Justin settled into the living room with Gus, taking him out of his carrier. They played with him and generally tried to keep him occupied, and most of the time Justin tried to keep an ear out for what was happening in the kitchen. He heard the occasional glass break, but the 'conversation' never faltered, so he knew no one ever got hurt.

Slumping down into a chair, Gui watched them moodily as they played on the floor with Gus. Justin almost felt sorry for him - or would have, if he hadn't threatened Brian with the idea of adopting Gus himself.

Unsurprisingly, Brian ignored Gui completely.

Finally, nearly an hour after they'd entered the house, the arguing stopped. Not realising at first, the silence eventually grabbed Justin's attention and he lifted his head, frowning.

And then he heard a moan.

Followed by another moan.

And then...oh, *gross*. "Are they...?" He glanced at Brian, almost not wanting to know.

Screwing his face up into an expression of disgust, Brian covered Gus' ears with his hands. "Christ. If that doesn't warp the kids' mind, nothing will." Quickly pulling his hands away, he spoke directly to his son. "Hey, Gus. You wanna see the front yard, right? That's what I thought." Standing up quickly, he picked Gus up and almost ran out of the house - very carefully not looking towards the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Brian had forgotten it was cold out, and had to come back for the coat, hat, and sweater they'd stripped off Gus when they'd first come inside. Quickly helping Gus back into everything, Brian went back outside and this time they retreated to the Jeep to keep the cold weather away.

When they were all settled in - Brian in the drivers seat, Justin in the passenger seat, Gus on Brian's lap - Brian mock-shuddered. "You know I actually caught them fucking once."

"Mel and Linds?" Justin asked, tapping Gus' nose gently with his index finger. Gus produced a loud noise and made a grab for his finger.

"Yeah, during their early days," Brian shifted, turning Gus further towards Justin. "Nearly stopped me from visiting Linds ever again."

"I can imagine," he replied, but he was kind of distracted by letting Gus grab his finger this time. Of course, it wasn't quite the same as when Gus'd been really young - he wasn't innocently grabbing onto anything nearby. He knew Justin, and was smiling at him.

"I should probably put the heat on," Brian muttered, patting himself with one hand to find his car keys.

"Not for too long," Justin pointed out, encouraging Gus to bounce up and down. "Don't want to risk carbon monoxide building up with a baby in the car."

Pausing, Brian turned to look at him. He stared for so long that eventually Justin noticed and looked up from where he was playing with Gus. "What?"

Brian shook his head. "You are so fucking weird."

Knowing Brian didn't exactly mean it as an insult, Justin found himself flushing again - but only a little. It wasn't his fault he remembered this stuff - he just *did*. "Yeah, well, that's why you like me."

"Among other reasons," Brian retorted, his gaze falling to Justin's groin. Grinning, he reached across and wrapped a hand around Justin's neck, tugging him in for a kiss.

Yeah, it was cold and yeah, being in a warm house right now would be great, but - well. There were definitely worse ways to spend his time.

Squawking and smacking his hands together, Gus apparently agreed.

*

When Mel and Linds had knocked on the Jeep window sometime later (Brian had lowered it and smirked. "So, you two munchers finally finished munching?" "Brian!"), things had started going smoothly. Or at least, things weren't so fucked up as they had been.

Everyone had gone back into the house, where Mel and Linds announced that they were thinking of reconciling. Or trying, at least.

Brian didn't seem hugely impressed, passing Gus to Justin. "Look, for whatever reason you two idiots love each other, so you probably should try to make it work. But whether it works or not, the only thing that matters is Gus. I'm not signing away my rights." He didn't say it harshly, just matter-of-factly, looking at Mel. "And I know we had a deal that I'm backing out of. That's my fault. I didn't expect to care about my kid, but I do, and I'm not giving him up. That said..." he paused to look at Gus, before facing Mel and Linds again. "I do think Mel should have some kind of rights. She's Gus' parent, just as much as Linds and I are - probably more so, in my case." A brief smirk flickered across his mouth. "She *should* be able to go see him in hospital if there's ever anything wrong, or legally be a guardian and all that other shit. Now I don't know if there's any way to do that, any legal way for all three of us to be a parent or guardian, but we should look into that. Work something out. Agreed?"

For once, Mel just nodded her agreement. "I...yes. We should definitely look into it. I can talk to some friends who are experts in family law."

"Good. Linds?"

She still seemed kind of shocked. And her hair was a lot messier than it had been earlier. "Of course. You know I want both of you to have a place in Gus' life." Arching his eyebrows, Brian glanced towards Gui. Linds flushed, getting the message. "I was only thinking of...I never would've let someone else be Gus' father, Brian." She lowered his eyes. "I screwed up." That was putting it mildly.

"You fucked up," Brian corrected. "Majorly." For some reason, he looked over at Justin before focusing back on Linds. "But we all fuck up from time to time. Just try not to turn into a crazy lesbian again. Now," he walked closer to Justin. "I'm sure you two still have a lot to 'communicate'," he made speech marks with his fingers, "to each other, so I'll take Gus for tonight and bring him back tomorrow morning. Assuming there's no objection."

Seeing that there *was* no objection, Justin secured Gus into his carrier and started getting his things together. Mel helped him out so it didn't very take long. Linds had already had a bag packed ready to take with her that held practically everything Gus would need. After a few more additions, Justin was hoisting the bag up and throwing it over his shoulder.

Shit, it was heavy.

While they'd been getting things ready, Linds had been quietly talking to Gui - apologising, no doubt. When they'd all come back into the house he'd moved to the dining table, slumped over, ignored, obviously well aware of the fact that there'd be no Green Card for him anytime soon. That situation sucked, but, well - too bad. Justin had other people to worry about, and none of them were Gui.

When they were in the car and Gus had been secured into his seat, Justin smiled across at Brian. "I love watching you take control like that."

Starting the engine, Brian arched his eyebrows. "You do?"

"Yeah. It was totally hot."

He smirked. "And yet you *don't* like it when I try to take control of *you*."

"Depends on the situation," Justin leered. Shaking his head, Brian reminded him to put on his seatbelt and they pulled away. "If you want any help with Gus tonight, I can't make it until later," Justin explained. "I have a shift tonight." Technically it'd already started, but this'd been important and-

He hadn't needed to be there. He hadn't needed to be there at all, and Brian had brought him along.

Deb'd forgive him.

Brian wasn't offended by the offer, shrugging. "I could stand to spend a night alone with my kid."

Justin wasn't offended either. For once, he could stand to spend a night alone with himself.

*

The next evening, Deb held a celebratory dinner - pasta, of course - for the fact that their protest had gone so well. It was the first night Senator Baxter had free since the protest, and she was there as well as most of the usual gang. Mel and Linds were missing (probably still 'communicating'), but everyone else - Michael included - was there.

It'd been awkward for a while. Michael had eyed Brian warily, Brian had completely ignored the fact that Michael even existed, but everyone else was doing a pretty good job of talking around the obvious elephant in the room. It helped that the Senator had no clue about the history, and didn't hold her wine as well as Justin thought a politician probably should. She'd ranted about Bush for a while, but then she was definitely in the right place to do that.

They were all spread throughout the living room, but there weren't really enough seats for everyone so Brian tugged Justin down to rest against the edge of his chair. The pasta was good - really good - and Justin was eagerly wolfing down a second helping when Senator Baxter smiled towards them.

"So - Brian, Justin. How long have you two been dating?"

Justin didn't choke on his pasta, but he did freeze mid-chew.

Somebody's fork clanked against their plate.

The Senator realised everyone was staring at her, but then it would've been impossible to miss. "Oh...I...if it's too personal, I understand, but," she looked at Brian. "You did tell me you were his boyfriend."

Now everyone was staring at Brian.

Finally swallowing his latest mouthful, Justin fought to clear his throat, trying to look unaffected while also trying to stare at Brian from the corner of his eye. "Actually, Senator, we're not exactly-"

"A while," Brian interrupted tersely, dislodging Justin as he got up from his seat. "I need a smoke." Walking through the living room, he dumped his dishes into the sink and made his way out to the backyard.

It took Justin about two seconds to follow him, but shit, why was it always cold when he had to run after him? Brian was such a drama queen.

Still, by the time he was standing next to Brian in the backyard - he was already puffing away on a cigarette - Justin had some idea of what to say. First, deflect and distract.

"So, that's great news, huh? At least Perkins is taking the request to the school board, thanks to Senator Baxter." She'd told them the latest development almost as soon as she'd arrived.

Brian kept staring out at the night sky. "Don't kid yourself. She's using you for money and votes. Then she'll move on to her next cause, the next fundraiser. Then where will you be?"

Brian's attitude didn't bother him. He was scared, acting out. Justin'd seen it before. "She said it's a small victory."

"Well," he shrugged, "don't think that you've won. That it's over." It'd probably never be over; Justin knew that. As much progress had been made and as much *would* be made in the future, people were still people. And people could be ignorant idiots.

Or complete assholes.

"The minute you do that," Brian continued, blowing out a breath of smoke, "you're dead."

That advice could almost apply to dealing with Brian himself. Would he ever be able to get really *comfortable* with Brian? They could go along happily together for weeks - Brian could even tell him to start leaving his own things in the loft, for example - but then something like this would happen. They'd come so far, and then suddenly - BANG. Brian's defenses, and old issues that he sometimes seemed to have overcome, would slam right back up.

Brian hated lables, and being classified in general. As much as he liked to manipulate and control others, he didn't like being *told* that he was something in particular.

"You know..." Justin began, having decided they'd ignored the subject long enough. "I don't think it could be classified as dating." Brian kept puffing. "I mean, what have we really done? Gone to the cinema once, and that was just because it was a birthday present. Eaten in the diner together, but that's just because we were both there and hungry. Sure, we've had sex a lot - like, really a lot - but fucking on a regular basis doesn't equate actual dating, and-"

"I meant what I said."

Justin stopped. Brian wasn't looking towards him. "Huh?"

"At Mikey's party," he paused. "When I introduced myself to the Senator. I said I was your..." Hesitating, he took another drag. "I do kind of consider you a kind of unconventional...*extremely* unconventional..." Brian sighed. "Boyf..." Closing his eyes together tightly, he rubbed at his forehead with the thumb of the hand holding his cigarette. "I fucking hate that word."

Okay, okay. The way to deal with this was the same way to deal with any kind of emotional admission from Brian - play it cool. Justin could *not* overreact. The news by itself wasn't all that shocking - he knew how much Brian cared about him - but it was the fact that Brian had actually said it. Out loud. Where Justin could, like, *hear* it.

Biting his lip, Justin went with it. "Then don't call me your boyfriend. Just call me Justin." Stepping closer, he wrapped his arm around Brian's waist and looked up at him. "Besides, you're way too cool to have a boyfriend, and I don't need one either." That was true enough. It didn't use to be. In the early days after he first met Brian, he wanted a 'boyfriend', a 'lover', something with a definition that he thought would be substantial. That would matter.

Now he just wanted Brian, and that mattered more than anything else.

Lowering his hand, Brian slowly opened his eyes and frowned down at him. "How'd you do it, Sunshine?" he asked quietly. "How the fuck did you break every rule I ever made and still manage to be standing there?"

That one was easy. "I didn't do anything. It was all you."

For about three seconds Brian looked overwhelmingly, heartbreakingly *terrified*...and then his lips were pressing against Justin's, his mouth opening wide, tongue demanding entry into Justin's mouth. The cigarette must've been thrown away and he wrapped his arms around Justin and he was holding on so tightly, so fucking tightly that Justin thought he might scream with it and-

The back door snapped shut.

Breaking away, Justin furtively brushed at his eyes and took a deep breath before looking over Brian's shoulder to see who it was.

Michael.

Shit. He really didn't want to be interrupted right now - Brian's emotions were all over the place and now his fucking were too - but he couldn't always get what he wanted. "Want me to stay?" he asked softly.

Shaking his head, Brian kissed his temple and took out another cigarette. His hands were shaking. "Think this one's gotta be all mine, kid."

He was probably right. It'd been a long time coming. And because he couldn't let it pass by uncommented... "I'm not a kid."

Smirking, Brian kissed him again. "No, you're really not."

Justin didn't ask if he'd be spending the night at Brian's, although he figured he probably wouldn't. Not after Brian's freak-out or whatever the fuck it was just now. And even if he didn't, he knew it didn't mean Brian didn't care about him, just that Brian was...Brian.

Besides, Brian and Michael really needed this talk right now, and given their past history, it could well end with an all-nighter that involved lots of pot and junk food.

Planting one last kiss on Brian's mouth, Justin pulled away and nodded to Michael as he walked into the house. When he was in the kitchen he ignored everything else - the Senator's apologies, Deb's offer of more pasta, Em's offer of wine - and stared through the kitchen window, watching from the inside out.

*

Frustratingly, he didn't get to hear any details of what Brian and Michael talked about at Deb's dinner. All Justin knew was that he hadn't been invited to the loft that night, and the next time he saw Brian he was simply told that the old best friends were trying out friendship again.

Brian wouldn't tell him anything else about it.

The next week or so passed by slowly. Justin still saw Brian, and they still had sex, but things were weird between them now in a way they hadn't been before. 90% of the time Justin usually figured out how to handle Brian. He could get a good read on him, figure out what needed to be done to get him out of a particular mood or funk.

This time, nothing was working. Being cute, being annoying, flirtatious, demanding, stubborn, even doing nothing - no matter what Justin did or didn't do, Brian just kept acting...well, depressed.

Depressed for Brian was not good and Justin started getting anxious, worried he might start drinking again. Em met him on his dinner break for a strategy meeting, where Justin ate his way through two cheeseburgers, six lemon bars, and a months' supply of fries.

"Sweetie," Emmett urged, "there's only enough room for one addict in your relationship. Put the food down."

Sighing, Justin abandoned the latest clump of fries. "Sorry." Em was right - stress eating was a bad habit to get into.

Reaching out to pat Justin's hand, Emmett studied him sympathetically. "So nothing's changed in the last few days." It wasn't a question.

"No," Justin moped, hating feeling useless - it reminded him too much of the early days, when Brian was still drinking. "We still hook up and we still fuck, but it's like he's...not really paying attention." Which Justin might have found insulting if it wasn't for the fact that Brian didn't seem to be paying attention to anything else, either. Stressful though Brian's job could be, his obvious enjoyment for his work was missing, too. "It just doesn't make any sense," he complained, not for the first time. Brian's weirdness had started the night of Deb's dinner. He insisted that his mood lately had nothing to do with Michael, so Justin could only think that it was because Senator Baxter had asked them how long they'd been dating - but it wasn't like that was the first time Brian had ever had to deal with 'relationship' stuff he was uncomfortable with. "Normally when he's uncomfortable or upset about something he gets really pissy for a while, or-" he paused, his mind practically clanging to a halt, and when Justin stared at Emmett he saw that he'd realised the same thing, too.

"Or," Em continued thoughtfully, "he'd drink."

Which he didn't do anymore.

Hopefully.

So when he *was* upset about something he didn't have drinking to fall back on, and maybe being bitchy didn't work all the time...? If that was the case, what was it exactly? Some kind of...

"...coping mechanism?" Emmett asked, practically finishing his thoughts. "Heaven knows even 'normal' people don't always have effective coping mechanisms, and if Brian has developed a new one...well, he's *Brian* so, of course, it'd be fucked up."

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe it wasn't fucked up at all, and Brian was dealing with it at his own pace and Justin was just overreacting. Wouldn't be the first time.

Either way, there didn't seem to be anything Justin could do for now but wait it out. And his break was almost over, so he forced a grin and changed the subject.

Emmett let him.

When Justin left the diner a few hours later, Brian was waiting for him in the Jeep. It was more pro-active than Brian had been about them meeting up lately, so Justin felt vaguely optimistic as they drove off. Brian hadn't greeted him with a kiss, but he didn't usually do that anyway.

Later, after an enjoyable but almost perfunctory fuck, he laid down on the bed next to Brian.

"I'm not going to start drinking again because of this."

Blinking at the words - was Brian psychic now? - Justin turned his head towards him. "Okay."

"That's a promise, Justin."

Brian never broke his promises, and Justin believed him anyway. He should've felt better about the situation.

He didn't. "Okay. Is it...?" His words stumbled. It'd been a while since he'd been afraid of saying the wrong thing to Brian, of being scared of saying something that might risk setting him off. He wasn't used to that feeling anymore.

Brian had changed while he wasn't looking. He wasn't entirely sure who he was in bed with anymore.

Lighting up a cigarette, Brian sprawled back on the bed and blew out a big puff of smoke. A sigh came with it. "I've been on one," he said, sounding resigned. "Exactly one. In my entire fucking life."

"One what?" Justin rolled onto his side towards him.

Holding the cigarette between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, Brian pointed it towards the ceiling. "Date." He enunciated it clearly. "Date. I, Brian Kinney, have been on a date." While Justin stared in shock, Brian lowered the cigarette and took another drag. "And it went so well that I ended up fucking the waiter."

Stunned though he was, Justin still had to stifle a smile.

Brian had dated before? Even if it was just once? Why the fuck had no one told him? True, not everyone would know - and Brian probably would've gone to great lengths to ensure that no one else found out - but given how long he'd known Michael, Debbie and Linds, one of them had to know. Or at least one of them *should* have known. This was vital Brian information that Justin should've already had access to.

"Oh." What else was he supposed to say? "That's...surprising."

"No shit," coughing out a laugh, Brian glanced at him. "Almost can't believe it myself. But..." The smile he'd managed to produce faded. "You'll want that shit."

Was *that* what this was about? Not Brian freaking out about being someone's 'boyfriend' or being accused of dating, but instead freaking out over what he thought Justin's expectations were?

He wasn't so hard to read after all. He just...took a different route. "Brian." Beautiful, gorgeous, *idiot*. "When have I ever said that I wanted to go on dates with you? That I said I wanted us to be boyfriends?" Brian gave him a look and, flushing, Justin understood immediately. "I was seventeen."

Brian seemed thoroughly entertained. "Yeah, 'cause that was such a long time ago."

"Fuck off," Justin warned, embarrassed. "I was practically still a virgin; I didn't know any better. So," he ignored the amused look Brian was shooting him. "Since I stopped being a stupid twink who didn't know anything, when have I ever said I wanted to go on dates with you?"

Sighing, Brian stubbed out his cigarette then propped himself up, sitting with his back against the headboard. "Are you seriously telling me you don't want that? That you wouldn't like to...do date shit?"

Shit. Well, he couldn't really lie about it. There was part of him... "Okay, yeah. I would like to do things with you. Things that other people might consider dates." He shrugged. "It'd be fun going new places with you. But..." he tipped his head slightly. "It doesn't have to be some kind of...requirement. Like...we're in a relationship, therefore we *have* to date. It's not that ritualised, Brian, even though you think it is." Frowning, Justin studied him. "You have a really fucked up view of relationships in general, did anyone ever tell you that?" Of course, this was hardly news.

Groaning, Brian threw himself back down on the bed and grabbed a pillow, covering his head. "Jesus Christ, you talk *so much*."

Shit, what had he even been worried about earlier? Brian was just a big baby. Or a big drama queen. Either one worked.

Shimmying closer, Justin spoke near the edge of the pillow. "The only thing that matters to me is spending time with you. I'm not asking for dates, or monogamy - just you. All I want now is you. Brian. Anything else is up to you." For now, anyway. If Justin started feeling differently - although he didn't see that happening - they'd work that out, too.

The body under the pillow didn't shift, and after making sure that he wasn't about to suffocate, Justin rolled back onto his back. The evening had gone really well, considering how it'd started. He'd been so worried earlier, and now...

"You know, you really scared me before."

The pillow didn't move, but a muffled voice replied, "Now you fucking know how I feel."

It was fantastic progress, of course, but Justin decided not to mention that.

*

Friday night and the boys were all at Woody's. Brian had been doing better, evidenced by the way he was practically molesting Justin next to the pool table.

Not that Justin was putting up much of a fight.

Still, it did feel kinda weird when he saw Michael watching them - Brian and Michael were still re-attempting the friendship thing, but David hadn't been able to make it - and it gave his brain enough coherency to pull Brian's wandering hand out of his pants. "Later, okay?" he promised, and Brian grumbled but gave in.

Turning to face the others, Justin received a wink from Emmett and something disturbingly resembling a leer from Ted. Michael just looked...confused.

As for Steve - who had finally been brought along and introduced to the rest of the gang (Justin wasn't sure yet if the delay in introducing him had been Emmett's idea or Steve's) - he just grinned, apparently happy to be there.

"So Dartmouth, huh?" Ted asked, as Em took a shot and actually potted something. "That's a really good school."

Justin had received the letter earlier today - Brian had even given him a celebratory handjob - but he couldn't really get excited about it. It was cool he got accepted, yeah, but it wasn't what he wanted. "Yeah, but I decided not to go."

Ted nearly spat out his beer. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "I could never be a business major - besides, applying was just to get my dad off my back. I decided I wanna go to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, instead." Justin looked at everyone. "If I get in."

"And here I'd thought I was finally rid of you." Tugging him close, Brian pretended to throttle him.

Laughing, Justin mock-fought him. Brian already knew his plans - they'd talked about it before coming to Woody's. Nothing and no one was taking him away from Brian (although he hadn't actually told Brian that), and fortunately Pittsburgh had a kick-ass art school. "Not until I say so!"

The guys 'oooh'ed and laughed as Brian and Justin kept pretending to wrestle with each other.

"What'll your parents say?" Steve asked.

His good mood fading a little, Justin ended up getting 'caught' facing away from Brian. "I don't care what my parents say. I've gotta do what makes me happy." The hand on his side squeezed.

Lifting his bottle in silent salute, Ted spoke. "Spoken like a true disciple of Brian's."

"The best kind," Justin smiled - and he had Brian's arms around him just then, so he'd be the one to know.

About ten minutes later, the guys started making noises about moving on to Babylon.

"And how about you, Baby?" Emmett addressed Justin, but looked at both of them. "You coming along?"

Justin didn't even need to look at Brian. "Nah, not tonight. Not feeling up to it. But you guys have fun."

Everyone waved or said goodbye; Em departed with a brief kiss to Justin's face. When they were alone, Brian grabbed his sides and turned him around. "If you wanted to go..."

Justin smiled up at him. "I didn't."

Brian wasn't satisfied. "Just because I'm not, doesn't mean that you-"

"Oh yeah," he interrupted, "dancing with five hundred queers I don't know, or spending the night with Brian Kinney." Justin pretended to think about it. "Tough call."

Pinching him lightly on the side, Brian was then apparently struck with an idea. "We could go somewhere else. Someplace you haven't been yet. A very important part of your development as a gay man."

Justin was intrigued, and he'd try anything once. "Sure."

*

Okay, so he hadn't expected the baths.

But, Brian was right - it wasn't someplace he'd been before, and he *was* kind of curious. He didn't think anonymous fucking was really his thing, but he was willing to check it out (and he was kind of hoping that, with Brian around, he wouldn't be doing any anonymous fucking anyway).

After they parked but before getting out of the Jeep, Brian had made absolutely sure that Justin wanted to try it out. Like Brian most of the time, it was kind of sweet and kind of frustrating.

Spending so much time with Brian had pretty much eliminated any modesty Justin had about his body, which was just as well. Inside the baths, the clothing of choice was a towel and nothing else. Telling Justin to keep close (after seeing the looks some of the guys were sending him, Justin seriously had no problem with that), Brian slowly and confidently led the way through the baths.

At first, there was a maze of corridors, filled with rooms - none of them very large. The doors on some of them were shut, and it was easy to guess what was going on behind them. The open rooms they passed were either empty, or had some guy lying on something that wouldn't even pass for a bed, sticking his ass up in the air - just waiting to be fucked by whoever happened to be passing by.

Holy shit.

Instinctively moving closer to Brian, he grabbed for his hand.

"The rooms aren't really my thing," Brian said quietly. "You wanna leave?"

"No." And he didn't. Even though the whole thing was kind of...icky, and just *more* than Justin had been expecting, he still wanted to see the rest.

They were passing by another open doorway, when a guy wearing the requisite white towel around his waist stepped out - and recognised Brian. He was overweight and not particularly hot, and given that Justin wondered how Brian even knew him.

"Brian!" the guy greeted happily. "So, what are you doing here in the Ninth Circle of Hell?"

He nudged Justin. "Just educating a first timer."

Barely giving Justin a glance, the guy all but ignored him. Justin couldn't have been more grateful that he wasn't the guy's type. "See anything interesting?"

"Not really," Brian shrugged. "They all look like markdowns today."

"Hmm..." the guy seemed to think about, absently rubbing at his groin. "There's a tall redhead in 27 with a black leather dildo. He might be a possibility for later."

"I'll keep that in mind." Nudging Justin again, Brian started walking.

"If you get into anything give me a holler," the guy said as they walked away. "I'll be happy to stick a finger in your ass."

And *that* was a mental image Justin really didn't need. "Oh my God, Brian," Justin shuddered openly when he was sure they were far enough away, "how do you even know that guy?" This so wasn't for him.

"Long story," he answered, just as the corridor they were in opened into a large - extremely large - room. Lit in nothing but blue light, Justin could see heaving masses of naked flesh. There were couples, and threesomes, and entire fucking pyramids of naked guys fucking, jacking, sucking, groaning.

His cock twitched and began to harden. He didn't...totally hate this idea. The anonymous fucking in the private room, just waiting with your ass up for someone to come and fuck you - no. Definitely not. It wasn't even the idea of it being a stranger so much, but Justin needed to see who he was having sex with. Needed to see their face, their eyes, even if it was just for a fuck.

Noticing his reaction, Brian's free hand cupped Justin through his towel as he grinned at him. "You like that, huh?"

Justin still wasn't sure. Being faced with so much sex...he was a teenager; of course, he'd get hard. "I don't know yet," he answered honestly, remembering how he would've reacted months ago, saying yes just because he thought it'd make Brian happy. He was glad things had changed. "Let's walk some more."

Apparently, in no rush, Brian walked further into the room, pausing whenever Justin wanted to ogle a particular group of guys.

Yeah, he definitely liked this. He still had his doubts about actually *being* with a particular group of guys, but the watching was good. "I think," he kept looking around, his gaze eventually settling on a guy who was getting jerked off in the corner, "I might get used to this." The guy groaned, turning a little to the side.

Justin froze.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

"Justin?"

The guy in the corner. It was David. Fucking David. Michael's David.

Shit.

*

Brian had said that they should keep their mouths shut - that it was David and Michael's business, no one else's, and that they shouldn't say anything.

Of course, that didn't mean Brian couldn't mock David whenever he saw him.

Well, more than usual.

Justin wasn't so sure. Sure, he and Michael had never really been friends, but if Justin had been in a monogamous relationship and his boyfriend had cheated, he'd want to know about it - no matter how much it hurt.

The next day was Saturday, and after waking up and enjoying a leisurely fuck in the shower (Justin was *so* glad things were back to normal), they decided to head to the diner for a late breakfast. Deb was there, and seeing her made him think of Michael and his head got stuck in the should-I-tell-him debate all over again.

She fussed over them, took their orders and brought them their drinks, and when she left Justin sighed and sipped at his juice.

Brian frowned at him. "What's up?"

Putting the glass back down, Justin shrugged. "It's just kind of...sad, that's all." Brian gave him that What the fuck? look, so Justin continued. "Mel and Linds...Michael and David..." Pausing, Justin made sure Deb wasn't nearby before continuing. "They promised they'd be monogamous to each other, and they couldn't do it. Or at least Mel and David couldn't. I know, I know," he continued before Brian could interrupt, "it's their own fault for promising to be monogamous, that monogamy isn't the be all and end all, that it doesn't necessarily 'prove' how much you care about someone, but..." He looked at Brian. "It *does* mean that to some people, Brian. It is important to some people. And whether that's true or not, it's still kind of what you expect as a kid - that later on, when you're married or whatever, you'll only be with that person. One person. And be happy that way." Only that didn't seem to be true, these days. Justin was fairly sure neither of his parents had fucked around, and their marriage wasn't exactly happy right now.

Mostly because of him.

Brian seemed to get it. "Growing up can suck. Of course..." he leered at him. "Growing up also means you *can* suck."

Unable to stop himself, Justin laughed. "Brian..."

"Look," Brian poured way too much sugar into his coffee and started stirring it. "Life can be shitty. No doubt about it. It's never what it's cracked up to be, and things are never the way you thought they were when you were a kid. But," done with the spoon, he placed it on the table and picked up his coffee, tasting it experimentally, "life also has hot sex. Kids like Gus. And twats named Justin who thinks entirely too fucking much."

Pleased, Justin grinned. "So take the good with the bad, huh?" Brian just lifted his eyebrows. "This feels like something I should be saying to you. Feels like we should be switching roles."

Brian did an intentionally bad job of staring at him blankly. "No, this does not mean you'll be topping anytime soon."

Still laughing when Deb brought their food over, Justin smiled up at her confused expression and dug into his breakfast heartily. He and Brian kept talking and teasing as they ate, and Justin was feeling much better all around when Deb walked up to the table again.

"Hey, Sunshine - a word?" She gestured to the counter.

Turning back to Brian, he shrugged as he stood up. "Be right back." Brian lifted his cup in acknowledgment.

When he reached Deb she was standing on the other side of the counter, and Justin had the ominous feeling that this was going to be another one of those 'you should spend some time at that place where you actually live' speeches.

"So," she looked distinctly unimpressed as she regarded him, "I couldn't help but notice that most of your clothes have disappeared from the house. And once a week or so, suddenly a big pile of laundry turns up." Ohhhhh. "Anything you'd care to tell me?"

He'd started off subtly at first. After Brian told him he might as well move some of his stuff in, he'd brought over just his own toiletries - and stopped using the spares Brian seemed to have in abundance. Toothbrush, shaving stuff (Brian had laughed when he'd seen that. "What the fuck do you need that for?" Justin had stuck his tongue out at him), deodorant. And then he'd started sneaking clothes in. One shirt, then two. A uniform for school.

And then one day he just thought, fuck it, and moved most of his clothes and his favourite CDs in.

He'd been thinking about moving his easel for a while, but decided that was probably a step too far.

Deb was still staring at him.

"Brian kind of..." He felt stupidly happily and stupidly shy as he said it. "...told me I could keep some of my stuff at his place." He'd shared that bit of news with Daphne and Emmett, but had resisted telling Vic. He hadn't been sure how Deb would react, and he didn't want Vic to have to hide it from his sister.

Snapping her gum, Deb just kept looking at him. "He did, huh?" Justin nodded warily, and Deb's apparently severe expression transformed into a huge smile. "That's great, kiddo!"

Well...huh. Okay. Not the reaction he'd been expecting. "I thought you'd be angry."

"Why the fuck would I be angry? Yeah, I still think you should spend more time at my house for your Mom's sake, not to mention mine and Vic's - we miss seeing you around the place," reaching out, she ruffled his hair and frowned as she realised something. "Shit, you need a haircut." Moving her hand away, she kept talking as if she hadn't gone off on a tangent. "But Brian telling you that? That's *great* news, sweetheart. Just don't run into anything too quickly, you hear?" Deb could go through moods faster than anyone else. "And if you do end up actually moving in with him again someday, then you're doing your own fucking laundry. Okay?"

Grinning at the laundry comment (he usually did his own anyway) - and the idea of officially moving in with Brian - Justin nodded. "Don't worry, Deb," he teased. "I'll just get Brian's cleaner to do it."

Gently whacking him across the head, she scowled at him fondly. "Little asshole. And he's a big asshole," she looked over to where Brian was sitting, getting his coffee refilled by Rita. "It was his idea for you to fucking move in with me, and now he's the one taking you away from me."

Uh, what? Justin frowned. "I thought Em was the one who told you I needed a place to stay."

Surprised, she looked back at him. "No, Sunshine, it was definitely Brian. You didn't know?" He shook his head. "Typical." She rolled her eyes. "Well, it must've been right after you moved out of his place after whatever the fuck happened between the two of you - I'm guessing now that it had something to do with his drinking?" Justin nodded quietly, but didn't give anything else away. He knew Deb would still love to know all the details. "Well, he gave me a call and told me that something had come up and you wouldn't be staying with him anymore. Said that, if I didn't mind, maybe you could stay in Mikey's old room. Offered to help out with money if I needed it - not that I did." Pausing, she looked off to one side as if trying to remember something. "I ripped him a new asshole for kicking you out - or at least that's what I thought he was doing." She frowned. "He sounded like shit."

This was another one of those times when Justin didn't know if he wanted to hit Brian or hug him. It wasn't such a huge thing, really, but all this time he'd thought Emmett had been the one to contact Deb and...okay, so it was pretty huge. At the time he'd recently handcuffed Brian to his shower and forced him through withdrawal. Brian should've fucking *hated* him, but he'd still called Deb and...

Justin was all set to go running through the diner and throw himself at Brian, when Vic was suddenly standing next to them.

"Justin! Just the young man I was looking for."

He was still kind of occupied with Brian, trying to see him over Vic's shoulder. "Huh?"

"Actually, I was looking for you, sis, since I figured you'd have more chance of seeing him these days," he winked at Justin, who was finally paying attention - and feeling a little guilty. "But since he's actually here..." he held out an envelope Justin hadn't noticed he'd been carrying. "This just came in the mail."

Taking it from him, Justin frowned at the stamp in the top left-hand corner.

PI
FA
Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts

His whole body froze.

This was it. This was the one they'd been waiting for. Vic and Deb had been ecstatic when he'd got into Dartmouth, but they knew that PIFA was the college he really wanted. And the answer was right there, waiting inside the envelope.

"Well?" Deb urged. "Open it already!"

"I...can't." And he couldn't. There was so much riding on it. And for once it had nothing to do with Brian, or being near him, or what was convenient - as much as that was all true. Justin *wanted* this. He wanted it because he fucking loved creating, and art, and he wanted to take these courses and go to this school and if he didn't get in he knew he'd be devastated. He could take art at other colleges, but PIFA had been at the back of his mind ever since he'd first started thinking about college years ago.

He wanted this. For him.

"You do it."

Cursing, Deb snatched the envelope out of his hand and ripped it open, taking the letter out. Eyes quickly flicking over and reading the contents, she paused and slowly looked up at him.

Justin bit his lip.

Deb smiled. "Congratulations, Piccaso," she said, turning the letter towards him so he could read it.

We are pleased to...

Someone was yelling - it might've been him - and Deb was laughing and screeching and hugging him from the other side of the counter, and Vic was grinning and patting his shoulder and then Brian was there, frowning at everyone.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Brian!" he yelled, grabbing the letter from Debbie and practically jumping him right there in the middle of the diner. "Brian! I got in! I got in to PIFA!" And he was grabbing on, and Brian was holding back onto him so hard, and Justin was gonna show Craig Taylor what a great big fucking success he was gonna be.

"Told ya," Brian murmured, not letting go, his hand twisting up the back of Justin's shirt, "told ya you were a fucking genius." And he had. Ever since he'd mentioned applying to PIFA Brian had told him he'd get in, that he was good enough, and when Brian gave his opinion on something it was never anything but the truth.

Completely unable to stop grinning, Justin lifted his head and kissed him. He was going to PIFA, and his *boyfriend* who was maybe-kind of-sorta-possibly-eventually getting used to that term, loved him so fucking much.

Sometimes, it was really fucking good being Justin Taylor.

*

His good mood stayed for the rest of the day.

It being Saturday, Brian said they should do something to celebrate - Justin's choice. It was a pretty big step for Brian, so Justin kissed him and said he wanted to go to the Carnegie Museum of Art.

He'd seen some of the current exhibitions before, but the last time he'd gone there with Mom she'd wanted to look at the permanent collections. Ths time he ended up spending most of his visit in an exhibition called Folds, Blobs and Boxes, which was about the use of computers and software, and how they'd changed animation techniques and the way architects designed buildings. It only increased his interest in animation more, and he rambled on about it for ten minutes until Brian pulled him into a toilet cubicle and fucked the words right out of him.

For lunch, they went to Justin's favourite restaurant, and afterward - even though admission to the Museum of Art included admission to the Museum of Natural History - Justin wanted to visit The Andy Warhol Museum instead.

Warhol wasn't his favourite artist so he hadn't been there for a while - but frankly, he didn't want to look at the art. The museum ran a Weekend Factory where members of the public could try experimenting with some of Warhol's techniques themselves, and Justin was determined to get Brian to try it.

It took some convincing. Brian hadn't seemed too resistant to the idea until he saw a young girl - she must've been around eight years old - laughing as a helper and her parents helped her design her own t-shirt. From the looks of things, she'd been there before, and had probably come to the museum for the same reason Justin had.

After that Brian flat-out refused to make his own shirt, and Justin only got him to give in after bartering t-shirt making for four blowjobs and a fuck in any place of Brian's choosing.

Still, that didn't stop him from glaring at Tracey, who talked them through and showed them the screen-printing process - Justin already knew how it worked but it was still fun seeing it in action. Of the faces available, Brian opted for Debbie Harry. Justin couldn't decide between Madonna or Warhol himself for a while, but eventually went with Madonna.

Brian got all anal about Debbie Harry's face being at a particular angle, and by the time they paid for the t-shirts, Justin thought he might even have been enjoying himself.

Before they'd left the diner Deb had informed them in no uncertain terms that they were *not* missing dinner at her place tonight. She wanted to celebrate Justin getting into PIFA too, so when they left the museum at quarter to five - just before closing - they decided to drive straight over to Deb's. That meant they were early, of course, so Brian suggested they do *something* to pass the time.

Vic laughed as they ran up to Justin's bedroom.

"Is this the fuck I owe you?" Justin asked, falling onto the bed and pulling at Brian's pants.

"No." Batting his hands away, Brian grabbed his wrists and climbed on top of him. "That fuck will be a *lot* more creative."

Two minutes later when Brian had his tongue up Justin's ass, Justin didn't think things could get much more creative.

One extremely enjoyable fuck later, Justin was lying on top of Brian. Brian had both arms around him, holding him still, and every now and then Justin happily rubbed his nose against Brian's chest. Just because it was there.

"This," Justin yawned, "may have been the best day of my entire life." He seriously wasn't exaggerating. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. Maybe a night at Em's?

"You're easily pleased," Brian snarked, but not cruelly.

Not moving his head, Justin reached a hand up and felt around until he could tug gently at Brian's hair. "I know you had a good time."

Brian moved his head. "It was okay." High praise from Brian Kinney. "And leave my hair alone."

Grinning into Brian's chest, Justin released his hair and dozed off.

It was Vic who roused them sometime later, warning them that they should get dressed unless Justin really wanted his mom to see his bare ass.

He pushed himself up immediately, using Brian as a fulcrum (Brian groaned and told him to move his fucking hand from his chest). "Mom's here?"

And his mom *was* there. He probably should've realised Deb would've invited her to celebrate this, but he'd honestly only expected anyone from the usual gang to turn up - he'd been planning on telling Mom about PIFA in person the next day.

Cleaned and dressed, he greeted her as he jogged down the stairs. "Hey, Mom."

Smiling - a little emotionally? - she held out her arms as she moved towards him. "Sweetheart." Justin didn't hesitate at all, falling into the hug easily. "Congratulations, honey. I'm so proud of you."

Beaming, he hugged her back. "Thanks, Mom." A few months ago, her approval...well, he still would've wanted it, if he were completely honest with himself. But lately, it meant more.

Pulling out of the hug eventually, he was still smiling as he looked at her face. She was smiling too, but she also still seemed emotional - too emotional - her eyes watering. The PIFA thing was pretty big news, but not *that* big, and he found himself frowning. "Mom? Is everything-?"

The doorbell rang, and the onslaught began.

Everybody turned up.

Everybody consisted of Emmett, Steve, Ted, Mel, Linds, Gus, Daphne - even Michael. The only people who weren't there was Molly - who was spending the night at a friends house - and David. Given that he and Justin had barely ever talked to each other, *and* what they'd seen him do in the baths the previous night, it wasn't really a surprise.

Justin, though, was surprised at how many people had turned up - it was more than had even shown up for his birthday. Some people he'd definitely expected - Em and Daph, and Michael trying to make things right - but he was still kind of stunned.

This time Deb had laid out a buffet - it seemed she could arrange anything at the last minute - telling everyone to help themselves and talk with each other. The big group had broken off into smaller groups, and Justin found himself talking with Mel and Linds near the kitchen. "Seriously," he told them, "it was really nice of you guys to come, but everyone's making a bigger deal out of it than I expected. It's kind of weird."

"Oh, sweetie," Linds explained, holding Gus, "to be honest, we felt so bad about not being here for your eighteenth." She flushed a little, flicking her gaze towards Mel. "We let out own issues get in the way of how we should've been treating our friends." Surprised, Justin lifted his eyebrows. Maybe they'd been going to therapy or something. "And in a partial attempt to rectify that..." she looked at Mel again, properly this time, and Mel nodded.

Walking to the front door, Mel returned with a wrapped *something* that was obviously a gift. "This is for you. Congratulations."

Taking it from her, he stared at it, his fingers itching to rip at the wrapping paper. It was pretty big. "You didn't have to-"

"Just open the damn thing," she grinned, apparently knowing him better than he thought.

Kicking Daphne out of her seat, Justin sat down and eagerly ripped the paper off. It was a box made out of wood, and he began to suspect what it was even before he opened it.

It was a box for holding and carrying art supplies, and it was filled to the brim with everything he could've wanted. Pens, art pencils, paintbrushes, tools - the better quality stuff, too. It couldn't have been cheap.

"It's what all great artists get," Mel assured him. "Lindsay knows these things."

Lindsay smiled, watching him as he kept staring at the contents. "I know you want to get into computer graphics and animation, but first you're going to have to study all the traditional techniques - still life, life class, composition - because no matter what you eventually do, you need to have solid, classical training."

"Even Picasso knew how to draw people's eyes in the right places," Mel smirked, raising her glass of wine.

Wow. He...he was kind of stunned that they'd done this. Closing the box, he ran his fingers over it and smiled up at them. "Thank you, guys. So much. You really didn't need to-"

Raised voices interrupted, making the three of them - and no doubt everyone else - turn to stare. Emmett and Ted had been standing by the stairs, talking, but something had obviously happened because now they were at each other's throats. Justin had never seen them argue before - it was one of those things he'd never expected to see, like his parents having sex.

After Em yelled, "He's fucking using you!" Ted stormed to the front of the house and grabbed his coat from the rack. "Sorry, Justin," he said, opening the front door. "I have to go. Congratulations." Opening the front door, he slammed out of the house and left the rest of them standing in surprised silence.

It didn't take Steve long to reach Emmett's side, and Justin stood up, shoving the box back into Mel's arms. "Sorry, I'll be right back." Conversation slowly started up again - they were probably all speculating about exactly what was going on - and Justin quickly reached Emmett, touching his arm. "Em..." He managed a small smile for Steve. Steve nodded back.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Em replied, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to cry or kick the shit out of something. "I didn't mean to ruin your party, I-"

"Forget about the party," Justin ordered. "What's happening?"

Straightening his shoulders, Em definitely looked now like wanted to kick the shut out of something. "At Babylon last night we ran into Blake," Justin frowned, not recognising the name. "The tweaked-out tramp who put Ted in a coma?" Ohhh. Shit. He nodded, and Emmett continued. "He OD'ed of course, and Ted ended up spending all fucking night with him at the hospital. Now, *now*," he almost yelled, "Blake's *living* with him. Teddy took home his latest pet project - the guy who almost killed him. That's why he left. Not because we argued, but because he has to make sure the little fucker hasn't OD'ed in the fifty minutes he's been gone." Quickly gulping down the last of his drink, Emmett stared angrily at the glass. "I need another fucking drink."

"I'll get it," Steve offered, taking Emmett's glass and disappearing into the kitchen.

"It'll work out," Justin told Em, hoping like fuck that was true. He couldn't really judge Ted's behaviour, but he was worried things would go badly. "You'll see."

Vic showed up then, and Justin decided to leave them alone so he could work his magic on Em. With a last squeeze of Em's arm, Justin joined Steve in the kitchen.

"Hey, Steve?"

He was busy pouring more wine into Emmett's glass. "Yeah?"

"You gonna be okay with this?" The truth was, he still didn't really know Steve. And though the guy obviously cared about Emmett, dealing with everything that came with Emmett - like how much he cared about Ted - could've been daunting.

Placing the bottle back on the counter, Steve turned and smiled at him. "Yeah, I've got him."

Feeling better, Justin smiled too. "Good. If he needs some space or just wants to be alone later, my room's just upstairs."

Steve frowned at him. "You don't live with Brian?"

Uhhhh...huh. "Not exactly." *Huh*. "You thought I lived with Brian? I thought Emmett would've told you-"

"Emmett doesn't tell me much about you guys," he shrugged, not unhappily. "At least not about the two of you together. I'm having to figure out the Brian and Justin puzzle all by myself," he finished with a grin.

Just then, Brian stepped into the kitchen. So far he'd mostly been talking with Michael, but now he apparently wanted to interrupt. "So many have failed," he declared, wrapping an arm around Justin's neck and pulling him closer. "Hey, kid."

"I'm not a-"

"Right," Brian said, and kissed him. By the time they parted, Steve was long gone.

Justin sighed. "You really don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Mark your territory. It's not like I'm interested in him or he's interested in me."

Brian all but huffed. "I was not-"

"Right, Brian. Next time you might as well pee on my leg."

Clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Brian eventually produced a response. "Sorry, Sunshine. I'm not into golden showers."

Ewww. "That's gross." Turning to face him, Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's torso and closed his eyes, pressing the side of his face to Brian's chest. He sighed. "I like it here."

Brian nudged the top of his head with his chin, his arms going around him. "What's up with Ms. Emmett?"

Justin sighed again. "Seems Ted is hooking up with that guy who put him in a coma."

"Shit," he said, although it sounded more like a statement of his belief in Ted's stupidity than actual concern. "Some people never learn. But I guess you finally have something in common with Theodore."

"I do?" Justin asked, enjoying the warmth.

"Yeah. You two just can't stop trying to save addicts from themselves."

Surprised, Justin pulled back to look at Brian's face but didn't release him. The words hadn't been said harshly, and Brian was staring down at him with a vague smile on his face. Justin matched it. "Lucky for you, huh?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. Justin dug his fingers into his sides and Brian tried to twist away. "Okay, okay!" he gave in when Justin wouldn't release him. "I'm fucking lucky you're a stubborn little shit."

"That's more like it," Justin said, and kissed him.

*

After things calmed down - and Emmett drank more wine - Justin found himself talking with Daphne, then Deb, then Michael. Brian tagged along the entire time, and through it all he seemed intent on driving Justin crazy. Subtle gropes, little squeezes, fingertips grazing against exposed skin; he remained plastered to Justin's side.

Brian was obviously horny, and before long Justin was too.

Telling Michael he needed to use the bathroom, Justin made his way upstairs. He hadn't even looked at Brian before leaving, knowing he'd get the message, and waited in the hallway upstairs. What felt like eons later - but was probably only a couple of minutes - Brian finally came upstairs too. Normally the two of them didn't really try to hide it when they went off to fuck, but with Mom there...well. He didn't want to freak her out *too* much.

Keeping his back pressed up against the wall Justin didn't move, smirking and lifting his eyebrows as Brian stepped closer. "It's about-" Brian shut him up by kissing him, and as that was usually the best way they communicated, Justin didn't really have a problem with it.

It still amazed him, sometimes, that it could be like this. They'd already fucked that day - more than once - but sometimes it still flared up like this, like they hadn't seen each other for months, and anything that got in the way - clothes, walls, furniture - wanted to be ripped apart, torn to pieces, just so they could *be* together.

When Brian started working on the zipper to his cargo pants, some shred of sanity thread through Justin's brain. "Bedroom," he breathed, ending that particular kiss, "bedroom."

Brian all but picked him up by the waist, and in a matter of seconds, Justin felt his back hitting another wall - this one inside the bedroom, just by the still-open door. Justin's shred of sanity only went so far and for him, that move was good enough, so they kissed again and he started working at the buttons on Brian's jeans.

He got the jeans down just far enough and tugged his own pants down, stepping out of them. Brian had already fished a condom and a small packet of lube out of his pocket, so Justin took the condom from him and ripped it open, quickly rolling it over Brian's cock. Opening the lube himself, Brian hoisted Justin's legs up, gripping his thighs, and Justin went with him, obediently wrapping his legs around Brian's waist.

Meeting Justin's gaze, holding it, Brian pushed one lubed finger inside, then two. Though they both loved rough sex, Brian had always warned him how easy it was for something to tear and always took preparation seriously.

Justin couldn't object to the fact that Brian's cock wasn't inside him right away - the fingers felt fucking good, and when a third one was added, he groaned and tipped his head back. Apparently taking that at his cue, Brian withdrew his fingers and lined up his cock. Justin's back was arched pretty far away from the wall to make it work, but as Brian's cock inched inside and Brian kept staring at him, it was so fucking worth it.

After pausing for a moment, it didn't take them long to find their rhythm. They'd been doing this for what felt like forever now, and sometimes sex with Brian came to Justin easier than anything else - even art. But then maybe this was art as Brian hit his prostate, making him groan. Maybe this was the most creative thing he'd ever do.

Before long Justin started shaking, feeling like he was about to fly apart. Sometimes it was almost *too* visceral.

His right hand flew out, trying to find something to hold onto, something to ground him. His arm stretched above him, palm facing the wall; he ended up gripping onto the strip of wood around the door frame. He was barely clinging on, fingertips digging in, and Brian just kept fucking him.

They fucked for what seemed like forever, grunting and panting, rocking together, Justin's left arm wrapped around Brian's neck; Brian's hand around Justin's cock.

He felt it start then, felt the tingle in his balls, how they started to draw up. His right hand scrambled for purchase but there was nothing more to hold onto, and when his hand slipped Justin threw back his head and came.

Kind of dazed, he managed to wrap both arms around Brian and whispered dirty things in his ear until Brian shuddered, groaning, and filled the condom.

Both heaving for breath, they shared some small, post-coital kisses. Justin's back was starting to burn in protest so he nodded down to where they were joined and Brian got the message, holding on to the end of the condom and carefully pulling out. Unwrapping his legs, Justin let them slide down, sighing when the pressure was taken off his back. That wasn't a position he'd be able to fuck in when he got older.

Tying the condom off, Brian threw it into the small trash can by Justin's computer desk before moving back for another kiss. Closing his eyes, Justin returned it, sliding his hands into Brian's hair-

"Justi-OH!"

Fuck. "Mom!" Moving completely on instinct, Justin shoved Brian away and pulled up his cargo pants, zipping them up quickly. He waved frantically at Brian to do the same, but he needn't have worried - he was already buttoning his jeans up.

As for his Mom, she was now standing in the hallway with her back to the bedroom, her right hand up over her mouth.

Shit, if she'd come looking for him one minute earlier...

"Uh, Mom?" She wasn't even looking at him and he was blushing. This ranked right up there in the list of things you never ever wanted to happen.

"Sorry, sorry," she practically forced the words out, her hand moving away from her mouth. "I just needed to talk to you privately, and I thought you were alone. I thought...I would never have come up here if..."

"Sorry," he bit his lip, not entirely sure what he was apologising for. It wasn't like he and Brian weren't allowed to have sex. "But...you knew I was gay. That I had sex with-"

"There's a difference between knowing it and seeing it," she said haughtily and Justin flushed again. Yeah, she had a point. She might've become somewhat used to the idea, but seeing it in practice was a different thing altogether.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, meaning it this time. Glancing at Brian who was frowning heavily at Mom's back, he spoke again. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Oh," she faltered, "I..."

"Tell you what," Brian interrupted, "I'll get out of your hair." Shooting Justin an oops look that showed he wasn't bothered about getting caught at all, Brian stepped out of the room, carefully passing Mom without touching her.

Long after the sound of Brian's footsteps on the stairs had faded, Mom slowly turned around. "Well," she began awkwardly, "I can't say that's something I ever expected to see."

Scratching the back of his neck, Justin ducked his head. "Uh, yeah."

"But..." Taking a step into the room, she licked her lips. "Is he...good to you, honey?"

Lifting his head, Justin frowned. "Of course he's good to me. I wouldn't be with him if he wasn't."

"No. No, I mean...is he good to you...in bed? Is he a generous lover?"

Holy shit. He was so not having this conversation. "Mom!" He had to give her credit, though, for even bringing the subject up after what she'd just seen. Things'd changed a lot. He couldn't imagine her even asking that just a few months ago.

"Justin," she urged, "I just want to make sure. I know you love him and want to make him happy, but I know better than anyone that sacrificing your own needs-"

Wincing, Justin held his hands out in front of him. "If you tell me *anything* about your sex life with Dad, I will walk out of this room and never talk to you again. Look," he continued, especially eager to get away from that particular subject, "there's nothing to worry about. I promise. Brian is a very, very," extremely, unbelievably, "generous lover. Okay?" God, his life was weird. His mom had just caught them practically having sex and instead of complaining that they had sex at all, she just wanted to make sure that it was good.

Looking relieved, she nodded. "Okay."

Sighing, he lowered his hands. "What did you wanna talk about?" Please, God, nothing else about his sex life.

Expression falling, Mom looked incredibly sad for a few moments - like she had earlier - and then he could practically see her resolve kicking in, see how she was holding herself a little bit taller. "I...put the house on the market today."

Justin hadn't expected to hear that at *all*. "Our house? The house I grew up in?" She nodded. "You're selling the house? Why?"

Glancing off to one side, she started fiddling with her wedding ring. "I...we..." she sighed.

He had a bad feeling about where this was going. "Mom?"

Clearing her throat, she met his gaze. "Your father and I...we're getting a divorce."

He'd almost been expecting it, but that didn't stop his stunned sense of disbelief. "Divorce?" he stared at her.

She went on about how neither one of them were happy with each other anymore, how it wouldn't be right for them to lie to themselves and everyone else by staying together. That sometimes ending a relationship was the right thing to do, the best thing for everyone. "But that doesn't mean that we don't love you," she finished, pulling him into a hug. "We will always, always love you, Justin. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, okay," he said, too stunned to say anything else as he clung onto her. He had his doubts about Dad, but he knew Mom would always love him.

Shit. Divorced? He knew they'd been having problems, but that'd only really started after he'd come out. Maybe this whole thing was his fault...

"There's something else," she began again, pulling away but holding onto his forearms. "I think it's wonderful that you got in, sweetheart, but I had no idea you'd even applied to PIFA."

Yeah, he hadn't told anyone in his family about that one. "I didn't wanna tell you until I knew. They get over two thousand applications, but there's only seventy openings - and I got in!" His happiness at getting in flared up again, dispelling some of the bad news.

She smiled at him. "I always told you, you were gifted, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

She hesitated, her smile fading. "But what about Dartmouth?"

"Oh, I'll just write them and tell them that I'm not going." There was no way he could go to school there - it wasn't for him.

Pausing, Mom studied him. "Justin, your dad's expecting you to go."

"Because he went there?" He could never be that kind of businessman. "Besides, what does it matter anymore if you guys are getting a divorce?"

"Sweetheart," she pleaded, "he's still your father, and I just want what's best for you. I know how much you want to be an artist, but do you have any idea how hard it is to make a living?"

"Yeah," he nodded, knowing it wouldn't be easy, "but it's what I'm gonna do. What I've always wanted to do."

Mom sighed. "You'll have a hard time convincing him that."

He'd been hoping she might be able to convince Dad herself, but now that they were getting a divorce...shit. Shit! His entire good day was getting entirely fucked up. His parents were getting a divorce, and now he might not be able to go to PIFA. "I can't believe you told me this today," he complained, his anger building.

"Justin, I wasn't about to keep any secrets from you. If there's one thing I've learnt-"

"Couldn't you just let me be happy?" he demanded, pulling away from her. "Or maybe because you're not happy, no one else can be either."

"Justin!"

Couldn't believe this, couldn't believe this. He knew he was overreacting, but he really thought things were getting better.

This was supposed to be the best day of his life.

Pulling away from her, he stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. No one really noticed, too absorbed in their own conversations, but Brian saw him immediately, following when Justin headed to the back yard.

It was cold out, as it fucking always was, and Justin glared at his visible breath.

"What happened?" Brian asked, and it all came out.

Justin ranted about his parents getting divorced, and Mom talking about their sex life and oh, he wasn't going to PIFA now because his piece of shit father refused to pay for it.

Brian smacked him around the head and told him to stop being such a princess.

Then, grabbing Justin's hand, he led him back into the house.

By now the rest of the gang had realised something was up, and they were all staring at them as they made their way into the living room. Mom was downstairs too, now, and Brian walked right up to her.

"Mrs. Taylor?"

She looked startled, attention flitting between Brian and Justin. "Brian?"

"Look, it's obvious you care about Justin. It's not always easy for parents when their kids come out, but you've mostly been supportive. But you don't, you do *not* get to tell him," he pointed at Justin, "that he can't do what he's always dreamed of just because his father's a fucking asshole. Justin matters more than your beloved hubby," he lifted his chin up. "So he's going to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts - even if I have to pay for it myself."

Justin barely had time to think another holy shit before Brian was tugging him through the living room and out the front door.

Not that Justin didn't appreciate the gesture - being 'saved' and whisked away by his knight in shining denim - but Brian's dramatic exit left something to be desired.

For one, it was fucking cold out. "Uh, Brian?" he said as he was pulled towards the Jeep. "Our coats are still in the house. And the shirts we got at the museum. And-"

"Yeah," pausing by the Jeep, Brian turned to face him with a smirk. "But going back in now would kind of ruin the impact."

"Well...yeah." That was true. And God knew Brian was all about impact.

He nodded. "I have the keys to the Jeep and the loft - we can pick up the rest of our shit tomorrow. Let's go."

Releasing Justin's hand he turned towards the Jeep, but paused and looked back when Justin reached out to grab his arm.

"Brian..." It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, but... "You can't pay for my tuition."

Staring at him for a few moments, Brian nodded back towards the Jeep. "Let's talk about this someplace where my dick isn't about to shrivel up."

Fair enough.

The loft wasn't all that far from Deb's, and when they got there everything was nice and warm at least - no doubt including Brian's cock - and Justin's bad mood lessened a little. At least it wasn't fucking cold anymore.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still pissed off in general.

"You can't pay for college," Justin said immediately, turning as Brian slid the door shut.

Walking further into the loft, he placed the keys on the kitchen counter. "Why not?"

"Because you just can't, Brian! It's not fair. For one, you shouldn't have to, and two, I'm not going to let you."

"Really?" he asked smugly, rhetorically, folding his arms across his chest. "And exactly how do you propose to stop me?"

Shit, why was he in love with such a stubborn shit? "Brian," he tried again, walking towards him, "I can't let you do this. You've done so much for me already, and it's really not-"

"What the fuck have I done for you?" Brian asked seriously, unfolding his arms."Fucked you? Acted like an asshole? Left you laying next to me while I drank myself half to death?"

Taking the last step towards him, Justin grasped onto Brian's arms and met his gaze. "You encouraged me. You've *always* encouraged me with my art, which is more than my own fucking father could do. You took me in when he kicked me out. And after I...moved out of the loft," he hesitated, knowing they were both thinking of endless hours spent inside the shower, "I know you called Debbie. Asked her to take me in." Obviously embarrassed at having been found out, Brian winced and looked away. Justin didn't stop him. "Even then you were looking out for me. But I can't keep expecting other people to take care of me, Brian - I have to take care of myself."

He didn't seem impressed, glancing back at him. "And how, exactly, are you going to pay for college yourself? Sell your sketches for a hundred bucks a pop at the GLC? You're good, Sunshine, but even you can't keep up that production rate."

"So, then...maybe I'll go to Dartmouth after all." Justin almost wished he could capture Brian's expression just then - it was almost comical - but he rushed on quickly, knowing Brian would interrupt at any moment. "If I take a business major maybe I can minor in art or-"

"Since when do you back down from a fight?" Brian demanded. "Since when do you stop going after whatever the fuck you want?"

"Since my parents are getting divorced, Brian!" Turning, he took a few steps away. "Everything's so fucked up. Maybe if I do what my dad wants..."

"It'll what? Fix things? Mommy and Daddy will get back together and live happily ever after?" Jesus, Brian could be such an asshole sometimes. "It won't happen, Sunshine. They're not getting divorced because of you - this is about them. And trust me, divorce can be the best thing that ever happened to you. Fuck knows, if my parents had managed to get off their asses and split up, maybe I wouldn't be the miserable bastard I am today."

In truth, Mom had said something similar - if a lot less colourful. Sometimes ending a relationship is the right thing to do, sweetheart.

Brian was there, suddenly, grabbing his arm and swinging him around. "What do you want?" he asked, gaze boring into Justin.

He didn't back down. "I want my parents to be happy."

"You can't do that," Brian shook his head. "That's up to them. They make their own happiness - and their own pain. The only emotions you can control are your own. Now, again," he kept staring at him, "what do *you* want?"

Shit. Fucking fucker. Fine! "I want to go to PIFA."

"Then *go* to PIFA," Brian shoved him away gently, as to emphasise his point. "Go to PIFA and be a big fucking success and live your life the way *you* want."

Sighing, Justin dragged the palm of his hand across his face. It was what he wanted, but he still wasn't sure about this. But... "Can you afford it?"

Brian smirked. "With cash to spare."

Okay. Okay. But if they were doing this, they were doing this his way - just like Brian said. "Fine. But I want it as a loan. We get Mel or someone to draw something up about a repayment schedule when I'm earning enough money."

"Justin..."

"No," he was absolutely not giving in. "That's the way I want it. If you don't agree, I go to Dartmouth."

Brian gave him a look which Justin translated as you blackmailing little bastard before grunting out, "Fine. But *only* when you can afford to start paying me back. Not a moment before."

"Deal," Justin nodded, holding out his hand.

After shaking hands, Brian muttered something about needing a shower and started getting undressed. Deciding not to go with him this time, Justin sat down on the sofa instead and listened as the water started running.

Shit. He still didn't know how he felt about all this. He wanted to go to PIFA - he'd always wanted to go to PIFA - but he wanted his parents happy, too. Or at least his mom. It was just *weird* thinking of them getting a divorce, that maybe they'd been having problems for years and maybe things hadn't been so idyllic even before he'd come out. If there was the slightest chance...and how was all of this going to affect Molly?

He sat there for a while, mentally arguing with himself over the right thing to do. He didn't even notice when the water turned off, and only realised he was done when Brian's bare feet slapped against the wooden floor of the loft. Peering over the back of the sofa, Justin couldn't help but notice that he looked good. Wearing only a towel around his waist, Brian picked up an apple and fished a small knife out of the cutlery drawer.

Closing the drawer he didn't even look at Justin, heading towards the bedroom, taking the stairs and sprawling onto his front on the bed. Settling in, he lay partially on one side, cutting chunks out of the apple and feeding them to himself.

Justin's fingers began to feel that familiar itch. Within seconds he had the nearest sketch pad and pencil in his hands. As he ran the pencil across the paper the just as familiar joy - and almost contentment - flooded through him, and he absolutely knew he was doing the right thing. He was an artist, and he was going to practise art.

He couldn't make his parents happy - that wasn't up to him. But he *could* go to PIFA.

Because of Brian.

When he was as pleased with the sketch as he could be - Justin always looked over his work with a critical eye, never entirely happy. He knew he was good, but could do better - he placed the pad and the pencil on the coffee table, staring at the drawing for a while.

Having made his decision, Justin eventually stood up. Tugging off his sneakers he made his way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. By the time he reached the side of the bed, he was completely naked. Brian - who had long since finished his apple and placed the knife safely out of the way on the bedside table - lifted his eyebrows invitingly.

Kneeling on the bed, Justin pressed on Brian's shoulder, pushing him onto his back. Straddling Brian's body, towel and all, Justin bit his lip and asked three words: "Are you sure?"

Justin, it seemed, was not the only one versed in the art of emotional manipulation.

"Let me do this," Brian said in a rare moment of need. "Let me do this for you."

There was no way on Earth he could say no to a request like that.

So he didn't.

*

Sleep was shattered the next morning by a loud knock on the door. Both of them woke instantly, groaning, but Justin managed to get out of bed first. Blearily picking his pants up from where he'd left them on the floor the night before, Justin tugged them on and yawned as he wondered who'd been insane enough to risk waking Brian up on a Sunday morning.

He had his answer as soon as he unlocked and opened the door.

Deb. Of course.

Greeting him enthusiastically, she bustled by him with an armload of...well, stuff. Dumping most of it on the sofa, she quickly informed him that she'd brought over their coats - which he now recognised - and their shopping and anything else she thought they might need. "Aaaand," she continued, waving a white paper bag around, "I brought cinnamon rolls." Grinning, she moved to place the bag on the coffee table.

The incredibly *greasy* bag on Brian's incredibly expensive Italian coffee table.

Snatching it out of her hand before it could make contact, he grinned. "Uh, thanks a lot, Deb. That was really nice of you. I'll get a plate."

They ended up on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, feasting on the cinnamon rolls together. Justin was waiting for her to get to the real reason she'd come over, and it didn't take long.

"So," she began, "you and His Highness made quite a ruckus before you left last night."

"Yeah," he swallowed some of his milk, feeling awkward. "Sorry I didn't get to say a proper thank you before we left."

Waving him off, she shrugged. "Not like he gave you much of a choice." Pausing, she looked at him. "Your mom left right after you did. I can't say I was happy with the way Brian was talking to her, but...is it true what he said? That she told you, you wouldn't be allowed to go to PIFA?"

It was Justin's turn to shrug, focusing on his food. "She pretty much said Dad wouldn't pay for me to go to school if I didn't go to Dartmouth. But," he continued before she could rant about what an asshole dad was - even if it was true, it was too early in the morning, "I talked it over with Brian, and he's going to loan me the money."

"Loan?" she asked, obviously surprised. "How in the hell did you manage that one? I've been trying to give money back to that kid for years."

"Simple," he smiled, "I just told him that if it wasn't a loan, I was going to Dartmouth."

Barking out a laugh, she thumped her hand down on the counter. "Oh, he's definitely met his match with you, kiddo. You don't let that asshole get away with anything."

Pleased, Justin flushed and grinned.

"Did someone mention asses?" Brian asked, stepping down from the bedroom in sweatpants.

Looking past Debbie, Justin smiled at him. "Just how you're one."

"Well, isn't that lovely," Brian said, coming to pause next to Deb. "You should learn to respect your elders, young man."

He nodded cheekily. "Especially when they're *soooo* much older."

Sighing, Brian glanced down at their breakfast. "I see we have junk food for breakfast. Is it too much to hope that you made coffee?"

"We didn't want any."

"Of course not. Morning, Deb." Moving around the counter and behind Justin, Brian started clunking things around - presumably to make coffee. When the noises stopped, Justin knew what he'd found.

Justin and Debbie exchanged grins.

"Cute," Brian said, turning on the coffee maker - that'd been ready to go. Filled with water, filter paper, and coffee grains. When he stood next to Justin a few seconds later, he kissed him on the side of the head.

Deb gave them this *look* and for a second he was worried she was about to go on about how cute they were, but for once she seemed to think better of it.

"Anyway, Sunshine," she continued, as if they hadn't been interrupted by Brian at all, "I don't know exactly how she broke the news but I know your Mom upset you. Just remember that she's a mom, okay? And us mom's - despite a wealth of evidence otherwise - ain't always perfect."

"That's for damn sure," Brian muttered.

"Hey!" Deb warned. "I'm trying to say she's a human being. And like all human beings," she eyed Brian deliberately, "she fucks up now and then. Now. You," she pushed the plate towards Brian, "eat a Goddamn cinnamon roll."

Sighing, Brian declared it an incredibly unhealthy choice for breakfast - but no one missed it when he ate a second one.

*

Things seemed to calm down for a while, at least for Justin - Emmett was still angsting about Blake. Apparently, there'd been some confusion about a missing wallet - Ted had accused Blake of being a thief, and when it turned out he wasn't Ted felt incredibly guilty and was now even more adamant about helping him overcome his addiction.

As a direct result, Justin was starting to understand just how bitchy Emmett could be.

"I nearly caught them fucking the other day," he huffed, angrily sprinkling salt over his fries. "Right there! In Ted's condo! Where anyone could see!" Justin frowned at the logic. Emmett thumped the salt shaker back on the table and stabbed his fries with a fork. "I swear to God, that little twink has no shame at all."

The whole thing was *bizarre*. Emmett had always been one of the friendliest, most open-minded people Justin had ever met. Sure, he had his bad moods like anyone else, but nothing like this. He was pretty sure Emmett had never actively hated anyone before.

"Don't you think..." Justin began carefully, "you're being a little hard on him?" Wow. Even Brian had never looked at him with that much displeasure before. He didn't know Emmett had it in him. And speaking of Brian... "I mean, Brian's an addict and you don't talk about him like that. You don't worry about what's going to happen to me."

Clanking the fork down against his plate, Emmett lifted both hands up and started counting off reasons on his fingers. "One, you can handle yourself. Two - which kind of relates to one - you've got that man so wrapped around your little finger I wouldn't be surprised if he lets you fuck him by the end of June." Justin blinked. "Three - most importantly - Brian never put you in a coma." Picking up his fork again, he stuffed another pile of fries into his mouth.

Okay. So he may have had a reason. Justin just wasn't sure if the actively hating thing was gonna get Emmett anywhere. Chris Hobbs hated him, for example, but Justin was definitely still gay.

As for Daphne, she hadn't been around much lately. Actually, he was kind of ashamed to admit it, but she hadn't been around much for a while. He'd been so wrapped up with school and work and - yeah. Mostly Brian.

When he realised he made a point of calling her more, asking her if she wanted to get together. She usually had other plans, but when she didn't they'd hang out - usually at the loft (Brian never said it, but Justin knew he liked her). They'd watch movies and lay on the sofa together, and those times when Brian was there too - which was most of the time - he'd pretend to be uninterested until he'd inevitably shove Justin further across the sofa and flop down next to him.

He usually brought pot.

Daphne liked Brian a lot.

On one of those particular evenings, Justin and Daphne had moved from the sofa to the rug in front of the TV, and the two of them lay there giggling about nothing in particular. Brian was...somewhere else in the loft, doing...something.

"Seriously," Daph said, sounding awed, "sometimes I really can't believe that you live here." She was staring around the loft - well, what she could see of it - wide-eyed, as if she'd never been there before.

There was something wrong with that sentence...oh! "I don't actually live here."

"Oh, thhhhp!" She blew a raspberry. "Everything but! But okay." She was quiet for a moment, apparently composing what to say next. "I can't believe you live here except for that one day a week when you feel guilty and spend the night at Deb's." He stuck out his tongue. She grinned. "Someday," she sighed, "soooooooomeday my boyfriend...uh, the boyfriend I don't have yet. Someday *I'll* have a boyfriend who lives in a palace, and we'll have amazing sex and he'll treat me like a prince. Uh. Wait." She paused, laughing. "Princess."

She thought Brian treated him like a prince? "What alternate universe do you live in?"

"Shut *up*!" she objected. "Lemme have my fantasy."

Brian came back into view, looking down at them. "Hello, kidlings."

They looked back up at him. "Hi, Brian!"

"Where'd you go?" Justin asked.

"I forgot to open the mail," he replied, sitting down next to him, shoving a letter right into Justin's face. "Check it out."

Fumbling for the letter, Justin propped himself up on one arm and started reading it. Thankfully his eyesight was excellent, and... "Atlas Awards?"

Nodding smugly, Brian was practically preening. "I got nominated. They're the most famous awards in the business."

"What did you got nominated for?" Daph asked. Justin was still reading the letter.

"General excellence and use of innovative tactics in the advertising industry." Quite unsurprisingly, he'd memorised it word for word.

Justin started grinning. "Brian, that is *so* cool! Congratulations!" Pushing himself up to his knees, he threw the letter to the floor and flung his arms around Brian's neck. Obviously caught off guard, Brian started downplaying the whole thing. He could brag about himself, but the moment anyone else seriously did, he didn't like it - a practise that hadn't escaped Justin's notice. "No," he interrupted, pulling away but not letting go, "Brian, this is fantastic! It's great news, you have every right to be proud."

Naturally, Brian changed the subject to sex. "How about you help me celebrate?" he teased, fingers inching down the back of Justin's pants.

"Umm," Brian kissed him, with tongue, and arousal passed through Justin's body in a slow roll. Groaning, he matched his tongue with Brian's, and it was only going to be one kiss, just one kiss, and then Brian was rubbing a hand against his cock and Justin was losing his mind. "Mmm," he tried to object when his back was lowered to the ground, but Brian was grinding against him and it felt really *fucking* good. "Uhh...Daph..." was as far as he got in pointing out that they should stop, because his best friend was right there and watching the whole thing. Probably taking notes.

Then Brian unzipped his pants.

"Oh," Daphne said, happily, "don't mind me."

And that was how he ended up fucking in front of Daphne.

When he woke the next morning and realised what'd happened, he groaned, blushed, and poked Brian until he woke up.

"*What* for fuck's sake?"

Justin wondered how he was going to finish school now, considering the fact that he had to avoid Daphne for the rest of his life. "We're giving up pot, too."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brian glared. "I can't give up *all* my vices. I'd be totally fucking boring."

"Hi!" Daphne greeted sprightly, practically bouncing into the room, and Justin remembered that she'd spent the night on the sofa. "So," she grinned, "who wants breakfast?"

"On second thought," Brian pulled the covers over his head, "maybe that isn't such a bad idea."

Naturally, Justin blamed the whole thing on Brian. After Daphne left Justin stomped about the loft, picking things up and thumping them back down when he was finished with them. If Brian hadn't kissed him, they wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *thump* If Brian hadn't rubbed his cock, they wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *clang* If Brian hadn't told him how fucking hot he was, they definitely wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *bang*

"Jesus Christ!" Brian yelled, snatching a spatula out of his hand. Justin had no idea why he'd even picked it up. "Will you stop taking your hissy fit out on my designer kitchen wear? Look," he started gesturing with the spatula, realised what he was doing, and threw it onto the kitchen counter. "We got high, we fucked in front of your best friend, you regret it deeply. Deal with it."

Of course, before these get togethers with Daph, Justin couldn't actually remember the last time they smoked pot. He knew Brian hadn't been doing any drugs at all since becoming sober, but he didn't know if it was a conscious choice or just because he wasn't at the clubs anymore. When he'd brought out the pot the first time for Daphne, Justin had wondered if it was a good idea, but given the fact that Brian hadn't smoked any for months he clearly wasn't addicted to it like he had been to alcohol.

Justin had never really tried drugs much himself, and absolutely never without Brian. His tolerance for pot was for shit at the moment, so he obviously wasn't in his right mind and could blame it all on what he'd smoked. "Drugs are bad," he grumped. "I'm not smoking pot anymore."

Now Brian seemed amused. "Fine. But pot didn't make you do this, Sunshine." Stepping closer, he backed Justin up against the counter. Justin swallowed heavily. "It didn't take away that much of your control. You still could've said no." Pressing the tip of his finger against Justin's chest, Brian dragged it all the way down his body. Reaching Justin's groin, he cupped him with his whole hand, rubbing slowly back and forth. Closing his eyes, Justin's hands clung on to the edge of the counter. "You liked showing off. You liked having an audience." Rubbing harder, Brian leant in and breathed against Justin's ear. "You *loved* knowing that someone was watching as I fucked you with my big, hard cock."

It wasn't the pot. It wasn't the pot at all.

Justin had his own addiction, and its name was Brian Kinney.

Later, after Justin had come in his pants and Brian had fucked him into the mattress whispering things about setting up a video camera, he rolled over to look at him. Brian had been right about him liking it - Brian knew Justin's body better than Justin did - but...

"I'm still giving up pot." It didn't feel...right.

Brian shrugged. "Okay." He sighed heavily, as if life were one great big trial. "I suppose you want me to quit too."

He'd be lying if he said it wouldn't make him feel better. "That's up to you."

"Like I'm gonna sit around smoking pot by myself," he sounded offended. "How pathetic is that? Fine, fine, I'll give up pot. At least I still have cigarettes." Justin carefully didn't mention his three-year plan to get Brian to stop smoking. "And coffee. Aaaand..." Grinning at Justin he rolled on top of him, lowering his head for a kiss.

Oh, yeah. There was *always* sex.

That evening - after a shower and a major airing out of the loft to make sure the smell of pot had dissipated - Mom arrived. Justin still didn't know how he felt about her coming over. They'd talked since Deb's dinner, but it'd been awkward and hadn't really gone anywhere. Finally one day she just said that she needed to talk to him and Brian about PIFA.

Brian didn't like it. Not that they needed to talk about PIFA, but that the 'mother-in-law' was coming to visit. "This whole thing is so hetero," he complained, trying not to look like he gave a damn what Mom thought of his place.

"Right," Justin teased, "because only straight couples have their in-laws over." The door buzzed, and he turned towards it. "That'll be her."

"Shit, I'm part of a couple," Brian muttered, but Justin figured it was just for show.

Mom liked Brian's place, and Justin couldn't help but notice how her eyes would stop and focus whenever she noticed something of Justin's lying around - a sketch pad on the table, a bag by the side of the bed, his favourite mug on the counter.

Of course, she stared at the bed longest of all.

"So," she said too brightly, taking the coffee Brian had offered her and sitting on the sofa, "Daphne was here last night, right? Did you guys have fun?"

"*No*," Justin practically yelled, panicking. "We didn't do anything! What did she say?" The *last* thing he needed was for Mom to find out that he'd fucked in front of Daphne.

Brian may have been snickering. Justin resisted the urge to kick him.

"Uh..." Mom frowned, staring at them. "I bumped into her yesterday - she said she was coming here." Oh, thank *God*. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine." Now it was Justin's turn to smile too brightly. "So, you wanted to talk about PIFA?"

Going with the change of subject, Mom sipped at her coffee and placed it carefully on the table. "Yes. I..." she sighed. "Honey, I'm sorry about the way I handled things. I just...I know the way your father is, and I didn't want you to get your hopes up-" Stopping abruptly, she started playing with her ring finger - although Justin noticed that the ring wasn't there anymore. Things really had changed. "No excuses." She looked at him. "I fucked up."

Surprised, he almost laughed.

"And Brian," she continued, focusing on him, "Justin's already told me since the dinner at Debbie's that you were serious about your offer to pay. I just...need to hear it for myself. Are you sure?"

He met her gaze. "Yes."

Licking her lips, she nodded slowly. "That's a lot of money."

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Then why?"

Brian didn't look away. "He needs it."

Justin did *not* swoon.

Taking in Brian's words for a while, Mom sipped at her coffee some more before eventually smiling at Justin. "Sweetheart, could I have a moment alone with Brian, please?"

Not at all impressed with this turn of events - he didn't want to miss a single thing - Justin eventually gave in and stropped across to the bathroom. From there he tried to listen it like he had with Brian and Mr. Kinney, but both of them kept their voices low and Justin couldn't hear anything specific at all - just vague murmurs of conversation.

After they were done and Mom had hugged him and left, Justin pounced on Brian right away. "So what did she say??"

"Oh, you know," he smirked, closing the door. "The usual threats. Break his heart and I'll kill you, shotgun wedding if I knock you up..."

"Brian," he wanted *de*tails.

Giving in, Brian smiled at him. "Nothing big. She just wanted to make sure I was serious about paying for PIFA. I told her about our contract - which she wasn't impressed with, by the way. Was worried it wouldn't benefit you until I told her what a conniving little twat you are."

"Anything else?" Justin demanded.

"Nothing much."

Oh, he was *deliberately* being vague. "Brian..."

"Sorry, kid," he shook his head, "it's like doctor/patient confidentiality, only with your mom and a really hot gay guy. Now," he slung his arm around Justin's neck. "How about we head out to Woody's tonight? It's been a while. Maybe we could even try Babylon soon."

Brian was sneaky, knowing the talk of Babylon would pique Justin's interest. Would make him think that maybe he was ready, and Justin would stop worrying about what his mom said and would start analysing and thinking and planning instead.

So Justin let it go for now.

But not forever.

*

Everything went to hell three days later.

Justin should've known it was coming. Things had been good for both him and Brian since the night Mom visited. Justin had had to deal with the whole Daphne thing, of course, but that had mostly blown over in a way he didn't expect at all - the first time they saw each other post-fuckinginfrontofDaphne, they said 'hi' awkwardly about fifty times before she sighed, slapped him on the arm and said, "Will you just get over it, already?"

That was easier said that done but, strangely, it had made him feel better.

At least she didn't keep leering at him or anything.

Brian's accounts had been going well - Ryder had been delighted with Brian's nomination - and when they were alone together things were *good*. They were happy.

They'd been happy when the phone call came, teasing and wrestling on the bed. Given the number of phone calls they received Brian had finally given in a few weeks ago and put a phone next to the bed. He'd been grinning as he reached for the phone, shoving Justin away and speaking into the receiver. "Yeah, what?" The grin was gone in an instant, his face clouding over.

Justin knew what'd happened immediately.

"When?" Brian asked, then nodded once. "I'll be there."

When Brian hung up, Justin wasn't sure exactly what to do. He'd never lost anyone close to him - although, for Jack Kinney, close was definitely a relative term. Saying "I'm sorry," definitely wouldn't have been appreciated.

Deciding on a course of action that usually worked well for them - saying nothing at all - Justin knelt next to Brian and wrapped his arms around him. Brian didn't speak, didn't cry, or offer any explanation at all.

But he did hug him back.

*

The following morning Brian insisted on going to the diner for breakfast. The way he saw it, "the whole fucking world doesn't stop turning just because an asshole like Jack Kinney dies."

That was true enough, and Justin went with him.

Seeing that the boys were already at the diner, they both slid into the booth next to theirs. Justin had no idea how Brian was planning on telling everyone, but it was Brian's dad so it was Brian's call.

As Rita poured them both a coffee, Emmett peered around her to look at them. "Well, someone was up fucking until the wee hours."

Justin winced. Neither one of them had managed to get a good night's sleep last night, and for once it wasn't just because of sex.

Brian made a point of looking at his watch. "Are you idiots here early or are we here late?"

All three of them responded: "You're here late."

"Oh," he said, lowering his wrist.

There was a brief pause, and as Justin was facing them he took the opportunity to watch as the three of them glanced at each other. They clearly knew something was going on but had no idea what - and just as clearly they figured they'd get no answer out of Brian if they asked.

"So," Ted said, eventually deciding to change the subject, "anyone want to see that new Matt Damon movie? I read in a chat room last night that there's a dick shot in it. It's brief, but nevertheless, dick."

"Oh, totally," Em agreed but he seemed distracted, staring at Justin. Justin glanced away.

"What about you, Brian?" Michael asked.

"I can't. I have family stuff." This was it. Justin passed Brian the sugar. Brian promptly poured it into his drink.

"What," Michael sounded amused, "is your sister fighting with her ex-husband again?"

He didn't even stir it, picking up the mug and taking a sip. "My dad died."

Michael sat up straight, eyes wide with shock. "Your dad?"

Ted looked just the same. "When?"

"Yesterday."

"I..." Em was surprised too, his gaze flicking between both of them. "I'm really sorry, Brian." He looked at Justin deliberately. Are you okay?

Justin nodded, grateful.

"He was sick," Brian offered, "it was time." He looked around for Rita. "Can we get some fucking service?"

That was as far as Brian went in telling anyone.

Justin, of course, hadn't wanted to go to school but Brian had already insisted he was going. "Besides," he'd explained, "I'm going to work anyway. What're you gonna do - sit there and watch me work all fucking day?"

So he regretfully went to school. He knew Brian had to go and see his family tonight, but Justin had his own key now (Brian had left it on the counter one day with a note that simply read, This is yours) and would definitely be waiting for him whenever he got back.

And, hopefully, not have to put any drunken pieces back together.

Justin immediately spilled everything to Daphne, and after school the two of them found themselves sitting by the school swimming pool, dangling their legs into the water and watching the swim team practice. He'd had to roll his pants up, but the water felt good against his skin. "If my dad died I don't know what I'd do," Justin confessed. As shitty as Dad had been, he'd probably still be upset.

"Me neither," Daph agreed. "How old was he?"

"Sixty."

"Ancient."

"Sixty's not ancient," Justin argued, thinking of Deb - although he didn't actually know how old she was and she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he asked. "They say kids born today are going to live past a hundred. Can you imagine living to be a hundred?" He'd been about to ask if she could imagine having sex when she was a hundred, but sex and Daphne wasn't a place he wanted to go right now.

"I can barely imagine reaching thirty," she answered, eyes tracking someone - Glen Reeves, Justin realised - as he sliced through the water. Maybe she had a crush.

"You like Glen, huh?"

Turning towards him suddenly, her mouth opened wide. "I...uh...I..." Her eyes flicked all over the place, focusing on everything but him - she was acting unbelievably guilty.

Justin stared at her. Normally she'd just tell him to fuck off, or pretend she didn't like whoever Justin was teasing her about, but this time...this wasn't just liking someone. Was she actually dating this guy? "Daph?"

Slumping her shoulders, she closed her eyes briefly. "Look. Uh. Glen and I..."

She *was* dating him! And she'd never said a word about it! Shit, now he understood how they'd just 'happened' to end up watching the swim team - it'd been her doing.

"Hey, you!" Glen was out of the water already, shaking out his wet hair as he walked towards Daphne.

"Hey!" she greeted in return, carefully getting up to her feet and giving him a kiss.

Justin couldn't have been more shocked if Brian suddenly turned straight.

Glen and Daph said something about studying together, and within a few minutes, Justin was making the journey to the loft in a daze. Daph was allowed to date whoever the fuck she wanted, of course, but she'd never had a serious boyfriend before - and Glen was definitely a hottie. But more than that, he was kinda hurt that she'd never mentioned anything about it. He told her practically everything about Brian and, well, she didn't have to tell him everything if she really didn't want to, but she was his best friend. She could've at least told him she was dating someone. She was practically lying by omission.

By the time he made it back to the loft he'd worn most of his queen out out, and arriving back at the loft reminded him that there were bigger things than Daphne hiding a boyfriend or best friends not sharing their secrets. He gave himself a mental slap on the face.

Changing out of his school uniform, Justin sat on the bed and made a call to Mom. Apparently, she hadn't spoken to anyone in the gang today - the fact that Brian'd told Michael, Emmett, and Ted that morning meant the news would've already been passed on to everyone they came into contact with - so Justin told her what'd happened.

"Brian's dad died yesterday."

"Oh, honey! I...how terrible. Tell him how sorry I am, will you? Is there anything I can do?"

That there was. "I need the day off for the funeral if it's a weekday, Mom. Could you let the school know?"

"Oh, of course, don't worry about it. Just let me know what day it is."

As of that morning, the funeral hadn't been arranged yet, so Justin promised he would and ended the call. Resigning himself to the fact that he needed to catch up on some studying, he munched on some Oreo's as he cracked open some books.

Almost before he knew it three hours had passed, and there'd been no word from Brian. Distracted away from studying now, Justin put some water on, intending to cook pasta. At least when Brian came home he wouldn't have the small added stress of finding something to eat, and Justin was not in the *least* bit worried that Brian had left his mother's house hours ago and ended up at a bar somewhere.

He shook the pasta into the saucepan just as the door slid open. Dumping the rest of the dry pasta onto the counter, he skidded to the door.

It was Brian. Tired, worn-out - and completely sober.

Thank God.

"Hey," Justin greeted, feeling guilty for doubting him, watching as Brian slid the door shut. "How did things, um...go?"

"They went," Brian declared, walking into the loft and dumping his briefcase on the sofa; his suit jacket joining it mere seconds later. "I got to organise extremely important details, like what suit my father'll be buried in. What kind of fucking *sugar* we should have at the wake." He started pulling at his tie, sighing. "And of course the whole fucking funeral. At least Mikey was with me."

Justin bit his lip. "I'm glad he was with you," he said, which was mostly the truth. It was *weird* because of what'd happened to their friendship, but there were parts of Brian that Michael knew that Justin probably never would, simply because they'd known each other for so long. Michael would have seen and heard things Brian never would've told anyone, and that gave him an invaluable insight into the Kinney family.

Justin would just have to help in his own way. "Come on," he said, slapping Brian's hands away and grabbing onto the tie, using it to pull him through the loft and up into the bedroom.

"Justin," he sighed, but didn't resist much at all. "Let go of my fucking tie."

"Nope." Reaching the bed, he released the tie and pushed Brian back onto the mattress. When he was down, Justin climbed on top of him and worked on removing the tie - then started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"You know, I can actually get undressed all by my little self."

"Sure you can," Justin replied, diligently helping Brian sit up and slip the shirt from his shoulders.

"Justin," Brian was still half-sitting up, propping himself up on his arms as Justin worked at the zipper to his pants. "You know you don't need to...baby me. You fucking know better-"

"Is this babying you?" Justin asked, grinning as he wrapped his hand around Brian's cock. Brian shut up and fell back onto the bed, so Justin grinned smugly and shuffled down his body, pulling Brian's pants down further until he could wrap his mouth around that beautiful - and very hard - cock.

He made it long, and slow, and by the time Brian came, it didn't look like there was a drop of tension left anywhere in his body.

Checking the pasta, Justin made sure it was simmering and came back to the bedroom.

Brian hadn't moved, eyeing him as he stood at the end of the bed. "I can't decide if that was a sympathy blowjob or not."

"Nah," lowering himself down and clambering up the bed, Justin settled in next to him. "A sympathy blowjob would've made you scream "I'm so sorry!" when you came."

Snorting a laugh, Brian leant in and kissed him. And then they just lay there for a while, listening to the pasta quietly bubbling away.

Justin shifted. "So when is the funeral?"

"Next Monday," Brian looked at him. "Why?"

"Well, I need to take the day off school and-"

"You're not going," he interrupted, pushing himself up.

Shocked, Justin pushed himself up too. "The fuck I'm not."

"Justin."

"Brian."

"*Justin*."

God, the man was infuriating sometimes, like he could will things to happen just because he wanted them to. "*Brian*."

"Shit!" Turning away, Brian sat on the edge of the bed with his back towards Justin. "You know what my fucking family is like, Justin. I've given you enough hints. They're-"

"Fucked, I know." He scooted closer, almost but not quite touching Brian's back. "You've told me that before. I don't care."

"I don't want them to..."

There he was doing that sweet/annoying thing again. "Brian, I don't know them. They're strangers to me. They can't hurt me."

He was quiet for a while. "You know I'm not out."

"Don't worry. I won't be there as your...Justin. I'll be there as your friend," he finally placed a hand on Brian's right shoulder. "Your best friend." Justin waited silently for a while, unsure if there was going to be any acknowledgment or not. Eventually, Brian's left hand came up to rest on top of his. Smiling, relieved, Justin closed his eyes and gently butted the back of Brian's head with his forehead. "So...really. What was it like today?"

Brian heaved a giant sigh. "A fucking nightmare," he admitted. "I wanted to kill everyone."

"Just as well you didn't," Justin said, teasing. "I have no intention of becoming anyone's conjugal visit." This time, apparently, the teasing didn't work. Brian didn't snap back some witty reply, didn't laugh at the idea. He just kept facing away from the bed, head slightly bowed. Sighing, Justin didn't know what else to do and spoke quietly into Brian's hair. "I love you."

Nodding, Brian squeezed the hand still resting on his shoulder before slowly pulling away.

*

Distracted throughout the next day at school, Justin barely responded to anything anyone said - his teachers probably thought he didn't give a shit anymore. It wasn't until the final bell rang and they walked out of school together that Daph called him on it.

"Are you pissed at me?"

Surprised at the question - and maybe even to realise that she was there at all, he thought guiltily - Justin stared at her. "No."

"Because you've been this, like, major freak *all* day," she babbled. "And I know I probably should've told you about Glen, but I was kinda being a freak about it myself and-"

"Daph," he interrupted, pausing and turning towards her. "I'm not angry. I am upset, though, that you couldn't tell me."

"Sorry," she looked down at her shoes. "You're just so wrapped up in Brian sometimes, and Glen and I never have any major dramas the way you two seem to and-"

"How long have you guys been dating?" he asked, because he *did* get wrapped up in Brian and he really should know this stuff about his best friend. Plus, he was getting the impression they'd been dating for a while.

"A few months," she admitted, flushing. "One day after English class he talked about Sister Carrie and how awesome and tragic it is. Before I knew it we were SMS messaging every night."

Months? Shit. "So he's definitely your boyfriend then?"

"I guess. You, uh...you know the last few dinners at Deb's? Since your eighteenth."

"Sure," he frowned, having no idea where this was going.

"Well, I never arrived with your mom, right? Even though she could've easily picked me up."

"Are you saying...?"

"Glen dropped me off." She seemed almost proud of it. Scratch that - she *was* proud of it, but still cautious.

Justin was amazed. He knew perfectly well how sneaky she could be - she'd just never been sneaky around *him* before. "Why, Daphne Chanders. You are turning into quite the secretive girl."

"Oh my God," she laughed, "you are spending way too much time with Brian."

So not possible.

Nudging her with his shoulder - letting her know silently that she was forgiven - he kept on walking. She joined him. "So, have you done the nasty yet?" Shit. His 'no mentioning sex around Daph' rule was still in effect, but...shit, he just wanted to know.

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, come on, I tell you everything. And considering what you..." he blushed. "Considering what you saw, there's no way on Earth you could feel more embarrassed than I do just because you're talking about it. Right?"

"Well, I guess that's true..." she hesitated before blurting it out, clearly actually wanting to talk about it. "We've fooled around some. He wants to do more, and so do I." She frowned. "I think. Only he's more experienced than I am. And I don't want to come off as a total freak who doesn't have a clue."

Justin could understand that, remembering how nervous he'd been his first time. "So practice first."

"But I've heard horror stories about the first time," she said. "If the guy isn't careful, it can be really painful."

His own first time had been pretty fucking painful. For a while, anyway. "Yeah, I was lucky. Brian went really slow." Justin found himself smiling at the memory. There was a lot that was fucked up about the early days with Brian - but a lot that was good, too.

"That's why I want my first time to be with someone who knows what it feels like," she glanced towards him. "Like you."

He stopped walking again. Pausing too, Daphne kept looking at him before quickly looking away, clearly nervous. Had she just...? Had *Daph* just asked him to...? "You want me to have *sex* with you?"

"Shhhhhhhh!" Running towards him, she clasped a hand over his mouth and looked around, making sure no one had overheard. When she was sure no one was paying any attention, she lowered the hand and whispered quickly. "Look, I know it's a weird thing to ask. But it's...it's scary, you know? And I know you'll do everything you can not to hurt me. And..." she hesitated. "And after seeing you and Brian together the other day..."

Fuck. He knew it, he'd fucking *known* that would end up causing problems. Fucking Brian and his 'it's over, you don't have to think about it anymore' mentality. Ha! "Yeah?" he asked fearfully.

"Well," she flushed, looking away, "I think you could make it good for me."

Not only did she want sex, she wanted *good* sex? Fuck. "Daph, um," how to say this? Oh, yeah. "You know that was *gay* sex you saw, right? Like, two very gay guys having very gay sex?"

"Of course," she insisted quickly.

"And that's not exactly what you'll be doing," he continued. "I mean, I've never had straight sex at all." Quite frankly, he had no interest in even trying it out. He respected women, but he was more than happy going nowhere near a vagina. "I wouldn't know what I was doing either."

"But at least you've had *some* kind of sex," she argued, "which gives you way more experience than me."

Shit, she was really adamant about this. "Daph..." This was just too much to take in at the moment. "It's not that I don't care about you," her face dropped. Fuck. "It's just...I can't think about this right now. Brian's dad just died. He's a complete mess even though he's trying to pretend he's not. His family are a bunch of assholes who don't give two shits about him, but he keeps having to deal with them because of the funeral, and I'm just focusing on doing whatever the fuck I can to help make him feel better. I care about both of you, but..." he didn't want to say it.

Thankfully, she did it for him. "Brian's more important."

He swallowed. "In this case, yeah."

She was hurt; that much was obvious. She was doing that thing where she was trying to smile too much to hide how she really felt. "I guess funerals kinda take priority over sex, huh?"

At least they agreed on that. "Daph..."

"Nah, it's okay," she waved him off, obviously embarrassed. "You're right. Pretty bad time for me to ask, really, with everything that's been going on. I guess I just got caught up in the idea of getting it over and done with, you know?"

Not such a great way to think about sex. "We'll talk about it more when this is all over, okay?" Yeah, he'd just totally fucked himself over there. But he had to say it. "And in the meantime...if you *do* do anything with Glen, make sure you're safe, okay?" Brian had rammed that lesson into him - in more ways than one - often enough.

"Geez, Justin!" Blushing again, she turned and started walking away. "It's not like I missed Sex Ed!"

"Hey!" he ran after her. "If you're doing it you've gotta be able to talk about it!"

"Shut *up*!"

He grinned. Things almost felt back to normal.

*

Back at the loft, things were still most definitely abnormal.

He fell into the routine he had that first night after hearing the news - finished school, arrived at the loft, studied, made dinner. After they'd eaten last night Deb had arrived with about ten different pot roasts and generally annoyed the shit out of Brian. By the time they finally got her out of the loft, Justin had remarked that at least they didn't need to worry about making meals for the next week.

On the weekend - whenever Brian wasn't dealing with his family - Justin declared that they should go out and do something. He didn't care what, just anything that would distract Brian from the upcoming funeral (not that he mentioned that as the reason).

"Sure," Brian eventually shrugged. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

It was more than Justin expected.

When they ended up parking on the corner of Brighton and Jacksonia, he figured out where they were going. "Brian..." he'd meant for any excursions to be for him. "If *you* wanted to do something..."

"And who says this isn't what I want?" he retorted, and started walking the few chilly blocks that'd take them to the Mattress Factory.

The Mattress Factory was another art museum that'd been around since before Justin was born - but with a difference. It was filled with room-sized installations, each created by a different resident artist. The museum completely supported the artists while they were working, and then displayed their installation for a few months. After that, the installations were taken down, and another artist would get to create something in the empty room. As a result of that, whenever Justin visited everything was completely different.

He hadn't been there for a long time - not since before meeting Brian - and mostly he found the current installations interesting. Some of them were amazing, thought-provoking, and some of them...not so much. He may have considered himself an aspiring artist, but sometimes even he didn't know what the fuck other artists were trying to represent.

There was a room filled with trash cans.

And nothing else.

There was no trash in them, they were just...empty.

Was it about the need for recycling? Their over-abundance of trash? Maybe a comment on their lives; how people wasted time with bad TV or not focusing on what really mattered.

Or...they were just trash cans.

"This'll be you someday," Brian said quietly, standing behind him.

Justin stared at the trash cans. "God, I hope not."

"My little art snob," Brian teased, running a hand over Justin's hair. Justin told him to fuck off. "But I mean it," Brian continued, looking across the room. "You'll get your own room, work here for a few weeks and build some artistic shrine to my cock. You'll open to rave reviews and requests for work, and before you know it you'll be flying around the globe."

Justin's throat tightened. Brian had always been his greatest supporter, but the way he was talking now was almost...sad. "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? I haven't even finished high school yet."

When Brian's cell started vibrating - he'd turned it to silent when they'd entered the museum - he took it out and answered the call. Noticing the disapproving looks they were getting, Justin waved his hands to let Brian know they should leave the building.

Outside it was snowing, and Justin wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as Brian argued with his mom. He'd never met Joan Kinney, and already he wanted to smack her silly.

"Fuck!" Ending the call, Brian shoved the phone into his pocket. "I have to go."

Justin nodded, having expected it. "Drop me off at home first?" They started walking towards the car.

"Sure you don't wanna spend more quality time with the trash cans?"

"Hmm," Justin pretended to think about it. "Staring at stupid trash cans or relaxing in the loft where it's warm? Tough call."

"Hey, it was your idea to come out when it's this fucking cold."

Well, that was true. He may not have thought the idea out properly. "But hey!" he yelled. "You got to see that giant paper mache carrot thing that looked like a cock!"

"Truly," Brian snarked, "my life is complete."

*

On Sunday evening it was clear neither one of them was going to be able to sleep. After not-watching a movie and fucking in the shower, they collapsed into bed anyway.

Pot probably would've been a good idea right about then.

Justin had no idea how Brian must've been feeling with the funeral only a few hours away. He just laid next to him, touching him but not smothering him, and kept his eyes wide open.

"Thanks."

Surprised that Brian had spoken at all - and especially the word he'd spoken - Justin turned his head to look at him. He had a feeling what the thanks was for, but didn't want to make a big deal about it. "It was nothing. Deb made it; I just heated it up."

But Brian didn't take the escape route this time, staring up at the ceiling. "For not going through my briefcase, or checking the back of the cupboards. For not trying to smell booze on my breath and sneaking around trying to prove..." he stopped, his mouth opening wide a few times as if to exercise his jaw. "I...it's appreciated."

Stunned - he'd been so wrong - Justin shifted closer and scrunched his hand up in Brian's hair, meeting his gaze. He'd felt guilty a few days ago when he wondered if Brian had stopped at a bar but...Brian was right. That'd been a passing thought; he hadn't actively believed... "You gave me no reason to." Brian didn't seem to be adverse to touching just then so Justin moved closer, letting go of Brian's hair and wrapping his arms around him.

Brian sighed into his neck, turning until they were leaning against each other. "One weekend," he said slowly, "when I was...a kid. Pop took me camping. We pitched a tent and went fishing. I swam in the lake and Pop taught me how to play cards. He didn't get angry once. That was..." the hand that'd moved to rest on Justin's side flexed. "That was a good weekend."

Biting his bottom lip, Justin closed his eyes and held on tightly. When Brian started to shake silently, he didn't tell him to stop.

Justin was crying too.

*

As expected, Brian was a complete asshole the next morning. Justin just ignored it and got ready as quietly as possible. Not only was the funeral today, but last night Brian had done something Justin never would've expected - he'd never even seen Brian cry before, let alone held him while he did.

Not that Brian cried like everyone else. He didn't sob or wail or rant about how unfair anything was - he just buried his face into Justin's neck, and shook.

Justin had admittedly had a few shaky moment himself last night. Sad though he was that Brian was so upset - this his father was dead, that his childhood had been so shitty - and he'd been spending most of his time just concentrating on holding him, making him okay...every now and then he'd realise exactly what was happening and be filled with a sense of awe, thinking, I can't believe it. I can't believe I'm here holding Brian while he's crying, and he's *letting* me.

Of course, the awe would quickly be followed by guilt, and he'd berate himself for thinking about himself at all.

Now, he had the TV on mute and sat on the sofa, clicking through the channels and not watching much of anything. When Brian stood by the end of the sofa - looking beautiful in a dark grey suit - Justin turned the TV off.

"You ready?"

Justin nodded.

"Good. Let's get this fucking over with."

*

The snow had settled overnight, making the cemetery look almost beautiful.

Justin was sure Jack didn't deserve it.

It was, however, absolutely fucking freezing, which seemed to match the temperament of just about everyone there - especially Joan Kinney. She'd barely said two words to her son when he'd arrived, and absolutely nothing to any of his friends. They were all there - Michael, Emmett, Ted. Mel and Linds. Deb hadn't come, and Michael had mumbled to him earlier that it was because she couldn't rationalise pretending to mourn a man who'd treated Brian the way he had.

Other than that, it wasn't a huge crowd clustered around the grave site. Brian's sister, Claire, was crying hysterically (they hadn't been introduced yet, but Justin knew it was her because Brian had told him on the way there that Claire would be crying hysterically). In front of Claire were her two sons - Brian had only ever referred to them as 'the demon spawn' - and other than that Justin didn't know anyone else. Some friends and family members, he supposed, although he couldn't imagine Jack Kinney having many of the former.

Justin didn't like funerals, but then he couldn't imagine that anyone did. He'd only been to a couple before, for distant relatives that his mom insisted they had to show respect to. It was a horrible thing to think, but none of them had mattered the way this funeral did and, most frustrating of all, he couldn't even stand next to Brian.

Not that he'd be able to touch him or openly reassure him anyway, but he wanted Brian to know that he was right *there* if he needed anything - anything at all.

Naturally, the family were all standing next to each other - which couldn't have been Brian's idea. Joan, looking stoic and unmoved, Claire, crying and trying to stop her kids from fidgeting. And Brian. Staring at the coffin like he almost expected the lid to flip open, like Jack Kinney couldn't actually be *dead*.

It didn't happen, of course. Father Wright finished talking, no one placed anything on the coffin, and it was lowered into the ground.

*

The wake was about as exciting as wake's got. Everyone was relieved to get inside, coats and gloves quickly stripped off, fingers rubbing to revive half-frozen faces.

Brian parked himself on a chair pushed up against a wall, and Justin quickly took the seat next to his. Extra chairs had obviously been out out for the occasion and the rest of his friends soon followed suit. Ted and Emmett started murmuring to each other, and Justin took the opportunity to study what he could see of the house Brian had grown up in.

His initial reaction was that it didn't look very inviting. Boring colours, old-fashioned - but not classic - designs. Justin couldn't see a single photograph anywhere, but enough religious pictures and figurines for him to start understanding what Brian's mother must have been like while he was growing up.

Claire came back out of the kitchen, still sobbing as she moved some plates around. Joan walked up to her and, though she tried to be subtle, it was so quiet in the house that Justin heard every word.

"Claire, would you please pull yourself together?"

"Daddy just died, Mother!" Claire wasn't even trying to keep quiet, loudly stacking empty plates on top of one another. "I'm allowed to fall apart."

"Fine," Joan's lips tightened. "Fall apart."

Justin looked at Brian. He was staring out the window.

Clearing her throat, Joan glanced towards her son and the people sitting around him, and apparently decided that was where she wanted to go next. Stepping towards them, she spoke. "I...can't tell you how gratifying it is that so many of Brian's friends thought to come and pay their respects to my husband."

Not a single one of them was there for Jack Kinney.

Her eyes flicked to Brian, but he was still staring out the window. "I, uh...Michael I know, of course." He nodded at her. "And..." she paused, frowning as she studied Lindsay. "Have we met?"

"Lindsay Peterson, Mrs. Kinney," Linds explained. "Brian and I went to college together."

"Of course!" she said in realisation. "The two of you dated for a while. I remember wondering if you were going to get married, but..." she looked at Brian deliberately, "I guess it didn't work out." Thankfully, no one laughed.

"You could say that," Linds hedged.

Joan smiled awkwardly. "So, Brian - who are the rest of your friends?"

Brian clearly wasn't about to introduce anyone, so they started introducing themselves.

"Melanie Marcus."

"Emmett Honeycutt." Em was keeping his natural flame down low for the day, but part of Justin would've loved seeing Joan graced with his full presence.

"Ted Schmidt."

Finally, she focused on him, frowning.

Justin met her gaze. "Justin Taylor. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kinney. I'm sorry for your loss." He'd learnt the art of bullshit well.

"Thank you," she said automatically, still frowning. "I...you're awfully young to be one of Brian's friends, aren't you? Are you a relative of Lindsa-?"

"No," Justin interrupted, because her small-mindedness was starting to grate. "I'm a friend of Brian's."

"Oh," she paused, taken aback. "How did you meet?"

He picked me up on Liberty Avenue and fucked the living shit out of me. By the way, he's been doing that on a regular basis ever since. Justin opened his mouth to make up some story about Brian coming into the diner where he worked, when Brian shifted and drawled,

"You never took any interest in my friends when I was a kid, Mom. Why start now?"

Nostrils flaring, Joan glared at him for a few seconds (so *that* was where that expression came from), before snapping out the words "Ungrateful child!" and whirling away into the kitchen.

Probably to get a drink. Justin had already seen her try and sneak a few shots of brandy.

Laughing twice - poorly - Brian rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his head in his hand.

This place was...soul destroying. They needed to get him the fuck out of there.

Apparently agreeing, Brian suddenly launched himself to his feet and jogged upstairs, giving no explanation whatsoever. They all stared at each other, wondering what the fuck was going on.

When Brian still hadn't come back down five minutes later, Justin went to investigate under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom. Before he left, Emmett grabbed his arm and gave him a don't get caught fucking look.

The upstairs was just as drab and dreary as the downstairs, and Justin found him in what had to be - or was - his parent's bedroom. Standing by the side of the bed, Brian was looking at...a bowling ball.

Justin stepped closer, wary. "Brian?"

Hoisting the ball up higher in his hands, Brian turned it slowly. "This was all I ever wanted from him." He sounded tired. Resigned. He wasn't going to get anything at all from his dad anymore. Picking the bag for the bowling ball up, Brian zipped the ball inside and placed it back on the bed. Leaning into Justin he kissed him long and hard; enough so that Justin almost forgot to be paranoid about where they were.

But Brian didn't care just then, so Justin wouldn't either.

Closing his eyes, he leant against Brian. "Nearly over," he murmured.

"Yeah," Brian said, pulling back and picking up the bag. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Justin really liked that plan. "Anything else you wanna see before we go? Your old room maybe?" He had no idea if it still looked the way it had when Brian was a kid.

"No," Brian shook his head, walking out of the room. "There's nothing for me here. There never was."

Unfortunately, their getaway wasn't as quick as they'd hoped. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire made an announcement.

"Excuse me, everyone. I thought it would be nice if we could all share a good memory of daddy," she turned towards Father Wright. "Father, would you start?"

He was obviously at a loss for what to say. "I...must confess I didn't know him very well. He never came to my mass." Things had to be bad when even a priest couldn't come up with something.

Obviously upset, Claire pursed her lips together and looked around for someone else who might have a story. "Anyone else?"

The silence was resounding but, eventually, Lindsay managed to produce something.

"Uh, it was a while ago; Brian and I were in college. He told me once that I smelled nice. Oh!" she recalled, "and then he gave me a mint."

A really *bad* something.

Thankfully, Michael then cleared his throat and began a pretty detailed story about when he and Brian had gone bowling once - probably inspired by the bowling ball Brian was carrying now. Brian had gotten a strike and Jack had given him a hug, and the whole thing was very sentimental.

Justin wasn't actually sure how true it was, but that probably didn't matter anyway. It was a nice story to tell at a wake, and even if Jack didn't deserve it Michael had done a good job of telling it.

"Thank you, Michael," Claire said, relieved.

Joan nodded her agreement. "That was a lovely story, Michael."

"Yeah, Michael, that was lovely," Brian mocked in a tone of voice that made Justin realise they were heading into dangerous territory. "Makes me want to share some memories of my own. Like the night that he found out that you were pregnant with me," he smirked, looking at his mom before glancing around at his captive audience. "He told her to put on her most *beautiful* dress, took her to the most *expensive* restaurant in town, and then - get this," he paused, smirking, "he leaned over and said, 'Joanie, you're getting yourself an abortion. Because I don't wanna get married or have a fucking kid.'"

Joan's mouth tightened. But as much as Justin wanted her to say something, she didn't deny it.

And although repeating the story in public probably hadn't helped and would make things harder for Brian in the long run, Justin couldn't even think about rebuking him - because the only way he could've known that story at all was if one, or both, of his parents had told him.

Justin had never hated anyone this much. Not his dad; not even Chris Hobbs.

And he'd do everything he could to make sure Brian's family never hurt him again.

*

Back at the loft, they didn't talk much.

As soon as they'd arrived, Brian had walked straight into the bedroom and shoved the bag into the corner of his closet. Justin couldn't imagine it staying there for long - Brian complained all the time about not having enough room for his shoes - but for now, it was out of the way and they didn't have to look at it.

There'd been a message blinking on the machine, so Justin pressed play and Debbie's voice echoed around the loft, telling Brian she was thinking about him, how much she loved him, and that she hoped Joan hadn't been too much of a frigid bitch.

Brian erased it.

Changing into clothes that were less depressing and more comfortable, they ended up on the sofa with the TV on quietly. Brian wasn't watching the screen at all, staring off to one side. Justin wasn't much better, alternating between staring at Brian and quickly looking back at the TV, convinced Brian would catch him and tell him to stop it.

If Brian wanted to fuck he would've tried to already, and if Justin tried anything now it'd probably turn out to be one of the few times he'd be turned down. Talking wasn't about to go down well either - Brian just seemed to want to sit there, thinking.

It was how he'd been acting after they'd been accused of dating all over again - Brian was just being *quiet*. No sex or drugs, no major queen outs, and though Justin had almost always known Brian was more than that, actually seeing it still took some getting used to.

There was only one thing he could think of that might cheer Brian up, or at least bring him up a little out of this particular funk, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. Because of what day it was Brian's reaction really could go either way, so about an hour later when Brian announced that he was taking a shower, Justin said he just wanted to see the end of something and would join him in a few minutes.

Listening as the water began running, Justin waited until he was sure Brian was actually in the shower before diving for the phone.

They picked up after four rings. "Hello?"

"Hey, Linds," he greeted. "It's Justin. I need a favour."

She agreed to the plan readily and, feeling accomplished, Justin pulled off his sweats as he headed to the bathroom and sucked Brian off in the shower.

About forty minutes later they were back on the sofa, leaning against each other. Justin had put A Streetcar Named Desire on, so Brian wasn't completely ignoring the TV; even mouthing the words occasionally.

When the phone rang, Justin stiffened - that hadn't been part of the plan. But when they let it ring over to messages and a familiar voice emerged, he relaxed.

"Hey, Brian." It was clearly Michael. "Just calling to say...fuck, what *do* you say after a funeral? Look, anyway. If you wanna talk or...get together somewhere. Hang out at Woody's, shoot some pool or something. Or if you need anything at all, just give me a call, okay? Umm, yeah. That's it. I love you." They hadn't taken the opportunity to talk to anyone before they left the wake, both eager to get away after Brian had told his story.

When the message ended, Justin rubbed his shoulder against Brian's. "That was nice."

"Yeah," Brian replied. "Now all we need is for Vic to call and we'll have the whole set."

Justin managed a smile. "You wanna take him up on his offer?" It'd crimp his plans, but he could rearrange things. Linds wouldn't mind, today of all days.

Brando came back from bowling and bitched at his wife and, knowing what he knew now, Justin wondered why Brian even liked this movie.

"That depends," he said casually, "was Mikey who you called while I was in the shower?"

Fuck.

Shifting, Justin tried not to blush under Brian's scrutiny. "How did you...?" Screw it. "No."

"Well then, I think we should wait here until we find out exactly what's going to happen," Brian told him, half-mocking and half-serious. Justin knew Brian hated it when anyone 'took care' of him, but given how much headway they'd made together last night he was just going to have to live with it.

"You'll like it," he insisted, and then the knock came on the door. "I'll get it!" Springing up from the sofa, Justin ran for the door. He wasn't fast enough however, and Brian caught him by the back of his shirt, holding him back. "Hey!"

Keeping Justin at an arm's length, Brian walked around him and slid open the door - completely unsurprised to see Lindsay standing there. "Linds."

"Brian," she started immediately, holding Gus in his carrier, "I'm so sorry to do this to you, especially today-"

"Linds," Brian sighed.

"-but Dad hurt his back again. He's back in hospital and-"

"Linds,"

"-it's so last minute and our babysitter already has plans so-"

"Linds!" She shut up. Brian stared at her dispassionately. "Give it up. I know."

"Oh," slumping her shoulders, she looked at Justin and finally seemed to notice that he was still being held hostage inside his own shirt but avoided commenting on that fact entirely. "Well, in that case..." she held out Gus.

When she was gone and Justin was released, they found themselves back on the sofa again. Placing Gus' carrier on the table in front of the TV, they winced when he started crying.

Brian frowned at his son. "This is supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's a working theory," Justin admitted. He hadn't thought about the fact that Gus might be in a bad mood. As far as he was concerned, babies were notoriously hard to predict. Much like Brian.

Muttering and grumbling, Brian carefully freed Gus from the carrier and placed him on his thigh, turning him around so he could face the TV. "See the pretty boy, Gus?" It was hot in the movie, and Brando had stripped down to his sweaty vest. "Bet you don't get to see anything like that at your Mommy's house. Christ," he said to himself, "God only knows what kinds of perverted things you *do* see at your Mommy's house." Gus' wails had deteriorated to the occasional sniffle. "Well, what do you know?" Brian sounded proud. "The pretty boy fixed everything," he smirked at Justin. "Guess we've got another fag in the family."

This had *so* been the right call.

Much later, after everyone had eaten - or been fed a few times - and Gus had fallen asleep, Brian and Justin got ready for bed. Worried about squashing him but wanting him with them, they kept Gus in the carrier in the middle of the bed. Climbing into his side of the bed, Justin propped himself up on his elbow and watched Gus sleep.

Brian looked at both of them from the end of the bed. "I should think about getting him a cot here or something."

Pleased, Justin allowed himself a small smile. "It'd be nice for him to have space to move around."

Leaving the bathroom light on, Brian moved to get into bed but when he suddenly froze Justin knew exactly what he'd seen. Holding his breath, he watched anxiously as Brian slowly slumped down on the edge of the mattress, picking up the framed photograph from the bedside table. Justin had sensed his opportunity earlier, sneaking it over there while Brian was brushing his teeth.

Brian didn't say anything for a while - and then he did. "I guess you must have saved it, huh?"

"Yeah." He'd been waiting for the right moment ever since.

"I just figured it got thrown away."

"I know."

He shook his head minutely. "Should've known better. Sometimes..." he paused. "You push too hard."

Justin bit the inside of his mouth for a moment, worried that he'd made a mistake. Too late to back out now. "Sometimes you don't push enough."

"I don't even know what the fuck that means."

He didn't sound angry, at least. "You'll figure it out. Come on," he continued quickly, "let's get some sleep."

But Brian wasn't ready to let it go. "You know that story Mikey told?"

Surprised, Justin waited. "Sure."

"He was right about some things. We went bowling, and we really were for shit. Jack was there, mostly at the bar. But when I got the strike...Jack didn't hug me. Mikey did. We were celebrating, jumping around, and we ended up kissing. Just once," he paused. "We were happy." Justin didn't say anything. He didn't need to. "But Jack saw. Called us a couple of fairies. I pushed Michael away so hard he nearly fell over." Shifting minutely, Brian continued. "I ran. Not here," he added quickly, confusing Justin until he explained, "I can't have it...here. Not now."

Amazed at the story and that Brian had shared it, Justin knew that - as well as the Gus idea had panned out - this'd been the wrong move. "I...I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he interrupted, not turning around. "Just get it out of the bedroom."

"Okay." There was a small table near the full-length mirror that Brian kept photographs and knick-knacks on. Cautiously taking the picture from Brian, Justin climbed out of bed and walked across the loft. Placing the photograph of Jack holding a baby Brian next to a picture of Deb and Vic, Justin stared at them for a moment before realising there was another photograph behind them that he'd never seen before.

Picking it up and turning so he'd catch more light from the windows, Justin's mouth nearly opened in shock when he realised it was a picture of *him*. It'd clearly been taken at his eighteenth birthday party, but he had no recollection of anyone taking it. It wasn't posed at all - his head had been caught turning, laughing at something that someone - Emmett, judging by what he could see of a lime green shirt - had been saying.

Had Brian taken this? If not, who the hell had he bribed to keep quiet about the fact that he wanted a copy?

"What the fuck is taking so long?"

Jumping, Justin put the picture down and ran back to the bedroom.

At least the day was starting to end better than it had begun.

*

Deb had been really good about giving him time off with Brian and getting the others to cover his shifts, but when Tuesday came Justin had to go back to school - and back to work. If he wanted his own money, meager though it was, he had to earn it.

Working the after-school shift, Justin heard from Rita that Brian had been there for both breakfast and lunch. When he walked through the door for dinner, too, Justin was a little surprised. Three visits in one day wasn't unheard of, but it was unusual.

"Hey," he greeted as he reached Brian's booth, earning himself a hand around the neck that guided him down for a kiss. He wasn't about to complain, smiling stupidly as he pulled back up, Brian's fingers slipping from his neck. "Did Gus get dropped off okay?" Brian had dropped him at school.

"Yeah, somehow I managed all by myself," Brian quipped.

Justin made a show of rolling his eyes. He'd been worried about how Brian was holding up after yesteday, but at least his sarcasm was intact. "How was work?"

Sighing - but not *too* unhappily, Justin thought - Brian regarded him. "Am I gonna keep getting this twenty questions routine just because my dad died?"

Okay, so he *may* have been caught out, but there was no way it was proveable. Besides, he was pretty sure Brian was messing with him just for the sake of it. "I asked you like two questions."

"Right, and none of them were, 'what can I get you?'"

"Fine," Justin smiled and played along, making a point of taking his notepad out. "What can I get you, Mr. Kinney?"

That earned him another kiss; one with tongue this time. Brian's hand held his head in place again, and Justin's hands reached out to help him hold the position - his left on the back of the seat, his right on the table. Now able to brace himself he pushed into the kiss, his tongue meeting Brian's, and he just wanted to push him back on the seat, climb on top of him and make him-

"Oh, *my*. I *have* to take a picture of *that*."

Confused, the words making their way into his foggy mind, Justin regretfully broke the kiss. "Huh?" he asked dumbly - kissing Brian made him lose about 50 IQ points - turning just in time to see a guy at the next table over lowering his camera. Justin couldn't even imagine why he'd be carrying it around with him.

Smiling, the guy winked. "Don't mind me!" Turning back to his meal, he proudly waved his camera at his friends.

Flushing, Justin nonetheless realised that he kind of *liked* that people found them hot together.

Chuckling, Brian smirked up at him and released his neck. "Told you, you were an exhibitionist. Now - take my order. I'm fucking starving."

Straightening himself up, Justin ignored smirks and snickers from everyone who'd noticed and took Brian's order. He was just really fucking happy Deb wasn't working right now, because she'd probably never let them hear the end of it.

Five minutes later Justin returned with Brian's dinner - and his own. It was one of their occasional slow days, so Justin grinned at Brian's raised eyebrow and declared he was taking a break.

He talked a bit about school; Brian finally talked a bit about work, but mostly his attention kept going back to the poster that'd been put up near their table. There had been a few of them up in the diner when Justin had arrived at work this evening, and he'd been so far removed from his usual haunts for the last few days that he'd been surprised to realise they'd been put up all around Liberty Avenue.

It was for some competition of Babylon, appropriately called King of Babylon. Also appropriately, a hot, almost naked guy's picture was sprawled across the poster. He was wearing a crown. Brian had had hotter, though, so he couldn't have been staring at it just for the guy...

"So what's the King of Babylon competition?"

Slowly dragging his eyes away from the poster, Brian looked at him blankly. "What? Oh." The question sank in. "It's basically stripping for the throne. You get up on stage and dance, take your clothes off. Whoever's the best wins."

"Wins what?"

"A thousand bucks and a trip to the Bahamas." Shit, that wasn't a bad prize at all. "It's pretty pathetic, really." Uh huh. "Why, do you want to go?"

Justin wasn't falling for it, and met Brian's gaze squarely. "Do you want to go?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Brian looked away, looked back, looked away, and looked back, before sitting up and straightening his shoulders. "Yeah. I want to go to Babylon."

He'd thought that this would be coming soon. He didn't know if it was just time or because of Brian's dad but, whatever the reason, Justin nodded and let a genuine smile appear. "Cool. Me too." Although it'd been easy enough living without Babylon, he absolutely loved dancing with Brian there. He couldn't wait to do that again. Brian had come a long way since that first visit to Woody's, and Justin wasn't too concerned about the idea - he'd be there with Brian, after all.

Hanging around until Justin finished his shift - Brian occupied himself with paperwork he'd brought home - they drove back to the loft together. It was during the drive when Justin was sitting, not doing anything, that the exhaustion started to creep in. Surprised, he tried to fight it off but couldn't hold back a yawn.

Brian noticed, glancing at him from the driver's side. "I'm that scintillating, huh?"

"Don't be sill-uhh," he yawned again as Brian parked the Jeep. Shit. "Silly."

Turning off the engine, Brian leaned over and grabbed Justin's face before he could even open the door. Surprised, Justin blinked and allowed the inspection - although there wasn't much he could do to stop it anyway.

Studying Justin for a while, Brian eventually released him. "You need a good night's sleep." Opening his own door, he moved to get out when he froze. "Fuck, did I really just say that?"

Laughing, Justin got out of the car as he pretended to announce a headline. "Brian Kinney recommends sleep in no-sex shocker!"

"Fuck you," he retorted, not angrily, locking the Jeep. "Anyway, I imagine it has to be tiring," he continued airily, walking with Justin to the building.

"What does?"

Walking up the steps, Brian opened the door and turned back to look at him. "Taking care of me while pretending you're not taking care of me."

Standing stock still, Justin stared up at him. Brian wasn't supposed to *acknowledge* that Justin tried to take care of him. "Uh."

"You think you're so subtle, Sunshine," he smirked, "but you're really not."

Well, fine. Okay. Brian knew. Justin was too tired to argue about it, following him into the building. "So are you gonna tuck me in again?" he asked, mangling the words with a yawn as they boarded the elevator.

Brian pulled down the safety door and pressed the button. "You remember that?" The elevator clunked to life and started moving.

"Sure. I wasn't *that* drunk."

"Huh."

Inside the loft Justin started stripping off his clothes almost immediately, heading straight for the bedroom. He'd planned on doing whatever he could to keep Brian entertained, but that idea of a good night's sleep was becoming more and more appealing with each passing second.

"Hey, don't leave your shit on the floor," was the last thing he heard before his head hit the pillow.

*

"*What*?" A pause. "No, he can't come to the phone right now - he's busy." Another pause. "No, he's not sucking my dick. He happens to be sleeping. I'm not waking him up." A sigh, displeased. "I said I'm not waking him up. He's fucking exhausted and considering that it's now after midnight-" A groan. "Emmett, it doesn't matter how urgent you think it is, I'm sure you girls will talk all about it - *tomorrow*." Another pause. "I don't care if it is technically tomorrow already - don't be a smart-ass. I couldn't give a shit about whatever the fuck you said to Blake - you two have to be the least threatening fags on the face of the planet. A showdown between the two of you would be like watching two limp noodles fighting." Movement, a tinny indistinguishable voice. "Jesus, keep your fucking voice down. Look, if Ted wants to hook up with Blake, that's his business. His choice." Silence. "Emmett?" More silence. "Fuck you."

Movement again, more this time. He rolled towards it. "Whas'at?"

A hand on the side of his head. "Nothing that can't wait. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm...'kay."

Brian *warm*.

*

The next morning Brian gave Justin nothing to work with, just telling him that Emmett had called wanting to talk about Blake. Taking matters into his own hands, Justin called Emmett and told him they were meeting at the diner for breakfast. Em hemmed and hawed, but he was there when Brian dropped Justin off at the diner.

Brian decided not to go in for breakfast, and drove into work early.

"So what happened?" Justin asked as soon as he was in range, throwing his bag onto the seat, pulling his coat off and sliding in across from Emmett.

An Em who looked like he was trying not to look guilty. For once, though, he didn't try to pretend that everything was okay. "I saw Blake last night."

"So I heard."

"He was in Babylon. With his dealer. I told him to stay away from Teddy - gave him a piece of my mind." Justin suspected it might have been most of it. "And I needed to talk to someone afterward, so I called you." He fiddled with a napkin.

"We can still do that," Justin said slowly, "but what did you say last night that pissed Brian off?" Flinching, Em looked away. "Em..."

He cleared his throat. "He told me that it was Ted's decision. That being with Blake was up to Teddy. So..." he closed his eyes and quickly opened them again. "Look, I was still angry at Blake. He was tweaked out of his twinky little head when I saw him, and I just keep picturing Ted in his coma and-"

"What the fuck did you say to Brian?"

"I said it was no wonder he took the drug addict's side considering the fact that he's an addict himself."

Fuck. "Em..." He couldn't believe it. Out of everyone who knew, one of the only people he absolutely never expected to give Brian a hard time about his addiction was Emmett.

"I *know*!" he insisted. "It was the wrong fucking thing to say and I hated myself immediately."

Justin was beyond hearing that right then. "I can't believe you'd say something like that! You know how fucking hard this has been for him. Not to mention that his *dad* just fucking died-"

"I wasn't thinking!" Em apologised. "I was angry, and it just came out!"

Jesus Christ. Picking his coat up, Justin climbed out of the booth.

"Justin?" Emmett looked up at him anxiously. "Are you-?"

"Don't worry," he shoved his arms into his coat and picked up his bag. "I'm pissed at you but I'll get over it." It wasn't like Emmett had done anything deliberately. "But I have to get to school. With Brian not around it'll take longer." And he had to figure out some kind of damage control. Leaving with a sigh, he pulled open the diner door, stepped out - and saw the Jeep still parked by the curb. Surprised, Justin opened the door and climbed in. "I thought you were going straight to work?"

"Please," Brian said, "and leave you to take public transportation?"

"That's so swee-"

"I have to listen to you queen out about the experience every time it happens. I'd rather save myself the trouble."

Snorting his disbelief, Justin waited until they were on the road again before speaking. He eyed Brian. "Emmett feels really shitty about what he said last night."

Nodding as if he'd been expecting it, Brian shrugged. "He's got a point. I mean...that's what I am, right?" His response was too off-hand, too casual, and the idea obviously bothered him.

But the truth was that Brian *was* an addict. "I guess, technically..." Yeah, that was gonna make him feel better. "So what if you are?" Justin tried another route. "What matters most is that you overcame your addiction, that you don't drink anymore. You're not the same person you were, and it doesn't control you anymore."

Nothing else was said for the rest of the drive. When Brian pulled up outside St James, Justin turned towards him.

"I know it'll probably follow you around for the rest of your life...but I'm gonna be following you around for the rest of your life, too. So," he smiled bravely, meeting Brian's gaze, "I'm going to school now."

Not waiting for a response, Justin picked up his bag, got out of the Jeep, and went to find out what the day would bring him.

*

It didn't escape his notice that Brian was trying a little too hard to pretend that nothing had happened and that his dad hadn't died.

It started with that almost overly-passionate kiss in the diner. From there it grew - whenever they were out in public together Brian was the life of the party. He'd tell stories, crack jokes, and spout off wicked one-liners that'd have the boys laughing so hard they'd spit out their drinks (although Emmett, of course, may have been laughing more than was entirely necessary because of his guilt complex).

It was only in the loft that Brian would grow withdrawn. He'd be quiet, thoughtful, and more than once Justin would catch him pausing by the table that held the picture of his dad.

There were much worse ways Brian could've been dealing with his father's death, so Justin simply watched and waited.

A little over two weeks later the night of the King of Babylon competition rolled around. Justin ended up having to work after school, and one by one the guys arrived at the diner so they could all leave for the club together.

They'd taken over the seats at the main counter, although everyone had forgotten how many of them there were now and Steve was left standing. He didn't seem to mind, standing near Emmett.

"Can you believe it's been a year since the last one already?" Deb asked, refilling Brian's coffee cup.

"It always seems like such a big deal," Michael said, "but a week later no one can remember who won."

Ted, apparently, did. "Angel Ascobar - five foot ten, 175'', 28-inch waist, 9-inch cock and a birthmark in the shape of Placido Domingo in his right thigh."

"Wow," Emmett was impressed. "You gave him some serious attention."

Turning towards Ted, Blake nearly went as far as fluttering his eyelashes. "Should I be jealous?" There'd been some kind of reconciliation on the Ted and Blake front. Justin didn't know the details but, whatever had happened, Blake didn't seem to be using at the moment.

Ted quickly assured him he didn't need to be jealous, and as they kissed Justin couldn't miss the skeptical looks Michael and Emmett shared.

Pushing his plate away, Em looked nauseated. "I think I'll skip dessert."

Justin took his plate, depositing it in the kitchen before coming back. "So, have any of you guys ever taken part?"

Emmett stared at him. "In the competition?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God, no."

"Why not?" Personally, Justin couldn't imagine doing it either, but he was interested in Emmett's reasoning.

"It's just not my thing," he offered with a smile and a shrug. "I know; you'd think it would be. It's not like I actually have any shame..."

"That's for damn sure," Brian concurred, and Em glanced away to the side.

Steve cleared his throat. "Besides," he added, "it's not like Emmett needs to get up and strip in front of all those guys to prove he's the King of Babylon - he already is." That was a little cheesy to take in, even for Justin.

Brian rolled his eyes. "More like the queen."

Fake-laughing, Em hit his hand down on the counter, making everyone jump. "That's really funny, Brian! Really!"

"Christ." Muttering, Brian fixed his glare on Emmett. "Will you get the fuck over it already? I've 'moved' on," he mocked. "Why the fuck can't you?"

Justin had been waiting for this for a while, but Em looked completely shocked. Until finally... "Very well. Just let me say one thing."

"And what's that?"

He lifted his chin. "Fuck you."

Laughing, Brian took a sip of his coffee.

"So," Em suddenly changed subjects, turning to look at Michael, "is David coming tonight?"

"I don't know - Babylon isn't really his scene."

"Why?" Brian asked, always taking the opportunity. "Is he at home taking his teeth out?" Justin bit back a grin. He really didn't know how he felt about the idea of spending the evening with David hanging around. He'd only seen him a few times since they'd caught him at the baths, and that'd been awkward enough. A whole evening with him - even if they didn't actually talk to each other, which they usually didn't - would be extremely weird. Mostly because he still didn't know if Michael knew what'd happened.

Speaking of Michael... "I'll have you know that he gets up at 6am every morning to go for a five mile run - instead of staying in bed, like you."

Leering at Justin, Brian lifted an eyebrow. "I feel that's where I get my best cardio workout."

Laughing, Justin walked around Deb and leant across the counter to give Brian a kiss. Drawing back, he grinned at him. "Cardiovascular health is very important, you know. I'm more than happy to help you maintain a good fitness regime."

"Ah, I see," Brian smirked. "So you letting me fuck you is actually for my own health?"

"Exactly."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I thought so," he grinned, and it was only when he turned away from Brian that he realised that everyone - Deb, the guys - was staring at them.

Brian noticed too. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing," they replied.

Announcing that he was going to call David, Michael took his cell phone out. Justin got distracted by someone who needed a drink, and by the time he got back to the counter David had apparently agreed to come and they were going to meet him outside the club. He tried to sound enthusiastic about the news, telling Michael he thought it was great - and just hoped it wouldn't be too awkward.

Ten minutes later Justin's shift was over. Taking off his apron, he grabbed his coat from the back and joined the guys as they poured out of the diner.

"Thanks for waiting for me," he said, pulling his coat on as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh honey, don't be silly," Em assured him. "You think any of us want to go to Babylon with Brian *without* you?" he shuddered dramatically.

Brian wrapped an arm around Justin's neck as they walked, and Justin ended up having to wrap his arm around Brian's waist - not that he minded. "You know, Honeycutt-"

"I've told you before, don't call me Honeycutt."

"-when I suggested you get over it, I *didn't* suggest you turn into a complete asshole."

"Well, you can't always get what you want," he pointed out, and then completely changed subjects again. He had a tendency to do that. "Oh my God, I can't believe we're going to Babylon! It's been *forever* since we've all gone together. And now there's more of us," he grinned, linking arms with Steve. He paused. "Oh my God, do you know what I just realised?"

"What?" Michael asked, turning back to look briefly as he kept moving forward.

"This is practically a couples night!" he exclaimed. "We're all involved! I mean, has that ever happened before? All of us being involved at the same time?"

"No," Ted conceded, next to Blake. "But that's mostly because Brian would kill the idea of a relationship at fifty paces - before Justin, of course," he added, with a small almost-shrug directed at Justin.

"What can I say?" Brian retorted immediately. "He gives the best head I've ever had." He nudged the top of Justin's head with his nose, letting him know that he was teasing and it wasn't the only reason.

"Wow," Ted replied, "considering the amount of head you've had, that must really be saying something."

"It is. Thankfully, you'll never have the chance to find out."

Eww, sucking Ted off? Ted wasn't ugly, but he was definitely no Brian. He was...Ted. Justin wrinkled his nose.

It wasn't long until they reached the club, and they dutifully waited at the corner for David. It'd warmed up some in the last couple of weeks and there was definitely no snow, but after standing there for more than ten minutes Justin was starting to get cold.

Emmett was regaling them all with some tale about a guy with a huge dick who'd come into Torso ("But don't worry baby, I didn't touch it."), when Brian must have noticed how much Justin was shifting around.

"Hey," he asked quietly while Emmett was still talking, "you okay?"

"Just cold," Justin replied, managing a smile.

Grabbing him, Brian pulled him closer until Justin's back was against his chest, and wrapped his arms around Justin's torso. "You know," he breathed into his ear, "they say body heat is a very effective way of keeping warm."

"Really?" Justin asked as if he'd never heard that before. "That must explain why I never get cold when we're alone together."

Brian had just started gently biting his ear when David arrived. He was wearing an old pair of ripped jeans which Em just went ga-ga over. Justin wasn't all that impressed, but then he didn't need to be so it didn't really matter.

Turning towards them, David made a point of saying hello to both of them - and Justin knew instantly that what'd happened at the baths had been dealt with. Michael knew, or they'd talked about it or *something*, and Michael must have forgiven him because they were clearly still together.

He looked at Brian and shrugged. Shrugging back, Brian moved back to having his arm around Justin's neck and led the group into the club.

Babylon was always busy, but because of the competition it was even busier than usual - the line seemed to go on endlessly. Thankfully they were with Brian, and being with Brian meant never having to line up for anything at Babylon. He may have been away for months, but that didn't stop them from getting in. Justin noticed a vague hesitation on Brian's face before he approached the bouncer, but he needn't have worried.

"Kinney," the bouncer greeted as cheerily as a bouncer could, "it's been a while."

"That it has," he nodded. "Life got fucked up for a while."

"That can happen," the guy nodded sagely, before checking them all out. "Big group tonight."

"That a problem?"

"No," he nodded towards the club, indicating that they should go inside. "Just don't let Sapperstein know."

Brian snorted. "Like I'd tell that shit head anything."

As they walked up the steps that led into the club, Justin started to feel the excitement bubbling under his skin. By the time they got rid of their coats, he was practically bouncing, dragging Brian out into the middle of the dance floor. "Dance with me!"

Not objecting, Brian fell into his familiar bump and grind. He didn't actually have a lot of skill as a dancer, but that'd never mattered to Justin. Wrapping his arms around Brian's neck, Justin closed his eyes and moved with him. *Fuck* it felt good, dancing with Brian again, his arms around him as the music blared in their ears.

As always it was too loud to talk normally, so Justin leant up and yelled into Brian's ear, "I missed this!"

Pulling back, Brian smiled before doing the same thing. "Yelling at me? You do that all the fucking time!"

Laughing, Justin closed his eyes again and kept on dancing.

After a couple of songs, they both needed something to drink. Finding the rest of the guys by the bar, Justin knew they couldn't do the same thing - as far as Brian had come, spending the whole night standing next to a bar just seemed like a bad idea.

Luckily for him, the competition was about to start. When the sound of trumpets blaring echoed through the club, Justin claimed he wanted to move forward to get a better view, and they moved into the crowd. It wasn't long before the rest of the guys were standing around them, and then the host for the evening arrived in style.

Obviously a drag queen, she was dressed in an Egyptian-style outfit - she was probably meant to be Cleopatra or something - and was being carried in on a throne by four practically naked and extremely well-built guys. Eventually lowered down and stepping out onto the stage, she dismissed her 'servants', introduced herself as Sheba, and started the evening with a few jokes. A few pretty lame jokes, if he were honest.

Still, things got better when the first dancer came out. Allegedly a firefighter, the guy came out in the full yellow uniform as the music began, and started stripping almost immediately. The crowd roared - they loved nothing better than hot guys who got naked.

Laughing at the reaction, Justin turned to look at Brian - and stopped laughing immediately.

While they'd been dancing together Brian had been fine - happy, even. But now he wasn't paying attention to the dancer at all. Frowning heavily, he mostly looked stressed - extremely stressed - and, following Brian's gaze, Justin realised he was staring at the bar.

Shit. Shit!

Okay. Okay. Just because Brian was staring at the bar didn't mean he was actually going to drink anything. And it was his first time in Babylon for months - it was only natural that he might be feeling weird, or pressured. Right?

Right.

Even if going back to Woody's hadn't seemed to affect him this much.

Trying to get Brian's mind back on the competition, Justin asked him what he thought of the first dancer. Brian said the guy was okay, but he couldn't make a real judgement unless the guy took his dick out.

When the song ended and the dancer's dick stayed inside his jock strap, Brian remained silent.

The next dancer was dressed as a cop - Justin wondered if any of these guys actually belonged to the profession they were stripping out of - and after a couple of minutes Brian started moving away. By now their ears had got used to the music, and they only needed to talk louder than usual instead of actually yelling.

"I have to take a piss."

"Okay!" Justin yelled back anyway, over-anxious. As Brian walked away Justin couldn't help but notice the looks he was getting from a lot of the guys in the club - and it wasn't the typical "He's hot," looks. They were, "Fucking hell - Kinney's back!" looks. Justin had been so wrapped up in enjoying himself earlier that he'd completely missed them, and realised they must've been contributing to Brian's mood.

Shit, he needed to do something to cheer Brian up, to make sure he wasn't thinking about drinking. Sex might work for a while, but he'd never actually been in the back room before and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that - this was *his* first time back to Babylon in months too, after all.

Another dancer came on stage but by then Justin had stopped paying much attention. He bit his lower lip, absently pacing towards the edge of the dance floor, trying to think what he could do that-

"Why the long face, sweetheart?"

Surprised, Justin turned to see Sheba standing next to him, smoking a cigarette. She'd changed costumes and ended up looking like some mutant version of Carmen Miranda. "Oh," he was too surprised to answer with anything but the truth. "It's my boyfriend."

"Isn't it always?" she said, commiserating. "So, what did he do?"

"It's not like that," Justin insisted, and suddenly the words just started pouring out of him. "It's just...he's an alcoholic and this is his first time coming back to Babylon since he stopped drinking, and I can tell he's starting to freak out and he was staring at the bar and everyone's staring at him because he was this big time stud and he's back here after months away, and I was thinking about letting him fuck me in the back room but I really don't know how I feel about having sex in front of other people because it happened in front of my best friend once and it was like the most embarrassing thing that ever happened."

Sheba stared at him, looking impressed as she blew out a puff of smoke. "Holy shit, kid. If you can go that long without taking a breath, you must give one hell of a blowjob."

Flushing, Justin felt embarrassed - yet also a little bit better. Weird. "Uh, thanks. I think."

"You know," she said, "there *is* something else you could try."

"What's that?"

She looked meaningfully towards the stage, where there was a guy who didn't seem to be wearing much underneath a Buddhist monk's robe.

Justin's eyes bugged out. "No way!" He loved dancing, but that was down here among all the other guys who were dancing too. Getting up on stage in front of the huge crowd and being the only one dancing? No way. That was just too much attention.

"Just a suggestion," she shrugged, but still kept eyeing him with interest.

Raised voices suddenly made both of them look towards the dance floor, where Justin saw Brian arguing with some guy who was probably trying to pick him up.

"Will you leave me the fuck alone?!"

Fuck. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Justin swung back towards Sheba before he fully realised what he was intending to do. "I'll do it."

Smirking, Sheba took a drag on her cigarette. "'Atta boy. What's your name?"

He was going to do this. He was. "Justin."

"Well, Justin, I'll give you a sign when it's your turn. And you might want to think of what you want me to say about you when I introduce you. Good luck with your boyfriend." With a last puff of smoke, she turned away and started heading back towards the stage.

What the fuck had he just done?

Feeling dazed, Justin turned around and stumbled back towards Brian - nearly bumping into a guy wearing a cowboy hat in the process. "Sorry."

Yes, *Brian*. That was a good enough reason to be doing this.

"Where the fuck were you?"

It wasn't quite the greeting he'd envisioned. "Uh..." Right. This had to be a surprise. If he announced what he was intending to do, Brian would probably just laugh at him - and not in a good way. "Thought I saw someone I knew, that was all. It wasn't. Why?" he asked, taking the attention away from himself. "You need me to stick around to defend your honour, fair maiden?"

Frowning at him as if he had two heads, Brian grabbed Justin and pulled him close. "You sure you haven't taken anything tonight?"

"Just you," Justin teased as Sheba announced another dancer.

Brian's mood didn't get any better, and his interaction with people, in general, stayed around zero. He talked when Justin prodded him with questions occasionally, but mostly he ignored everyone - including the guys. Even David wasn't able to rile him up, when normally all he had to do to piss Brian off was breathe.

It was after they'd watched a biker and as a builder stripped - Justin was convinced they'd go through all of the Village People before the evening was done - that he saw Sheba waving at him. Making sure it was actually him she wanted he pointed at himself, and gulped when she nodded.

Shit! He hadn't expected it to be this soon - he'd barely thought of anything to say about himself. Clearing his throat, he peered up at Brian and made sure he hadn't noticed Sheba waving. "Need the bathroom," he tried to say casually. "Be right back."

Glancing away from the bar, Brian focused on him. "I'll go with you."

Fuck. Uh. "No. Seriously, Brian - I actually do need to go. We'll...go do something 'fun' when I get back, okay?"

"Fine," Brian snapped, turning away and pretending to be interested in the competition.

Sighing, Justin headed off towards the bathroom - for all of ten seconds. When he was sure no one was watching where he was going, he walked back around the crowd behind Brian, until he reached the side of the stage where Sheba was waiting.

"You took long enough!" she reprimanded, her eyes running over his clothes with disgust. "You didn't get a costume."

"You didn't tell me I'd need one," he pointed out, frustrated. "Can't I just strip out of my regular clothes?"

Hmming for a moment, Sheba's eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder at something. Pushing by him, she accosted the guy he'd nearly bumped into earlier, and in a matter of moments returned with the guy's cowboy hat and waistcoat. "Take your shirt off," she instructed. "Come on, hurry up. The song's almost over."

Cursing, Justin yanked his top off and passed it to her, sliding the waistcoat on. It had tassels hanging from the edges and exposed most of his chest, but at least it wasn't as tacky as it could've been.

Smiling with satisfaction, Sheba placed the cowboy hat on his head until it fit snugly. "There we go. Perfect! Now," she passed Justin's shirt off to someone, "what do you want me to say about you?"

Less than thirty seconds later Justin was anxiously waiting by the steps that'd lead him up onto the stage. Brian had to be wondering where the fuck he was by now.

He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

The builder dancer - wearing only a conveniently placed hard hat - walked off stage, and Sheba addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next dancer likes the Powerpuff girls, Margaritas, and older men who fuck the shit out of him." The audience roared their approval. "I give you...Justin!"