Chapter 23 - Heads Explode.

Brian had waited there on the cold, hard basement floor for so long he lost track of time. No matter how many times he begged - a very Un-Kinney-like thing to do, granted, but allowable in this kind of emergency - the ghost hadn’t answered. Brian couldn’t even hear movement from behind the hatchway door, so for all he knew, the kid might have actually dematerialized like the ghost he pretended to be.

When the sun began to set and the already dim basement started to get downright dark, Brian finally gave up his vigil and made his slow, unhappy way back upstairs. He took the time to put away all the forgotten painting supplies and then made his lonely way into the kitchen. His brief hope that the ghost would come out once he smelled the aroma of Penny’s most recent casserole offering, was dashed after he’d waited a good fifteen minutes at the table and no blond boyfriend had appeared. Brian desultorily ate a measly few bites of his serving of egg/bacon/noodle/something, then gave it all up as the epic fail it was and put everything back in the fridge.

Next, Brian took a few minutes to try and get into the ventilation shaft through the two upper access hatches he knew about, but quickly discovered that his ghost had locked all those from the inside too. It had been a long shot from the start, but he’d had to try. When he was forced to give that up, though, Brian got pissed off enough at the ridiculousness of the situation to move on from being scared and upset to getting pissed off. And Pissed Off Brian naturally headed for the closest bottle of Beam in which to drown his annoyance.

By that point, Brian had been away from the Pittsburgh club scene long enough that he quickly found he’d turned into a bit of a lightweight. He was only on his third tumbler of the smooth bourbon before he started to feel it’s effects. And, before you knew it, Brian was slouched on the couch, scowling morosely at his glass and muttering disjointed curses at the homophobic bastard fathers of the world. When that got to be too depressing, he dragged himself upstairs and climbed into bed, still wearing Justin’s ridiculously too-small t-shirt and his paint-splattered sweats. The strain of too much emotion and too much liquor had him snoring away almost immediately, despite his fear and heartache.

Even with the inducement of alcohol, though, Brian’s sleep was fitful. He found himself tossing and turning, constantly reaching out to find that warm body that his unconscious mind expected to find next to him. And every time he failed to find it, he’d wake with a start, looking around him in the darkness and blinking at the incomplete feeling his disturbed dreams left him with. He tried to curse himself into submission, telling his alternative self that it had been too short a time for him to have become this reliant on his blond ghost’s presence, but his mind and body didn’t agree with each other on the subject. Needless to say, it wasn’t the most restful night’s sleep he'd had in his life.

Luckily for his sanity, sometime in the wee hours, Brian had rolled over for the thousandth time and, low and behold, the warm, lithe body his arms had been seeking was actually there again. With a sleepy smile, Brian scooted as close as he physically could to the familiar form, wrapped it in his arms, took a deep whiff of the ghostly muskiness that had somehow become permanently etched in his parietal lobe, and then, finally, fell into blissful, uninterrupted sleep. If he’d been awake enough to notice, he would have seen the blond in his bed smile down on him just then with a wistfully tender smile, before the boy also settled in and joined him in slumber.

They both slept much later than usual the next morning. The sun was already high enough to pelt in at them through the bedroom window before Brian felt the wraith in his arms wriggling to get free. He wasn’t inclined to let go, though, seeing as he was so comfy as he was, so he merely tightened his grip. He received an exasperated huff of laughter in return.

“Brian, I have to get up. I’m going to piss myself if you don’t let go of me,” the ghostly whisper was music to Brian’s ear.

“No. I’m not letting go unless you swear on Gus’ life that you’ll come back again.”

“Don’t be an ass, Brian. I have to pee.”

“Then swear you’ll come back. Otherwise, I won't let go.”

“Fine, then I’ll just pee in the bed.”

“Kinky. But I’m not into golden showers, Ghost. I’ve done my share of fetish play back in the day, but I’m just not into that. So, you’ll have to hold it or promise you’ll come back. Or, if you prefer, I can come with you and hold it for you. That way I’ll at least be holding on to a pretty substantial part of you and I’ll be assured you can’t get away.”

“Fine, then you’ll have to come piss with me, because I have a moral and ethical problem with swearing on your adorable son’s life,” Justin proclaimed, scooting off the mattress and, of necessity, dragging Brian The Human Limpet along with him.

It was a thoroughly awkward endeavor, but Brian wasn’t about to give his slippery spirit any chance to skitter off again, so he simply refused to let go of the ghost all the way into the bathroom. He resolutely shut the door behind them before he allowed the kid even a tiny amount of personal space, but still maintained direct physical contact of some form at all times. Brian didn’t actually hold Justin’s dick while the boy pissed, but he did keep one arm wrapped around the younger man’s shoulders while he stood next to the ghost and pissed at the same time. And, when the boy moved over to the wash basin to clean his hands and brush his teeth, Brian did the same. Justin, meanwhile, was giving his older lover a serious dose of stink eye, although Brian noted that the boy didn’t put much effort into escaping.

Brian eyed the boy warily when they finally left the bathroom. He was especially concerned when the ghost moved determinedly towards the closet - the same closet that held one of the boy’s escape hatches. Brian was prepared to dive after the kid and tackle him if he tried to disappear into his hidey hole again. Fortunately, Justin merely grabbed some clean clothing and then returned to the bed where he sat down and pulled on his pants. Brian didn’t breath easily though until he, himself, was dressed and he’d made sure Justin was still sitting there waiting for him.

Justin looked up at him with an unsure expression, apparently waiting for Brian to make the next move. Fine. Brian was okay with taking charge. And the first thing he would take charge of would be to feed the boy.

With the ghost’s hand firmly ensconced in his own, Brian led the unresisting youth down the stairs to find some breakfast. They were both rather hungry, so all concentration was devoted to feeding themselves for the next several moments. As soon as they were well started - cream cheese-laden bagels and coffee going a long way to ease their empty stomachs - Brian took a deep breath and addressed the situation.

“So, are you going to talk to me and explain what all that was about yesterday?” Brian questioned, noting the way the kid’s face went instantly blank.

“No.”

Brian shook his head, even though it was the answer he’d expected from the intractable ghost.

“Are you going to run off and hide from me in that pit again?”

“Maybe.” Justin shrugged and looked away.

“Honest, at least,” Brian admitted, then paused a moment to sip his coffee and gather his thoughts before proceeding.

“Here’s how I see it, Ghost . . . I get that you’ve got something in your past you don’t want to talk about. That’s understandable. We all have shit in our pasts that we don’t particularly want to deal with. I’m not exactly proud of some of the crap I’ve done and I had my own abusive, bigot of a father that I don’t really enjoy talking about. So, I get it. If you don’t want to tell me about whatever it is that’s bugging you, I’m fine with that.”

Brian set his coffee cup down on the table in front of him, hooked his ankle around the leg of Justin’s chair, pulled the boy around so they were sitting knee to knee and then took the ghost’s hands in his own before he continued.

“But the thing is, despite all the shit I’ve been through, I never let it stop me from going out and living my life. I never hid from it. I might not want to talk about it but I don’t stew about it either. You can’t hide from your past forever, either, Ghost. And you certainly can’t let whatever your father did to you in the past keep you from having a future. You deserve better. A LOT better.”

Justin looked away but didn’t try to pull his hands out of Brian’s grip.

“You have to fucking deal with whatever the problem is, Ghost. You can’t stay hidden here forever. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but somehow you still have to figure out what you’re going to do to get past this. If you WANT to talk to me, I would be more than happy to help you figure out what to do. And, believe me, nothing you tell me is going to change how I feel about you. NOTHING.”

Brian let go of one of Justin’s hands long enough to lift up the boy’s chin so he could make eye contact, ensuring the boy knew how serious he was about that point.

“With my help or not, though, it’s time to fix this - whatever THIS is,” Brian insisted. “I’m not going to let you stay in hiding forever, Ghost. It’s not good for you.” Then Brian’s stern expression faded into something more teasing. “Plus, if I HAVE to have a hot, sexy, blond ‘boyfriend’ - something I’ve been avoiding for my entire life up to this point - I damned well want to fucking show him off to the whole fucking world so I get the bragging rights I’m due. I mean, seriously, my friends and family are going to keel over in shock when they meet you. And all the fags on Liberty Avenue are going to be falling at our feet once they get a look at the two of us together. Heads will very possibly explode. I can’t fucking wait.”

That finally got a bashful smile out of the GhostBoy.

“I’d like to see that too, Brian, and I really would like to meet your friends and family. I don’t exactly WANT to stay in this fucking house forever, you know. I would love to go see some of those places you write about in your novel sometime,” Justin stated, the shadow of worry still predominant on his ghost’s face. “I’ll try to figure something out, Brian. I really will. I don’t know how I can fix it, but I’ll try. I just don’t think I should get you involved . . .”

“I don’t mind getting involved, Ghost. I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Even if you just need a second opinion or maybe just someone to bounce possible solutions off of,” Brian reiterated. “I know I’m probably the last one who should talk - I’m a notorious loner and don’t generally take advice well - but you don’t have to follow my piss poor example. You don’t have to do this alone. And if I can’t help, I might at least know who can.”

Justin sighed and nodded a lukewarm assent to this statement, his mouth screwed up in a worried, confused frown. Brian didn’t like that look on his ghost at all. So he resorted to his tried and true solution for everything, pulling the boy all the way out of his chair and onto Brian’s lap where he could kiss the frown away . . . at least for the time being.

“Okay. So, enough talk for now,” Brian declared when the make out session came to a natural breaking point. “Shall we go upstairs and finish ‘making up’? All my friends in relationships always say the make up sex is the best part of the whole fucking thing, and I wouldn’t mind giving that a try. You up for it?”

“Definitely,” his ghost replied, a sweet smile having now replaced the former frown, to Brian’s delight.

“Good, and then I think I need a fucking nap before we start writing,” Brian suggested, refilling his coffee cup and taking both that and his boy in hand on the way up the stairs.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep without you either, Big Guy,” Justin replied pointedly as he obediently followed his lover, just as eager as Brian to move on to the promised make up sex.

“Mikey, I’m standing in the middle of the fucking hardware store bitching out the useless clerk who gave me the wrong color paint for my bathroom, so if you’re just calling to beg me to meet you for drinks tonight, I’m too busy to talk right now,” Brian complained in lieu of an actual greeting when his cell phone rang at that highly inopportune moment.

“Brian, somebody has broken into your house,” the voice on the other end of the call hissed into the phone.

“Huh?” Brian replied. “What the fuck are you talking about, Mikey?”

“I’m at your house,” Michael stage-whispered his answer as if afraid of being overheard. “I came out to see you since you refuse to come see me. But nobody came to the door when I knocked, so I looked in the window and I saw some young blond kid walking around, wearing your clothes, and taking things out of the front room. He’s got the music cranked up real loud, so that’s why he probably didn’t hear me. I couldn’t see where he went - I think he might have gone upstairs or something. I even went around to the back and looked in the kitchen window but I couldn’t see anything ‘cause you’ve got it all taped up or something. He’s probably upstairs rifling through your drawers looking for more stuff to steal,” Brian’s extremely nosy friend posited. “Where are you? What do you want me to do? Can you get back here fast? Or should I just call the police and let them deal with it?”

Brian groaned. This was the last thing he needed today. He’d just barely talked his ghost down from the Quilting Ladies Fiasco the day before and now this? Justin was going to freak when he found out that the Nosy Novotny factor had come into play. So much for their momentary detente. Granted, the make up sex truly HAD been magnificent, but now the kid was likely to lock himself into the fucking basement permanently. Not that Brian was going to let him get away with that shit a second time - he’d already determined he’d sledge hammer through the door if Justin tried that trick again. But, seriously, couldn’t fate have given them at least a day or two before testing his ghost’s newfound resolve to find a way to come out of hiding?

“Mikey . . . Mikey, calm yourself!” Brian ordered as his friend continued to blather on and on with plans on how they could catch the supposed housebreaker. “That’s not a thief.”

“Then who the fuck is it? You never leave tricks alone in your place. If he’s a contractor or something, then why is the guy wearing your clothes, Brian? Trust me, something’s not right here,” Michael insisted.

“Just hold your horses for a minute, Mikey. I need to make a quick call,” Brian ordered while waving off the hardware store clerk that he’d previously been chewing out and moving towards the exit of the building where he’d be able to make his call in private. “I promise, I’ll get right back to you. Just DON’T call the fucking police, okay? I’ve got this.”

Brian terminated the call with his meddlesome friend and quickly FaceTimed to Justin. The call rang and rang with no immediate answer at first. Brian was getting worried. Knowing Michael, he might get antsy and do something stupid at any moment. Luckily, the call was finally answered after about the tenth ring.

“Sorry, Brian. I didn’t hear your call right away. I was painting in Gus’ room and had the music turned up. What’s up?” Justin said when he finally did answer.

“Hey, Ghost. So, good news, bad news time,” Brian said, trying to ease into the subject. “Which do you want first?”

“Neither. I don’t like news,” Justin declared with a worried expression.

“Tough. Neither isn’t an option. So, let’s go with the good news, then?” Justin didn’t bother to reply, just looking more and more disturbed as Brian hurried on. “It looks like you’ll be meeting one of my friends sooner rather than later.”

Justin groaned and started to look yet more worried. “I thought you were starting with the good news?”

“That IS the good news,” Brian replied. “The bad news is that it’s happening right fucking now - my friend Michael is downstairs and the nosy fucking git already saw you through the window. He thought you were a burglar so he called me. You’re just lucky he didn’t call the cops first.”

“Shit!”

“Yep.”

“What am I going to do, Brian?” Justin moaned, slumping back onto the tarp-covered twin bed in Gus’ room with the tablet held up in his hands so that Brian felt like he was looking down on his ghost from the ceiling.

“Well, he’s already seen you, Ghost. You can’t fucking run and hide. Believe me - Michael is the most tenacious little busybody you’ve ever met. Those Quilting Ladies couldn’t hold a candle to this boy. He’s like a pitbull. Once he’s on the scent of something he won’t let go or back away. So, I think we’re going to have to just face him.” Brian would have laughed at the renewed ghostly moaning if he wasn’t so worried about how Justin would take this. “You might as well go down and let him in. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You should be able to hold him off that long.”

“I can’t, Brian. I mean . . . Shit, what the fuck am I going to do? He’s going to ask a metric fuck ton of questions. What are we going to tell him about me?”

“It’s going to be fine, Ghost. He’s not a local so he doesn’t know you or anything much about your past. And it’s not like he’s going to run out and announce to all the neighbor’s you’ve returned from the dead. Just let him in and offer him a beer and make nice. I’m pretty sure he won’t bite.”

“. . . Ugh . . .”

“It’ll be fine, Ghost. I promise,” Brian tried to sound reassuring. “I’m getting in my car now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“But what am I going to tell him? He’s going to ask questions. What do I say?” Justin asked again, sounding near to panic, which was the last thing Brian needed.

“That’s easy,” Brian responded with a snarky grin that he hoped would calm his boy. “Just tell him you’re my BOYFRIEND! You said you wanted to see some heads explode - well, this might just turn out to be the first one. He won’t know what to say after that.” Brian found himself giggling at the image in his mind’s eye. “Shit, this should be good! On my way, Ghost. Later!”

Brian sped along the seldom used dirt roads and highways between the hardware store and his home and made it back to the house in only eight minutes, twenty-seven seconds. It was probably a record. As he pulled into the driveway, he was happy to see that the house was still standing. So far so good. Now, hopefully he hadn’t missed all the fun.

“Honey, I’m home!” he hollered as he walked through the front door, giving the two men seated on his couch a facetious smile. “Mikey, I see you’ve met my BOYFRIEND, Justin.” Brian bent over the back of the couch to deposit a nice, long, lingering kiss to his ghost’s lips. “Nice shirt, Dear,” he added, tugging on the shoulder seam of his own, old, Carnegie Mellon t-shirt, which Justin had apparently been wearing while painting.

“Well, you took MY painting shirt yesterday, Sweetie, so I thought it was only fair,” Justin teased him back.

Then Brian turned to look over at Michael with a huge-assed grin on his face and broke out in riotous laughter at the shell-shocked horror on his oldest friend’s face.

“Hey, Mikey. Better shut your trap before you catch flies,” Brian taunted his stunned friend. “So, what have you two ladies been saying about me behind my back, hmm? All good stuff, I hope.”

“But . . . But . . . What’s going on, Brian?” Michael finally found his tongue. “He said . . . he said he’s your b-b-boyfriend. But, that CAN’T be, right? You always said you don’t do boyfriends. So, what the FUCK is going on around here?”

“Oh, Mikey, you’re so cute when you’re all confused like that,” Brian needled the flustered man again as he moved around so he could sit on Justin’s lap.

“Get off me you big lug. Your skinny ass weighs a lot more than you’d think,” Justin laughed as he pushed Brian to the side and slid out from under his chuckling lover. “I’m going to go get us all some beer while you two chat. Be nice while I’m gone, Brian, ‘cause, If you make his head explode, I’m going to let YOU clean it up.”

Brian watched the ghost’s bounteous bubble butt shimmy away in the direction of the kitchen before he turned back to his flummoxed friend. Brian was really having a lot of fun with this. Michael was still slumped on the couch, his mouth hanging open and his eyes looking dazed. If Brian had known he’d get this big a reaction to announcing he had a boyfriend, he’d have done it long before. It was hilarious. He couldn’t wait to see the reactions he’d get from the rest of the gang. At this rate, he might actually see real, live heads exploding at his big news.

“So, Mikey, what do you think? He’s fucking hot, right? And a real tiger in bed, too. I lucked out for my first BOYFRIEND, dontcha think?” Brian couldn’t help poking the beast.

It took Michael a full minute and a half to pull himself together enough to respond. “I’m trying to decide if I should go with ‘Brainwashed by a Cult’ or ‘Kidnapped and Replaced by a Pod Person’.”

That caused Brian to double over with another bout of laughter, his body toppling into the cushions on the couch where he was able to bite a throw pillow to partially squelch his loud guffaws.

“I’m serious, Brian!” Michael was getting a little peeved by being laughed at so heartily. “What the FUCK is going on out here? The Brian Kinney I know would never even joke about having a boyfriend or being in a relationship of any kind. How the hell did this happen?”

Michael had scooted over, closer to Brian, while he was speaking. By the time he got to ‘How the hell did this happen’, he had pulled Brian back up into a sitting position and was shaking him. Brian was still giggling too hard to actually answer. Michael was just about to slap his friend - hoping this was all just an hysterical fit and the Brian he knew would reappear once this was all over with - when a pale hand appeared, as if out of nowhere, and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from landing the blow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Justin demanded, moving so he was halfway between Brian and the man about to assault him.

“Let go of me,” Michael demanded.

Justin did let go but continued to stand there, towering over the older brunet, who was rubbing at his now-chafed wrist. “I think you need to stop antagonizing your friend now, Brian. I won’t put up with anyone hitting you, and I don’t think Michael and I should start off by getting into a brawl the first time we meet.”

“Sorry, Honey,” Brian quipped - mostly because he just couldn’t stop himself - but then he turned towards his friend and decided to relent a bit. “Lighten up, Mikey. I’m just gassing you.”

“So, he’s not really your boyfriend after all?” Michael asked, a hopeful light gleaming in his eye.

“No. Justin REALLY is my boyfriend. AND he’s living here. So you’re just going to have to get used to the new, improved, boyfriend-material, Brian Kinney.” Brian watched as the light faded from his old friend’s face and the confusion returned. “Come on, Mikey. You should be happy for me. I’m happy. Justin’s pretty fucking amazing and he seems to at least be able to tolerate me, so it’s all good.”

“But . . .” Michael looked like he was about to argue the point some more, but then he looked over at his friend once more and saw the happy little smile the man was beaming up at the beautiful blond, and seemed to completely deflate. “Wow . . . I mean, just, wow!”

“Told you he’d be speechless,” Brian said to Justin, who proceeded to hand off the beers he’d brought with him to the two seated men and then joined them on the sofa. “Which, if you actually knew Michael, you’d find pretty fucking amazing.”

“I still don’t understand, Brian. How did this happen?” Michael repeated the fundamental question that underlay all his confusion.

“I don’t exactly know, Mikey,” Brian returned. “One minute I was just going along, minding my own business, and the next minute I realized I had a sexy, blond bombshell of a boyfriend. I didn’t see it coming at all. I’m almost as surprised by the fact as you are.” Then Brian reached his arm around the small blond’s shoulders and gave his ghost a friendly squeeze. “But, I gotta say, I’m not at all unhappy about the fact. I think, for a first boyfriend and all, I did pretty fucking good. Don’t you? He’s totally hot, he’s smart, he’s talented, and he almost wore me out in bed this morning. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the perfect man.”

“He wore YOU out?” Michael fixated on that one part of the conversation, as Brian had known he would.

“I said ALMOST wore me out,” Brian corrected his friend - boyfriend or not, he still had a reputation to maintain.

“But, still, how . . .”

“It doesn’t matter how, Mikey,” Brian insisted, starting to get a little annoyed by Michael’s utter disbelief that his friend could actually get a boyfriend. “It’s a done deal. Just be happy for me.”

“Well . . . shit! Nobody’s gonna believe me when I tell them THIS!” Michael finally capitulated. “I mean, shit . . .”

“You said that already, Michael,” Justin helpfully pointed out.

“I know but, shit . . .”

“Look, Mikey, it’s really not THAT big a deal. Hell, you’re acting like it’s a fucking miracle. It’s not like I’m a pariah or a leper or something. It’s not impossible that somebody wanted to be my boyfriend, is it?” Brian responded, getting a little more terse with his disbelieving friend.

“No. No. I just never expected . . . Nobody expected this, Brian. Really. Nobody’s gonna believe me,” Michael repeated again, looking back and forth between his friend and the unbelievable blond.

“Fine, then how about I go with you and tell them myself. That way they can get the facts straight from the start,” Brian suggested definitively. “You want to join us, Justin?”

“Uh . . . No. No, I’ll just stay here and do some more painting, I think,” Justin politely declined the invitation. “Besides, I think this will go over better if I’m not there to cause more of an uproar. You guys go have fun, Brian.”

“Damn. An uproar was just what I was going for,” Brian replied with a mock pout. “How am I gonna make all those heads explode without you there as proof that I’ve gone over to the dark side, Dear?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way, Honey,” Justin shook his head at his prankster boyfriend. Then he added, with a telling look that he hoped Brian would understand, “just be careful. Please.”

Brian leaned over, kissed the slightly stubbly cheek and whispered, “your secret is safe with me, Ghost.”

Turning to Michael - who’d been watching the interplay between the other two with unfeigned fascination, as if he’d been scrutinizing strange zoo animals or something - Brian reached out and tapped the neck of his beer against the one in his old friend’s hand.

“Drink up, Mikey, and then let’s go do this. I’ve got a lot of head exploding to get to before the night’s over.” Brian tilted the bottle up and chugged the remains of his beer in one go. “This is gonna be fun!”