Chapter 25 - Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

“Okay. That’s it. I’m out of here!” Cynthia complained, slamming the file she’d been about to hand Brian down on the desktop and shooting a death glare her boss’ way. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of bug has crawled up your ass lately, Brian, but you need a serious attitude adjustment.”

She started to gather her personal stuff together, leaving all the work stuff where it was. Brian just sat there and stewed. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at her - for the third time that day - but he’d lost the reins on his temper. Again. Needless to say it had NOT been a good week for either of them.

“It’s bad enough that you insisted I give up my weekend to come in and help you sort out this pile of crap, but since you obviously don’t appreciate my sacrifice, you can finish cleaning up this mess yourself,” Cynthia insisted, shoving the most recent Art Department fuck up at Brian with such vigor that the whole sheaf of papers flew right off the desk and landed in a sprawl all over the floor. “And, since you ruined my weekend, Mr. Kinney, I’ll be taking the next two days off - PAID. I’ll be back on Wednesday, but I’m warning you now, if you’re not in a substantially better mood by then, I’ll be on the next plane back to the States and you can find somebody else to be your designated Whipping Girl.”

With that dire prediction, Cynthia spun around on the heel of her sparkly new Zanotti pump and flounced out of the hotel office center.

“Damn . . .” Brian sighed, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose.

If it weren’t for the fact that this latest hangover was making it difficult for Brian to think straight, he might actually have found a choice word or two to throw back at his Assistant. It was probably better, though, that he was too hungover to fight back. He’d only say something ELSE that would get him in trouble with her and he needed Cynthia too much to permanently alienate the woman. It didn’t help matters that she was well aware of that fact and milked the situation for all it was worth.

It was just that nothing seemed to be going right this week. Every single thing the Art Department had sent over had been wrong. And Britcom’s CEO was being more finicky than usual, changing his mind every other day about what he wanted to see in the new campaigns. Brian now regretted that he’d ever suggested adding in a World War II theme - it was only complicating things and making everyone crazy.

Well, fuck it! He certainly wasn’t going to get anything more done that afternoon without Cynthia to help mediate with the fuckers in the Art Department. He might as well take off for the rest of the day as well. Maybe he should go up to his room and sleep off this headache. Fuck knows he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Or the prior night. Or the night before that either. No wonder he felt so exhausted.

In fact, Brian had spent pretty much every night for the past week out at one club or another, carousing till the early morning hours, drinking like a fish, doing as many mind altering substances as he could get his hands on, and fucking his way through too many guys to count. It had been a wild week, to say the least. Brian hadn’t been on a bender like this one in a long time. But, then again, he had almost a month of near celibacy to make up for.

Without bothering to pick up the rest of the stuff strewn all over the hotel office area - the hotel could just deal since he was paying them good money for the use of the damn space - Brian got up, made his way to the elevators and stumbled off to his room. But, even though he was exhausted, the damn throbbing headache wasn’t going to let him rest. So he took another handful of aspirin, flopped down on the bed and picked up the remote control for the television, hoping that watching some mindless drivel on the tube would keep him entertained until his head felt better.

Unfortunately for Brian’s peace of mind, the Universe seemed to be forcefully trying to tell him something that afternoon. As usual he sped past the boring news and infomercial channels until he arrived at the block of channels that usually had decent movies. But the first movie he came across was ‘Saving Private Ryan’, complete with its iconic D-Day scene showing hordes of British and American boys being bombed to smithereens on the beaches of Normandy. Brian quickly hit the remote button to move on to the next channel. He hoped he’d be safer with the channel that typically showed old classics; only to discover that channel showing the Gregory Peck epic, ‘The Guns of Navarone’. Damn it. Fine. If all the movie channels seemed to be airing WWII movies, Brian figured he’d go watch something mundane on the History Channel instead . . . Not surprisingly, though, The History Channel was re-running the entire ‘Band of Brothers’ documentary series that afternoon.

“What the hell is with this obsession with World War II all of a sudden?” Brian grumbled as he gave up on finding actual entertainment and switched the television to the BBC, expecting to find the news or something.

Alas, even the BBC seemed against him today; it was airing another old classic, ‘Battle of Britain’, all about the brave young pilots of WWII.

Brian growled, turned the television off and threw the damned remote at the wall in a fit of anger.

“Fucking, damn, stupid British television, sucks beyond belief . . .” The furiously irate stud grumbled as he climbed back off the bed. “Whatever. I didn’t want to watch fucking television anyway. And since this headache seems immune to pain killers, I suppose that leaves only the old hair-of-the-dog-that-bit-you cure.”

With that in mind, Brian pulled on his brand new leather bomber jacket that he’d purchased just that week, gave himself a once over in the mirror, and decided he looked passable for someone whose head felt like it was about to explode. He pocketed his wallet, cell phone and room key, along with the necessary clubbing supplies like a tube of lube and a ribbon of condoms, and then headed back out of the room again. It wasn’t until he was all the way out the front door of the hotel and on his way down the street, that Brian realized none of his usual clubbing spots would be open this early in the day. He didn't want to have to fall back on a regular old pub, though; he wanted someplace where he could at least get a good blow job, hoping that being sucked off might work where the aspirin had not. But the only place he could think of nearby, that was open this time of day and that also catered to a gay clientele, was the little pub at the near end of Duckett’s Passage. The same pub he’d been assiduously avoiding all week long.

“Fuck it,” he grumbled - something he seemed to be doing a hella lot these days - and made a u-turn in the direction of the Royal Oak.

The little pub on the corner seemed to be pretty busy even this early on a Sunday afternoon. Even from halfway down the block, Brian could see the crowd spilling out the front doors onto the pavement. It was one of those rare, sunny spring days in London and everyone and their brother seemed to be out, trying to soak up as much Vitamin D as they could. It looked like there would be prime pickings for Brian’s purposes there today.

To get to the pub’s entrance, though, Brian had to pass the entrance to Duckett’s Passage. He felt almost spooked walking past the alley, which was nuts. It wasn’t like the past was going to jump out at him and drag him kicking and screaming into the time portal or anything. But, even so, he felt so strange walking past the alley - almost like there was a pull there that was tugging at his psyche. He couldn’t help looking down the narrow, brickwork lane as he neared, even though he didn’t know what he expected to see.

Of course there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary down the alley. There were a few guys standing next to the pub’s side door, most of them smoking, but that was it. No boogiemen. No specters from the past. Just a mostly empty alley.

Brian sighed and shook his head. He was disgusted with himself for acting so jumpy over nothing. Maybe it was just his exhaustion, or the hangover, causing him to act so skittish. He almost laughed with relief at the lack of anything startling happening.

Of course, just when he’d convinced himself there was nothing to see, his eye caught on the front window of the little resale shop situated a couple meters down the alleyway on the left hand side. And, because his life was a cosmic joke, the display in the front window today just HAD to be all about WWII. Even more coincidental, a large part of the display seemed dedicated to the boys of the RAF, including a vintage uniform on a mannequin and a period flight helmet complete with oxygen mask displayed on a hatstand. What the hell?

Brian couldn’t stop himself. He simply HAD to walk over to that damn display window. He felt like a moth being drawn against his will towards the danger of an open flame. But he simply could NOT look away.

It took him only a half dozen steps till he was standing there looking in through the large plate glass window. The display area contained quite an assortment of WWII memorabilia. Besides the uniform and helmet, there were knick knacks, various military insignia, vintage toys from the era, even a good-sized model of a Spitfire dangling from the ceiling by a string. The thing that drew his attention most strongly, though, was the almost pristine example of an Eagle Squadron Insignia patch, sitting in a place of honor right at the front of the grouping.

He’d seen that same patch on his Blue Eyes’ uniform so many times. The insignia alone seemed to bring the young pilot’s image to the forefront of Brian’s mind, despite the fact that he’d been trying his damnedest all week to forget about Justin. But it was hopeless. Now that he’d seen that damned patch, it was almost like seeing Justin himself. In fact, Brian could almost swear he saw that adorable turned up nose and big wide smile . . .

Just as Brian was thinking that, he noticed the book displayed on a small stand right behind the gift box holding the Eagle patch - it was titled, ‘The Few: The American Knights of the Air Who Risked Everything’. But the title wasn’t what had grabbed his attention. It was the photo on the cover. The photo of a smiling, blond-haired aviator, his goggles pushed up onto the top of his head, appearing happy-as-could-be, thrilled to be risking his life for the cause. A photo of a VERY familiar RAF pilot. Brian’s very own, personal, American RAF pilot - one Justin Taylor - to be precise.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whimpered quietly.

After that, Brian caved. He didn’t really have a choice did he? The Universe seemed determined to force him to deal with the one issue he’d been trying his best all week to avoid. But the shock of seeing Justin’s face on the cover of that book made the urge to see his Blue Eyes absolutely impossible to resist. He needed to touch him again. Kiss him. He needed to know that Justin was okay; that nothing unexpected had happened to him during their time apart. Fuck! Brian could feel his reluctant body being compelled down that damned alley and, before he’d even consciously made a decision to move, he found himself halfway down Duckett’s Passage.

As soon as he’d stepped through the portal, he felt himself being pulled towards the White Lion. There was a small part of him that hated himself for giving in, but he couldn’t argue against that magnetic pull. His body knew where it wanted to be; it was in control and he didn’t think any attempts to fight it would be successful.

His traitorous body pulled him along till he reached the familiar front entrance under the sign of the Lion. Somehow he knew that the blond he was looking for was inside; it was like he had a sixth sense, or something, dedicated solely to locating his wayward flyboy. And sure enough, as soon as he pushed through the doors of the pub he heard his name being called. Two seconds later his arms were suddenly full of yummy blond boy and a pair of slightly calloused hands were desperately clasping at his cheeks while those haunting blue eyes he’d been trying not to think about all week were looking so intensely into his own brown ones that Brian found himself temporarily speechless.

“Brian! Oh, applesauce, Brian. It’s you! It's really you,” Justin’s hands moved quickly from his cheeks, down his body, as though he was scanning Brian for injuries. “I was so worried about you. You just disappeared; I woke up and you were gone and nobody has seen you since. The hotel said you haven’t even checked in at all this week. What the heck happened to you? Are you okay? Where have you been?”

Justin threw out his questions a mile a minute. He was being so fucking adorable again. Brian wanted nothing more than to bend his sexy little pilot over the bar and fuck him silly by way of proving to his concerned blond that he really was fine. But, bowing to propriety, he opted for simply leading Justin over to one of the only empty tables at the back of the room instead. Once they were seated together, Brian grabbed Justin’s wandering hands and clasped them tightly in his own as he tried to calm his panicking boy.

“I’m fine, Blue Eyes,” Brian tried to smile reassuringly. “I’ve just been busy with work.”

Justin pulled away from Brian’s grasp and exhaled loudly. “You’ve been busy . . . with work?” he repeated slowly. “That’s your excuse for disappearing for a week without word? You were busy? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I . . .”

“Applesauce, Brian!” The stool Justin was sitting on fell back as he stood abruptly. Luckily only a few people seemed to notice as the noise of the chair hitting the floor got lost amongst the loud chatter of the people around them, but they all looked around when they heard Justin’s now raised voice. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to just waltz back in here with some dad-blamed excuse like you were ‘busy’. That’s just . . . It’s unacceptable. You have ten seconds to do better.”

Brian couldn’t stop himself from getting defensive. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Blue Eyes. Work’s been really busy and . . .”

“So busy you couldn’t even find the time to write me a dang note to let me know you’re okay?” The indignant little blond raged on, standing there, leaning over Brian’s chair so he could more effectively yell down at the cringing brunet. “I was going bonkers here all week, Brian! You do realize there's a war going on, don’t you? Or had you forgotten? I mean, anything could have happened to you. You could have been dead in a ditch and I wouldn’t have had a clue. I don’t even know who to call to check on you; you haven’t actually told me who you work for, you know. I was so worried, I was about ready to go report you missing at the US Consulate - that’s how upset I was. And all you can say is that you were BUSY? You’re such a . . . a . . . a jerk!”

By that point his blond was heaving with anger. Justin’s face was bright red and his fists were balled at his sides. His normally bright blue eyes had shrunk to tiny, angry slits and instead of glints of gemstone blue they were shooting enraged daggers of blackness Brian’s way.

That’s when the guilt hit him. Brian hadn’t thought about how his abrupt absence would have affected Justin. That, with all the other things going on around him, all the things Justin experienced on a day to day basis, he’d likely have thought the worst. And it really wasn’t a stretch, in the middle of a war, to assume a lover who disappeared might have been killed. Brian really had been an ass to leave like that without word of some kind.

“So, go on,” Justin pressed, intent on getting a real explanation. “I already gave you ten seconds to try and come up with something better and you’re running out of time . . .”

“Justin . . . I . . . I just . . . I can’t . . . I . . .” Brian started to explain and then realized he had no idea what to say and his words died on his lips.

“Yeah . . . that’s what I thought,” Justin scoffed, as he snatched up his uniform cap from the table and stormed out of the pub, without even so much as a wave goodbye to Daphne.

Brian sat motionless for about thirty seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened, before jumping out of his seat and chasing after his incensed blond.

“Blue Eyes . . . Justin . . . Justin, will you just slow the fuck down,” Brian pleaded as he trotted after his retreating blond, trying to slow the boy down by taking hold of his elbow. “I just . . .” He cleared his throat nervously. “Can you please just stop for a minute and fucking talk to me already?”

“That’s what I tried to do inside, but you didn’t seem to have much to say. Your opportunity to talk is over. Now, let go of me. I’ve got better things to do with my time than listen to your pitiful lies.”

“You . . . You caught me off guard, okay?” Brian admitted.

Justin shook his arm as he tried desperately to escape Brian’s grasp. “I caught YOU off guard? I don’t think so Brian.”

“I can explain, Blue Eyes. Please. Give me ten minutes. I just want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Then talk already,” Justin barked, standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, his arms crossed, looking as implacable as a marble statue.

Brian knew this wasn’t going to be easy; Justin was a stubborn little shit. “Somewhere . . . more private?”

Justin huffed and turned on his heels. “Fine. You can walk me home. But I’d better have a much more believable excuse from you when we get there or, I promise you, you’re going to regret wasting my time.”

They walked in silence back to Justin’s boarding house. Brian could feel the waves of icy cold resentment wafting off the usually affable blond boy. He was afraid to reach out and touch him for fear he’d get freezer burn. It was okay though, since the long, silent walk gave him time to scramble for something to say - something that might actually justify his unthinking actions - although nothing much was coming to him as yet.

As soon as they reached the front door of Mrs. McCready’s boarding house, Justin turned to face Brian and crossed his arms tightly over his chest once more. “We’re here. But I’m not inviting you in until you explain yourself. So, talk.”

“I . . .” Brian tried again but couldn’t for the life of him think of a single thing to say.

“This is going really well,” Justin muttered bitterly.

“Fuck! Will you just give me a damned second?”

The blond looked a little bashful as he apologized. “Sorry.”

“Listen . . . Are you listening, Blue Eyes?”

Justin nodded.

“I just screwed up, okay? I started feeling all comfortable with you and shit and it scared the piss out of me . . .”

“So this is all my fault?” Justin snapped.

“Will you just shut up and listen to me, please?”

Huffing loudly through his nose, Justin indicated for Brian to continue.

“I got scared . . . this thing between us . . . it’s new for me . . . and it scared me shittless,” Brian stumbled slightly over his words but carried on as he knew, if he stopped now, he’d never get the confession out at all.

“How was THIS new to you?” Justin laughed angrily. “You’ve been with other men before me. I haven’t. So if one of us has any right to be scared, Brian, then it sure as heck ain’t you.”

“I’m not talking about that . . . Fucking guys is definitely not new to me, Blue Eyes. I meant . . .” Brian’s hand moved furiously between the two of them. “This thing that’s happening between us . . . this . . .” Brian’s words failed him again, venturing as he was into an unfamiliar topic where he didn’t seem to even have the proper vocabulary for the sentiments he was experiencing.

“Relationship?” Justin offered apprehensively.

“Shit. I guess that’s what this is, huh? A fucking ‘relationship’,” Brian spit the word out as if it had caused a bad taste in his mouth. “But, I’ve never . . . I mean, you know . . . I’ve never done this part of it before. I’ve never spent this much time with just one guy, or gone on a date, or . . . Or ANY of this . . .” Brian gestured towards Justin, his hand motions encompassing all that Justin was from head to foot, like the pilot himself was something alien that Brian simply didn’t comprehend.

“You’ve never courted anyone before?” Justin tried to distill Brian’s nebulous worries into a single concept.

Brian snorted out a laugh at that phrasing. “Definitely not! I don’t DO relationships. Or dates. Or ‘courting’. Or any of the other shit I’ve been doing since I fucking met you,” Brian insisted before he noticed the way his protestations were angering his blond all over again. “But then I met you and I fucking forgot all those rules the minute you batted those damned big blue eyes at me, Justin. And I was actually enjoying myself, but then, after I heard about Lucky getting arrested and all, well . . . I . . . I guess I realized how deep I’d fallen and I just, sort of, panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Brian. You big chucklehead!” From his tone, Brian could tell the boy had started to relent a bit and it gave him hope even though there was still an angry edge underlying Justin’s words. “You think I’m not scared too? Huh? This is all just as new to me, Handsome. And I’m risking a lot more than you in this, you know. It’s one thing to be quietly queer, but by being together with you like this, daring to have an actual relationship and being repeatedly seen together, I’m risking everything I’ve ever worked for. If we’re caught . . . Well, we both know the consequences. But you don’t see me running away and hiding for a week, do you? Especially not without at least providing my lover the courtesy of a note to let you know where I went.”

“Yeah. That was pretty shitty of me, Blue Eyes. I didn’t even think about that, I’m afraid. I’m really not good at this fucking relationship thing, am I?”

“No. You’re REALLY not, Brian,” Justin replied, shaking his head at the idiot standing there pleadingly before him. “You made me really worried and I’m still really angry, you know?” Brian nodded, looking at Justin through lowered eyelids, totally chagrined by his own horrible behavior. Justin sighed. “But I suppose that I can forgive you . . . Just this once. Do NOT ever do anything like that again, though, or I can promise you I won’t be so understanding the next time.”

“I . . . I'm afraid there’s more, Blue Eyes,” Brian confessed, even more anxious than he had been before, which was saying a lot. “I really, REALLY fucked up . . . I . . . Well, I . . .” He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intensely accusing look Justin was aiming his way as the boy prepared for whatever this new revelation might be. “Fuck it! I slipped up. I know we sorta agreed to be exclusive and all but I . . . Damn it! I spent the week tricking. Hard.”

Justin looked thoroughly confused. “Tricking?” He repeated the strange word once before the meaning of Brian’s disclosure finally became clear. “You mean you were with another guy? You . . . You made love to someone else?”

Damn it! The young man sounded so fucking hurt, it made Brian’s gut clench in knots, and he rushed to try and explain. “No. I mean, yes, I fucked some other guys. But I didn’t ‘make love’ to them. It was just fucking. It didn’t mean anything. I don’t even remember any of them. The whole week was just . . . Just a blur.” Brian could see from the pained, betrayed expression on Justin’s face that his Blue Eyes was definitely NOT taking this well. “I know you don’t understand, but you have to believe me. My tricking doesn’t mean anything. It was all . . . It’s was all a huge mistake. Just me running away from ‘us’ because I was fucking piss-my-pants scared. Those guys meant nothing to me, Justin. What we have - this fucking relationship thing - this means everything. You . . . You mean everything to me. You’re all that matters and I couldn’t stay away from you.”

Brian heard himself blurting out the words, unable to stop himself from the uncharacteristic declaration. It was all true, anyways. And he could tell from the looks he was getting that Justin was even more angry now than before so, in his panic, he simply blabbed out his whole fucking heart without thinking.

It didn’t look like his honesty was working though. If he’d thought Justin was angry before, over the missing for a week thing, it was NOTHING compared to the overwhelming rage his confession of tricking had earned him. The seething, impassioned, outraged, ball of blond fury that was now glaring at him was truly a sight that could make even a strong man like Brian quail. The irate little pilot was magnificent in his righteous wrath. He seemed to tower over Brian, made larger by his rage and sense of betrayal. Even the 6’2” Brian was startled enough to take a few steps back from the snarling image of compact fury.

“How DARE you!” Justin raged, hissing his words out like a rattlesnake on steroids and slapping Brian’s cheek at the same time. “How dare you claim that you being with other men is because you were scared of your feelings for me and then, in the next breath, profess how much you care! I’ve never in my life heard such a bunch of bunk! And, if you were under the mistaken impression that I’m some sort of cowed little shrinking violet, who will put up with you stepping out on me behind my back, well, you are gravely mistaken about that, Mr. Kinney. You damned whore you! Get the hell away from me, Brian. You disgust me.”

Justin began to turn away from Brian, the look of loathing on his countenance so clear it caused a visceral impact on the big man. Brian was fucking scared. He didn’t think this could be fixed. He’d never seen anyone as angry as Justin - not even Jack back in the days of Brian’s childhood when his father would lose it and beat him in anger - not even then. This was so far beyond Brian’s experience that he didn’t know how to react.

But he couldn’t stand there and do nothing. He knew in his gut he couldn’t lose Justin. Not like this. He HAD to do something. He couldn’t let Justin go. He just couldn’t.

“Justin. Stop, Justin! Please. Don’t do this to me. You can’t just walk away from me like this, Justin. Please, don’t go!” Brian caught up to the retreating blond with two large strides, grabbing hold of the smaller man’s shoulder and spinning Justin around before pushing him backwards and pinning him to the wall. “I know you’re fucking pissed off at me, Justin, but I don’t care. I’m not letting you go. Not like this. Not now that I’ve found you. I won’t let you leave me!”

“Let go of me, Brian! I don’t want you anywhere near me! Let GO!” Justin screamed, struggling to free himself.

And while Justin was still fuming at him, clearly not even close to forgiving what he saw as a blatant indiscretion, Brian decided to give up on words. He’d never be able to make this right with words alone. He didn’t know how to say everything he was feeling. All these emotions washing through him were too new, too incomprehensible, he just didn’t know how to explain any of it. He felt it though. He felt it so strongly it was like the emotions were taking over. So strongly that he knew he had to SHOW his Blue Eyes the things he couldn’t say.

With Justin pinned to the wall where the younger man couldn’t escape, Brian fell on him in a vicious, angry, passion-filled kiss that mashed their lips together so hard he knew they’d both be bruised. Their teeth clattered together. And for half a heartbeat Justin fought him, refusing to give in or kiss back. But then, something inside the blond gave and Brian could feel the previously struggling body melt into his own. Justin’s lips parted and accepted him in. Then, for thirty seconds of bliss, they were kissing like lovers again. Lust-filled, frantic, hungry kisses that evidenced all the pain and longing they were both feeling right then. And it was good. For that moment in time it was actually wonderful.

It all came screeching to a horrible end, though, when they were forcefully pulled apart by a pair of strong hands.

“Get your filthy, disgusting hands off him, you damned pervert!” Chris Hobbs yelled as he slugged Brian hard in the gut, causing the blindsided brunet to topple over onto his ass. “You heard him tell you he didn’t want you anywhere near him. So just get the hell out of here already before I call the cops and have you arrested. Go on! Scram!”

Brian didn’t know what to do or say. He was still reeling over the argument with Justin, panting through the pain of the gut punch that had taken him by surprise and knocked the breath out of him, and mentally scrambling to find a way to fix this whole mess. He was also scared for Justin, thinking that they’d been caught by the young pilot’s colleague, which most likely meant Justin was about to be outed. It was probably the worst thing that could possibly happen. And it was ALL Brian’s fault.

“You okay, Taylor?” Hobbs had turned his attention back to his fellow flyboy. “I heard you yelling from around the corner. I’m glad I got here when I did - before that damned pervert had time to do anything more serious than force a kiss on you. You want me to call the police? I’d be happy to testify against the creep if you need me to. I knew there was something off the first time I saw that guy. I can smell a queer from a mile away. He didn’t try anything else on you, did he?”

Huh? . . . Brian wasn’t sure at first what to make of this development. It seemed that Chris had somehow got a skewed impression about what had just gone down. Lucky for Justin, Hobbs had apparently not come in until the very tail end of their argument and thought Brian was making unwanted advances on the poor unsuspecting pilot. Which gave Justin an out and hopefully meant he wouldn’t be automatically thrown out of the RAF. Of course, now Brian looked like some kind of monster who’d force himself on poor, unsuspecting straight boys against their will. But at least Justin wasn’t going to get in trouble for Brian’s stupidly kissing him out in the open like that. He’d better get the fuck out of there though, before Hobbs changed his mind and opted to call the police on him after all.

“I’m fine, Hobbs. It’s not what you’re thinking. Brian wouldn’t have . . .” Justin answered, seemingly about to jump in and sacrifice himself to save Brian’s honor - the brave little twat.

Brian rushed to interrupt before Justin said something stupid. “Fuck this! As pretty as you are, you're not worth all this shit, Taylor. You don’t have to call the fucking cops though. I won’t bother you again. I know where I’m not wanted. I can get tail a lot easier, and without risking being arrested, over in SoHo. I’m out of here!”

Brian climbed awkwardly to his feet, wincing at the twinge of pain in his gut from where the ham-handed Hobbs had slugged him. Today just really wasn’t his day, was it? He was still fighting the damned hangover headache, plus he’d been screamed at, slapped and now punched. Fuck this shit! It was definitely time to throw in the fucking towell already. He’d limp on back to the damned twenty-first century, have a large analgesic scotch, lick his wounds in peace, and try to think up some way to fix the steaming pile of shit his life had become. He certainly wasn’t getting anywhere here, tonight, in the morass of the early twentieth century. He turned towards the high street and slowly started to limp away, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

“Brian, wait!” Justin hollered at his retreating back.

“Let him go. Good riddance,” Hobbs interjected with a disdainful tone. “You don’t want his kind around you, Taylor. If I hadn’t got here in time, who knows what he mighta tried on you. Am I right?”

Brian didn’t stop or even bother slowing down. Justin needed to shut the fuck up already and take the out Hobbs’ misimpression was offering. The alternative was admitting that he wasn’t just a straight boy fending off the unwanted advances of a reprobate queer like Brian, but a willing participant in that kiss. And that admission would only lead to trouble. Brian figured if he hung around any longer, it would only make things worse for his Blue Eyes. So, despite how tired and sore he was, he picked up the pace as he hobbled away, hoping that somehow Justin would be able to handle Hobbs on his own and save his place in the RAF in the process.

Justin had felt sick to his stomach ever since the argument with Brian had started. What an idiot his lover was. He couldn’t believe the man was THAT clueless. Justin was so angry with Brian he was fit to be tied. And when Brian had admitted he’d fooled around with other men - ‘men’ being plural - well, that had felt like the last straw. But then there was that kiss and . . . How could he deny that kiss?

And then the whole world had shifted on its axis again when Hobbs had arrived and pulled Brian away from him. Justin had thought the jig was up for good. Hobbs had caught them KISSING. Hobbs was going to tell Justin’s CO. He was going to be kicked out of the RAF. It was pretty much Justin’s worst nightmare come to life.

He was so shaken that it took him a while to catch on to what Hobbs was actually saying. And then he was too amazed by his sheer dumb luck to know how to react.

Hobbs seemed to think that Brian had been forcing himself on Justin. Hobbs was blaming the kiss on Brian alone. Hobbs was actually thinking he was helping Justin escape from Brian’s advances. The ludicrousness of that scenario almost made Justin laugh out loud. He only just barely stopped himself.

Justin wasn’t going to let Brian take the heat for this though. He might be angry at the man, but he wasn’t going to let his lover be arrested on trumped up grounds. He would never let Brian alone take the fall for something of which they were both equally guilty.

However, right as Justin was about to speak up, Brian shocked him by playing along with Hobbs’ misinterpretation. Justin didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t one to let others take the blame for something he’d done, but it seemed like this one time, maybe, he should keep his trap shut. And when it seemed like Brian was going to be allowed to simply leave without Hobbs calling the cops or taking any other negative action, he figured it was probably best for all that he say nothing.

“Let him go. Good riddance,” Hobbs sneered at Brian’s retreating back. “You don’t want his kind around you, Taylor. If I hadn’t got here in time, who knows what he mighta tried on you. Am I right?”

It hurt Justin to have to listen to that crap from Hobbs, but he bit his tongue. Calling Hobbs out wasn’t going to help anyone. Even if he hated being lumped in with bigots like Hobbs while Brian was basically being chased off. And it seemed like Brian had been hurt too - he was still clutching at his stomach where Hobbs had walloped him. Justin hoped his lover wasn’t too badly injured. Gall darn it! Why did Hobbs have to show up right then and ruin everything?

Justin turned on the big bully who thought he’d just saved his fellow aviator, redirecting his still overflowing anger at the unsuspecting Hobbs. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Hobbs!” he screeched. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know. So just back off already, okay?”

“Sheesh! I was just trying to help, Taylor. See if I ever stick my neck out to save your tail again,” Hobbs capitulated, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as he backed up a couple of steps. “But, if you want my advice . . .”

“Which I don’t,” Justin snapped.

Hobbs continued on as though Justin hadn’t just interrupted him. “You better keep your distance from that one. You never know if that queer stuff will rub off on you. I’ve seen it happen before, and it’s not pretty. One day a guy’s perfectly normal and then the next thing you know, they’re a flaming Nancy Boy.”

“You know what I think, Hobbs?” Justin growled at the bigger man, completely undaunted by his size at that exact moment in time. “I think you sure know an awful lot about queer guys for somebody who claims to prefer girls.”

Justin knew he’d get a rise out of the ruffian with that and was gratified to see the stocky Hobb’s face turn a deep, angry red. But Justin knew when he’d poked the beast enough for one day. Besides, he didn’t want to stick around and chew the fat with Hobbs. What he wanted to do was find Brian and make sure his lover wasn’t too badly hurt. And then he’d finish yelling at him for the - what had Brian called it? Oh yeah - the ‘tricking’. And then, after he’d yelled at him for a good long stretch and had finally exhausted his pent up store of anger and fear over Brian’s week-long disappearance, maybe then they could go to Brian’s hotel and make up.

With that in mind, Justin took off, jogging along in the same direction Brian had taken, completely ignoring Hobbs who was still blustering and complaining behind him. It didn’t take him long to catch sight of the tall lanky man, who was still heading south along the high street. It looked to Justin like Brian was heading back to the White Lion. That was good because it gave him several blocks in which to prepare what he was going to say to the man when he did catch him up.

Justin followed along, about half a block behind his lover. He could see Brian marching angrily ahead of him, his hand still clutching his winded stomach, his shoulders hunched over in pain and defeat. Justin had purposefully remained at a distance though. He was still so dad blamed angry at the infuriating man. While he kept Brian in sight he worked to calm himself down, letting the adrenaline that was still raging through his veins from everything that had happened already that afternoon slowly dissipate. Justin wanted to have a clear head before he tried confronting Brian again.

As they neared the pub, Justin began to gather himself together, ready to take another stab at working things out with his lover. But, instead of turning the corner and heading in the direction of the White Lion, Justin watched as Brian took a sharp left down a small darkened alleyway. Where on earth was he going? Duckett’s Passage didn’t lead anywhere, not that Justin knew of anyway. He quickly trotted over to the entrance of the passage and watched as Brian made his way down the narrow lane. What in the world was the man doing down this dark, empty alley?

Justin was about to call Brian’s name when he saw the man pause about fifty meters down the walkway. As far as Justin could see from where he was standing just inside the entrance to the long, cramped passageway, there was nothing of any importance at that particular spot - at least not that he could see. The alley was mostly straight with only a small ledge of brickwork poking out into the path right in front of where Brian was standing. There wasn’t even a doorway or a window there that Brian might have been looking into. It didn’t make any sense why the man was standing there in the middle of an empty alley.

That’s when Justin observed something that made even less sense. Because just as he was about to head into the passage himself, something truly astounding happened. Something that he couldn’t actually have seen, to be honest. Something impossible.

That’s when his lover, Brian Kinney, the man whom he’d been sleeping with for almost a month, simply disappeared from in front of Justin’s very eyes.