BONUS!

February 10

Brian slowly eased his way out of bed, his eyes on his sleeping husband the whole time; not that he was too worried about waking Justin up. He slept like the dead. But it would just be his luck that tonight would be the one night that Justin would wake up to use the bathroom or to get a drink of water or to run off and find those odious little snack cakes that he loved so much; the latter of which would completely foil his plans.

He'd done everything he could think of to talk Justin out of eating those damned Twinkies including, but limited to – logic, sex, persuasion, sex, guilt, sex, manipulation, and more sex and nothing was getting through to him. So it had finally come down to this – if you can't beat them, join them.

But only up to a point; he did have standards, which didn't include mass-produced, Styrofoam-textured sponge cake filled with a grainy cream center.

Finally making his way to the edge of the bed, Brian quickly slipped out of it and headed to the bedroom door. He opened it slowly, careful to make as little sound as possible and then slid out of the room. Closing the door behind him just as silently as he'd opened it, Brian walked over to banister, where his housecoat lay.

Slipping it on, Brian headed down the hall to his Sonny Boy's room; he'd hidden the package that he'd received at Kinnetik a little over a week ago in there for one reason alone. Justin would never dream of going into Gus' room without his permission. And since his Sonny Boy was a reluctant participant in this venture, Brian knew that Gus would find a reason to keep Justin at bay while Brian relocated the box.

Opening the door to Gus' room, he flipped on the light, walked over to the closet and pulled out the box. Setting it on his Sonny Boy's bed, he opened the top and smirked at the six smaller boxes; pulling one out, he stared at the twelve individually wrapped cakes and snickered. They were perfect.

Setting the smaller box aside, he closed up the larger package and stuck it back into Gus' closet. Closing the door, he picked up the small box of cakes, walked out of the room and turned the lights out, closing that door behind him as well. And then, with his contraband tucked under his arm, he strode down the hall to Justin's studio as that was the only place left that he could think of where those damned Twinkies would be hiding.

At least in the house; and if they weren't there, he didn't know where the hell they could be. But he was pretty sure Justin wouldn't want to be trudge outside to get his fix in this weather, so the studio it was.

You see, when it became obvious that Justin wasn't going to listen to reason when it came to his Twinkies, Brian had hatched a brilliant plan. One that had, admittedly, taken much more time than he'd expected to put into motion; but a brilliant plan nonetheless. He'd done a little research, and then dragged Emmett into the scheme when he was having trouble finding what he needed, and came up with a healthier alternative to the sponge cakes of doom.

He'd hired a baker to make a similar snack item that should, in theory, look like, taste like and smell like those stupid Twinkies his husband so loved to eat. But these would be made with organic, all-natural ingredients without all the preservatives, (it wasn't like they lasted long enough to go stale anyways). And then, he had said baker wrap them individually and send them to him, so that he could swap out the mass-produced crap hiding somewhere in his house.

He'd spent the night before Justin was in the hospital, and the nights since he'd come home, looking in every conceivable hiding place for them. (Or well, the nights they weren't staying at the Penn that is.) But he couldn't find anything in the usual places. And that left the one place he typically avoided going into without Justin's permission as it was his sanctuary.

That made it the perfect hiding place, come to think of it; sneaky little twat.

Opening the door, Brian walked in and closed it before turning on the lights. He walked over to the table and set the box down and then looked around. If he were Justin, where would he hide the Twinkies. He looked over at the cabinets lining the walls. That would be a good place, but a little too obvious; especially after the linen closet incident. So, Brian was going to say no to those.

He looked at the drawers that held his paints, and briefly considered that; if Justin took them out of the box, he could line one of the drawers with them. But he immediately dismissed the idea as there was to much potential for contamination. And Justin would never compromise his or Sunbeam's health just for a hiding place. He dismissed the drawers and cabinets by the sink for the same reason; as that's where he stored his solvents.

And then he looked over at the far wall, where the cans of paint for Sunbeam's room were stacked. He was about to dismiss that idea as well, but then paused to reconsider it. That had possibilities. If he'd emptied and cleaned the can thoroughly, it could work. Walking over to the stack, Brian studied them, wondering if it was worth lifting and opening each one to see if Justin had indeed used one of the canisters.

And that's when he noticed that one of the cans on the left, about halfway down was different from the others. He couldn't put his finger on just what, but the lettering seemed a bit off somehow and the color wasn't quite right. Kneeling in front of the stack, Brian smirked as he touched the one that seemed off, and then touched the one next to it; the paper was just slightly different.

The label of the one that had caught his eye wasn't nearly as glossy as the other labels. And from there, he noticed other subtle differences, like the fonts were close, but didn't quite measure up and the color of the label was just a few degrees off.

Pulling down the cans on top of it, Brian pulled the paint can out of the pile and then pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket. He pried it open and smirked. Bingo. Sneaky little twat. He'd gotten an empty can from the craft store and then put together a label that looked like the others; likely not thinking the slight differences would stand out as much as they did. He had forgotten one thing – design and ad copy were Brian's life. And he was well versed in the subtle differences in hues, as well as the minute differences in fonts.

Pulling out a plastic bag from his pocket, Brian dumped the Twinkies into it and then grabbed the box he'd set on the table and emptied it into the container. Closing it, Brian put it back in the stack, and then positioned them all in the same exact order, just in Justin had paid attention to that when he stacked them.

Pocketing the screwdriver, Brian picked up the box and the bag of confiscated Twinkies and walked swiftly over to the door. He turned off the lights and then opened the door, stepped out and closed it behind him. Walking back to Gus' room, Brian stored the stolen Twinkies in the closet for later disposal and then left, heading back to his room.

Taking off his housecoat, he threw it back over the banister and then quietly entered the bedroom, swiftly crossing the floor to his bed. He was just about to slide back under the covers for a few hours more sleep when Justin suddenly stirred and popped his head up; he blinked at Brian lazily, nearly scaring him near half to death.

"Jesus fuck, Justin," Brian whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Where did you go?" Justin asked sleepily; Brian studied his face, but didn't detect any suspicion in his husband's gaze.

"I just went to the study," Brian said, shivering as he slid under the covers, now realizing just how cold he was. "I woke up with an idea for the Aster Avalon account; and I wanted to email it to myself before I forgot. What are you doing awake?"

"Cold without you," Justin mumbled, scooting closer to Brian. "I would have gotten up, but I figured it would be even colder outside the blankets."

"Well, I'm back; but you probably won't want to cuddle with me just yet," Brian said, sighing an internal breath of relief to hear that Justin hadn't discovered his subterfuge. "I'm sure I must be freezing."

"Don't care," Justin yawned, scooting right up against Brian and wrapping around Brian like a limpet. "Need cuddles."

"I do love how your vocabulary deteriorates to that of a six-year-old's when you're half asleep," Brian snickered, yelping when Justin pinched his ass.

"Fuck off," Justin muttered as he buried his nose into Brian's neck.

"Now, now, now; none of that," Brian mock admonished, wrapping his arms around his husband. "Little boys with dirty mouths don't get what they want."

"Not what you said the other night," Justin sing-songed, snickering at Brian's chagrined expression; well, what could he say; the brat was right.

"Point," Brian conceded; kissing Justin on the tip of his nose. "I rescind all previous statements. Feel free to talk dirty to me anytime you like. "

"Well, with that in mind, how about now?" Justin purred, rolling Brian onto his back and climbing on top of him.

"Now, would be very, very good, Sunshine," Brian purred, moaning as Justin slid his hand down into his sweats and wrapped his fingers around his dick. "Very, very good indeed."