February 17

Something wasn't adding up.

Justin lay on the chaise in front of the fire and watched the flames dance in the hearth, his mind mulling over the last few weeks. So much had happened, and so fast, that he'd yet to have a chance to process it all; and now that he'd had a slow moment to think things through, he started noticing things he hadn't before.

Or well, it wasn't that he hadn't noticed them, but more that he hadn't really had the opportunity to put the pieces together to get a clearer picture of what had been happening with this whole stalker business. Justin shuddered and rubbed a hand over his stomach, cupping it protectively as he thought back to his last visit to the grocery store and what it had revealed.

He couldn't help wondering how many like events had occurred over the years; ones that he'd ignored or chalked up to some asshole trying to get fresh with him. After all, everyone knew that until five years ago, he and Brian had maintained an open relationship. He, himself, had insisted on it while he lived in New York and made a name for himself. And there were assholes everywhere that thought they could manhandle him because they thought him to be nothing more than a clueless twink with a great ass.

They'd learned differently very quickly.

How many times had he done that in a day though? Touched someone or bumped into them, smiled at them or exchanged a pleasantry or two, without even thinking about it? How many times had he shrugged off an odd interaction as just something to be expected as regular city life and called it local color, never thinking of it again; because who wasn't unique or unusual in some way in New York or down on Liberty Avenue?

And as each, and every, one of those odd moments came flooding back; it forced him to examine them for signs, for hints or clues that the interaction wasn't nearly as innocuous as he once thought.

Sighing, he wearily rubbed his hand over his face; there were far too many of them for his comfort and it left him feeling uneasy in his own skin.

It didn't help that he also knew that Brian wasn't telling him everything; that his husband had been holding information back from him ever since the loft break in. Oh, he knew it seemed like he had been in a catatonic state at the time; but in reality, he'd seen and heard far more than either Brian or Carl were giving him credit for; you'd think they would have learned by now not to take everything at face value with him.

Justin was giving them the benefit of the doubt, however; and chalking up their failure to the fact that they were just as shell-shocked by the destruction of loft as he. It was annoying though. He didn't need to be protected from this; in fact, the lack of information could very well be more detrimental than the stress of knowing it.

He loved his husband, but sometimes Brian still saw the naïve seventeen-year-old twink that needed protecting, rather than the thirty-year-old former New Yorker that had seen and done far too much in his short life. And don't get him wrong; he loved Brian's protective streak and his need to make everything safe for him and Sunbeam. But sometimes… sometimes he just wanted to smack him over the head and tell him to stop being a stubborn ass.

God how he hated being coddled.

To make matters worse, he was pretty sure something was going on with his show now. He had felt that there was something more than the pipes were wrong when Sidney called the other day. He didn't catch on to it at first, but within the first couple of minutes of Sydney's explanation, Justin knew something was off. It wasn't so much what he had said, but more what he hadn't. Sydney, once you knew him, was very chatty. He could talk your ear off about everything and nothing at the same time.

So, when he called the other night, and only stayed on the phone for about fifteen minutes; it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Added to it, was the way he'd carefully picked and chose his words; as if he were reading from a script. Justin hadn't said anything that night as all he had were his suspicions, and he'd wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt as he could have just been distracted by the current crisis, but he still knew something was up. And he'd been proven right to be concerned.

As, the next day, when everyone had descended on their house for the various reasons, Brian had gotten that call. Justin had no idea who had been on the other end of the line, but he had seen Brian's reaction to it despite his obvious attempt at hiding himself in a quiet, dark corner of the room. Even more interesting had been Carl's reaction as soon as the phone went off; the way he'd watched Brian's reactions was very telling, and Justin suspected that it was a call that Carl had been expecting.

And really, he didn't know who they thought they were fooling in the end, having that mini-conference right there in the damned room, each looking as sober as judges, but it certainly wasn't him. Maybe they'd thought Justin had been too distracted by Luc and their other guests, but they'd certainly forgot one thing. Justin had always been tuned into Brian no matter where he was in a room; and he always had been from the very first night that the two of them had met.

Justin knew Brian better than anyone else; and he could always tell when something was wrong, even if his husband's face was completely devoid of emotion. There was just this shift, or ripple, in the air and Justin knew within seconds all was not right with the man he loved. Did they really think that they'd fool him?

But the real kicker came when he'd read the news this morning.

Brian had kept him successfully distracted all day yesterday; first, with a nice and slow morning fuck that kept in bed until nearly eleven. And then, all of their friends and family were there for an impromptu family lunch, which went on through dinner for a few of them. And then, Brian had decided that he'd wanted a movie night and they'd spent the rest of that night curled up on the couch together, eating popcorn and watching movies.

So, he hadn't had the chance to read the paper; or really, read through the news on his tablet, yesterday. But, it was bound to happen eventually, and he couldn't quite believe that they'd both thought they could keep the news of the break-in from reaching him. Inevitably, it was going to slip; and slip it did. This morning, he had been going through the articles from his news monitoring service, set to catch any mention of his name; it was something that his agent had recommended so that he would never be blindsided by an article.

And lo and behold, in the newest batch, there was an article on a break-in at Bloom Gallery. The news on the break-in was sketchy at best, with a vague mention of a piece of artwork that had been damaged the night before Sydney called him. The only reason his name had been mentioned at all was due to the announcement that his show would be postponed because of the break-in and subsequent investigation.

He had to admit, he was pretty ticked off that Sydney had lied to him the other night; his gut told him that the piece damaged was one of his. Why else would Sydney, Brian and Carl have been acting the way they have been for the past two days? He'd been this close to storming the gallery and Kinnetik and demanding answers today. But once he cooled down, he realized that Sydney's hands, at the very least, had likely been tied. He'd likely been told to keep certain details under wraps until the police were done their investigation and the detective had the chance to contact him and Brian.

So, He was willing to let that part drop for now.

His husband on the other hand; he was not so happy with him. While he completely understood why Brian would want to keep this close to his chest; after all, he did remember how terrified Brian had been when he'd gotten to the hospital and learned of his condition, it was still infuriating. He didn't blame Brian for erring on the side of caution; but it was beyond frustrating to be treated like he were a fragile little faggot that couldn't cope.

The only reason he'd gotten so upset the other day was he'd been having a pretty shitty day to start with; on top that, he'd not been able to get much sleep due to the break in, plus he hadn't eaten since the day before and he was still enraged that his painting and artwork had been destroyed. Michael coming in and laying the rest of that shit on him had just been the final nail in the coffin. He'd already been anxious since finding the loft destroyed; it wasn't going take much to topple him over the edge into a full blown panic attack.

And it hadn't; and he'd ended up in the fucking hospital, and now they were driving him crazy by handling him with kid gloves. That Brian was pulling this overprotective bullshit again grated; and he wasn't quite sure how he wanted to deal with it. Did he confront his husband when he got home? Or did he hold off in the hope that Brian would eventually come clean?

Sighing, Justin closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face before dropping it onto his bare stomach once again. He still didn't have any answers; and until he had all the pieces of the puzzle, he didn't think he would find one any time soon.

"Not that I'm complaining with the very nude welcome home," an appreciative voice rumbled and startled Justin out of his thoughts. His eyes flew open and landed on an amused Brian staring down at his body with obvious interest. Shit; he hadn't even heard the door open. "But do I want to know why you're laying in the middle of the living room without a stitch on?"

Justin bit his tongue against the rude comment he wanted to make and simply stared at his husband for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Deep lines were etched into his face, evidence of his fatigue and stress level, and in that moment Justin deflated; he didn't have the heart to rake his husband over the coals for his continued over-protectiveness and his need to control the situation.

Heaving an internal sigh, Justin decided to let it go for now and see how the events played out over the next few days. But, if Brian hadn't come clean by the end of the week, his ass was so getting reamed; and not in the fun, life-affirming way.

"I'm hot." Justin complained; which had been the absolute truth. For some reason, he'd been having fucking hot flashes all day and he'd finally gotten tired of it and decided to say fuck clothing for the time being.

"Well, yes," Brian drawled, licking his lips as he set aside his coat and suit jacket and slowly walked over to where Justin was laying on the chaise. "I'd definitely agree with that assessment; but it still doesn't tell me why you're naked as the day you were born."

"Not that kind of hot," Justin rolled his eyes, but he also couldn't help the pleased smile that spread over his lips as Brian began unbuttoning his shirt. His cock twitched with interest as Brian dropped to his knees at the end of the chaise; especially when he began dropping small kisses along the insides of Justin's thighs.

"Although the compliment is greatly appreciated at the moment. I mean, temperature wise, I'm hot. I've been having hot flashes all day and I got sick of putting on layers, only to yank them off twenty, thirty minutes later. So, finally, I decided to build up a fire and lay naked in front of it. It's working so far."

"You aren't getting sick, are you?" Brian looked up, a concerned frown on his face.

"No," Justin reassured, nearly melting when Brian continued his ministrations. He gasped as Brian slid up the chaise between his legs and continued to pepper kisses over his stomach and chest. "Liz said that this could happen from time to time the further I got into the pregnancy; which is why she suggested dressing in layers. It's just been one of those days."

"Well, then," Brian leered, sliding his shirt from his body and then quickly undoing his pants and sliding them off before crawling back between Justin's legs. "How about I join you; I wouldn't want to pass up such a fortuitous happenstance."

Justin groaned, and his back arched, as Brian licked a strip up his cock, and then completely lost all conscious thought as his husband's mouth engulfed him. Fuck talking right now; that could definitely wait until later.

Much later.