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.