“You know, I gotta say, I don't know if I really would have thought Brian was a nice guy if I didn't hear it from you,” AJ said, while we were walking back to the subway after a play.

I laughed. “Yeah, he hides it well.”

“Actually,” he said. “I probably would have figured it out after I met Justin.” They'd run into each other a few times now; I'd never brought AJ back to the house, but Justin had been feeling sketchy for the past week so he'd been spending a lot of time at Kinnetik, and they'd met there. Justin was so pissed that they met when he looked like shit! In Justin's opinion, anyway. He could never look like shit, really.

“Yeah, he's sweet to Justin.” Brian's sweet to me too, obviously, but at work we have to stay pretty professional. The situation with the three of us is kind of an open secret, and HR knows all about it, obviously—Brian made sure of that, for my protection—but yeah, we try to keep things above board within Kinnetik's walls, especially if we're not alone. It's just simpler that way, and it makes things easier for Justin. Fewer pitying looks from people who think his husband is cheating on him with his employee. “It's funny, I don't think he knows he is, but people comment on it all the time. Not to his face, thank God.”

“Probably because of Justin's, you know. Situation.”

“Situation?” I thought he meant the situation with me, for some reason.

AJ shrugged. “I asked around a little about him. Since he didn't look well.”

“Oh. Yeah. It's okay.”

“Someone who stands by their partner through all that has got to be a good person.”

Something about that rubbed me the wrong way, but I wasn't quite sure what at the time. “It's in the vows,” I said. “In sickness and in health.”

“People say it, but not everyone's up to making sacrifices like that.”

Hmm. Sacrifices.

**

Brian was wiping down the kitchen counters when I got home. Hello, darling. Had a good night?

It was okay. Brian was unexpectedly insecure about me seeing someone regularly, so I was careful not to gush about AJ too much. Justin told me he was afraid I was going to leave them, which was like...so not in the realm of possibility—this is my family—but I gotta admit it was kind of flattering that Brian was worried about it. Where's Justin?

Asleep. He had a weird seizure like an hour ago.

I came over and started unloading the dishwasher. “Weird how?”

The actual seizure wasn't that bad, but he was so confused after. He didn't know where he was and he kept getting really pissed that 'fucking Brian' wasn't there. It was funny, but kinda sad. I just gave up reassuring him 'cause it wasn't doing shit anyway and drugged him up instead.

Poor kid.

Yeah. He leaned against the counter, facing me. I've been thinking we should get away for a while.

Sounds good. Beach house?

Brian shook his head. Too cold. An island or something. Somewhere with clubs for us and warm places to sleep for him. He hates the cold so much, I want to get him out of here.

I shook my head and laughed.

What?

I just think it's funny that you act like you're going to surprise Justin with this trip when we both know he'll be the one planning the entire thing.

Maybe.

If it was in your hands we'd show up at the airport empty-handed with no tickets.

Well, that's why I have Emily. He laughed a little. And Justin.

That's all I'm saying. “Um.” I examined a dish I pulled out of the dishwasher. “This is not clean.”

Brian looked over. Did Justin not run it?

No, they’re wet, they’re just not clean.

Fuck. Brian came and looked at the dishwasher. I think it’s broken again.

What did you do last time?

What did I do? I stood here and looked pretty while Justin fixed it. I don’t do manual labor.

“So we just sit here with wet dirty dishes until Justin wakes up.”

Brian looked at me and shrugged.

Justin did wake up, about an hour later, when Brian and I had cleaned the rest of the dishes and were crashed on the couch watching whatever game show is on this time of night. He came out of their room rubbing his eyes and Brian said, Thank God, you gotta fix something.

Justin sighed and said, Hang on, I’m gonna throw up first and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Brian frowned and stood up, stretching, and took the blanket off the back of the couch. He watched the bathroom door.

Justin came out quickly, sweating and shaking. Okay, what’s broken?

Brian rolled his eyes. Later, come here, he said, and he wrapped Justin up in the blanket and hugged him tightly.

**

Justin was working on the dishwasher when I got up the next morning. Brian handed me a cup of coffee and said, “No run today?”

“Way too cold. I'm surprised you don't have Justin all bundled up.” He's neurotic about Justin getting cold.

He snorted. He's not going outside.

Justin put his tools down and said, Okay, that should do it. Brian bent down and put his hands under Justin's elbows and lifted him to his feet, since Justin can't really get up on his own.

Same thing as last time? I said.

I hope so, or else I fixed a problem we don't have.

Brian had made breakfast while Justin was working, so we sat down and ate. Brian counted out Justin's meds and said, So when do you think would be good?

I don't have anything showing until the middle of next month, Justin said. So really I can go anytime. I'll have to check with Emily and Gwen about my schedule with Jane.

Can you pull up my calendar, see what I have coming up?

Sure. Justin went to the counter and opened up his laptop. What about you? he asked me. Anything to factor into vacation timing?

I don't know, I guess whenever my boss says it's okay, I said, and Brian flicked me off. Where are we going?

Brian shrugged, but Justin said, St. Lucia. Best dialysis set-up in the Caribbean. We can get a resort close to the hospital.

Good night life in St. Lucia, Brian said approvingly.

I know. Justin tapped on the computer. You look pretty free in two weeks.

When did Emily update it last?

Looks like...seven last night.

All right, sounds good. Two weeks. Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair. I suppose I can wait that long. Justin, come sit.

I want to make reservations, Justin said.

After you eat something, come here.

Justin glared at him.

You're shaking. Come.

You're the one who asked me to check your calendar, Justin complained, but he came back to the table, kissing Brian on the way. Brian stalled him, winding his arms around his waist and looking up into his face, but finally let him go so he could sit. I smiled a little. What? Justin said.

Nothing, I said. You're cute.

You're cute, Justin countered, swiping some whipped cream on my nose.

We chatted about the trip through breakfast—what Brian and I wanted to do, how Justin was supposed to feel no pressure to do anything at all and was allowed to sleep through the entire trip if he wanted without feeling guilty about it, Jesus Christ Justin—and ended up running kind of late. Brian grabbed his keys while I put on my coat.

For the love of God stay inside, Brian told Justin. It's fucking freezing out there.

Okay, Justin said, but when we were almost at the door he must have said something out loud because Brian stopped and turned around. Justin grabbed a file from the table next to the sofa and handed it to Brian—contracts he'd been looking over the night before. Don't forget these.

Brian gave a sigh of relief. Sunshine.

Yes. Now go. He kissed me. I'll see you at dialysis at one.

I will go with him, Brian said. Stay inside.

Can't hear you! Justin said, and he waved us off and headed to the kitchen to clean up.

**

Justin, obviously, was at the dialysis clinic when I got there. Brian didn't even bother coming with me because we both knew it was useless trying to keep Justin away from it. He was also, obviously, shivering and sneezing from being out in the cold, and the first thing I did was take my coat off and put it around his shoulders.

Brian would kill me if I didn't tell you to take a cab home, I said.

He pulled the coat around himself. Sadly I think Brian is right on this one. Oh. I wasn't expecting him to give in on that one. He must have really been cold, poor thing. I frowned and blew on his hands.

We settled down in the dialysis room and a nurse got me set up while Justin took out his phone to show me pictures of the piece he'd been working on at home; I like looking at his art while I'm getting my blood all squeaky clean. He pointed out a technique he was using that I wasn't familiar with, and we talked about that for a while and I watched the circulation slowly return to his lips and the tips of his fingers.

He noticed me looking. What?

Nothing. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful, he said, and kissed me.

Once the art talk got stale he moved on to showing me pictures of the resort where we'd be staying in St. Lucia. Is it booked? I asked.

Yep, five nights. Got the resort, got the plane tickets, all settled. I'm working on an itinerary for day trips and stuff.

Sleeping on the beach. That's your itinerary.

I'll sleep, I'll sleep.

I ended up drifting off a little during dialysis; I usually do. The chairs are so comfortable and it's just so goddamn boring, and Justin always plays with my hair until I fall asleep. I woke up about half an hour before dialysis was over, and Justin was signing to his phone.

Look, it's going to be fine, he was saying. This sucks, but it's not the end of the world, and you're not going to let it ruin something else. We're not throwing good money on top of bad, remember? Fuck that account, but we're not letting it drag down another.

I leaned against the headrest and watched him.

Right, we're...exactly. Yes. You know all this, I'm just repeating you back to you. You've been charming people since I was a sperm and an egg, remember?

I laughed, and Justin looked at me sideways and smiled a little.

Okay, Justin said to his phone. Get going before you're late. You got this. I love you.

He hung up and turned to me.

What account did he lose? I asked.

Myers.

I didn't like them anyway. Is he okay?

Yeah, he's good, Justin said, and he leaned over and kissed me.

**

I went home with Justin—in a cab, thank you very much—and then fell asleep on the couch, like I always say I'm not going to do and then do, every time I have dialysis. It's not my fault. Justin was working on his painting a few feet away from me, and the smell of the acrylics and the soft way he tilts his head when he's comforting are basically sedatives.

I woke up before Brian got home, and he dragged Justin out for a shower and they came back later in lounging clothes. Brian seemed calm, not like someone who'd just lost a big account, so I didn't mention it. He flopped down next to me on the couch and watched Justin sort laundry on the floor. He watched TV with me for a while, his arm loosely around my shoulders, but eventually he got antsy and shifted around on the couch. I'm bored, he said to me.

I'm sorry, dear.

You need anything?

I shook my head, and he huffed and took a few pairs of socks out of the laundry basket and started throwing them at Justin. He caught them in his left hand without looking up.

Justin. Justin. Justin.

He finished the shirt he was folding and raised an eyebrow at Brian.

What do you need?

A cup of tea and a painkiller, Justin said immediately, easily.

On it, Brian said, and he kissed the top of Justin's head on the way to the kitchen. Justin kept folding, smiling a little to himself. I stretched out on the couch and pulled the blanket over me and felt safe.

**

We ate dinner in the basement down in my kitchen, just for a change of pace, and afterwards Justin and I flopped down on my bed while Brian sat in my chair and played with my fidget toys. Justin was telling us dirty jokes, and we were laughing until my stomach hurt and Brian had to wipe his eyes. At some point Brian pulled his phone out of his pocket and groaned. Why do these car insurance people keep emailing me?

Because you need to call them, Justin said. They've been trying to get in touch with you for a month and all you do is whine about it. True.

God, I hate this shit, Brian says. Also true. It's funny; Brian loves bossing people around at work, but the second he's home he doesn't want to talk to anyone, let alone negotiate with them. Brian still likes to go out, but there's not a lot of conversation at clubs, and now that he's getting older he spends more nights at home, cooking or fucking my boyfriend or playing board games or otherwise not calling the insurance company.

Do you want me to do it? Justin asked.

Yes please.

Justin laughed. Even though he has to do phone calls through a relay service and it's more complicated than if Brian does it, Justin doesn't mind stuff like this. He's always having to call and argue with his insurance company, and he's the one who takes care of scheduling maintenance for the house that he can't do himself. Justin just likes people a lot more than Brian does, I think. Okay. I'll call tomorrow.

My hero, Brian said, and a little later when they were going up the stairs to bed, Justin slipped on the staircase—he's been having trouble with his leg—and Brian was right behind him and caught him like it was nothing.

**

By the next day, our trip to St. Lucia was totally planned. Justin emailed us each copies of the itinerary that we'd probably never end up sticking to because stuff always comes up with us, but Justin is nothing if not optimistic.

He was at the office that day because he'd had a lot of trouble breathing overnight and Brian wanted to make sure he wasn't coming down with something. He caught up on sleep on the couch while Brian worked.

AJ came down to my work station mid-morning and asked if I wanted to go this sushi place for lunch, and I would have said yes if I hadn't spent the last few hours wishing I could see for myself that Justin was breathing okay. “I'm going to eat with Brian, I think,” I said. “Justin's here today.”

“Yeah, I was just in his office. Kinney seemed kind of worried.” And he said it like it was sad.

The thing is, people don't see Justin. They see a list of issues or a kicked puppy, and the worst part is that Justin knows that. He lives his whole life knowing that people have written him off. That they think they've figured out what the dynamic of this relationship is, saintly Brian and his sick little partner, because for some reason, everyone assumes that Justin requires support all the time but that Brian Kinney somehow rolls out of bed and is Brian Kinney, makes all this money and runs all these lives, with no one pushing him there.

People don't see Justin. They see Brian.

Brian says it all the time, casually, over and over: “Justin pulls his weight.” But he doesn't, really. He pulls Brian's. And mine. And we take care of him. And no one is burdened. No one is making sacrifices. We're all just doing the parts that we love.

We make sense, and we make sense because of Justin. He's the lynchpin; that's not a secret. And he is funny and kind and generous and organized and neurotic and handy and he is sick, and every part of that is important. Every bit of Justin is why this works.

But that's not for AJ to know. It's not for anyone to know but Brian and Justin. And me.

So I just said, “You know, Brian would be a complete mess without Justin there.” I stretched my fingers out, wishing I could sign right now. “We all would be.”