During Brian's days spent in the hospital, Justin had bullied the doctor into taking his own cast off. He wanted to be able to drive now that Brian would be incapacitated with his whole arm in a cast.

They had shared a cab to Brian's loft since the doctor had advised Justin to be confident in his wrist and hand before he drove.

Justin kept his distance as Brian was the only one left near the fresh grave. He could still remember the haunted look on Brian's face when they had stepped into the loft.

Brian had traced an abandoned coffee cup on the kitchen island, then he had stood on the steps, staring at the rumpled sheets for so long Justin was expecting him to start crying. Brian had smoked three cigarettes before he packed everything that had belonged to Evan. He then instructed Justin to do anything he wanted with the garbage bags holding Evan’s belongings, before he locked himself in the bathroom.

Justin had called Michael for help, not wanting to leave Brian's side.

Two days later brought the funeral and the recess day.

Justin leaned against a tree, smoking slowly. He watched Brian staring at the grave, gripping a rose in his hand. When the rose fell on the soft ground, Justin heard a sniff.

He sighed in relief. Brian was finally letting go. He had expected this moment since he found out Evan had died.

He was surprised to see Brian turning around and strolling to him with tears streaming down his cheeks. Justin couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Brian openly crying. Brian wrapped his good arm around Justin, clutching him close.

“Shh.” Justin rubbed soft circles over Brian's back. “We can skip the court if you’re not up for it.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment for too long.”

Justin stroked his thumbs under Brian's eyes, kissing him softly. “Let’s go, then.”

During the car ride, Brian pulled himself together, scrubbing at his eyes and blowing his nose several times.

“I don’t know what happened,” he mumbled.

“You kept your emotions bottled up. It’s human to cry, Brian.”

“I’m not even sure I was crying over him. It was a combination of that and the relief of freedom and being able to have you back for good. I’m a horrible person.”

“No, you’re not,” Justin said loudly. “A tiny part of me is happy about this situation, and it makes me feel bad. But we’re following our interests, right?”

Brian chuckled. “Whoever taught you that…”

Justin smirked, reaching over to pat Brian's thigh. “Let’s be over with this.”

“Stay close.”

“Right beside you, dear,” Justin joked.

#

Brian was shocked to find Peter a few rows behind his side of the court. He shot up when he noticed Brian arriving.

“I can’t apologize enough for everything, Brian.”

“Are you ready to confess?” Brian asked.

“Yes.”

Justin steered Brian ahead. “Is he…”

“That’s Peter. I’d like to give him the benefit of doubt, because I have a feeling he’s in this mess as innocent as me.”  

Justin took the seat right behind Brian, staying as close as possible.

“Okay?” Joe checked, glancing at him from the papers on their table.

“I’m ready to get over this freak show so I can go back to my life.”

It was satisfying to see the police bringing McDonald to his table. Funny how some months prior McDonald was being a pompous ass about sending Brian to jail for something he had started, and now he was the one being accused. And he had no way out.

But Brian tried not to celebrate before the judge decided the faith of McDonald. He knew how the accused could escape with some minor sentence. He could clearly remember how Hobbs had escaped jail only because he was a minor when he had bashed Justin.

The process started, and Brian watched proudly as Joe dug McDonald so deep his lawyer wasn’t able to defend his client. Then came Peter’s confession, which cemented the judge’s decision.

Twenty-five years was the verdict, with no possible parole on good behavior.

Outside the courthouse, Peter was waiting for him.

Brian stopped Justin, saying he could wait in the car. Brian went to Peter, struggling to get a cigarette out with one hand.

Peter helped him, lighting it up. “I feel like I’ve redeemed myself with that confession.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.”

“Tell you what.”

“What that asshole did to you. Pete, we could have avoided this whole mess. I remember you called me one night when your sponsor wasn’t picking up.”

“And you met me at Liberty Diner for ice cream at two in the morning.”

“Exactly. Aside from Cynthia, you’re the only other friend I made at Vanguard, who I brought with me.”

“And who stayed,” Peter added.

“Yes. Did he scare you that badly? How much money did he offer you?”

“Remember my lame conversation about hating my new job, at the restaurant? The truth is I’ve been staying at home and doing pretty much nothing. Jeff offered a handsome fee for what I did. I plan on donating the money.”

“Would I sound like a jerk if I asked you to donate it to Kinnetik?” Brian asked, sucking from his cigarette. “We’re in deep shit. Most of the accounts have left, Ted’s struggling to make ends meet to pay everyone on time, and the Art Department is working on an ad to promote us.”

“Of course, Brian! It’s the least I can do. Believe me, if I knew what my actions would do to you…if I had thought it through…”

“It is what it is.” Brian shrugged. “See you on Monday to talk about your donation?”

Peter nodded.

“And your job is waiting for you.”

“You’d have me back? Mitch tried to convince me to get the courage and talk to you, but I was afraid you hated me.”

“I never hated you, and when my lawyer told me about you being behind this, I tried to find excuses for you, because it didn’t sound like something the Pete I knew would do.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“See you on Monday!”

Brian joined Justin in his car, slumping in the seat.

“Did you get my painkillers after all?” He had insisted on not needing them, but his shoulder and back were hurting.

Justin popped open the glove compartment. “I only have Advil. For once I listened to you and you’re making me regret it.”

“You should never listen to me,” Brian joked.

“I think we should pick some clothes for you then you spend the weekend with me at Britin.”

“I like that idea. I don’t think I can stay in the loft alone.”

“Feel up for dinner at Michael’s? He called while you were talking to Peter.”

“Sure, as long as we’re not expected again tomorrow,” Brian answered.

“That’s what I told him, too.” Justin smiled widely. “So?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

#

When they parked in front of Michael and Ben’s house, Brian got this far-away look in his eyes. Justin could only imagine what Brian was thinking.

The last time Evan had accompanied Brian to Saturday’s brunch was when Justin had gotten injured.

“Everything okay?” Justin checked.

Brian turned to him, smiling. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Ready? I see Michael doing a bad Pipping Tom job behind the curtain.”

“I wonder where he got that from.” Brian rolled his eyes, opening his door. “If he starts with the questions, feel free to get us out of this.”

“I’m horrible at lying,” Justin protested.

“Say your ass has an appointment with the best cock in town.”

Justin snorted in laughter, just as the front door opened. Michael rushed to them, worry etched on his face.

“McDonald’s got sentenced for life,” Brian said in opening.

“He got twenty-five years, actually,” Justin added.

“That equals life sentence for that fucker. I give him a year – at best.”

“Wow. That’s amazing,” Michael exclaimed. “Come on. This is reason to celebrate!”

Brian stalled Michael with a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t feel much like celebrating. Dinner – just the four of us. That’s all I need right now.”

Michael got a worried look, and Justin hoped Michael hadn’t actually planned for a party. Evan’s death had affected Brian more than he let it be shown.

“I better tell Ben to call off the strippers,” Michael grumbled.

Justin shot Brian a scandalized look, but it turned out that Brian knew Michael better.

“You haven’t even started dinner, because you were sure I wouldn’t come,” Brian said, draping an arm over Michael's shoulders.

Justin walked ahead of them, listening to Michael arguing that Ben was working on dinner. He found Ben at the stove handling two pans.

Ben looked up when he heard voices, and smiled widely.

“Need help?” Justin offered, stopping beside Ben.

“I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“We’re out back if you need us,” Michael said, leading Brian through the backdoor.

“How’s Brian?” Ben asked, the moment they were alone.

“Not really okay.”

“Is it his back?”

“Ben, besides the physical injures, he’s pretty affected by this whole thing. I guess he really cared for Evan.”

Ben nodded. He picked a jar of spices.

“Uh, I hope there’s no oregano. I developed an allergy to it,” Justin mumbled, embarrassed. His allergies had taken a toll on him during his last few years in New York.

“Just curry, cinnamon and turmeric.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They worked in silence for a while. Justin focused on stirring the rice so it wouldn’t burn, glad for the distraction.

“Michael says you want to revive Rage.”

“It’s still a thought…at least, that’s what it is for me.” Justin shrugged.

“Michael’s already clearing space in the store for the new issue,” Ben said, chuckling.

“Of course, he is.” Justin laughed. “I have to run my ideas by him, but I’m afraid he’ll hate them.”

“He always complained about your ideas, but eventually they saw the light of day with a little tweaking from him.”

“You’re right. I might tell him later.”

When dinner was ready, Justin went to get Brian and Michael, while Ben set the table. Justin stopped right outside the back door.

Brian and Michael were on the large garden bench swing. Brian was laying with his head on Michael's lap. They were sharing what looked like a roach, talking in soft voices. It felt like he was interrupting an intimate moment, which was absurd.

Justin had learned long ago Michael was no threat to his relationship with Brian.

But at the moment, he didn’t want to disturb them. It was good to see Brian relaxed, after the week from hell.

Justin was about to retreat when Brian turned his head to the side, spotting him. He smiled lazily, beckoning him with a finger.

Justin stuffed his hands inside his pockets, walking slowly to them. He stopped next to them.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“We should eat outside,” Michael suggested, squirming, in an attempt to get up. Brian didn’t move, which incapacitated Michael from escaping. “I want to help them bring the food outside.”

Brian groaned, getting into a sitting position. When Michael stood, Brian seized Justin's hand, pulling him down. Justin fell awkwardly on the bench, grateful for the cushions. Brian didn’t waste any time in getting back in the same position he had been earlier.

Michael rolled his eyes, heading inside the house.

“Let them be good hosts. You already helped with making dinner,” Brian said quietly, as if reading Justin’s mind about wanting to help.

Justin sighed, relaxing and running his fingers through Brian's hair. “Where did you get the roach?”

“I packed it while you were in the shower. I knew I’d need something to numb me today.”

Justin chewed on his lips. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Brian braced himself on the back of the bench, lifting himself up, inhaling a particularly large hit, then leaning for a kiss.

It had been too long since they had shared the smoke of a roach. Justin was surprised he remembered how not to cough at the intrusion in his lungs. He exhaled slowly, surrounding them in smoke.

“I forgot how hot it was to share a shotgun kiss.” Brian licked Justin's bottom lip, making Justin shiver in pleasure.

Instead of pulling away, Brian went back to kissing Justin, opening his mouth with his probing tongue. It was inappropriate on so many levels, but Justin couldn’t find it in him to push Brian off him. Brian ended up straddling Justin's lap, his good hand cradling Justin's head, while they shared a desperate kiss.

“Could you kindly not fuck on our swing?” Michael’s whiny voice pulled them apart.

Brian shot his best friend a dirty look, over his shoulder. “What about your bathroom?”

Justin choked on his spit. It was true that he was turned on beyond rational thought, but Brian boldly telling Michael that they were going to fuck in their house…

“Or you could use our guest bedroom,” Ben offered, joining Michael outside. He had a salad bowl in his hands.

“But how about we eat first?” Michael added, hopefully.

Brian grabbed Justin's hand, pulling him toward the house. “Later, boys!”

Justin avoided eye-contact with their friends, feeling embarrassed beyond belief. “This is so not okay, Brian,” he said.

“Shut up! You want this as badly as me.”

“It’s true, but…”

“Stop trying to find a way out, when all you want is to fuck. Leave your waspy thinking at the door. Look, they even allowed us to use the guest room.” Brian shouldered the door open. “I hope they have condoms in here.”

“I’m so not going back to ask for condoms,” Justin gasped, feeling his whole body heating up in embarrassment.

Brian pulled open the bedside table. “It’s like they planned this.” He shook a box of condoms at Justin. He chucked it on the bed, trying to undo his pants with one hand, but being only partially successful. “A little help?”

Justin chuckled, joining Brian at the foot of the bed. He helped Brian out of his pants, then slowly unbuttoned the black shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

They hadn’t adventured to do more than sleep next to each other since Brian's accident.

Justin pushed away all thoughts about where they were, about what had happened earlier that day, about the fact that for all intents and purposes Brian was a fresh widower, who was supposed to mourn his dead husband.