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Justin walked down to the cafeteria and grabbed a tray. He looked at the choices and realized that in his three days away from here he'd become spoiled with all the good food he'd eaten with his mother and Lindsay. He picked up a hamburger, fries and a soda as well as a piece of chocolate cake. Paying for his food, he retreated to a small table by a window, where he could eat in peace, and watch the people outside. He didn't notice that the hamburger was a little overcooked or that the fries were very limp as he chewed his food mindlessly. Instead he was trying to sort out the thoughts in his head.

Brian's finally going home, but he broke his leg, and that will make the recovery even harder. I'll need help to get him in the loft... and then how the hell am I going to move him in the loft? If he stays in the bedroom, I can get him to the bathroom, but I can't move him to the living room or the kitchen without help. Damn those few stairs. He's going to need me and I'll be there, but is he willing to accept my help? He wanted me to be his gatekeeper and I could do that just fine, but I'm going to need help to take care of him, and that means people in the loft. That is really going to piss him off.

I was really looking forward to having great sex when I got back, and that has got to be postponed, too. I can always jerk off... been doing so on a regular basis so that's not a big deal... It's just so damn hard to be near him and not have sex. I guess this is what it means to be in a relationship. You take the bad with the good, and if he could put up with me after the bashing- bad nightmares and fear of leaving the loft and all- then I can deal with this. I told Mom that I finally feel grown up. He's my partner; I will deal. Shut up, this is not some punishment. This is the man I love and I want to help him, just like he helped me. He loved me even back then. Why did it take me so long to figure this shit out? I guess because I was 19. Of well, I'm 25 now and much smarter.

Shit! I haven't told him I'm not going back. With all this going on, I'll think I'll wait.


Justin finished his meal, throwing his trash out. He went outside to the smoking area and enjoyed a cigarette. Remembering Brian's comment about smoke on his breath, he returned to the gift shop and bought some mints, and sucked on one to rid his mouth of the smoke taste. He wondered if he should give up smoking. Brian hadn't smoked in over a month and shouldn't have the craving anymore. They'd both be better off not smoking.
_________________________________________

"Hello, Brian. I guess you're not as invincible as you thought." Vic said as he walked into the room.

"Shit, you're back," Brian said as he looked around the now familiar room.

"Of course I'm back. You're asleep aren't you? We talk best when you're sleeping."

"You're dead, old man. Of course you come when I'm sleeping. Your sister, on the other hand..."

"Leave Sis out of this. I'm here to talk about you."

"I've got a headache. Can't this wait till later?"

"Nope. I'll talk to the guy upstairs about that headache. Time to have a little chat."

"What do you want, Vic?" Brian asked, resignation filling his voice.

"You're getting out of here in a few days. Justin's coming home with you. Don't you think you need to talk to him?"

"Talk about what?" Brian pretended not to understand.

"Brian Aidan Kinney; you can't pretend with me. You need to tell him you miss him, want him around."

"Why? He just came back from a big show in New York. Shit! I was so absorbed with my damn leg, I didn't even ask about his show. I bet he's thinking I don't give a shit." Brian angrily replied.

"He probably wasn't thinking about his show either. Seeing you with your leg in a cast kind of put a damper on his success."

"I'm sure the show was wonderful. I'll have him tell me all the details when he comes back....I wake up. Besides, with the show being great, he will need to return to New York soon. He can't stay here."

"Why?"

"He's got a life in New York, and he has to paint. He can't stay here taking care of me."

"Why don't you ask him that? Don't you remember our last conversation? He's not Gus. Let him decide. He is an adult, after all."

"I can lead my own life, Vic. I don't need you to tell me what to talk to Justin about."

"True. But Justin is special. Don't ruin it this time. He may not wait."

"What's that supposed to mean, Vic?" Brian frowned at the elusive statement.

"You need to talk to Justin. He's not the seventeen year old twink you picked up under a streetlight. He's a grown man. Treat him like one."

"Whatever. Can you get rid of this damn headache? It'd be a lot easier to talk to Justin if I was clear-headed," Brian asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Vic promised. "Think about what I've said, Brian. He's grown up, and so have you. Act like the grown up you are, and let him be a grown man as well."

"Okay." Brian looked at Vic as he walked out of the room. Shortly the pain in his head dissipated and he slept for several hours.
Justin returned to the hospital room and was thankful that Brian was still sleeping. He went to the visitor's lounge and called his mom and Daphne to set up transfer of his luggage from his trip. He updated them on the latest snafu in Brian's recovery, but assured them that Brian was okay and that he was still coming home in a few days. He walked down to PT and waited for Jose to finish with a patient.

"Hi, Justin. Brian's not here. Have you checked his room?"

"He's sleeping, but I came to talk to you. Got a few minutes?"

Jose looked at his watch and nodded. "Sure. We can go to my office."

"You have an office?" Justin repeated.

"Yes. I have to have somewhere to write my notes. Patients only see me when I'm working with them, but I see fourteen patients or more every day. I need to keep good notes on what I did with each patient to make certain that they are progressing like they should; and that I don't push them too hard, or keep it too easy."

"Oh. I guess I never thought about that." Justin entered the small cubicle and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "I need to know about Brian," Justin began.

"What about Brian?"

"Sorry. I need to know about the cast. He won't tell me what he can and can't do while he's wearing it, and I need to make sure his leg heals properly."

"Oh. For right now, he can't put any weight on it. According to what I read in his chart, Dr. Stern, his orthopedist, wants no weight bearing for at least a week. He has to use the wheelchair for everything, and have help with transfers."

"Shit. He isn't going to like that at all." Justin envisioned Brian being helped on to the toilet or using the bedpan, and it was not a good mental picture. "Can't he use crutches?"

"Maybe. If he can maneuver his leg in a straight position, then Dr. Stearn may agree."

"Can you help him with that? I mean I can't see me lifting him. I'm not the star of the football team," Justin joked.

"I'll talk to Dr. Stearn this morning. If he says yes, then I'll visit Brian this afternoon or tomorrow. He's lucky that I'm working this weekend, and I like the guy."

"Thanks so much, Jose. So, what happens after the first week?"

"If things are healing well, then he might get a walking cast or be able to weight bear a little."

"How long will the cast be on?"

"Probably eight weeks. Where his break is, it may take a long time to heal."

"Shit. Eight more weeks! So will everything be okay when he gets the cast off?"

"As I told Brian, when he gets the cast off, he'll need therapy for a few weeks to build the muscle in the leg back up. When you don't use muscle, it loses its strength and density, so it's really important to rebuild it."

"Can't he do that at the gym? He's always working out."

"Not at first. If he tries to push the muscle building too fast, he might damage the muscle and or re-injure the leg. He needs to go slowly, and then he can return to the gym in a month or so."

"Thanks for your time, Jose. Talk to Dr. Stern, please. I'm sure Brian would rather walk on crutches than be carried everywhere."

"Will do. Good luck, Justin."

Justin stood up to leave and Jose called out, "How was your show?"

Justin turned around and grinned. "Oh, it was fantastic. I sold almost all my paintings, and my agent was very pleased. Thanks for asking. I know you're busy, but thanks for talking to me."

"No problem. Despite his gruff demeanor, Brian's an okay guy."

Justin grinned and agreed, "Yeah, he is."

Justin returned to Brian's room where he found Brian gently tossing in the bed, signaling he was about to wake up.

Justin entered the room quietly, and sat in the chair next to the bed while he waited for Brian to wake up. About a half hour later, he was rewarded by Brian looking at him, hair all over the place, Kinney style, a small grin on his mouth.

"Hey," Brian said softly.

"Hey," Justin repeated the familiar greeting. "Feeling better? I guess the Tylenol worked," Justin admitted.

"No. More like.... Oh never mind. Let's just leave it at the headache is gone."
Justin looked at Brian quizzically; he usually wasn't so cryptic, but he let it slide for now.

"What time is it? I'm starving."

Justin squinted to try to see the clock, but was finding it hard to read as a result of the darkness.

"Turn on the fucking light, Sunshine. You'll fall on your ass, and one of us with a broken leg is enough," Brian directed.

Justin turned the light on and read the clock. "It's 3:15. I can grab you something from the cafeteria if you'd like."

"Okay. Get me a salad and a turkey sandwich. That should hold me over until they serve me what they mistake as dinner."

"I'll be back in a few." Justin leaned down and kissed Brian on the mouth. "Want me to turn the television on, or do you want something else to do?"

"TV is for shit on Saturday afternoon. Just a bunch of jocks playing sports, and kid shows. Why don't you bring me the newspaper-it's on the chair. Theodore brought me the Pittsburgh business section, and I'd like to read it."

Justin handed Brian the journal and went to the cafeteria. He grabbed the requisite salad and turkey sandwich, but also a shake and a piece of chocolate cake. He knew Brian would have a "taste" of each and maybe get some much needed calories into his too-thin body.

Justin returned to the room in record time; he was a man with a mission. As he entered into the hallway where Brian's room was, he listened carefully for any signs of the "family" and was thankful it was quiet.

"Honey, I'm home," Justin sing-songed as he entered the room.

Brian looked at Justin, a sever frown on his face. "I'm not your wife, so don't treat me like one."

"Just kidding," Justin explained as he pulled the bed tray to Brian, arranging the food on the top.

"What's with the cake and shake?"

"I was hungry. Want some?"

"I'll have a bite. Wouldn't want you to put any weight on that sweet ass of yours." Brian teased as he unwrapped the sandwich. Taking a tentative bite, he nodded his head, acknowledging its edibleness.

Brian finished the sandwich and started in on the salad. After taking a few bites of it, Brian put his fork down and looked at Justin.

"Tell me about your show."

Justin grinned. "It was fabulous! I sold all but three of the pieces and Sam said he had several galleries talking to him about future shows."

"I'm proud of you. I always knew you were talented."

Justin beamed at the compliment and leaned down to kiss Brian.

"I'm sure the place was packed. How did Mother Taylor like the show?"

"She said the same thing. She was proud of me. I told her that I finally felt grown up." Justin took a drink from the milk shake and continued. "I remember my first show, at the GLC." Justin looked at Brian as he nodded in remembrance. "She had no idea what to expect and then she saw the drawings of you with your cock hanging out." Justin laughed. "I'm sure she was envious," Justin joked.

Brian tapped Justin's hand in reprimand. "Respect your elders," Brian directed.

"Anyway...She's always come to my shows and told me that she liked my work, but I think that this time was different. She wasn't my mom, but a patron," Justin explained.

"I wish I could have been there," Brian lamented. "Did Lindsay behave herself?"

"Yeah, me too, but there is always next time. Sam was really happy too and I got a lot of good press. I may even have a few commissions come out of it. As far as Lindsay goes, well, she liked the show," Justin responded tersely.

Brian recognized the anger beneath the surface. "What did she do?"

"Nothing really. She doesn't want me to live my own life."

"Okay. I speak Justin Taylor pretty well, but what the fuck does that mean?" Brian urged Justin.

"She seems to think she needs to run my career and knows what is best for me. She has an opinion about what I should paint and..."

"Lindsay always has opinions. You just have to get used to tuning her out. You are your own person, Justin; don't let her or anybody tell you what to do."

"He's a grown man, Brian. Treat him like one."

"Okay, fuck it, Vic. I get it. I get it! Now get out of my fucking head."


"I won't. Lindsay won't dictate how I live my life. She just doesn't realize it," Justin assured Brian.

"Good to know. So, now that you sold all these paintings, are you going to be too rich to associate with the peons back in the Pitts," Brian teased.

"No! You guys are my family. I won't forget that."

"When do you go back? I'm sure you need to start painting more masterpieces." Brian picked up his fork and took a bite of the chocolate cake.

Justin stood up and walked to the window. Suddenly there was a tightness in his chest that he hadn't expected. "I'm going to help you when you get out of here," he said as he looked out the window.

"Bullshit. I'm better now and I don't need a babysitter," Brian retorted. "They're letting me out of here in two days. You can go back on Tuesday."

"I'm not going back Brian." Justin gathered his courage and informed Brian as he slowly turned around.

"What do you mean, you're not going back?" Brian repeated.

Justin paced the small room, still unable to face Brian head on. "I told Sam I want to paint here."

"What the fuck did you do that for?"

"These last months have been terrible, Brian. I missed you. I missed us. Almost all the paintings from this show, I started before last summer. You're my muse."

"Justin. Who turned you into a lesbian? What happened to the best little homosexual who went to New York?"

Justin walked to the bed and sat down in the chair. He reached out for Brian's hand, and Brian let him have it. "I've been doing a lot of thinking in the last month, Brian."

"Careful, that can get you into real trouble," Brian teased.

"I want us to try again. You've already admitted that you pushed me away because it got too hard to see me leave. I've started to make a name for myself in the art world, and now its time to take care of the other part of my life."

"Okay," Brian said softly.

"Even if we don't work out, all my family is here, and I miss them..." Justin continued to explain. "...Wait! Okay? You agree? I thought I would have to give you about a thousand blow jobs and wear you down," Justin teased.

"You probably owe me at least that many," Brian teased. "You can start anytime, you know. Most of the family has already been here this morning, and the nurses aren't due back until much later." Brian eyed Justin, stopping to notice the growing bulge in his pants.

Justin jumped up and started to get in bed with Brian, but Brian called out, "Justin!" Justin pulled back. "Cast here. Hurt leg. Be careful," Brian admonished.

Justin leaned down and thoroughly kissed Brian while he lay in the bed. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"You're not the only one who's been thinking this last month. And if you say anything about this conversation, I will deny it. I think this hospital has turned my brain into mush- there must be some truth to something in the water. That's mostly what they've been poisoning me with at ‘Chez Allegheny.' I think it has turned me into a part-lesbian." Brian paused, pushing all the years of denial to the side.

"I've gotten used to you being around, and, well..."

Justin leaned down and kissed Brian again, and started to pull down the covers. He urged Brian to lift up so he could pull down his lounge pants.

"No can do, Justin."

Justin looked at Brian and his cast, cursing his stupidity in forgetting that Brian wasn't as flexible with his cast. "Okay, roll on your good side and I'll pull your pants down."

Brian did as instructed and Justin pulled the offending cloth down over Brian's growing erection. As Brian rolled back, Justin pulled the other side down. He quickly engulfed Brian's cock, sucking and gently nibbling his prize. Brian was soon close to coming and threaded his hands through Justin's hair, urging him to speed up his ministrations. Justin complied, and was soon rewarded by a mouthful of Brian's cum. He licked at the softening cock for a few minutes, and then kissed his way up to Brian's mouth, kissing him on the lips.

"If only you'd been here the other night," Brian said as he tapped the cast. "I wouldn't have this latest fashion accessory." Brian kissed Justin on the cheeks and forehead, but pushed him up after a few moments. "Now you have to pull the pants up. I can't be lying here for all the hospital to see, even if the nurses would be ecstatic with the prospect."

They reversed Justin's early move and Brian got his pants back on.

"I'm going for a soda. Want anything?"

"What about your shake?"

"I guess I could drink that instead. I thought you might want it. Wanna share?"

"I'll have a few sips, but you drink the rest."

"The nurses said you need a lot of calcium to help heal your leg, and a milk shake is filled with calcium," Justin announced in his Public Service Announcement voice.

"Well, if that's the case, I'll drink more than a few sips. Don't want to anger the nurses," Brian said tongue in cheek.

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