Brian continued to drink, and polished off another half a bottle before passing out.

"So... that didn't last long?" Vic said as he shook Brian.

"What the fuck are you doing here again?" Brian looked around trying to orient himself.

"I told you that I might be back. It appears my job here isn't quite finished," Vic explained as he pulled up a chair next to the liquor cart. He picked up the empty bottle of Beam, set it down, and then picked up the second bottle, shaking the liquid inside. "Feeling better, Brian?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Justin asked me the same thing," Brian snorted as he answered.

"It means... did getting drunk solve the problem?"

"I don't have a problem. Justin does. Stupid little shit turned down a commission to stay with me."

Vic nodded his head in mock understanding. "I see -- this is Justin's problem. Does drinking until you pass out solve his problem?" Vic observed.

"He doesn't think he has a problem." Brian pinched the bridge of his nose as the beginning of a headache started.

"Let me see if I understand you? You think Justin has a problem, so you got drunk, since he doesn't think he has a problem." Brian's face showed confusion, then dawning realization.

"Shit!" Brian cursed. "He's going to be so pissed." Looking around, he asked, "Where is he?"

Vic looked into Brian's eyes. "He's not here."

"Where did he go? Shit, I fucked up."

"Yep, you fucked up. What are you going to do about it?"

Brian rubbed his hands over his face. "Change. Apologize. Shit, do you think he'll listen?"

"Justin loves you. What do you think?"

"I think... shit; I don't know what I think. I don't want to lose him; I guess that means something," Brian admitted.

"It's a start, but now I have to go. I'm helping you this time, Brian; next time..."

"What do you mean this time?"

"See you later." Vic moved the chair back and Brian watched as Vic returned to his other home.

Brian's body startled, waking up from his slumped position near the liquor cart. He pushed the wheelchair over to the couch, sliding onto the cushions. Grabbing the afghan, he pulled it over himself and fell asleep.

Justin attempted to sleep, but it eluded him. He tossed and turned and replayed the short argument over and over in his head. Damn, Brian! I guess it was too much to hope that he actually not resort to drinking when things don't go his way. I'll go back in the morning and talk to him, or at least try to talk to him. I'm not ready to give up, but... but what? What am I going to do -- do I give him an ultimatum? I can't do that; he'll just say ‘no' to spite me. But, I can't live with him resorting to drinking or drugging every time something isn't to his liking, either. Shit! I'm so fucked. Why did I have to fall in love with a man who is so fucking complicated?

He finally fell into a fitful sleep about five in the morning, but was awakened by his alarm at seven. He got out of bed, dressed quickly, and left, avoiding any conversation with Daphne. He knew he would have to talk to her later, but for now it was one less thing he had to handle.

He drove the ‘Vette back to the loft, wondering what condition Brian would be in when he arrived. He stopped at the corner, grabbed a latte, and drank it on the way to the loft. Opening the door, he glanced around the room, looking for Brian. Spying him on the couch, he left him there and returned to the bedroom to try and sleep a little longer.

Brian woke several hours later to the buzzer. He sat up quickly, feeling the pounding in his head, reminding him of his drinking the night before. He maneuvered himself into his chair and rolled over to the buzzer. He attempted to reach the speaker, but couldn't. He rolled to his crutch, laid it on the arms of his chair and returned to the buzzer. Using his crutch, he pushed the button. "Who is it?" he barked.

"Bri, It's Cynthia. Buzz me up?"

"Shit," Brian muttered. "I got a late start. Go grab some breakfast down the street and give me an hour. I should be ready by then," he explained.

"Okay. See you then."

"Fuck! Shit!" he yelled.

Brian put the crutch on his arm rest again and made his way up the short ramp and into the bathroom. He didn't notice Justin sleeping on the bed. He stood up, used the bathroom, washed his hands and brushed his teeth. He filled the sink up with hot water, thankful that the decorative towel rack was easily accessible. He turned off the water in the sink and was startled by a noise. He turned around to see Justin standing at the toilet.

"Jesus! You scared me to death. Where the fuck did you come from?

"The bedroom. I told you I'd be back," Justin explained as he finished using the bathroom. He looked at the water in the sink and the toiletries. "Let me help you with that. Cynthia should be here any time." Justin grabbed the washcloth, placing it in the water.

"You're too late. She was here fifteen minutes ago. I sent her to get some breakfast; she'll be back," Brian explained.

"Oh."

Brian transferred to the shower chair, and Justin assisted him in taking off the remainder of his clothing. Justin quickly and efficiently washed Brian, and grabbed some clean clothing from the bedroom. He drained the water and put the dirty items in the hamper.

"Want some breakfast?" Justin asked.

"Sure," Brian answered. Maybe he won't ask about last night, forget it ever happened.

"How about a bagel? It will absorb some of the liquor in your system," he said, the disdain evident in his words.

"Toasted, whole wheat, with nothing on it." Brian ordered as if he were in a restaurant. <i>I'm so fucked. He didn't forget.</i>

Justin quietly made the bagel and toasted one for himself. He threw out the latte from earlier and fresh brewed some more. Brian had made it to the table by the time the food was cooked, and Justin brought him his plate. Justin sat at the other end of the table and ate his breakfast as well.

Brian ate a few bites of his bagel, looking at Justin. "What are your plans for today?"

"I want to set up my studio. I know once I start painting, I won't want to stop and do the menial stuff," Justin answered succinctly, no emotion in his voice.

Brian nodded his head. "Maybe this studio will have some semblance of order. How you find anything in your current one, I'll never know."

Justin recognized Brian's attempt to goad him and bring him to the defensive, but didn't take the bait. "I've got to rent some furniture and buy a few canvases. The sketches I've been working on will probably be bigger then anything I currently have on hand. I need to get a car soon so I can get the supplies out of my mom's basement."

"Why don't you take the van? It's not like I'm going to be driving it anywhere today," Brian suggested.

"I could do that. I'll call my mom and see if I can come over." Justin glanced at the clock. "Cynthia should be back in a few minutes. I'm going to shower and get out of here." Justin finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and started to walk to the bathroom, not stopping to kiss or acknowledge Brian.

<i>He's pissed and he won't bring up last night until I do. Shit, he's going to make me talk. </i>

Justin took a quick shower, and dressed in comfortable jeans and a blue hoody.

The buzzer rang and Justin got up to let Cynthia in. "He's a little hung over this morning, so you might want to take it easy on him," Justin advised as he grabbed his messenger bag and phone, walking out the door.

On his walk to the studio, his phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he answered the phone rather than allow it to go to voice mail.

"Hello Daphne," he sighed as he flipped the phone up. He hoped he could avoid this conversation until later, when he'd figured out some things.

"...I stayed last night, but left this morning. Sorry, I didn't have time to strip the bed," he said somewhat guiltily.

"...Long story. We had a fight about me taking a commission and he didn't like my decision, so he got drunk."

"...Yeah, Sam called at dinner last night; someone had offered me a commission. I turned it down. Now's not the right time."

"...Not you, too! Like I told everyone else -- it's my career, and my life, and I need to lead it like I see fit."

"...I wasn't going to talk to him when he was drunk, so I left. This morning I went back to the loft."

"...I may be mad at him, but I still care for him. He needs my help in the morning and I told him I would return."

"...No, I'm not too good for him. Remember when you broke that window in 6th grade? You had to get stitches. Your mom took you to the hospital but she was furious that you disobeyed her and broke the picture window."

"...Sure it is the same thing. He did something I didn't like. I got mad, but that doesn't mean I don't love him anymore and that I'm bailing."

"...No I didn't talk to him, yet."

"...He probably got the message loud and clear. I didn't kiss him at all this morning."

"...Yes, I know he got the message. This is Brian Kinney. Actions speak much louder than words. I'm sure he got my message."

"...I'm not sure what I'm going to say. I just know I'm not going to keep leaving and I'm not going to watch a repeat of the last month. Something has to give."

"...Yeah, I'll need a lot of luck. I'll call you tomorrow. I'm sure we'll talk tonight."

"...I know I can always crash at your place. You're the best Daphne, but this time I think I need to work it out."

"...Love you too. I'm at my new studio. Maybe we can hook up this weekend and you can see it."

He closed his phone and walked into the studio. He spent the day setting up the area as he liked, knowing that once he started painting, he wouldn't want to take the time to do so. Hours later, he walked back to the loft, hoping that maybe Brian would want to talk.

Brian was lying on the couch when Justin returned home.

"You came back," Brian looked up as Justin walked in the door, hanging his coat on the coat rack.

"Why wouldn't I? Unless, you've changed your mind. Should I pack my bags?" Justin asked as a cold chill ran through him.

"You left in a hurry last night and you barely acknowledged me this morning. I wasn't sure," Brian shared his concerns, biting his lip involuntarily.

"I was upset. I couldn't watch you self destruct," Justin replied, the sadness evident in his voice. Justin walked to the kitchen and placed a large cup of water in the microwave.

"Justin," Brian said softly, his voice filled with obvious regret. "Come sit, join me."

"What time did Cynthia leave?" Justin asked as he poured the water in two cups and brought the tea to Brian.

"She left about 2:00. Seems that my little drinking spree last night left me more hungover than I thought. I wasn't very productive, so we took care of a few essentials and planned out the next few weeks. What time is my doctor's appointment Monday? I need to add it to our schedule..."

"You were pretty wasted," Justin commented, hoping that would cue Brian into his desire to talk. He sat down on the edge of the couch, not touching Brian.

"Thanks. It's a little cold in here," Brian remarked. "So, how was your day? Did you get any work done?" <i>Shit, he wants to talk.</i>

Justin put his cup down on the coffee table, staring at Brian. "I don't really think you invited me to sit on the couch with you to talk about my day," Justin challenged, a little irritated at Brian's tactics. He picked up his cup and took a sip of his tea, enjoying the warmth of the liquid.

"Justin," he tentatively began. ‘I'm sorry."

Justin stared at Brian. "What did you say?"

"I said I was sorry. It's your life, and I have no right to tell you what to do."

"Brian..." Justin began.

"Don't. I've been talking to Vic..." Brian started to explain.

Justin eyes bored into Brian. "What did you take after Cynthia left?"

"Nothing. Ever since the accident, Vic has been visiting me in my dreams. Vic and I were always close, probably more of a father to me than my own. Anyway... We've had a lot of talks lately and... well... I was wrong."

"Okay, you were wrong." Justin stood up and walked to the other side of the couch and sat in the chair, closest to Brian. "But that doesn't change the way you handled the situation. Brian, I can't watch you drink your way into oblivion in order to handle your pain. I can't stop your drinking, and I'm not going to tell you not to drink. I just can't watch you get drunk or high every time something doesn't go your way. Do you understand?"

Brian reached for Justin's neck, pulling him closer to him. "Yeah ... I love you, Justin. I don't want to lose you. I will try, but I'll probably screw up."

Justin leaned over, giving Brian a toe-curling kiss. "We're in this together, Brian. I love you too," he whispered as he broke the kiss.

"You staying?" Brian asked again.

Justin grinned. "You're stuck with me. Now let me tell you about my day," he began as he returned to the edge of the couch, placing Brian's legs on his lap. "I spent the day organizing my new studio. Maybe I'll take you there this weekend; it's not too far from here." Justin sipped his tea, enjoying the hot liquid warming his body.

Justin took the mugs back to the kitchen. "Hungry? I could fix us something," he offered.

"Yeah. I am hungry -- I don't think I ate lunch. How about some of Em's crab cakes? Those were good," Brian suggested.

"They're salmon cakes, and sure, we have enough left over. I'll make some salad and heat up some twice-baked potatoes, too. Want some potatoes, or is it too late?"

"Potatoes are fine -- it's not too late." Brian rested on the couch until dinner was ready, then made his way to the table.

"Good. What are you going to do tonight? It's Friday, and I'm sure Babylon has some fabulous contest going on," Brian questioned as he picked up his fork to take a bite of the salmon cakes.

Justin laid his napkin on his lap. "I'm not sure. I could keep you company and sketch here. Tomorrow, maybe I'll go to Babylon and meet the boys." Justin offered.

"I don't need a babysitter, Justin."

"I know, but I like being with you. I missed just hanging out with you. I know most people think that all we do is have sex, but there's always been more to us than that."

Brian smiled. "Speaking of sex..."

Justin licked his lips and returned the grin. "I thought you'd never ask. Last one to the bedroom gets to fuck me," Justin teased.

"Twat. Of course, I'm going to fuck you. Why don't you put the food on warm and meet me in the bedroom?"

Justin turned down the heat and met Brian in the bedroom, where they repeated their escapades from a few days earlier.

Justin woke from his short post-coital nap as his stomach grumbled loudly.

Brian smacked him playfully on the hip. "You may not be a 17 year old twink any more, but your stomach hasn't figured that out yet. I swear you eat more often than anyone I know."

Justin returned the swat to Brian's hip. "I just burn it all up fucking you," he said, tongue in cheek. I guess I'll go finish dinner." Justin got out of bed, slipping on some sweats and a warm hoody. He padded to the kitchen where he dished out their food and set the table.

"You need help in there?" Justin called out.

"No. I'm on my way. Damn, I will be very happy to get out of this cast," Brian lamented as he rolled up to the table. "Smells good. I guess I was really hungry." Brian picked up his fork and took a bite of the salmon cakes. "Honeycutt has definitely found his calling. That man can cook."

Justin ate a bite of the salmon and shook his head in agreement. "Who would think our little Em, the gourmet chef?"

They ate dinner and talked about Justin's new studio. After dinner was over, Justin cleared the table and Brian made his way to the couch.

"Wanna watch a movie? I could rent something," Justin asked as he dried his hands on the dish towel.

"Movies are okay, but I'd love to shoot some pool," Brian stated.

Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

"Fine -- we never watched Mission Impossible 3. At least it's an action film." Justin joined Brian in the living room and they watched the movie without interruptions. They went to bed where they fell asleep quickly, both men having not slept well the previous night.