After Daphne left, he returned to his studio and prepared a canvas. Their time together always made him feel good about his life, and today was no different. He picked up one of the new brushes and ran it over his arm as Daphne had done this morning. Smiling, he thought of using the soft brush to tease Brian, and he put away several of his brushes to "play" with Brian in the future. Picking up his pallet, he squirted some Cerulean Blue and Cadmium Yellow on it and began mixing shades of green. Dipping his brush in the light green mixture, he stroked a thick line in the middle of the canvas. He continued stroking shades of green on the canvas and switched his strokes to use the solid yellow, and then the solid blue. Stepping back, he was pleased with the initial effect and placed the brushes in turpentine to soak. Wiping his hand, he realized it was time to pick up Brian for lunch. He was anxious to see Brian and find out how his first day back was progressing. He picked up his coat, locked the door and drove to Kinnetik.

Walking into the reception area, he stopped and greeted Cynthia.

"I'm so glad you're here, Justin," she stated as he tried to look into the glass office. "He's in the art department and it's not a pretty sight."

Justin raised his eyebrow in understanding. "I'll go rescue the poor souls. If he fires anyone, assure them that they still have a job," he said.

Before Justin could walk down the hallway, Brian came out. "I heard that. Remember out little conversation about running my business..." Brian reminded Justin.

"I remember, but I also know you've missed putting the fear of Kinnney into your employees. You don't want your entire staff to leave as soon as you get back," Justin responded. "Now, I was just assuring Cynthia that you do want what's best for Kinnetik, right Brian?" Justin reminded him. "Come on. Let's go eat. You can terrorize the Kinnetik staff after you get some food into your body." Brian used his crutch and easily returned to his office to retrieve his coat.

"Okay, let's eat. I know that a starving Justin is not a happy Justin." Brian turned toward Cynthia. "At least go to the Art Department and explain the difference between Times New Roman and Courier type."

"Will do," Cynthia assured him.

They drove to the diner where they took a seat in the back. Brian picked up the menu, trying to decide what he was going to eat.

Justin laughed. "You've been coming here since you were fourteen. Why do you insist at looking at the menu?"

Brian shrugged. "So what are you going to eat? Didn't you and Daphne eat here for breakfast?"

"We did, but that was hours ago. Besides, I don't have the entire menu memorized." Justin smirked. "I'm going to have a chili dog and onion rings."

"Pfft. That will hold you for what... all of ten minutes," Brian chastised him.

"Maybe half an hour, but I was actually going to have the spaghtti plate. The chilli gives me gas," he responded.

"I did not need to know that," Brian groaned.

Debbie came up and took out her pad of paper. "Back to work, Brian?" she asked.

"Yeah, so I don't have time for chit chat. I'll have a roast beef sandwich and a salad. Give me a glass of tea too."

"Sunshine, what'll it be for you?"

"I think the spaghetti plate with meatballs and a coke. Oh and two lemon bars."

"Sure thing. Coming right up," she remarked as she wrote down their orders and moved to another table.

"How's Daphne?" Brian asked.

"Great. She loves the studio and she thought your gift was cool too."

"It wasn't a gift. You needed those brushes and paint, and I know you've been really busy helping me so I had them delivered to you," Brian explained.

Justin didn't bother to argue, but shook his head, acknowledging Brian's statement. "So... how's work?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "The art department has decided that they know better than me what the client wants. I swear artists are the most demanding people on earth," Brian lamented as he played with his water glass.

"I see," Justin said, inwardly smiling at the familiar rant.

"How's your leg holding up? Are you resting it enough?"

"I'm not an invalid, Justin. My leg is fine."

Their food arrived and they ate in silence. Justin took Brian back to work and he returned to his studio where he worked on his canvas for a few hours.

His hand was getting tired, so he stopped. He wanted to buy some snacks to keep at the studio and supplies for the bathroom. While the shower wasn't big enough for Brian and him to shower together, he would probably use it to clean up. He left the studio and purchased the items, and then returned to Kinnetik at 6:00 to pick up Brian. They returned to the loft, where Justin fixed dinner and Brian rested on the couch.

"How was your first day back?" Justin asked as he placed a plate of Puttanesca in front of Brian.

"Good. I'm glad to be back. There's a lot of work to do, but that's okay. I am kind of tired, though, so I didn't bring any work home. Want to watch a movie?"

Justin laughed at the role reversal. It had been him asking if he wanted to watch a movie for the last week. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"How about Casablanca ?" Brian suggested.

Justin never understood Brian's fascination with classic black and white films, especially love stories, but he liked Casablanca and was happy to watch it again. " Casablanca it is. Let me clean up the dishes from dinner, and we'll watch." Justin quickly cleaned the kitchen, threw a load of towels and sheets into the laundry, and joined Brian in the living room.

They enjoyed the movie and went to bed. "Ready to do this again tomorrow?" Justin asked as he slid under the sheets.

Brian still couldn't comfortably lie on his side, so he tried to get settled flat on his back. "This isn't how it will be forever, Justin. I will get my leg out of the cast and things will probably return to the way they were before my accident," Brian informed him.

Justin leaned on his side, face close to Brian's. "Maybe, but there's one huge difference this time, Brian. I'm here to stay. Unless you've changed your mind about wanting me here," Justin offered an easy way out.

"No, I want you here. I'm glad you decided to stay." Brian yawned and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly.

It was late Friday afternoon and Brian was tired. He picked up the phone to call Justin.

"Hey," he said when Justin answered.

"Hey. Everything okay?" Justin asked, concern in his voice.

"Everything's fine. Just ready to relax. I'm thinking Woody's, some pool, a few beers..." Brian didn't finish his statement, allowing Justin to fill in the blanks.

"Sounds good. Are you sure you're up to it?" Justin asked.

"I'm not a two year old, Justin. If you don't want to go with me, I'll have Theodore take me," Brian informed Justin.

"No, I miss Woody's. It's been awhile. Why don't I pick you up at 7:00 and we can hit the diner for dinner," he suggested.

"Later," Brian used the familiar term.

"Later," Justin repeated.

Justin picked up Brian and they went to the diner. None of the gang were there and they ate in relative quiet. Justin drove Brian to Woody's and parked the ‘Vette in the adjacent lot, having returned the van earlier in the week.

"You're walking pretty well, Brian," Michael remarked at Woody's that night. "I can't wait for all of us to go to Babylon ."

"It will be a few weeks until I'm ready for Babylon , but I may join you for a few drinks," Brian informed his friend. He looked at the empty pool table. "Anyone for pool? I'm sure my game's for shit since I haven't shot in almost two months, but I'll give it a whirl," Brian announced to the small group. He pointed to the crutch and added, "And this lovely accessory is a bitch, but those balls are calling my name."

"I'll play you," Michael volunteered. "I might actually win if you haven't played in so long." He racked up the balls, and everyone watched the two play. Brian won, but Michael didn't play so badly.

As they played, a tall, thin brunet made eye contact with Brian, but he shook his head, rejecting the would-be trick. Michael noted the refusal, but didn't say anything. Justin watched the two friends play and then excused himself to get another beer.

After Brian turned down another trick, Michael couldn't keep quiet. "That's the fifth guy you turned away."

"I don't have to explain anything to you, but if you must know, I don't want them."

‘Shit!" Michael exclaimed. "I just knew it was going to be trouble when Justin didn't trick the other night at Babylon ."

"Justin can do what he wants, Michael," Brian reminded him. He picked up the pool cue and lined up another ball. "Besides, do you really think anyone is going to want to give a guy in a leg cast and crutches a blow job.. The cast does make it rather inconvenient."

"I guess you're right," Michael said sheepishly. "It's just..."

"Let me worry about my life, Mikey," Brian said as his ball went into the pocket. "Game over," he announced to the gang. He eyed Justin returning with his beer and he turned to him. "Ready to get out of here, Justin?"

Justin looked at the gang, noticing their faces. He knew better than to ask, but responded, "Sure. I'll get the car." He kissed Brian briefly on the lips and left the bar.
___________________________________________________________

Life returned to almost normal. Justin drove Brian back and forth to work, meeting him for lunch most days. They spent their free time together, and at least once a week went to Lindsay and Melanie's for dinner and play time with Gus. Michael came over at least once a week, too, and Brian enjoyed their time together as well. But most evenings, Brian and Justin were alone. They worked, had sex, and occasionally played a game or watched a movie. Brian regained his strength, and looked forward to getting his cast off and returning to his pre-accident days.

It had been a month since Justin's show in New York, and he was planning on flying there after work on Friday. He'd taken slides of all of his latest work to show Sam and had been spending a lot of time in his studio. He placed the paint brushes in the turpentine to let them soak while he placed the painting on a special easel to dry. His plane left in a few hours and he still had to go back to the loft to pack. He drank the last of his coffee and unplugged his coffee maker.

"Hey," Justin said.

"You leaving for the airport?" Brian asked.

"Not yet. I still have to pack," Justin admitted.

"Shit, Justin. I thought you were going to do that this morning. What happened?" Brian chastised him.

"I was inspired when I woke up. I'll throw some clothes in a bag and I'll be off. Don't worry," Justin assured him.

"See you in a few days. Call me when you land," Brian reminded him.

"Later," Justin said, ending the conversation.

"Later," Brian repeated and hung up the phone.

Justin returned to the loft and started packing. He took out a few shirts, but decided that they weren't the ones he wanted and left them on the bed. He pulled out another shirt and realized the cleaner didn't get the stain out, dropping that one on the chair. He hunted through his closet and chose a blue button down and a black shirt as well as a few T's. He put some cargo pants in the bag and a pair of dress pants as well as a clubbing outfit.

He grabbed his toiletry kit from the bathroom, but then remembered he was almost out of shampoo and needed to refill the small bottle. Shit. I should do this when I come back from my trips instead of when I leave. He grabbed the big bottle of shampoo and started transferring it to the smaller bottle. Damn those airlines and their stupid regulations. If I wasn't in such a hurry, I'd just go buy me a new bottle, but I don't have time and the stuff they give you in hotels is for shit. He filled up the bottle and didn't notice the overflow that he left on the sink.

He shoved his toiletry kit into the small carry on and looked for his shoes. He couldn't find the pair he was looking for and ended up taking out three different pairs from the closet. He put back two of them, but left one by the door as he saw it needed new laces.

His stomach growled and he went to the kitchen to fix a snack. Taking out the turkey breast he'd cooked the other night, he sliced a few pieces. He toasted the bread and took out the mayonnaise. After spreading the mayonnaise on his toast, he went to put the knife in the dishwasher, but noticed it was filled with clean dishes; therefore he dropped the knife in the sink. He took out a plate, placing his sandwich on it and brought it to the table along with his glass of milk. He ate the sandwich and drank his milk, leaving the dishes in the sink.

Looking at his watch, he noticed that he only had forty five minutes to get to the airport. Damn airports, security takes longer than the flights do. He called the cab and left for the airport.
__________________________________________________________

It had been a long week; Eyeconics had wanted a new fall campaign, Brown Athletics was finalizing their fall sports campaign and the new account for Targis Computer products had been signed. However, what really got him was the campaign for Gaim. He'd worked on that campaign for weeks, almost since he returned from the hospital ,and today the CEO called Ted and told him they were going with another firm. The bastards. He hadn't lost an account in a long time and to lose that one really hurt. It wasn't that big of an account, but it was the principal of the thing. He had the best campaign and he knew it. The CEO was just a prick. Brian had been working long hours and was ready for the quiet weekend. Ted dropped him at the Loft and he was ready for some take out from the Tai place around the corner, accompanied by a good James Dean movie. Justin hated those so he hadn't watched one in a while and he was looking forward to it.

Brian unlocked the door to the loft, putting down his briefcase and looked around. There were couch pillows on the floor, papers on the table and clothing all over the bedroom.

"God damn, mother fucker. Can't he clean up his shit? I know we fucked in the living room last night-that was really hot, but couldn't he have put the cushions back on the couch? He knows it's a pain for me to get to the floor. Shit, the bedroom is worse. His clothes are everywhere and I'll be damned if I'm hanging them up," he said to no one in a loud, agitated voice. "I need a fucking drink." He went over to the liquor cart and poured himself a shot of Beam. It was good and he poured another. It went down smoothly. "Fuck it." He took the DVD out, placed it in the player and grabbed the bottle and took it to the couch. Putting his leg up, he leaned against the back and watched the movie, finishing most of the bottle of Beam.

The phone rang, but he let it go to the machine.

"Brian... Brian... you there? Guess you went out. Anyway, I'm here. Next time, I'll leave earlier--almost missed my plane. Gotta go, Sam's waiting. Talk to you later."

Brian looked at the machine and yelled at it, not picking up the phone. "I'm fucking here, Justin. All I wanted was some peace and quiet and to come home to my Loft, and I get home to this mess that you left me." He raised the bottle, tipping the little bit of amber liquid into his mouth.

Brian passed out on the couch, not used to drinking. The shrill of his cell phone woke him up.

"Hello," he slurred.

"Brian?"

"Uhh..."

"Did I wake you? You didn't answer earlier, so I thought you
went out. It's only 1:00 a.m.; thought you'd be up."

"Didn't go out. Watched Rebel Without a Cause, thought it fitting," he said very slowly, trying to keep his voice even.

"You're drunk?" Justin accused.

"No..." Brian said, laughing with little humor. "I don't get drunk anymore. Remember... No pain management," he mocked.

Justin's antenna went up, "What happened, Brian? Is everything okay?" Justin asked, the fear evident in his voice.

"Life happened. Work is a bitch and I lost the Gaim account, that prick. All I wanted was a nice, quiet evening and I come home to my Loft in a mess. Clothes everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, and cushions on the floor. Jesus, Justin, can't you pick up after yourself?" he announced.

"I'm sorry, I know you worked hard on that account. What happened? And about the other, I was running late and nothing was right. It won't happen again," Justin apologized.

"You're right it won't. Bye, Justin," Brian slammed down the phone.

Justin looked at the phone in his hand, disbelief on his face. Shit, he's drunk. It's all my fault. I left the Loft a mess and all he wanted was to come home to peace and quiet. I can't do anything right. Shit. Will I ever learn?

Justin crawled into the bed, tossing and turning the remainder of the night.

Brian got up fromt he couch and went to the bedroom as well. He undressed and took two aspirin to ward off the hangover he knew he'd have in the morning. Shit! What the fuck did I just do?

He grabbed his phone, speed dialing Justin, but got his voice mail. He tried several more times, giving up and shutting the light off so he could attempt to get some much needed sleep.