A loud banging on the loft door, accompanied by an excited babble of voices, drowned out the sultry blues playing on WYEP-FM and had Justin stuttering and losing his rhythm. 

What the hell? he wondered on the backswing, almost pulling all the way out.

"Fuck!" his companion complained, clenching around him. His fingers tightly entwined with Justin's on the ropes above their heads, he pled, "Fuck, Jus. Don't stop."

"No fuckin' way," Justin grunted in agreement. He listened for a moment, but the noise seemed to have died away. The visitors probably wanted the lesbians who'd just moved into the apartment below this one and had realized they were on the wrong floor.

Forgetting about the interlopers, he smoothly glided back into the glorious, furnace-like warmth that hugged him so perfectly. After edging the other man for close to an hour, bringing him to the brink twice, they were now both on the verge of coming. No way was he going to let all that effort go to waste.

He wasn't going to last much longer, he thought hazily before forcing himself to pull back once more, dragging his cock across the sensitive nerves at the other man's opening.

He was rewarded with an appreciative, drawn-out, "Fuuuck."

"Nngh," was all Justin could manage in response. 

Right then, caught on the rim of his partner's hole and preparing for a final plunge, the metal door squealed as it slammed open, hitting the opposite jamb and rebounding part way.

"Briaaan," came an excited screech, "are you here?" 

The unmistakable nasally tone had an instant effect on Justin's erection, causing it to wither. Christ, he'd thought the days of Michael barging in on them were long past.

"Fuck," succinctly muttered Brian, his hard-on - which could withstand almost anything - also deflating.

Keening in protest, Justin rested his forehead against Brian's sweat-slicked back, the swing swaying slightly. He worried for a second that Brian would pull away from him since he didn't bottom for Justin except in private - other than that one memorable occasion at a club in New York when he was so stoned and horny he couldn't wait - but Brian didn't seem bothered. 

Justin wrapped his arms loosely around his lover, grateful there wouldn't be any pretense about what had been going on.

Evidently not noticing the glow from the new array over the bed - they'd gone for a diffused, subtle purple - and the candles flickering on various surfaces, Michael hit the switch that turned on the overhead lights in the kitchen area and the lamps on the end tables.

Tilting his head and slitting his eyes against the sudden bright light, Justin tried to make out who was jammed in behind Michael. The tall guy in the back, purple check trousers just visible through the sea of legs, had to be Emmett. That meant it was probably Ted next to him. He could also see the top of a blonde head, which must belong to Linds. He couldn't tell who else was over there though. With Lindsay here, Mel was likely to be present too, but since she was on the shorter side-

"Bri-" Michael began a jubilant greeting. Then, taking in the scene in front of him, he broke off, his mouth falling open. 

Emmett whooped, "You go, Baby!"

In contrast to the southerner's jubilation, Michael dropped to the floor, landing on his knees - as if praying - before collapsing completely.

"Wha?" Justin mumbled into Brian's back, only vaguely noticing that his lover's shoulders were shaking. His eyes slowly traveled from where an upright Michael had been to where the brunet was now lying crumpled on the hardwood.

A woman's voice crisply announced, "He's fainted."

Okay, that had to be Mel, Justin reckoned. It sounded just like her, totally matter-of-fact and to the point.

Em and Ted immediately sprang into action, Em calling out, "Sweetie, can you hear me?" while Ted checked the back of Michael's head to make sure he hadn't whacked it hard when he landed and held a palm in front of his mouth to make sure he was breathing evenly.

"He'll be okay," Ted assessed following a cursory examination. "He went down like a cat. Well, sorta," he amended with a chuckle. "A cat wouldn't collapse and pass out. Lupe definitely wouldn't; she targets the floor from the ledge that runs along my ceiling and lands perfectly, every time."

Elbowing her way past the others, Deb came into view, huffing, "Michael's not a cat." She sounded offended, but after a quick glance at her son, she didn't say anything else as she made a beeline for the coffee table.

"He sure... weighs... a lot... more than... a pussy... cat," Em puffed as he and Ted dragged their comatose friend over to the sofa.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah, more like a sack of potatoes. Make that two sacks - the hundred pound ones." Also breathing hard, the accountant stopped talking while they hefted Michael up onto the couch.

Flopping down on the sofa by Michael's feet, Em opined, "Yeah, potatoes that have been made into greasy fries."

Deb uttered a pro forma protest, "The diner's fries aren't greasy," the remark about her son weighing two hundred pounds evidently not registering. "Aha!" The redhead triumphantly held aloft one of the freshly rolled doobies that had been left on the coffee table. "I thought I smelled weed."

Justin was astonished. She must have a really good sniffer - at least when it came to premium Chronic. All they'd done was roll a couple of joints; they hadn't lit them up yet.

"Leave it to Deb," muttered Brian. "I swear, she can sniff it out from the other side of town." 

He didn't sound perturbed. More admiring, Justin assessed.

Debbie grinned, flourishing the joint at them. 

That Deb had heard Brian didn't surprise Justin. Moms were known to have eyes in the back of their heads and super hearing - as the redhead had demonstrated many times over the years.

"I'm one of those whatchamacallits." She paused for a second. "You know, a bloodhound."

Brian commented acerbically, "That's weed hound."

"Sure," Debbie replied equably as she looked down at the coffee table.

Ted placed a throw pillow beneath Michael's head before perching on the arm of the sofa. "I'm sorry, guys." He cast a hangdog look at Brian, whose expression vacillated from resigned to thunderous, and then quickly looked at Justin. "I was just refereeing an argument between Michael, Emmylou and Linds-" His voice trailed off as he focused on Justin's derriere, the only other thing coming out a mumbled "Zaftig."

Swearing under his breath that he'd been about to come, Brian clambered out of the swing, strolled buck naked over to the fridge, took out poppers and then waved the bottle under Michael's nose in lieu of smelling salts.

Justin had considered covering himself with his hands but gave that up as a bad job - he couldn't effectively cover both his groin and his ass - and let it all hang out. He remained next to the swing, his gaze pinned to Brian's taut backside as his lover strolled around the loft. He hoped the flush covering his body and his chest wasn't too obvious. A futile hope probably, but at least he wasn't doing an impression of a tween girl, about to faint at being seen naked. 

Speaking of fainting, Michael reared up, grabbed Brian by the shoulders and exclaimed, "Thank God, Brian! I could've sworn-" He then paused, doubtless puzzled by the bare skin beneath his fingers, before his gaze lowered to Brian's crotch. "For me?" he breathed out.

You kind of had to admire Michael's ability to blank out what he didn't like - and go straight to wish fulfillment, Justin mused. He must be really dazed though, blurting it out like that. 

Firing up with the lighter Brian had left on the coffee table, Debbie took a deep puff and tartly observed, "That's obviously for Sunshine. Don't be an idiot."

Michael's face immediately fell, and when he glanced around to find Justin standing over by the swing, his expression morphed into a frown. "That- It really-" he stuttered.

"'Course it did," Debbie cackled. "You and Ben should try that, honey. You still got that swing Brian bought for you?" The redhead took another toke, blew a smoke ring and added contemplatively, "If you don't want it, give it to me. Maybe I can talk Carl into giving it a whirl."

Although he could've done without the notion of Deb or Carl in a swing, Justin giggled. He'd long since gotten over any embarrassment about that first housewarming present. Really, what better gift could you give two queers?

Mel, looking unusually pale - she probably wasn't prepared to walk in on them using a swing - staggered over to Deb and snatched the joint away, just as the redhead was taking another puff.

"Hey!" Debbie protested, coughing.

Drawing hard on the doobie, Melanie gesticulated wildly with her hand. All goggle-eyed, she exclaimed, "I didn't know they got that big!"

Okay, so it wasn't the swing per se, Justin realized, giggling some more.

Michael had apparently recovered from his mother's put-down, observing proudly, "Everybody knows Brian's got nine and a half inches."

"Huh?" Mel gave Michael a befuddled glance before inhaling more weed.

"Brian's dick," Michael patiently explained. "It's nine and-"

The bulldyke cut him off. "I'm not talking about Kinney's dick. I'm talking about Baby's. It's-"

Em interrupted, "Isn't it glorious? Long and thick."

Okay, this was getting really weird and uncomfortable. Justin was sure his face had to be fire engine red by now. He didn't mind the commentary from Em so much - they'd seen plenty of each other in Babylon's VIP lounge, after all - but having one of his lezzie friends fixate on his endowment was too much. It reminded him a little of how Daphne had acted after they fucked way back when. Daph's behavior had been about more than his equipment of course, but given the way she went on about it, his dick had played a starring role in her fantasies. 

If only he were closer to the bed, Justin could snatch the throw - or better yet, the duvet - and wrap it around himself. He just didn't want to be totally obvious about it.

Brian apparently didn't care about being obvious. He sauntered into the bedroom, emerging a few beats later with a pair of sapphire blue briefs around his hips and tossed a black pair at Justin.

Did he realize he'd switched their underwear? a bemused Justin wondered as he hurriedly slid the briefs on. Not wanting to adjust his junk in front of everyone, he turned his back while he set himself to rights.

"I was about to enjoy the benefits of my partner's dick," Brian snarked. "What the fuck are you all doing here anyway?"

Ted opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Lindsay spoke up. "What are you doing here, Justin?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be in New York. You'll never make a name for yourself if you're always running back to Pittsburgh."

Not wanting to go off on the blonde, Justin took a deep breath, reminding himself that Lindsay had been the first to support his interest in studying art. Him and Brian as a couple too, especially after the debacle resulting from the loft burglary. 

So what if she wanted to live vicariously through him. That was hardly news to Justin; Linds wanted him to succeed as the artist she didn't have the guts to be. The excuse about not having the talent was just that - an excuse. She'd been too scared to even try.

What was hardest for him to forgive was the way she'd manipulated Brian, exploiting his lover's weaknesses with that damned Artforum article. She'd known, of course, that the article - together with Lindsay's assertions about how Brian was holding him back - would have her ‘Peter' cutting Justin loose and sending him off to New York, right after the girls and the kids headed off to the Great White North.

Breathe, Justin told himself as his hands clenched, his heart beating fast as he took a step toward the blonde. It had all worked out. The girls, Gus and Jenny were all back here in the Burgh, where they belonged. Like him, they were home. And even if Lindsay could be a pain in the ass - make that a pain in his art career - he believed she really did care about him, just like he did about her. They were family.

The red clearing from his vision, Justin looked at Linds only to discover that the blonde's focus wasn't on him. Her brown eyes were fastened to the part of Brian's anatomy that was now covered by a pair of scanty blue briefs.

She looked hungry.

Oh honey, Justin thought, channeling Emmett, that's not gonna get you anywhere.

On that thought, Justin burst out laughing, his gaze moving on to Melanie.

The bulldyke shrugged a shoulder in a resigned, ‘what can you do' sort of way before she started laughing too.

"Give it up, honey," Em echoed Justin's thought. "Like my Aunt Lula always said, don't chase after what ain't yourn."

"You can hardly blame her," Michael commented, twisting his head around so that he could also feast his eyes on Brian's equipment. "I mean, Brian's, like, you know-" He made a wild, flailing motion with his arm in an effort to encompass what he couldn't find the words for, almost whacking Ted in the nose.

Justin snorted. At least when he told his bestie that he'd seen the ‘Face of God,' he wasn't talking about Brian's dick. Not that Brian would mind either comparison...

"Uh." Michael shot a flustered look at Justin. "I, uh, didn't mean anything by that, you know? I mean, I have Ben."

Justin barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Typical Michael - he always had an excuse.

"And I've got Blake," Ted threw in. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a work of art." Tearing his eyes away from Justin's ass, he shrugged. "Sorry, Jus."

"Theodore," Brian growled in warning.

"-tin," Ted emphasized. "Justin. I meant to say Justin."

Justin looked at his lover, grinning when Brian's cheeks turned a dull red. It was so fucking hilarious how het up Brian got about anyone except him calling Justin ‘Jus.' Other than Daphne, that is. He'd complained for days about the punch in the arm she gave him after Brian tried remonstrating with her but then had the good sense to give it up as a lost cause.

"C'mon, Bri." Ted summoned the wherewithal to defend himself. "You know I'd never do more than look. Blake would have my balls otherwise."

"If he didn't, I would," Brian threatened in a possessive growl. Marching over to Justin, he pulled the blond up against him and claimed his lips in a steamy kiss.

The caveman behavior might be over the top, but it was also fuckin' hot, Justin mused dazedly.

"Jesus, that's fuckin' hot," Debbie rasped, unknowingly echoing him.

A breathy moan from Lindsay indicated the blonde's agreement.

Ash from the doobie that she'd reclaimed from Melanie drifted through the air as Deb swiveled around. Her eyes lighting on the Crosby wall clock in the kitchen, she sighed gustily. "Fuck. Blake can have your balls, Ted. It's Carl's that I need-"

Lindsay followed Debbie's gaze to the clock, a fine wrinkle forming between her brows. "That's not ri-" she started, only to be drowned out by a screech from Michael.

"Ew! Ma!"

His face squinching up in horror, Justin had to agree. Old, parental-type people sex and het sex. It had been kind of funny when she asked about Michael and Ben's swing, but he did not want to hear about Carl's balls and whatever Deb planned to do with them. Totally gross.

"Deb, honey," Em protested in a milder tone than Michael had used, "I don't think we're ready to hear about you and the good detective tearing up the sheets."

"No shit," Brian muttered in Justin's ear, his lightly tanned skin acquiring a bilious undertone. "I might hurl."

Also looking green, Ted begged, "Just don't mention the teddy with the glory hole."

Justin stared at the accountant in consternation. Where'd that come from? Now the blond lad couldn't unsee some kind of hideous garment-

"You buying Deb lingerie, Teddy?" Brian snarked.

Ted gave Brian the finger.

"Oh my God!" Emmett exclaimed in disgust. "You should've seen that thing Debbie showed off - right in the middle of the diner!" His mouth screwing up in distaste, he culminated, "It was like a- a glory hole for straights."

"Carl likes it," Deb commented smugly, the joint dangling from her fingers. "I just got one in pink and orange for a little variety. I was gonna put it on tonight, but Carl's stuck on a stakeout. It's only three thirty!" she added on a wail. "It's gonna be hours till he gets his gonads home!"

"Maybe Carl could send them on ahead," Mel joked, snagging the reefer from Debbie. "It could be, like, his superpower."

That suggestion worked wonders on Michael, who sat up, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "That's a great idea, just, you know, for Rage."

"Fuck that, Mikey," Brian put paid to his friend's latest inspiration. "Rage's balls stay with Rage."

Although he agreed with his lover, Justin had to grin at the way Brian's right hand now hovered protectively in front of his privates.

"Actually, Debbie," Linds interjected authoritatively, "it's half past two. We just went off daylight savings. I'm afraid you have another hour to wait for that," she concluded in a prissy voice.

Brian, his patience evidently at an end, carped, "And we were making good use of the hour for that." He waggled his eyebrows at his younger lover, making Justin giggle again. "Why the fuck aren't you lot doing the same thing? Except for Deb," he added. "She's waiting for the detective with the staked-out balls."

Maybe she wanted to stake them out, Justin mused before hastily banishing the image that raised. 

A babble of voices replied, with Justin at first unable to make heads or tails out of the various explanations. It gradually emerged that Em and Ted had met up at the diner since Blake was working and Emmett was dateless, Pitts9x6 unable to find anyone worthy of his talents on- or off-line.

The girls had then wandered in, giddy about their first child-free night in ages but disappointed that none of the clubs had a ‘dyke night' going on.

Finally, Michael had slouched in, complaining that Ben had kicked him out the house so he could concentrate on the chapter he was writing for his new book.

"I mean, I just wanted to, you know," Michael now spouted, flapping a hand from his supine position on the couch.

"Fuck?" Deb forthrightly suggested.

Justin smothered a laugh when Brian closed his mouth with a snap, obviously annoyed at being beaten to the punch.

"No!" Michael hotly retorted. "I just wanted to show him the Halloween costumes I found for all of us. The one for my honeybun is so-"

"Jesus, Mikey," Brian cut in, "you should've stripped, bent over the couch and called out ‘Yoohoo' or whatever mating call you use."

"‘Benji, Baby,' gets my vote," Emmett eagerly suggested, clapping his hands. "What do you think, Teddy?"

Before Ted could speak, Melanie intervened, "My money's on ‘burn my buns.' You know, like he shouted when we were sitting down for Sunday dinner a couple months ago. I was sure he was yelling a warning about the cheesy biscuits Linds made - that I'd set the temperature too high when I just meant to warm them up."

"Oh God," Debbie chortled. "Carl got quite the eyeful when he went to knock on the bathroom door and it swung wide open - because someone forgot to make sure it latched behind them - before begging Ben to tan his behind."

His face bright red, Michael spluttered incoherently about how he hadn't needed a lecture on ‘keeping his privates private.'

God, that was one Sunday dinner Justin wished he hadn't missed, although it had been almost as funny having Brian regale him with the details during their nightly phone call.

In a mocking falsetto, Brian cooed, "Can't you find Zephyr's privates, Kenny-boy?"

"Brian!" shrieked Michael, now looking like an overripe tomato about to burst open.

Smirking, Brian harangued his friend, "That would've distracted the hubby from his book, and you'd have gotten your needs met. But just 'cause you and the professor didn't have the sense to engage in over-the-couch sex, bang against the wall or even fuck in the standard missionary position on your bed, doesn't explain how all of you ended up here, interrupting us."

"Well," Ted stepped in, "since most of the original gang was all together, sans partners - except the girls-" Brian's CFO broke off, looking dubious, presumably in regard to the girls' status as members of the ‘gang.' 

A glare from Melanie had him hastily resuming his explanation. "Anyway, some of us thought we should collect our, er, missing member to make it a full set."

Justin snickered at the aghast look on Brian's face and started calculating who among the gang might be responsible for this brainstorm. 

Both Ted and Em looked pretty ashamed, so he doubted they were behind the late-night invasion of Brian's loft.

He also crossed Deb off as a likely suspect. She wasn't actually a gang member, even if she was the gang mother. She'd probably just gone along so she could raid Brian's weed stash; speaking of, she'd discovered the other recently rolled doobie and was puffing away. 

Although Melanie would always snatch an opportunity to barge in on Brian and discommode him - with the added benefit of also enjoying her nemesis' best Chronic - he doubted it had been her idea either.

Linds unquestionably would've been up for getting an eyeful - mission accomplished, Justin mused wryly - but she'd never be so obvious as to outright suggest going to the loft. Considering who was left though, she might've nudged things along. It would have only taken the slightest encourage-

Brian interrupted his speculations, querying, "Et tu, Theodore?" accompanying the question with the sardonic lift of an eyebrow.

"Not exactly," Ted equivocated. "Not that I didn't want you to join us, Bri," he hastily tacked on, presumably covering his bases in case Brian took offense.

"Really, Bri," Emmett started, tacking on, "-an," with a cheeky grin when Brian turned a darkening gaze on the southerner. 

Not looking in the least intimidated, Emmett coolly informed him, "You should've just locked the door."

They should have, Justin allowed. If they hadn't started going at it hot and heavy the moment Brian opened the door to find Justin on the other side, one of them might have thought to throw the deadbolt. As it was, they'd barely gotten the door closed before Brian took him up against it.

"Nuh-uh," Michael contradicted his friend. "That wouldn't stop us! I would have unlocked it!"

"Yeah?" Ted inquired dryly. "With the keys you dropped down the elevator shaft?"

Brian snorted through a laugh, "What the hell?"

"Ma jostled my arm," Michael noted sullenly. "I only had my keys out because we needed them to get into the building. Uh" - he turned pleading brown eyes on Brian - "could you ask the super to retrieve them for me?"

"Sure, Mikey," Brian agreed. "I'll do that on Monday morning. The super's off till then unless there's an emergency."

Michael's lower lip jutted out. "This is an emergency. Everything's on there! The loft, Red Cape, Ma's house, my house-"

Brian inquired, "The hubby gonna lock you out?"

"What? No!" Michael vehemently denied. "But-"

"You've got a spare to Red Cape at home, right?"

"But-" Michael reiterated.

Brian shut down further discussion of the matter. "But nothing. No one's locked out. Getting your key ring back can wait till Monday."

Justin smirked. He hoped Brian wouldn't spill the beans when he returned Michael's keys. He wanted to be there to witness the fallout when Michael eventually discovered the lock had been changed.

Emmett directed a charming grin at Brian, the gap between his teeth evident. "It's just as well the door wasn't locked. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been treated to such a juicy moment. I'd hate to have missed out."

There came an enthusiastic "Yeah!" from Ted and an "Mhmm!" from Deb, who had her mouth locked tight around the doobie between her lips.

After a long inhale, Deb removed the joint and tilted her head. Her lips pursed in a scarlet circle, she puffed out a series of smoke rings.

His gaze following the smoke rings as they drifted toward the rafters, Michael's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Why're there bikes up there?"

Sheesh, you'd think the bicycles were so high up that you could walk right under them with how long it took Michael to notice them, instead of hanging from the rafters to one side of the entryway - right above a mirror where Brian could admire himself one last time before leaving the loft. Brian had suspended the bikes lower than he'd originally intended, to make it easier for Justin to reach his.

Brian lifted an eyebrow at his couch-bound friend and deadpanned, "There was this thing called the Liberty Ride. Remember?"

Michael shot an irritated look at his friend. "Duh, I helped you over the finish line. You wouldn't have made it-"

"-without a certain blond cheering me on," Brian filled in, forestalling whatever Michael had been about to say.

Smiling softly at him, Brian bent down and rubbed his nose against Justin's.

"Ooh, that's so ro-"

Justin hurriedly spoke up, not wanting Emmett to kill the moment. "We should go out for a spin," he suggested to Brian.

"Now?" Brian drawled sarcastically, turning his head to look at the darkness outside the windows.

Pulling away a little, Justin slapped a hand against Brian's chest. "No, you doofus. Later, after-"

"Wait, you have a bike up there too?" Lindsay tilted her head, her forehead marred by a frown. "How long has that been there?"

In a long-suffering tone, Brian replied, "Like I just said - since the Liberty Ride. Being in baby mama mode along with your worse half-" 

"Watch it, Kinney!" Mel uttered a half-hearted protest, not even looking their way as she accepted the joint Deb was holding out.

The weed must've mellowed out the dyke, Justin surmised.

"-must have killed your powers of observation," Brian finished without missing a beat.

"But Justin didn't go on the ride," Linds objected in a sweet, oh-so-reasonable tone as she simultaneously smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her blue suede skirt and flicked an errant strand of blonde hair over her shoulder.

Fuck this, thought Justin. Brian shouldn't have to deal with this shit by himself. He wasn't here on sufferance; he was Brian's partner.

Bestowing his WASPiest smile on the blonde woman, he calmly volleyed back, "We bought the bikes during the spin class, so we could practice on real roads and get used to the wintry conditions ahead of time. You know, make sure we were both prepared." 

He couldn't help emphasizing ‘both.' It still annoyed him that no one had checked up on Brian to see how he was doing during the lead-up to the fundraiser for the local AIDS hospice. To be fair, both Ted and Emmett had asked - and almost got their heads bitten off for their trouble - but neither of Brian's best friends checked in, too focused on the baby's upcoming arrival to think about anything else.

In and of itself, that didn't bother Justin - he'd also been excited about the baby - but he was fed up with the superior, ‘I know what's best for you' attitude. It might have been exciting to go to Hollywood and help pitch Rage, but Justin had wanted even more to go on the Liberty Ride - to not only be there to support Brian but also to experience the ride together. 

Brett Keller might have requested Justin, but before he could ask if the meeting date could be changed, Michael had agreed that Justin would go, and the call ended with the promise of an e-ticket on the way.

Michael was too excited about the possibility of Rage being made into a film to care about Justin's personal investment in the ride, never mind the commitment to his sponsors. He'd dismissed all that as unimportant, leaving Justin in a quandary.

He'd been about to pick up the phone and call Brett back to request a different date for the pitch, but then Carl came in, wanting a private moment with Michael.

Determined to go on the Liberty Ride, he'd stewed the whole way to the loft. It was while he was setting out the things he and Brian would need during the ride that he hit on a solution. He'd make sure Michael took him to the airport, and once they got there, he'd flatter his business partner into getting on the plane. He'd spout something about how it was the writing that mattered and how only Michael could convince the studio execs.

Michael was bound to gobble that up, and while his clothes might not fit Michael quite right - his trousers would be too tight around the waist and too baggy in the rear - they were close enough in size that it wouldn't be too noticeable.

Since ‘pictures' were apparently important, Justin would stow another dozen copies of Rage in his duffel bag and send those along with Michael. It wasn't like he was going to draw more panels of the comic before the meeting anyway, so that would have to suffice. 

Then Brian had come home, demanding to know what Justin was doing, and it came out that Michael had spilled the beans to him - all so his best friend would manipulate Justin into going to LA.

That had nixed any possibility of rescheduling the appointment with the studio executive. 

Justin sighed. He hadn't wanted to deal with Brian in a major snit, so he'd given in and flew off to Hollywood. The trip to tout Rage had ultimately resulted in a long-distance relationship with his lover, while said lover got cold feet, followed by an inglorious return to the Pitts after the studio honchos got even worse cold feet, tanking the movie.

"Huh, I never really noticed the bicycles before," Debbie commented as she walked over to the bikes, drawing Justin out of his memories.

In a sulky tone, Michael noted, "They're just collecting dust. Not like mine and Ben's. You should sell them or donate-"

"That's it!" Debbie interrupted, walking over to stand next to the bikes and eyeing them consideringly.

Brian inquired suspiciously, "What's it?"

"We should have another charity ride." The redhead outstretched a hand and ran her fingers along one of the tires, making it spin. "Raise more money for the Vic Grassi house." She smiled a little sadly as she said her brother's name.

"Maybe," Brian allowed, moving over to stand next to Debbie and peer at the bikes. "But not this year, Ma."

"No," Debbie agreed, resting her head against Brian's shoulder, "not this year."

Brian steered Debbie toward the door. "How about you go home now? Justin and I need to finish our ride." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay," Deb concurred readily, her mood swinging back to happy as she sashayed through the open door and over to the elevator. "That'll give me time to get ready for Carl."

"Come on. Out," Justin ordered when the others didn't follow Debbie.

He smiled in smug satisfaction when Ted and Em each took an arm, hauling Michael off the sofa. 

Meanwhile, Brian turned his gaze on the girls. "You still want us to take the kiddies trick or treating tomorrow?"

"Me and my honeybun will join you," Michael immediately cried out. "It'll be like old times."

What the heck? What old times? Justin tried but couldn't puzzle it out. Michael and Brian hadn't met until high school, when Brian immediately became Michael's hero. It wasn't like they'd had younger siblings that they could take trick or treating on Halloween, and at fourteen they would've been too old to go out cadging candy without the excuse of providing an escort for little ones.

Before anyone could say a word, Melanie observed tartly, "You must've hit your head really hard, Michael."

"Huh?" came Michael's bewildered response.

Lindsay elaborated, "Michael, we asked you first if you wanted to take Jenny around on Halloween. We only went to Brian-"

In a seeming non sequitur Michael directed an accusing look at Brian. "But I asked you first!" 

"Mikey," Brian returned, "your Rage event tomorrow features Zephyr and the nutty professor, right?"

"Ken Kirchner," Michael immediately corrected him.

Brian repeated, "Like I said, the nutty professor."

Michael pouted but didn't try to rebut again. "So?"

Brian wrapped a hand around Justin's wrist and reeled him in until he was pressed up against him. "So... if Rage and JT show up, they'll steal the focus - you won't stand a chance. You don't want us there, Mikey."

Michael muttered something like, "Who wants JT?" but Justin decided to take the high road and ignore him. Otherwise, they'd be in for a prolonged argument, and who knew when they'd finally manage to shoo him out the door.

"Good boy," Brian husked into his ear before prodding, "Mikey?"

"Yeah, okay," Michael sullenly acknowledged Brian's logic. He looked down, scuffing a sneakered foot against the hardwood floor.

Lindsay pressed, "So you'll go trick-or-treating?"

Brian leered wickedly.

"With the kids," Melanie specified.

The butch lawyer didn't sound as acerbic as usual. Either she found Brian funny and was smothering a laugh, or the weed had mellowed her out - probably the latter.

"You wouldn't want to let Gus down, Peter," Linds pushed for a firm answer.

His tongue poking into his cheek, Brian smirked at his blonde friend. "Then you'd better let us get our beauty rest, Wendy."

Dropping the roach into the ashtray on the coffee table, Melanie grabbed her wife by the arm. "C'mon," she hissed, "or Kinney'll renege. I've got a treat all ready that I want to try out on you." 

Linds shot a helpless look over her shoulder as Mel manhandled her out of the loft, Ted and Em on their heels with Michael.

Justin followed behind them, checking to be sure no one had ‘forgotten' something they'd have to return for.

Once the three amigos and the girls were over the threshold, Brian announced genially, "But first, we're going to screw ourselves six ways to Sunday."

Lindsay cried out, "Brian!" in prim reprimand.

Her complaint tangled with a whined "Briaaan!" from the brunet's other best friend.

Brian just grinned, paying no heed.

Justin bestowed a toothsome grin on everyone as Brian slid the heavy metal door closed. To punctuate the farewell, Justin dropped the keyless deadbolt into place with a loud clang that none of the group now outside the loft could miss.