Brian was nursing a monster of a headache while deciding whether or not it was a good decision to hop on the first plane to Chicago and fire everyone in that branch after they had fucked up Brown’s latest ad.

Emmett chose that moment to barge into his office, holding a suit bag and a large coffee cup.

“Since you won’t move your ass for suit fitting, I brought the goddamn thing to you. Justin also insisted I should bring you a latte, because you might need it.”

“What a thoughtful twat. I don’t need suit fitting. I haven’t put any weight since last month when we decided what we were getting. I might have lost some due to stress,” Brian snapped. “Give me that coffee.”

He went over and snatched the cup from Emmett's hand.

“All the more reason. Come on. It will take fifteen minutes, tops.” Emmett placed the suit bag on the back of the chair in front of Brian's desk. “And before I forget, I couldn’t get a hold of the band I use for weddings. They’re not in the country.”

“I told you…just find some DJ, or I’ll bring Chuck. It can’t be much different than putting music in Babylon.”

“This is your wedding, Brian,” Emmett gasped. He came closer and started undoing Brian's tie, then worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

“What the fuck, Honeycutt?”

“Suit fitting.”

Brian wrenched away, spilling coffee on his shirt. “Fuck. Awesome.”

“I’m sorry, Brian. I don’t have all day. I have a diamond anniversary meeting at two.”

“Go to your geriatrics, and leave me alone. I’m busy,” Brian spat, rearranging his tie. “And take the fucking suit with you.”

“I don’t know what’s with this lovely attitude, but you better watch out. You barely got involved in the preparations for your wedding. Justin keeps finding excuses for you, but I don’t like it.”

“I have to run a company full of incompetents. I don’t need the added stress.” Brian snatched the suit bag and stuffed it into Emmett's arms. “And don’t get me started on not getting involved. I fucking helped, and you know it.”

Emmett held his head high, and Brian admired him for that. Emmett could stand tall against the worst of storms.

“Justin deserves a statue for putting up with your shit on a daily basis.”

Emmett stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Ted, who was coming to Brian with a stack of papers.

“What was that?” Ted asked anxiously.

“As if you aren’t used to Emmett's theatrics.” Brian focused on dabbing at the coffee stain on his shirt with a paper tissue. “What have you got there?”

“Oh, these? Nothing of your concern.” Ted dismissed him with a hand. “I heard Emmett's voice, and I was curious what was going on.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Well, now that you satisfied your curiosity, better go back to your office.”

Once he was alone, Brian threw the tissues in the trash, scowling at his shirt. He picked at a few dark hairs from the dog, trashing them, before he grabbed his phone.

It was better for Justin to hear it from him, and not Emmett, about how uncooperative he had been.

“My busy, big, big man,” Justin answered teasingly.

“Fuck. Honeycutt got to you already?”

“Of course, we just hung up. I tried to stop him from coming to Kinnetik, but he was on a mission.”

“It was mission impossible, because I kicked him out.” Brian picked his coffee. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Don’t mention it. Everything okay? You left in the hurry this morning.”

“That’s the thing…I might have to fly to Chicago tonight. My team over there probably thinks I’m the best at licking Brown’s ass. They fucked up a nation-wide campaign about sports clothes.”

“Shit. Well, if anyone is good at rim jobs, it’s you,” Justin said cheerfully.

“I don’t think Brown is interested in the same kind of rim jobs as you, Sunshine.”

“Straight men…they have no idea what they’re missing out.”

Brian laughed, relaxing for the first time since he had heard about what his Chicago team had done. “So, don’t wait up for me.”

“You plan on returning tonight?” Justin asked, surprised.

“We’ll see. I have to call Leo and ask when he’s available, but I’d like to be done with this shit the sooner the better.”

“Sure. Just don’t step on the dog if you return in the middle of the night.”

“It happened once. I couldn’t have known he was sleeping on the first step. Did I mention he’s a blob of void?”

“You’re mean. He’s such a good dog.”

“Yeah, he is,” Brian agreed.

“Good luck rimming Brown,” Justin joked.

“Thanks.”

After hanging up, Brian downed the rest of the coffee, before going to Cynthia. He found her on the phone, and she held a finger up.

“Can I help?” Damian asked from behind his computer.

“Yeah, get me another Tylenol.”

“That was Jane, saying Mr. Brown is fuming.” Cynthia got up, “Expect a call from him.”

She barely had the words out, when Brian's phone started ringing. “Get me a plane ticket to Chicago for this evening. Tell Damian to bring my pill into my office,” Brian instructed, accepting his client’s call. “Leo, thank you for returning my call.”

“I’m moments away from ripping our contract, Brian.”

“Please, don’t do anything hasty,” Brian insisted. He intercepted Damian and took the Tylenol bottle from his hand, before locking himself in his office. “I’m coming over as soon as Cynthia finds me a plane ticket.”

“Do you think these sports clothes are a joke? I have never seen anything more denigrating than what your team has come up with.”

“It was my mistake, Leo. I allowed Kurt to deal with the campaign on his own.” Brian realized in that moment that branching out might not have been his best move.

“I’m sorry, Brian. I need a rough idea of how you’ll make it better. This ad is set to start rolling in two weeks.”

“I know. I’ll have something for you.”

“Call me when you land.” Leo hung up, huffing.

“Fuck.” Brian kicked a chair with all his might. He stormed out of his office. “I need Paul in my office,” he shouted in the hallway.

Amy peeked out of the Art Department room, staring slightly scared at him. “Paul is home with the flu.”

“Okay. Paul is fired. What are you working on?” Brian barked, advancing toward her.

“Uh…I…I’m…the coffee shop.”

“Fuck the coffee shop. I need fresh mock-ups for Brown Athletics before I leave the office. Call Kurt to send you what he has.”

Amy nodded fearfully, and Brian hoped he hadn’t scared her into resigning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on the brink of losing his mind.

Cynthia was in his office when he returned. “I got you the plane at seven-fifteen.”

“Nothing earlier?” Brian groaned, throwing a Tylenol in his mouth and washing it a glass of water.

“There’s one at two-fifty, but you’ll never make it,” she reasoned.

“Get two tickets. Amy, pack your shit. We’re going to Chicago,” Brian shouted in her direction.

“Brian…”

“I don’t have time to chit-chat, Cynthia. Email me the tickets.” He picked his suit jacket and briefcase, meeting a stunned Amy in the hallway. She had her tablet in her hand, her sweater over one of her elbows, and her backpack hanging from one of her shoulder. Her glasses were sliding down her nose, and most of her hair had escaped the bun.

“Come on.” Brian picked the tablet from her hand.

In the car, Brian was pleased he had taken the Corvette, and he kept his foot pressed to the acceleration until they reached the airport.

They had just arrived at the check-in area when Cynthia sent him the email with the plane tickets. As they passed the scanners, Amy realized she had forgotten her phone, and Brian felt awful for hurrying her.

“If you want to call your husband, you can use my phone. Only once, because I don’t have a charger,” Brian said, laughing.

Amy managed a small smile. “I texted him that I might stay after hours today, so he shouldn’t worry…much.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “After we meet with Brown, I’ll buy a charger. We can call home and tell them we’re going out to celebrate winning over our best account.”

They caught the plane right on time, and Brian allowed her to take the window seat.

They worked on the mock-up during the flight, and Brian had to admit that Amy’s idea was better than anything Kurt could have come up with.

In the cab, on the way to Brown’s office, Amy shifted nervously.

“I know this is not the best time, but Mike is going to be deported to Chicago. I’ve been plucking the courage to ask you to move me to the Chicago branch for a week.”

Brian eyed her amused. “You might be in luck, because if this works out, you’re being promoted to Account Manager of the Chicago branch of Kinnetik.”

“Are you…”

“Crazy?” Brian laughed. “Right now, I’m losing my mind. Trust me, Amy, after this evening, we will be best friends.”

She laughed nervously. “I know what this account means to you. I hope we can salvage the situation.”

Brian winked, and helped her out of the cab when they reached the modern building of Brown Athletics.

.

.

.

By the end of the night, they impressed the pants off Brown, who even decided to renew his contract with Brian for ten years.

With the last of his phone’s battery life, he called Ted to draw up all necessary documents for Amy’s promotion and relocating her in Chicago.

They celebrated with champagne in the plane on their way back to Pittsburgh.

Brian drove Amy home, even chatted with her husband who had come to get from the car. Brian explained why he had to steal his wife and bring her back in the wee hours of the morning.

When Brian finally made it home, he was careful not to step on Tank who was fast asleep in the kitchen, next to the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank half of it, slowly making his way upstairs.

He was amused to find Nick snuggled into Justin's side, both of them sleeping.

Brian was quiet as he took a quick shower to wash away the grime of his long day.

When he got in bed, and glanced at his men, he choked on his spit when he saw Justin's eyes opened. Justin smiled softly.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.” Brian leaned over Nick’s body to kiss Justin. “I’ve still got the best rimming skills,” he said happily.

“I’m so happy to hear it all worked out. I hate it when you’re stressed because of work,” he said softly, taking Brian's hand. “And I had another talk with Emmett. We have to meet with him on Wednesday.”

“We’ll see about that. I might have to go back to Chicago and rip everyone a new one. In a twisted way, I’m glad this happened with Brown. He knows me, and he trusted me enough to come up with something good in a matter of hours. If it was anyone else…”

“Like my faithful client from New York, who understood why his painting was delayed when Nick thought it was one of my thinking canvas, and not something for a client.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Nick mumbled from between them. “Hi, Brian.”

Brian laughed, hugging him against his chest. “I haven’t see you so angry at Nick…well, ever,” he commented.

Justin shuddered. “Let’s get some sleep. I bet you’re tired.”

“You smell funny,” Nick rolled around to burrow into Justin's side.

Justin lifted a brow, and Brian shrugged. Justin leaned closer, taking a whiff, making Brian laugh.

“Did you stop by Woody’s to celebrate?”

“What? No! I had some champagne in the plane. Amy’s husband commented how we both smelled like a distillery.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Justin chuckled.

“Whatever. Night.”

“Night.” Justin stroked his hair, smiling.