Justin

Brian switches off the phone and comes back to me, and suddenly all thoughts of jobs and money and PIFA just go out of my head and there isn’t anything else in the world but the need to hold and kiss and touch him. And from the way he grabs me and starts kissing me like it has been days since we’ve fucked instead of a few hours, it seems like he's in the same space.

I think it's going to be hard and fast, but instead we wind up on the rugs and cushions on the floor and it slows right down.

For a long time we just lie there gently stroking and kissing as we look into each other’s eyes. When we're finally ready to go further, he rolls me onto my side and slides into me so slowly that it nearly drives me frantic. When he's all the way in he stops moving and takes time to kiss my neck and my shoulders till I’ve calmed down a little. Then he reaches around and begins stoking my cock.

I can hear myself moaning, and as I press back against him, I feel his laugh rumble all the way through me. Then he begins slowly pulling out and rocking back into me, brushing my prostate with each stroke, and all the time his hand works my cock in the same slow rhythm.

Whenever we get close he just stops and gives us both time to get a little control back, then he starts again. It is amazing and frustrating as hell all at the same time.

Finally, he begins to speed up, and at first I'm filled with relief, but this is just a wonderful new form of torture. Now he alternates the speed and rhythm, thrusting fast and hard and taking us both right to the very brink and then slowing it right down again.

I don’t know how many times he takes us there, but by the end I'm permanently in that zone, riding the edge of orgasm, and the pleasure is so intense it really is painful. He must know that for me, at least, it's time, because he suddenly thrusts deep and hard and his thumb taps twice against my piss slit and that's it - I come so hard I nearly faint. Three jets of cum soak into the cushions before I'm finished, then from somewhere off in the ether I hear Brian moan my name and I feel him jerk against me and then we both lie quiet and spent with his arms wrapped around me and mine wound around his.

He has to pull out of course before I'm ready to be separated, to dispose of the condom. That’s one of the real downsides to safe sex. But then he presses back up against me, and I turn into his arms. He grins at me and kisses my forehead, and we just lie there for a while. Being together.

It’s times like this I wonder what the fuck I was thinking back when I went off with Ethan. But, you know, I’m glad I did. Because somehow things are better now than they’ve ever been.

Daph says it’s because Brian is trying harder because he knows now that he doesn’t want to lose me. And I guess that’s partly it.

But a lot of it is me.

What Michael said that day about Brian only letting me stay with him because he felt guilty, that only hurt me because it was already what I was feeling, my deepest fear.

And I felt like that because I knew how weak and pathetic I was, and couldn’t believe, not really believe, that there was any real reason that Brian would want me to be part of his life; couldn’t see that I had anything to offer him except sex and he could get that anywhere.

That’s why I was so threatened by the tricks back then. And why I’m not now. I mean, I don’t love it that he still tricks. But it’s Brian. And I do love Brian.

The tricks don’t matter now, because I know that this time he’s chosen to be with me, because I’m what he wants. For sex, yes. The sex is great.

But for other things as well.

Like this morning. Sharing the news about Stockwell, and then working together to come up with a plan for the future. That was the sort of thing I’d never even have dreamed of back in those post-bashing, pre-Ethan days. It was what I’d always needed in this thing that Brian and I have, but back then I felt like it meant that Brian would have to pay me a respect that a little twat like me just wasn’t worthy of. So I tried to substitute romance, flowers and floor picnics, for fuck's sake, for the respect and equality I really needed. Fuck, no wonder things turned into such a mess. Or that Brian didn’t understand what I wanted, what I needed from him - I didn’t know myself.

The really ironic thing is that I think he was ready to give me all that I needed back then, I just wasn’t ready to take it.

But I am now. I know now what I want and what I need. And Brian is giving me both. 

We’ve just gotten up and I'm making us some lunch when Vance’s call comes. Brian lets it go through to voice mail, although he does turn up the speaker. Vance sounds a little miffed, says he’s been trying to call all morning, and could Brian return his call as soon as possible, that he’d like to meet this afternoon.

Brian raises an eyebrow at that. It sounds as if Cynthia was right, and Vance is about to make some sort of move to either get Brian back, or at least make sure that he isn’t going to be any sort of competition.

When we check the machine, there's actually an earlier message from Vance’s secretary, asking Brian to call. It must have come through while we were so occupied we didn’t even hear it. I know that the way Brian had been making me feel, I might not have heard the last trump.

“Sounds eager, doesn’t he?” Brian comments dryly.

He sucks his lips in for a moment, then says, “I wonder which it is - get me back on board, or push me under completely.”

We’d discussed both those options, and how to handle them. But then something occurs to me. “Brian … was there anything in your contract with Vance to say you couldn’t leave and start up in direct competition to him?”

He looks at me, frowning, trying to remember. Then he walks over to the box where he’d put all his papers out of his desk, and starts going through it. He finds the contract and scans it thoughtfully.

“Justin, can you give Mel a call? Ask her if she’ll be at home this afternoon, and up for giving a bit of legal advice.”

*****

Brian

We get a warmer welcome than I expected at Muncherville. Apparently Lindz and Michael between them have been hovering over Mel like a pair of fucking mother hens to the point where they are really starting to piss her off. All ‘let me do that, dear’ and ‘you shouldn’t be doing that, it’s bad for the baby’ till she is actually glad to see someone who wouldn’t give her any of that shit - even if I was included in the package.

Gus is having his afternoon nap when we get there, and Lindz is at work, so that means Justin and I can sit down with Mel and go through with her some of the stuff that the investment guy had said about possibly suing Vance over my dismissal and what there was in the contract in the way of non-competition clauses. She’d helped to write it, so she's the best person to give me that sort of advice.

Mel looks dubious about the first bit, but said she’ll go through her copy of the contract more closely over the weekend and let me know what she thinks. She grins like a feral dog when I mention the non-competition clause, though. One of those moments when I almost like her.

“Oh, no. If he tries that, he’s fucked. I was very careful about what went into it in that area.” She sounds very fucking pleased with herself.

I stick my tongue in my cheek, and look at her, waiting for her to get over her little moment of personal triumph and share.

“I knew he’d insist on having some sort of non-competition clause, he would have been crazy not to.”

She gives me a look then that says that is as near as I'm going to get to hearing her say that I’m damned good at what I do, and Vance would be right to be scared of me as competition.

“But I wasn’t going to let him set you up so that when he was ready he could manufacture some reason to get rid of you, without having to worry about you starting up your own agency and taking your clients with you.

“So the contract specifically states that the non-competition clause only comes into effect if the partnership is dissolved by mutual consent, or if you decide to void the partnership agreement. In any other circumstances, such as Vance firing your ass, you can open an agency on his doorstep and there’s fuck all he can do about it.”

Justin gives a little ‘woof’ of satisfaction and I take a moment to grin at him. He is sitting next to me, and I find myself taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

Then I turn back to Mel. “Thanks.”

I mean it too. She has really covered my ass.

She's looking at me like I’ve grown another head, and I realize that I'm still holding Justin’s hand. I know she's expecting me to drop it, like I would have a year ago. But that was a fucking long time ago, and now I just go on holding it, rubbing my thumb over his fingers as I meet Mel’s eyes.

She might have said something, but just then there's a thump over our heads and then a wail and she starts to get up. “That’s Gus.”

I stand, maybe more quickly than I want her to notice. “I’ll get him.”

It means letting go of Justin’s hand but I head up the stairs two at a time to collect Sonnyboy.

He's standing next to his bed blinking and looking confused, with tear tracks on his face. When I go in he holds up his arms to be picked up and when I do he pushes his face into my neck and holds on like I'm his only comfort. Poor fucking kid.

“Dweem, Dadda,” he says.

“You had a bad dream?”

He nods against my neck and gives a wet sniff. I look around the room and find some tissues. I manage to mop him up a bit, and wipe my neck as well. Then I sit down on the edge of his bed with him on my knee, rubbing his back like I used to do with Justin when he had nightmares.

Fuck! how do you handle this shit?

At least he’s stopped trying to fucking strangle me. He still has his head on my shoulder though, and I find myself kissing his hair.

“You okay now?” I ask hoping that he is because I sure as shit don’t know what to do about it if he isn’t.

He nods and smiles up at me.

“All better, Dadda,” he says.

“You want to go downstairs now?”

“Jus here?”

For a moment I feel stabbed. There had been too many times he’d asked me that when I’d had to say ‘no’ and watch his face drop. Somehow knowing he was hoping to see Justin and I together and was disappointed every time we weren’t, had made it even shittier. Then it hit me that this time I didn’t have to disappoint either of us.

“Yep. Jus is downstairs.”

He gives a squeal of excitement and wriggles off my knee, heading for the stairs.

I swoop him up into my arms and he gives another squeal and then starts to giggle as I toss him up into the air.

“Should we go down and play with Jus?”

“Yes, Dadda. Jus. Now.”

So I carry him downstairs to where Justin is waiting for us both.

He's in the kitchen with Mel making coffee and as soon as he sees him Gus launches himself from my arms to Justin’s. Fortunately Justin is used to dealing with him and is expecting it. He catches him and hugs him.

“How’s my Gus, today?”

“I good. How’s my Jus today?” the little brat asks. ‘His Jus’ indeed. Then he laughs and launches himself back at me. I'm not expecting it, but I manage to catch him which was just as well with Mel standing there ready to fry my ass if I’d dropped him.

But she seems surprisingly mellow. Maybe being pregnant agrees with her. She gets milk for Gus, and a biscuit, and then we all sit down at the table and have our drinks and Gus gets his crayons and draws pictures while we go through a few more thoughts about the contract.

With those things sorted out, I figure it's time to phone Vance. It’s Friday today, and I have no intention of meeting with him till Monday. I want him to stew over the weekend. But I don’t want Justin to have to worry all weekend about which tack Vance is going to take, so I need to get that out of him today.

I ask Mel and she waves me to the phone, then they take Gus into the other room, to give me some quiet. Justin gives me a quick kiss for luck on the way out and I feel it on my face as I dial the number.

His secretary asks me to wait, but I’m not putting up with any of that shit, and tell her that unless Vance can speak to me now, he can call back on Monday.

He comes on the line.

“Brian, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, Gardner. And yourself?”

Stay calm, Kinney. Calm, charm and, if necessary, smarm. Then, when the time’s right, go for the jugular.

“I’m glad to hear that, Brian, really.”

There’s a pause, but I stay silent. He’s the one who wanted to talk. Finally he continues, “I suppose you’ve heard about Stockwell.”

“I have, yes.” Then I decide to give him something to think about. Something to make sure he knows I’m still a player. “Actually, I’d already had a hint that something was in the wind.”

Which was true enough. He doesn’t have to know how vague the hint was.

“Oh?” He sounds a little surprised and maybe just a little rattled.

“Yes, a well-placed source, as they say.”

That’s all. No need to let him know who the hint was from. Not yet. Time to name drop later. Time later to let him know I’ve had other very tempting offers. For now, just wait for him to give something away regarding what he wants.

“Well, Brian, I’m sure that you understand that the situation with Stockwell, with the rumors about his involvement in some very suspect dealings, they place a completely different complexion on your involvement in his election defeat.”

“They don’t change what happened, what I did,” I push. “He’s still a client, isn’t he?”

“No, Brian. No longer. We can’t afford to have the company name associated with … well, with anything shady. That hardly helps our reputation.”

Fuck! Suddenly it’s very clear to me what’s going on. He does want me back. He not only wants me back, he wants to parade me to our other clients as a model of integrity, the one who was willing to give up his career rather than support Stockwell. Shit! Justin is so not going to believe this. Well, for that matter, no one is going to fucking believe this.

“So what’s the deal, Gardner?”

“Well, Brian, I understand that you haven’t yet found another job, and in light of what’s happened …”

“I haven’t actually been looking, Gardner. I decided to take some time out to spend with Justin. You remember Justin?”

I let the anger I feel that this fucker is as much to blame as anyone for Justin’s suspension come into my voice.

Gardner is silent for a moment, then he says, “Ah. Yes. I remember Justin. That was all most unfortunate.”

So now he knows that whatever deal is struck, Justin is going to be part of it. And if that means that Vance has to use the sort of pressure he put on PIFA to get them to suspend Justin in the first place and this time use it to put the squeeze on them to make them take him back, well, so be it.

“Well, I’m sure that now the dust is settled, there’ll be no impediment to his returning to his studies. In fact, if he wants to resume his internship …”

“That’s up to Justin. You should talk to him about it.”

“Yes, yes, well, I will. However, we were talking about you, about what your plans are.”

“Were we?”

“Well, I rather hoped … you know our clients, here, Brian and they know you. Starting out cold in a different agency with a different approach than you’re accustomed to …”

“Well, you know me, Gardner. Always up for a challenge.”

There wis dead silence then for a few seconds and I know I’ve rattled him.

“Well, of course your contract had a non-competition clause, which means that should you wish to stay in advertising you’d have to leave Pittsburgh, Which seems a pity just as young Justin is getting back into college.”

“Gardner, I’m sure you know as well as I do that the non-competition clause doesn’t apply in these circumstances. I’m quite sure your lawyers have explained all that to you.”

He actually laughs then, and I find myself, as I so often have done, almost liking him.

“Yes, you’re right of course, they did,” he says cheerfully. “Look, Brian, I’ll cut the bullshit. This situation doesn’t benefit either of us. What would it take for you to come back?”

Got him! Got him by the fucking balls, thanks to Justin, and to Mel, for fuck’s sake.

“Well, Gardner, I’d need some time to consider that.”

And now we’re both on familiar ground and we know that there’s room to talk, and to negotiate, and that if we want we should be able to strike a deal. Provided it’s in our best interest to do it. And I know that he needs me. But he doesn’t know about my other options. Which very definitely gives me the edge.

“I was rather hoping we could meet today and discuss it. Or perhaps over dinner tonight.”

“Sorry, Gardner, I have family commitments this evening.” Which again is true enough. Deb had called just before we left the loft demanding that we both attend a family dinner tonight to celebrate Stockwell’s downfall.

“Well, Monday then.”

“Monday it is.”

“Good. And if you have any thoughts in the meantime, perhaps you could send me an email so that I can have a response prepared.”

“I can probably do that, yes.”

“Good. I’ll see you on Monday, then. Shall we say ten?”

“Fine. And perhaps in the meantime you should make a call to the Dean at PIFA and explain how your views have changed.”

Again he laughs. “I’ll do that, Brian. See you Monday.”

I let go of the phone and suddenly I need to sit down. I slump onto one of the bar stools and then Justin is there with his arms around me and I let my forehead rest against his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs my fucking back, like I was doing for Gus not so long ago. And I must be just like a fucking two year old, because it does make all the bogies go away.

The negotiations with Vance should go well from here. But even if they don’t I have this.

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly.

I have Justin.

*****

Justin

It's good to see Gus again. And even Mel. I can tell that she wants to ask me about how things are with Brian, but to her credit she doesn’t. For once she even manages not to criticize him. She must be more bored at being stuck at home than I’d realized. Anyway, we seem to reach this silent agreement that I won’t ask her about how she's feeling if she doesn’t ask about Brian. We play with Gus and talk about other things - about Stockwell, and PIFA and just things generally. But all the time I'm watching the phone, waiting for the light to go out that will tell me he’s hung up the other extension.

Once it does, I go straight out to the kitchen. To Brian.

I see him slump down onto the stool and for a moment I think things have gone really badly. I go to him and hold him and rub his back. I feel so awful, so inadequate, but then he hugs me and suddenly I know everything is alright.

He sits up and looks into my eyes and gives me that tongue in cheek smirk that sometimes makes me want to hit him and sometimes makes me want to kiss him and always makes me want to fuck him.

He still doesn’t say anything. He gives me one quick kiss, then stands up, and taking my hand, goes back into the other room.

To my surprise - and I’m damned sure to hers - he bends down and gives Mel a kiss on the cheek. “I owe you,” he says.

She looks shocked and sort of pleased all at once. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she almost blushed.

However, she’s resilient is Mel, and she just brushes it off.

“So I take it you think you’re going to get what you want out of Vance?”

He smiles, then turns to me, and nods.

“I think so, yeah.”

He sits down and Gus crawls onto his knee demanding that Dadda help play with his toy robot.

Brian doesn’t say anything else about the call, and neither Mel nor I push him. We both just sit and watch as he marches the robot along the back of the couch to attack the “bad” cushions, urged on by Gus’ squawks of encouragement. Then they get down on the floor together and built a fortress of bricks for the robot to demolish. I'm wishing that I had my sketch pad, when Mel hands me one of Lindsay’s and some pencils.

I guess living with an artist you get to know that look.

Eventually we have to get ready to leave which provokes a bit of a storm from Gus who hasn’t had us both here together for a long while and doesn’t want us to go.

After a few sad cries of “Dadda! Jus!”, Mel of all people suggests that we should wait and drive over to Deb’s with them.

“I would have asked sooner,” she says, “I just forgot that you don’t have the fucking car.”

So we wait till Lindz comes home and we keep Gus amused while the girls change (and tried very hard not to think about what else they might be doing up there) and then we all pack into their car and go to Deb’s.

I don’t know if Brian has thought at all about the row he’d had with Michael, I know I haven't. We're crammed into the back seat next to the child seat. I'm more or less sitting on Brian’s knee and he's holding me very tight, and I just feel happy, really really happy. I feel like things are coming together for us. Like it's really going to be alright. I should have known better, I guess.

Anyway, we get to Deb’s and everyone else is there, and you can tell that they are surprised that we came with the girls. They don’t say anything, but they all sort of give each other these looks.

Brian goes over to Michael and gives him a kiss as usual. Michael looks like he wants to say something but then Emmett interrupts.

“So what’s all this goss I’ve been hearing about you two?”

We're all milling around chatting and getting drinks like you do at Deb’s and suddenly everyone falls silent.

Shit! What can he have heard? There isn’t anything.

I feel suddenly cold. Please don’t let there be anything.

“Something about steaming up the backroom at Babylon with the hottest kiss the old place has ever seen?”

Oh, Em, no! Shut up!

Don’t push Brian on this, please.

Everyone is staring at Brian, except Michael who is glaring at me like I’ve done something fucking terrible. I guess to him I have. I might actually have put a dint in the Brian Fucking Kinney legend.

To my dismay, Emmett keeps going, and it gets worse.

“My sources tell me it was a moment of sheer ro-mance,” he drawls in his best Southern Belle manner.

Fuck! That does it. That’s all Brian needs.

He’s pretending not to listen, of course. Pretending that it has nothing to do with him. Helping Gus off with his coat, and getting him a drink.

Emmett saunters over to me. He’s got that look he gets when he’s shit-stirring.

“They also tell me that a certain Mr. K has been spectacularly absent from all his usual haunts for the past week or so.”

He looks at Michael, and I know that he’s saying this for Michael’s benefit, to try to make a point. But I wish he’d stop. Brian is going to … well, I’m not sure, but it probably won’t be good. But it’s too late now, and I can only try to take Brian’s lead, and pretend that it’s all nothing to do with me as Emmett puts his arm around me and goes on.

“Seems Mr. K is losing his taste for the backrooms and the Baths.”

Brian stands up then, and meets Emmett’s eyes. For a moment I honestly believe he’s going to walk out. And no prizes for guessing where he’d go.

Instead he walks over to us. He sticks his tongue in his cheek and, takes Emmett’s arm from around my shoulders.

“I haven’t lost my taste for the backroom. Not at all. As long as I’m with the hottest guy in the place, as always. Just like the other night.”

And he looks straight into my eyes to make sure I’m hearing him.

I manage to give him a little smile, and he takes my hand.

“Shall we show them what they missed?”

Before I can answer, I’m in his arms and he’s kissing me. At first it’s like a demonstration. Sort of technically good, but not real. Just a show for all of them as they gape at us.

But then they fade away, and it’s just Brian and I, and the feel and the smell and the taste of him, of us. And now it’s real. Now it’s the most real thing there is.

When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine for a moment and smiles at me. 

They’re all still gaping at us and I can feel myself starting to blush. Brian laughs. Michael is still scowling, but everyone else is smiling, and Deb says, “Well that’s the fucking floorshow over, so now you’d better all sit down and eat.”

Then they're all sitting themselves down at the table, and I'm helping Deb to serve and not really all that aware of what's going on, when I hear Michael say something like, “Brian, what is this? You won’t talk to me and now you don’t even want to sit next to me. What’s going on? What has he been saying?”

Because of course, if thing’s are bad between him and Brian, it has to be my fault. Not like it could be something he’s done or anything.

I look up and Brian is standing at the table. He's ignoring Michael, while Mel and Lindz get up and move, and move Gus. Then Brian sits down again on the other side of the table. That's when I realize what had happened. Gus, of course, had demanded to sit next to his father, and Michael had pounced into the vacant seat on Brian’s other side.

No regard to my feelings, of course, that’s a given. But none for Brian’s either. Or Ben’s. Because Vic was already sitting in the seat next to that, so that meant Ben wouldn’t be sitting with Michael. Now that everyone has moved, there's an empty space where Brian had been sitting, and then there's Lindz, then Mel, Gus, Brian, a space for me and another space, then Emmett, Hunter, and Vic.

Ben pointedly sits in the space next to Emmett rather than the one next to Michael.

Deb looks as if she's going to say something about that, but amazingly she doesn’t, just plonks down the last plate and sits next to Michael herself.

Emmett, bless him, tries to cover up the silence that's coming off Brian in waves. He picks up his glass and says “Let’s have a toast. I think we should …”

Not sure what he was going to drink to, because Michael butts in with, “No. I want to know. I want to know what that little slut has been saying about me.”

I freeze. I don’t know what I’d expected, and God knows I should know always to expect the worst from Michael, but I can’t believe he’s said that, said it in front of my friends, my family.

But worse, I can’t believe he's doing this to Brian.

Things were so good. Couldn’t he just let go long enough for Brian to have one night of being happy?

Under the table, I reach out and touch Brian’s thigh. Then his fingers cover mine, and we hold hands tightly. He's pale and obviously furious. If I were Michael, I would be running for cover.

There's a chorus of shocked “Michael!”s. And Deb smacks him on the back of the head.

“What’s the matter with you? What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Look, this has nothing to do with anyone else, Brian’s my best friend and …”

“Not any more.” Brian’s voice sounds dreadful.

“Brian!”

“Mikey, enough. Don’t do this. Don’t make me …”

He breaks off then, but we all hear what he doesn’t say: ‘Don’t make me choose.’ It is a plea from the heart, but Michael ignores it.

“What’s the matter with you. He’s just a fuck. He might be a good fuck, but that’s all he is. A trick you picked up on a corner of Liberty Avenue. He was just looking to get laid. He would have gone with anyone. And you were stupid enough to let him hang around and sponge off you and then he …”

But that is as far as he gets. Brian gives a sort of growl and starts to get up, but it is Ben who makes it to his feet first.

“That’s it. That’s it, Michael. This time you really have crossed the line.”

He takes a deep breath while we all stare at him. Even Michael is shocked into silence.

Ben sighs really deeply, like something in him is breaking. I feel dreadful for him, and I know everyone else does too.  Except Michael, maybe.

“I’ve watched and waited for you to get over this … this obsession you have with Brian.”

And, absolutely fucking amazingly, Michael actually starts his mantra again.

“He’s my best …”

“Friend,” Ben finishes for him. He nods sadly. “I know. We all know. But you know something, Michael? You’re not his. If you were, right now you’d be happy for him. You’d see how …”

He breaks off then and looks at Brian and I for a moment.

“You’d know he’s happy, and you’d be glad for him. But you just can’t do that. Because it’s not with you.”

He moves away from the table.

“And I can’t hang around anymore hoping one day you’ll get over this … this thing you have, that won’t let you see Brian happy with someone else without trying to ruin it for him. Hoping that one day it’s me that you’ll want. Me you’ll dream about.

He shakes his head, takes another breath and starts towards the door.

“I’m sorry everyone. Deb … the food looks great. I …”

Then he just turns and leaves.

Deb smacks Michael on the head again. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Go after him.”

“What’s wrong with me? I haven’t done anything. All I’m doing is looking out for Brian. He’s …”

“Fuck!” erupts from Brian explosively. He does get up then, and looks at me. “Are you coming?”

To add to the drama, Gus starts to cry.

Deb stands up and waves at Brian. “You sit down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He looks as if he's going to argue and Deb gives him one of the looks that can stop even Brian in his tracks.

“You attend to your son.”

Mel has picked Gus up, but he's reaching out to his father, and after a moment Brian takes him and sits down again with Gus on his knee.

“It’s okay, Sonnyboy,” I hear him whisper. “Dadda’s here.”

Gus stops crying then and just buries himself in Brian’s arms, as if they're a haven of peace and comfort. I know just how he feels. I want to do exactly the same thing.

“And I’ll attend to mine.”

It's Deb’s voice again, coming from a long way away, as Brian looks at me and smiles. It's a little sad, but still a smile. Then, reaching out one arm, he pulls me close and kisses me.

“Jus hurt?” comes a little voice.

“Yeah, Gus. Jus is hurt. He needs us to kiss him better.”

Gus sits up and holds out his arms to me. I lean in towards them both and they both kiss me. It works, because I immediately feel better. I kiss them both back and they smile at me. That identical special smile, warm and sweet and open, that hardly anyone gets to see on the older Kinney man. And he's smiling it just for me. So is Gus, and I feel so full of love for both of them that I’m sure if the room was dark you could really have seen the glow.

I'm vaguely aware of Deb dragging Michael away from the table and bundling him into his coat. He's arguing with her, but she pushes him out the door and shuts it hard behind him. Then she walks back in to us.

She comes round the table to Brian and I, and drops a set of car keys in front of Brian.

“So don’t drink too much,” she says gruffly.

Then she gives me one of those Debbie hugs that has me smothered up against her so hard that I can’t breathe. Then she kisses me and walks back to her place and sits down.

There's a moment of stunned silence and then Vic says calmly, “Lindsay, could you pass the pepper shaker please?”

That seems to break the dam, because everyone starts chattering now, trying to pretend that nothing has happened.

But it has, and I can feel it in the silence of the man beside me.

Not that Brian ever talks a lot at these dinners, but tonight it's a rigid sort of silence. It aches. I know that somehow he's finding a way to blame himself for this, and my heart hurts for him.

“Dadda hurt?” Gus says suddenly.

It seems to break whatever spell has been holding Brian captive and he looks down into the hazel eyes so like his and finds them gazing up at him with love and concern. He smiles again then, and nods a little. “I think I need a kiss.”

With great tenderness, Gus reaches up and kisses him. Then he looks at me.

“Jus kiss better too,” he demands.

What can I do? I lean over and kiss the man at the corner of his mouth. He turns his head and returns the kiss, gently, on my lips.

Then Gus demands another turn.

We spend a little while fooling like this, while everyone kindly ignores us.

Even Hunter. Poor kid. After all he’s been through, now he gets to watch his “parents” on the verge of divorce. Emmett and Vic are both trying to look after him, though, I notice, without making a big deal of it and setting his back up. Just talking to him and joking, and making sure that he gets whatever he wants to eat.

Eventually, Brian and I concentrate on trying to get Gus to eat some of his food, which gives me a chance to eat mine and even encourage Brian to eat a little of his.

We start talking about Stockwell, and what the Senator had said (which of course sets Debbie off). But we agree that at least he's gone, which is a pretty big achievement, and it finally starts to feel like a celebration.

Then I tell them about how the Senator is going to help me get back in to PIFA, and Brian even tells us about what he and Vance have agreed about that. So that is more to celebrate.

Then, of course, Brian has to explain why he’d been talking to Vance, and although he doesn’t say much, even what he does say is enough to let everyone know that Vance wants him back, so that there is at least that job there for him if he wants it.

By this time, we’ve drunk a bit of wine (although Brian really doesn’t drink much, to my surprise; he went and got himself a bottle of water instead) and we're starting to relax and enjoy ourselves.

Gus has fallen asleep in Brian’s arms, and we lie him down on the couch, with a blanket over him and a chair next to him so that he won’t roll over and fall off.

Then Deb makes some coffee and we all sit around and start talking about the future - about Gus starting playschool, and the new baby. We sort of steer around Michael’s involvement in that, although you can tell that Deb is just busting to be a grandmother. And she’ll be great at it.

We talk about the Em’s party planning business, and how the catering side is really taking off, and he and Vic are thinking about hiring a commercial kitchen so that they can look at taking on some bigger affairs, even hiring extra cooking staff, so Vic would be head chef.

We talk about Lindsay’s job at the gallery, and how they are encouraging her to find young artists, so that if PIFA let me back in, she might contact them and see if they’d be interested in having a student show.

And slowly, quite hesitantly, they talk about Brian - well, about the election and the ad. About how proud they are of him for what he’d done. And each of them offer to help him with the money thing. Not openly, in front of the others, but one by one, as the night went on, they come up to him and talk to him, and I think he suddenly realizes something that I’d always known, but I don’t think he did.

They love him.

He’s difficult and can be a total asshole at times. But they love him. And he’s always been there for them, always. And now they want to be there for him.

Maybe it was seeing how Michael hurt him, or maybe it was seeing him with Gus and I, seeing the real Brian, like hardly anyone ever does, I’m not sure. But it's like they’d been afraid to offer before, and now somehow they can.

It feels so good, watching him realize that he might have a total prick for a “best friend”, and his “real” family might be a pack of assholes (who so don’t deserve him), but that he does have a family who love him, and who want to be there for him.

It's after midnight before we know it, and the girls start yawning and saying that they have to get Gus home, and Em wants to go home and get a reasonably early night because Saturday is a busy day in the party world, and Deb has work so she needs to get some sleep.

As we all get up and start to get ready to leave they sort of look at us, and finally Emmett says, “What about you boys, are you off to Babylon to celebrate in style?”

I wish he hadn’t asked, hadn’t put that thought out there, because with all that has gone on today, I figure Brian will be only too keen to hit Babylon and get drunk and wasted and … laid. Find a trick, probably a string of tricks, and get his dick sucked, and sat on and otherwise put to uses that would be better kept for me. I know he’d said that the experiment was still on, but hell! that seems like forever ago. And after what he’s been through today, I can hardly begrudge him anything that would let him forget it all for a while.

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I shrug, like it doesn’t bother me.

He puts a finger under my chin and looks into my eyes. His are still a bit sad, but they hold a spark of mischief too, that I am very glad to see. He runs the tip of his tongue over his lips and says softly, “Where’re you headed?”

I feel my heart give one huge thump as I answer with a happy grin, “No place special.”

He laughs out loud. “I can change that,” he promises.

Then he hooks an arm around my neck. “We’re going home,” he announces.

Deb demands a kiss goodbye from both of us. Then to everyone’s amazement, Brian, after kissing Lindz and the sleeping Gus, bends down and kisses Mel’s cheek.

After that he seems to figure what the hell, and kisses Em and Vic as well. So of course Hunter fronts up for one. To his total disgust, Brian kisses his forehead, and dodges skillfully when the little shit angles for more.

We walk down the path with our arms around each other, and actually have a car to get into, for now at least, and I figure that, despite Michael, it has been a really good night.

*****

Brian

When it happened I felt like they say you do when you’ve been shot. Like you’re so shocked that you don’t even feel the pain.

Then I just felt ball bustingly angry.

He was attacking Justin. Again. But this time in front of everybody. Shit! what is his fucking problem? He can’t still be thinking that he and I are ever going to be anything other than what we are, but he just can’t bear to see me with Justin.

Of course Emmett hadn’t helped. And I guess I made if fucking worse. I hadn’t meant to rub Mikey’s nose in it, I was just happy. And I should be able to kiss my fucking boyfriend for fuck's sake without my best friend getting pissed off about it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he took it out on me, but to attack Justin, that’s just fucked.

I tried to ignore the first round, but when he called Justin a slut - Justin! Jesus fucking Christ. He’s sitting at the table with me and calling Justin a slut! How fucked is that?

Shit!

I was going to ream him out in a way that neither of us would ever have been able to get past, when Ben stepped in.

I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry about that.

Poor bastard. I really hoped it would work for Mikey with Ben. He’s a great guy (well, when he’s not steroid Mary, anyway), and I trusted him with Mikey. Despite the HIV thing, despite the Dr Dave fiasco, despite our little fling at the White Party. I trusted him.

It didn’t fucking occur to me that Ben was the one who was going to get screwed.

The weird thing is that after all the drama has died down, the night sort of turns out okay.

I mean, I can think of things I’d rather do than sit around and fucking talk all night. But it's okay.

And of course, he loves it.

He's sitting there with the light shining on that fucking mop of hair and his hand on my thigh, or my arm, or somehow tucked into mine, and chattering away like there is fuck all else that he’d rather be doing.

If I don’t watch out, between him and Deb they’re going to turn this into some sort of regular thing, and I don’t know how much family fun I can take.

Still, it's good that it made him forget about what Mikey said. And I have to admit that it does make it easier for me, when he does the talking for both of us. It means I don’t have to say anything, and can just zone out for a while without anyone really noticing.

I guess I should be pissed off that it seems like everyone accepts that he is doing exactly that, speaking for both of us, but shit! if it makes them happy and gets them to leave me in peace … Who am I kidding? We’re moving into coupledom. He is speaking for both of us. Most of the time, anyway. I’m turning into a fucking dyke and the fucking scariest thing about that is that … it feels so damned good.

This is what Lindz has been trying to tell me for years. Well, ever since Justin came along, anyway. I wonder if we could ever have made it before … if I hadn’t been so stubborn and so determined to fight it, I wonder if we could have got to this place, without having to go through all the shit we went through.

I guess not. He needed to grow up, and I needed … to grow the balls to be able to not run screaming from the feeling of letting someone so close to me.

Closer than Michael.

That’s what set Mikey off, of course.. He knows that Justin is the one I’ve been turning to, the one I share my life with. That it’s never going to be him that I run to first anymore - hell, until Justin, he was the only one I’d ever run to when things went wrong, the only one I ever let see behind the fucking Brian Kinney mask.

And now it’s not him, it’s Justin.

Except that Justin is closer than Mikey ever was. Because we fuck. Because Justin’s smarter than Michael and understands some things that Mikey would never get.

But mainly because part of Mikey wanted me to be his hero. Even when he’d seen me beaten like a fucking dog, and crying my heart out over what my asshole father had done to me, part of him still needed me to be his hero.

“You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake!”

I think maybe that’s when I understood that my friendship with Mikey was in trouble. That part of it was based on a lie. It was based on Mikey wanting to believe, needing to believe, in the fucking myth.

Justin never bought the myth for a minute.

“I’m on to you.”

That was Justin. Still is.

And I am so fucking grateful for that. Because I don’t have to be anything for Justin except me. Just myself.

Sometimes when I’m with him, I feel like a hamster that’s finally been allowed to get off the fucking wheel. For a while everything keeps spinning, but then it slows right down and I can stop. I can rest. I can just be with him and rest.

I never knew how good that would feel.

Just like I never knew how good it would feel to have people like Mel and Emmett and even Vic come up and offer to help me out with the money.

Shit! if you’d asked me, I would have said that it would make my stomach heave to have them offering me help, like I was some sort of fucking charity case.

But when it happens, that isn’t how it feels at all. It feels like … like maybe that’s how family feels. I wouldn’t know. But maybe that’s what it’s like. Like there are people who will watch out for you and try to be there if you need them.

See, once I never would have admitted to needing anyone or anything. And I don’t really need them now. Not while I have Justin. So somehow, that makes it all right to need them. That’s fucked, but it seems like that’s the way it is.

Of course, I can’t take their money. The girls need it for Gus, and for the new baby. And Vic and Emmett are just starting this business, they’ll need every fucking cent they can scrape together to make it work. Especially if they want to take on staff and have to pay fucking insurance and all that shit.

But the thing is that they make the offer.

I’ve never had anyone do that for me before. Maybe it seemed like I never needed any help. Or just that it seemed like I’d fucking kill them if they offered it. Which I might have done.

But tonight they offer.

Shit! maybe it is a case of pathetic dickless fag strikes again and everyone sees what a sorry fucking mess he is and they all take the chance to rub it in by offering him help.

But that isn’t how it feels.

Fuck! I would love to have a photo of Mel’s face when I kiss her. Maybe Justin can draw it for me. Or the looks on the others’ faces. I’m guessing they think the fucking apocalypse must be on its way.

At least we’ve got the fucking car to get us home tonight. Whatever happens with the job, I somehow have to scrape together enough to get some kind of car, even if I can’t keep this one. I’m not sure that I want to anyway. It’s not like I can use it to drive Gus around in, and anyway, you can’t fuck in it. Well, you can, but not without risking impalement on the gears and the handbrake and various other things that manage to get into unbelievable places. The jeep was a lot more practical.

And now we’re nearly back at the loft, and I have to break the news to Justin that I need to go and look for Mikey.

If he’s at home, fine. I’ll call first and see and if he’s there that will be the end of it. But if he’s not, then he’s in trouble and I can’t just leave him out there somewhere.

He’d go looking for me.

*****

Justin

I can feel him gearing himself up for something, and I’m bracing myself not to react, because I think he’s going to say he wants to go out, to the Baths or Babylon, or wherever he can pick up a trick.

Of course I should have guessed what it would be. I am so dumb.

So what if Mikey called me a slut and accused me of lying about him to Brian. Poor little Mikey might be out there all alone, so of course big brave Brian has to go and rescue him.

But I bite my tongue. Again. And tell him that I understand. Which is true. And that I don’t mind. Which isn’t. Exactly.

But I mind less about him going than I would about him not going and fretting, and blaming himself, especially if anything did happen to the little prick. And I wouldn’t put it past Mikey to make sure that he had some sort of accident just to pull Brian’s strings.

So when we get inside I kiss him, and tell him I’m going to have a shower, so that he has the privacy to call Ben and Michael’s place.

When I come out of the shower, he’s sitting on the bed.

I’m surprised that he’s still there, and that must have been obvious, because his face twists up a bit as he says, “He’s at home. They’re talking.”

“Oh,” I say. Then I have to ask, “why didn’t you join me in the shower then?”

He looks at me and his face is tired and sad and sort of scared.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

He says it very quietly, and it nearly breaks my heart. I go to him and pull him into my arms and hug him tightly against my chest.

“Brian, I might not like Michael very much, but I know how much he means to you. I would never try to come between you. And even if I minded you wanting to go out and look for him, and look after him, I love you for wanting to do it.”

It’s not the sort of thing that I would ever normally say to Brian, but hey! it’s been anything but a normal day. And I mean every word of it.

He wraps his arms around me really tightly, and we just hold each other for a while. Then he says, “Do you mind if I don’t have a shower tonight?”

I realize then just how tired he is, and I push him down on the bed and start taking off his clothes. He sighs and just moves enough to help me get his jacket and shirt off, and then his pants. When he’s naked, I tug the covers out from under him, and sort of push him further onto the bed. Then I climb in beside him and pull the covers up over us both.

A bit tentatively I nestle up against him, and his arm comes round me and we both snuggle a bit closer and then he’s asleep. Just like that. I lie there for a while just enjoying how it feels to be there with him that way. But it’s been kind of tough day for me too, and it’s not long before I follow him to sleep.

When I wake up in the morning, it’s to find myself face down, ass up, with Brian rimming me. Fuck! what a way to wake up!

He seems determined to make up for falling asleep last night because we fuck twice before we even get to the shower, and then he insists on getting out some beads that he wants to put in me while we we’re in there. I tell him that it’s his turn, and to my surprise he lets me win the argument.

So he lies on the bed with a pillow under his hips while I slowly feed them into him. He’s on his back, so I can see his face, and he gets very flushed and starts stoking his cock. I knock his hand away. “Not yet,” I tell him.

The last two are kind of big, so it takes a little time to work them in, and once they are in he starts sucking his breath in hard. I rub his belly, and then take the opportunity to lick and suck at his thighs. He lets them fall further apart to give me better access and I take full advantage of it, finally giving him a hickey right up at the top of his thigh. He smacks my head, but he doesn’t say anything, so I know he doesn’t mind. I’m tempted to start a blow job, but if I do, we’ll never get into the shower, so I stand and help him up.

He walks into the bathroom very cautiously. There are rules when we play with these sorts of toys, and he knows that if he lets any of the beads slip out of his ass before I start pulling them out, that he’ll have to pay a forfeit - of my choice.

When I was first with him, and just learning about all this stuff, I had a hard time keeping them all in and he thought up some really diabolical forfeits. Now he knows that I haven’t forgotten and that I’ll be only too glad to pay him back in kind if he gives me the opportunity.

I make him keep them in while we wash and shampoo our hair. He’s breathing fast and his cock is rock hard, jutting up as if it’s trying to stretch up to his chin. I finally take pity on him and kneel in front of him. He gives a sort of purr of satisfaction and leans back against the tiles, bending his knees a little and spreading his legs wide.

I stroke his sac and play with his balls for a moment, then run my fingers across the soft skin behind. He grunts, and I slip a finger through the plastic ring on the end of the string.

He braces himself, but I’m not quite ready yet. I wrap my other hand around his cock and lick the tip like a lollipop.

His breath hisses out through his teeth, and that’s when I pull the first ball out.

He gasps, and I feel his cock throb in my hand. My own is really hard by now as well, but I force myself to focus on him.

Again I lick the tip, this time pushing my tongue into his slit. I tongue fuck it two or three times then give a little jerk of my wrist and pull out the next ball.

He gives a sort of growl, and before my eyes a tremor runs across his belly. I feel his cock pulse again, and I wonder how much control he has. The fact that he’s come twice already this morning should make this fairly easy for him, but judging by his reactions, that’s not necessarily the case. There are seven altogether on this string and I wonder if he will last.

Of course, he’ll have to pay a forfeit if he doesn’t.

With my cock leaking pre cum, it’s not hard to figure what that might be.

I begin to fist his cock firmly and just as I pull the next ball out, I tug my hand right up over the head and then push it down again.

He makes a sound like he’s cutting off a scream, and I know he’s really close.

I try something different now, giving tiny teasing tugs to the string, while I suck gently at the tip of his cock, then as I deep throat him, I pull hard on the string, tugging not one but two balls out.

That does it. He comes hard. It jets down my throat, and despite my best efforts, some spills from my mouth.

He pulls me up and licks himself from my lips, then turns off the shower. Carefully, he tugs out the last two balls and then he bends forwards over the sink.

“Hurry.”

His voice is still husky with arousal and I realize that even though he’s come he’s still wanting more.

I pull on a condom as fast as I can and reach for the lube. “Justin, just … fuck me.”

Yes, sir! I push into him. The beads have opened him up nicely, but he’s still tight. Oh God! When he’s fucking me that’s all I ever want. But once I get inside him I remember how good that feels, and for that moment, that’s all I want.

I fuck him hard and fast because I am really close, and sure enough I come quickly.

Normally, I’d be embarrassed about that, but I guess this time it’s a good thing.

It’s as I’m pulling out that I remember the other thing, the thing that makes the difference. I love fucking him, don’t get me wrong. But somehow, afterwards, it’s never as good as when he’s fucked me. It never feels as warm and safe and wonderful as I feel after he’s had me and I’m lying there in his arms.

But it still feels pretty good.

He stands up while I get rid of the condom, and props himself on the edge of the sink which makes us about the same height. So when I come to him and take him in my arms, he’s just at the right height to nuzzle into my neck and I can hold him and stroke his hair and generally feel … I don’t know. Like I’m taking care of him, for once, and maybe making him feel warm and safe and wonderful in my arms. I hope so.

We pull on some sweats and go into the kitchen. We make coffee, and he agrees to pancakes for breakfast because it means that we don’t have to go out to get something.

I’m sort of wondering how long it will be before he calls Mikey, when there’s a knock at the door. Before we can answer it, it slides open.

It’s Michael, of course.

*****

Brian

The problem of course, is that I’ve taught him too fucking well. Little shit!

Still, it's a good fuck and afterwards, when he holds me, that is more than good. I hope he knows how it feels when he does that. How good he makes me feel. Like I’m safe; for the first time in my life, I’m somewhere safe.

Of course, I'm left to bask too long in the afterglow, because Mikey turns up.

Once I knew he was safe last night, I could just go back to being fucking mad at him. Even madder, in fact, because I had to risk screwing things up with Justin to go out and find him. Well, okay, I didn’t actually have to go out, but that’s not the fucking point.

He could have phoned. Once he’d got home he could at least have called to let his mother know he was home and with Ben and they were trying to work things out.

He could have fucking called me.

But no. He turns up here this morning, and comes in without even waiting for me to open the door. When he must have known Justin would be here. Shit! If he’d come fifteen minutes earlier he would have walked in on Justin fucking me. I bet he would have loved that. Stupid fuck! Why can’t he stop and think for once instead of just barging ahead?

He must see that I'm still angry, because he straight away turns on those puppy dog eyes that nearly always work on me.

“Brian, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

“It’s not me you should fucking apologize to!”

“No, I know. Justin … I really am sorry. I don’t know what made me say anything like that.”

Justin simply stands looking at him. At first, I think he's not going to say anything. Then he says really quietly, “Yes, you do. We all know.”

Then he moves past the breakfast bar and towards Mikey and says even more quietly, “And for myself, I don’t give a flying fuck what you say about me. You just don’t matter enough.”

Then he steps right up to him and finishes, “But if you ever put Brian through anything like that again, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

Then he steps back and smiles at me. “Brian, I’m going to get dressed and go over to Daph’s. I need some clean clothes, and I need to tell her what’s going on with PIFA and stuff.”

I’m reminded yet again how fucking strong he is.

I nod at him, and then say, “Don’t bother about getting dressed. Take the car.”

Mikey is staring - at him, at me, at us, as I hand Justin the car keys and kiss him goodbye.

“Later,” he mouths at me.

“Later,” I say, pulling him back for another quick kiss, so fucking proud of him and glad to have him on my side, at my side, that I wanted to fucking take out an ad.

Then he leaves, and I pour myself another coffee, and one for Mikey, and set to work to find out if there is any way that I can salvage a fourteen year friendship.

Because I have to try. But I also have to let Mikey know that if he ever puts me in that position again then it will just be over. I have to make it clear to him that it isn’t a matter of me choosing between him and Justin. There isn’t a choice in that. Justin is a given.

So it's really a matter of Mikey choosing to accept that - or not.

And if he can’t, then there isn’t any way that we can stay friends. I don’t think I could go on feeling friendship towards someone who feels free to treat Justin the way he did last night. It would be like trying to be friends with that fucking Hobbs.

*****

Justin

Brian calls my cell about an hour later.

I'd been filling Daph in on all the goss. She was furious with Michael, and really pissed off that she hadn’t been there to take him on herself.

I had a picture of her going at him and had to laugh. It’s good to know that Daph is there for me. I’m lucky. She’s a much better friend to me than Michael is to Brian.

Apart from that momentary weirdness after our misguided fuck, she’s never begrudged me being with Brian. Although she hated Ethan from day one.

I should have listened to her.

Anyway, apparently Michael has left and gone home to Ben. It seems they’re going to try to work things out. I hope they can, but I don’t know.

Brian asks me what I want to do for the rest of the day. I feel kind of guilty, because I have his car, but I say that I’d like to check in with my mom.

He says that's okay with him, that he wants to work on the email to send Vance. We’d talked very briefly about that this morning before Michael arrived. He asks if I can get home around mid afternoon so that we can go over it together. Like I'm going to say no to that!

Mom is pleased to see me, but a bit shocked and nervous about me driving that car. I guess that’s a mom thing.

We talk for a while. She’s really pleased that it looks like I’m going to be able to get back in to PIFA. She even says that she is putting money aside to make sure that I will have next semester’s fees. I try to tell her not to worry about that, but she insists that it's the least she can do.

“I feel that I’ve let you down so badly, Justin, by not making sure all that was taken care of in the divorce settlement. It just never occurred to me that your father would really refuse to pay.”

“I know, Mom, I understand. I can’t really believe it myself.”

We look at each other and share a wry sort of smile.

“I wish I had the money on hand right now. I’m sure Brian could do with it. I do have a few thousand, if that would help. If he’d accept it from me.”

I hug her and thanked her, but tell her I think we're going to be alright.

“Well, if you need it, Justin, it’s there. Don’t let Brian’s pride make things more difficult for you both than they have to be. It might not be much, but every little will help with the interest payments.”

I hug her again and tell her that I need to get home, because Brian and I had to work out exactly what is going to go into his letter of demands (because that’s really what it is) to Vance.

She looks at me a bit funny when I say that, as if she doesn’t quite believe what I have been telling her about how things are now between Brian and me. But she must see in my face that it's the truth because suddenly she stops looking worried and really smiles.

“Justin … I’m glad. Glad that you’re back with Brian. Glad that you’re finding the way to be happy together.”

I almost feel my allergies kick in then, because I don’t think I’d ever expected to hear her say that.

Then I leave and go home to Brian.

*****

Brian

We get through the weekend somehow.

We fuck a lot.

We eat too fucking much. Make a few phone calls.

We sleep a bit.

Oh, and we collect Friday’s mail from the box.

Then Monday comes and it's like old times - the times just a few weeks ago that fucking seem like they happened to someone else.

The alarm goes off. We have a quick fuck in the shower.

I get dressed in my dazzling best, and he makes me breakfast.

Then he pulls on some halfway decent clothes and drives me downtown.

Pathetic, I know, but however this is going to go down, I want him close by afterwards. So we arrange that he’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street.

But when the time comes, I can’t wait even the five minutes it will take to get down there. I'm calling him from my cell almost before I leave Vance’s office.

As I walk out of the elevator, he runs into my arms and without any regard to where we are I pick him up and spin him around. Then I dip him and kiss him, right there in the lobby. Let all the fucking breeders take notes on what a kiss should be like.

When we finally come up for air, he's laughing at me, the little shit. “I take it it went well then?’ he giggles.

I take his hand and pull him out the door.

“I got it all,” I announce proudly.

He stops dead, then, so I have to stop with him. He's staring at me. He looks … he looks so proud of me, that it almost brings me fucking undone.

“Oh, Brian.”

I think for a moment that he's going to start crying.

“Now don’t go all lesbionic on me. You’re a fag, for god’s sake. Get a grip,” I scolded.

But all the time my hands are clutching his, and I'm smiling down into those blue eyes, and if he is proud of me, I'm even more proud of him. Because he was the one who really got us here. He was the one who stood by me and helped me see who I was, and then, when the chance came, made me see who I could be, what I could achieve, if I had the guts to reach for it. And I had them alright … I borrowed them from him.

We decide, well, he decides, that the news is too good to keep to ourselves so we head for the diner. While he drives, I call Mel and she promises to come and bring Gus and to see if Lindz can join us. Then I call Vic, and Emmett’s there so they promise to meet us. Of course they fucking try to pry out of me what all the news is first, but this is big, and I don’t want to spoil it. Besides wanting to see their faces when I tell them, I need to share the moment with Justin.

Then I call Mikey. His cell’s turned off and the kid at the store says he and Ben have gone away for a few days.

I’m actually relieved because I wasn’t sure if I wanted him there. I don’t, if it’s going to upset Justin. After the talk we had on Saturday morning, I’m hoping that Mikey can find a way to be around Justin without all the snide remarks, and little spiteful fucking things that he does, but it’s probably just as well not to have to put it to the test so soon.

Eventually the rest of the crew arrive. It takes a while, and although Deb is a bit pissed off that we won’t tell her what’s going on till the others get there, she also has news of her own.

It seems Ben has told Mikey that he thinks the only way they can have any hope of making things work is to go away together. Not for a few days, but to live.

Seems Ben has been offered a position at Boston University and he’s been trying to work out whether he should take it. Now he thinks it’s a good opportunity for them both.

The worst thing is, I think he’s right. I think it probably is their only chance.

But I also think Michael and I need to be apart for a while. We need to have the chance to grow up and that’s hard when all our common experience pulls us back to when we were fourteen years old, and we were best friends.

That’s a lot of old history to overcome, and a lot of old habits to break.

It might be that our friendship never is the same. That might even be a good thing. It might develop into something better, a real friendship, not just a push-pull relationship of mutual need. What do they call it? Fucking co-dependence. That’s it.

Anyway, they flew out this morning to Boston, to check it out. So I hope that it works out for them. I know Deb’s upset, but she’ll Hunter’s going to be staying with her, and soon she’ll have another baby to mother. Justin and I will keep an eye on her and Vic. They’ll be okay.

All of that goes out the window when the others arrive. Even Lindz manages to make it.

Mel is grinning like a cat, and asks as soon as she walks in, “So how did it go? Did the famous Brian Kinney sales skills come out on top?”

She had some idea what I was going to go for from our talk on Friday and yesterday’s phone call. She sees the look on my face and says, “Fuck! He bought it.”

I just grin at her and wait till everyone is quiet. Then I put my arm around Justin and say, “You are looking at the full partner and co-owner of Vanguard Kinney Enterprises.”

“What!”

“Fuck!”

“You’re shitting me!”

They’re all stunned and I don’t blame them. I’d never admit it, except to Justin, but I’m still a little stunned myself.

It’s a while before they all shut up enough to hear the rest, and even longer before they take it in.

The partnership thing was a given. From the time that Justin and I sat down and drew up the list, that was always going to be my key demand.

The co-owner thing came about for two reasons.

The first was that when Mel looked closely at the contract, it seemed like my investment advisor was right on the fucking ball. Vance didn’t, under the terms of the agreement, have cause to sack me. Or at least, it was a highly debatable legal point. Which meant that I was in a good position to sue for a fucking truckload of money.

Given the debatable nature of the case, his lawyers would almost certainly advise him to settle, which might not bring in as much as I’d get in court, but it would still make a sizeable dent in his profit margin. That gave me a lot of leverage.

Then there was the letter which we found yesterday morning, when we finally stirred down to get something to eat and remembered that we hadn’t checked the box on Friday.

It seems that in the wake of Stockwell’s resignation, some of Deekins’ advisers were a bit worried that word would get out that the Concerned Citizens for the Truth had approached that gutless bastard Deekins with the little tape about Stockwell, and he’d refused to do anything with it. This being the case, these fucking bozos figured that the best way out of that bind was to offer, a bit fucking belatedly, to help pay for the ad.

The letter contained a check for $95,000, backdated of course to the day before the election.

Payable to B. Kinney, as representative of The Concerned Citizens for the Fucking Truth.

Part of me would have liked nothing better than to tear it up and send it straight back to them with a note saying “Eat shit!”

But fuck that! What does it matter now? I don’t care who gets fucking credit for the ad. I never did. The only person whose opinion matters to me knows the whole story, better than anyone. And he was sitting right beside me when I opened the envelope, just like he’s sitting beside me now.

He was the one who saw straight away the possibilities this opened up, of course.

It meant a few phone calls - to Mel, to the investment guy, to a banker he knows. But we managed to pull the whole lot together.

The letter containing the advice of my lawyer that I had a good case to sue for unfair dismissal. The offer of a business loan from the bank. The offer from the Senator, which would make her my first client. The letter from Deekins’ advisers. All of it. Everything that would make it clear as fucking crystal to Vance that I had serious other options.

Of course I’d sent the email to Vance off on Saturday, so first thing I had to do this morning was apologize for misleading him.

Then I spelled out the situation he was in. He was at risk of losing at least two of his major accounts. He was about to find a serious rival with a history with all his clients, and major political pull into the bargain (Jesus how did that happen?) on his doorstep. And he faced a possibly ruinous law suit.

Then I just had to sell him on the solution.

We finally agreed that my back pay for the time since I was dismissed plus $50,000 of Deekins’ money would pay for half the agency (unofficially factoring in the amount I would be likely to get in a law suit).

The rest of Deekins’ money, with the sale proceeds, including the car, will be enough to pay off my debts. I’ll be starting out with a clean slate (well, with a bit of money still in the investments, as a sort of fucking cushion if the bubble bursts and we crash again). And Justin. Oh, and a company car as part of my partnership agreement. There won’t be any need to take up the business loan offer.

What Vance gets out of the deal is that with me on board he, or rather we, can keep clients like Brown Athletics. We also get the Senator (and all those contacts with her pals in high places, maybe even Deekins’ pals, which Vance will love). And most importantly, he hasn’t got me starting up in competition with him right next door, which I’m now in a financial position to do, if I wanted.

What I get, apart from the partnership and half the firm, is a stable client base, an established art department, etc., who know me and know how I work, and vindication. I get my fucking reputation back.

Oh, and a certain intern gets his job back, if he wants it. Vance wanted me to tell him, but I insisted that he call Justin himself, and discuss it with him. In some ways it doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s up to Justin to decide. I know the art department will be fucking glad to get him back. He’s the most talented person they have.

To Vance’s credit, he’d called Justin on his cell before we’d even reached the diner. He made the offer, and Justin told him he’d need to think about it. I almost laughed out loud when I heard him say that. Vance has got no idea. He thinks I’m a tough sonofabitch to deal with. I’m a pussycat compared to this delicate vanilla-looking little shit that’s sitting beside me.

Apparently Vance even offered him a full time job if he decides not to go back to PIFA. I did laugh when Justin told me that. Not that Vance had offered the job, but the way he put it. Maybe he is getting the message about Justin, after all.

The funny thing is after all that’s happened, I think that Gardner and I are going to be able to work together.

In a fucking weird way, I think I came out of this respecting him more than I did before.

I won’t forget that he tried hard to find a reason not to fire me.

Or that he came straight to me as soon as the Stockwell thing blew up. He could have got on the phone to everyone he knows in the business and badmouthed me. That might not have helped him keep Brown and the like, but it would have made it hard for me to get into a position where I could go after them either.

He didn’t do that. He had the balls to come to me. So maybe this will work.

The contract still needs to be finalized, but with Mel riding shotgun on it, I’m not worried about that. There will be all sorts of things in the agreement about the circumstances under which the partnership can be dissolved, and how, should that occur, we each keep the clients that we’ve signed, etc. But I’m hoping that is stuff I don’t have to worry about. Not for a long time, anyway. I’ve had about as much as I want of this high powered fucking wheeling and dealing for a while.

Right now, all I want to do is lay claim to the prize that really matters and take him home and fuck him senseless. And then ask him to come home to me.

And if he’s not ready to do that yet, I’ll ask again tomorrow.

And the next day.

He’ll say yes eventually, even if it’s just to stop me asking.

*****

Justin

We're sitting around discussing all the news when suddenly Brian asks, “What time are you supposed to be seeing the Dean this afternoon?”

There’d been a phone call first thing this morning, while we were getting ready to leave, asking me to come in for an appointment to discuss my “status”. I’d been so caught up in the whole thing with Vance that I’d almost forgotten.

I realize that I'm going to be late if I don’t motor. Brian insists on driving me. He even parka the car and says he’ll wait for me, which is great. Somehow knowing he is there makes me a lot less nervous.

The interview with the Dean is almost funny. It's like he’d been placed in the position where, despite his own wishes, he’d been forced for the good of the school to suspend me, and now he's just delighted to be able to offer me my place back.

Nothing to do with the fact that Vance had called him, of course. Or that I drop the Senator’s name and tell him that I’d gone to her, as a friend, for advice.

(That’s what she told me to say, and I can see it rattles him. He goes pasty white and starts to sweat. I guess the idea of her asking awkward questions about political influence affecting student issues before the upcoming funds allocation meeting really does make him nervous.)

I'm tempted to tell him to take his placement and put it somewhere painful, but that would have been beyond dumb. So I smile, and play nice, like the good little middle class twink I was brought up to be. He talks about the arrangements he’s made with my tutors to help me make up my classes.

We even shake hands when I leave.

So that’s it. As simple as that, after all the angst and shit they put me through.

I have to admit though that it does feel good to have my life back. I’m almost running as I get back to the car.

Brian doesn’t say anything, of course, just waits till I get in and takes off with a squeal of rubber, but he’s got that grin all over his face that means that he’s feeling pretty good.

We get back to the loft, and I’m keen to get in and show him that I’m feeling pretty good myself.

But he stops me outside the door.

“Justin, wait.”

He looks serious, and I get scared for a moment. Not now. It can’t be anything bad now.

He rubs his tongue over his lips, and pulls them in and sucks on them in that way he does when he’s debating what to say. Then he takes my hands and pulls them against his chest.

“I want you to come home.”

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it.

“Brian …”

I honestly don’t know what to say. I want to be with him. He knows that. But I’m sort of enjoying having some independence too. I’m not sure that I want to give that up yet. I’m not sure that I’m ready to.

And of course, the real thing is that I don’t know if I can deal with what living with him would mean.

I know that the “experiment” seems to be working right now, but I don’t expect Brian to be monogamous for ever. And dealing with the tricks when I can just walk away from it is one thing, having them in my face, hell! in my bed, that’s something else.

I just stand there and he sighs and gives a funny little nod, almost like I’ve said all that out loud.

“I know that it will mean some changes. I mean, the experiment is going okay, but we both know that sooner or later I’m going to fall off the wagon.”

I nod and meet his eyes so that he can see that I do know that, and I’m okay with it. It’s not the real issue.

He sort of grimaces and goes on, “I don’t want any more fucking rules.”

It’s my turn to grimace, because he wasn’t the one who broke the rules. I was the one who fucking shattered them, and our lives for a while into the bargain.

He shakes his head, and then touches his forehead against mine for a moment.

“We don’t need them. If we can’t fucking trust each other by now, then there’s no point.”

I nod again, but I’m a bit doubtful, and he knows it. And he knows why.

“I’m telling you that if you come home to me, that’s it. That’s what it is. Our home. Which means you and I. No fucking visitors waltzing in as if they own the place.”

He means Mikey.

“And no tricks.” He takes a deep breath, and I realize that I need to as well. Somehow, we’ve both forgotten to breathe for the last few minutes, this is so important to us.

“I can’t promise I won’t ever fuck anyone else. But not here. Not ever here. Not in our home, and not ever in front of you. When you’re with me, you’re the one I’m with.”

I stare into his eyes and I hardly know how to express what I’m feeling.

I pull my hands away so that I can cup them round his face. He smiles, and leans towards me, and then my arms are around his neck and we’re kissing.

And just like that I’m home.

I have to laugh, though, when he pulls the door open and insists on carrying me across the threshold.

He trips over a stray cushion and nearly fucking drops me.

But we make it to the bed okay.