Heavy Grind Glass-Bathroom-T-shirt= 3 Little Words Challenge

Brian used his pinky and thumb to pick up a glass from the table and put it in the bin with the other dishes. He shivered when he saw the other three glasses also had fingerprints and lipstick smears coating them. The fucking Drag Queens had left the table and booth seats a complete mess.

He turned beside him, interrupting Justin from taking the customers orders, and growled, “Why do I have to be the one to pick up all the disgusting shit? You get the easy job.”

Justin ripped off the ticket from the order pad and started walking toward the window to put it on the turntable.

“What the hell?” a large Leather Daddy protested. “I wasn’t finished ordering and neither was my boy!”

Justin whipped toward the customer and yelled over the noise of the diner, “You’ll get whatever I put down on that slip!”

Brian laughed as the customers rose from their seats and ‘the boy’ declared, “We’re leaving.”

Pissed, Justin tore off the order slip from the turntable and sneered. “We don’t want your kind in here anyway.” He marched over toward Brian and slapped the man’s ass. “Hurry up! There’s people waiting for a clean table and now you need to wipe off that one too.”

“They sat there for two fucking seconds,” Brian protested.

“Key words ‘they sat there’,” Justin quipped. “The boy was wearing chaps, nuff said!” Justin walked to another table and politely asked. “What can I get for ya?”

Brian wondered if Justin had contracted PMS since Jasmine was born. His moods shifted so dramatically as of late. “I can’t believe you got me into this,” he called over to him.

Justin turned on his heel and snapped, “If you would’ve gotten into me, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wrong blond boy, it would be a problem, because it was still a fucking month ago.”

“Whatever,” Justin hissed, turning back to the patron and smiling. “So that was a chocolate fudge sundae with a cherry on top?”

The dyke dressed as Elvis looked at her/his waiter as though he’d gone mad. “No,” he/she barked, “it was the tuna fish platter.”

Brian snickered, “Of course it was.”

“Excuse me?” Justin asked, appalled that customer would dare correct him.

“I said…”

“I don’t care what you said, lady? I’d think you’d appreciate the whole, ‘A little less conversation and a little more action’, philosophy,” he berated her and took off, holding up the order slip. “Arnold! I need a chocolate fudge sundae with a cherry on top,” he declared as meaningfully as if he’d found a cure for cancer.

Arnold peered through the order window at the distraught waiter. “Justin, I know it’s been a while, but you make those up front. I man the grill.”

Brian brushed past Justin and snickered, “See, you should’ve just given the dyke her tuna.”

Justin glared daggers into Brian’s back as the man walked into the kitchen. He scribbled on his order pad, hung the ticket up and yelled, “Arnold, I’ve changed my mind, that’ll be the Tuna Fish Platter!”

“You changed your mind?” Arnold asked, confused.

“Yes,” Justin said firmly and grabbed the two plates the man placed on the counter. “Okay,” he called across the diner. “Who has the two meatloaf specials?”

Half of the neglected patrons in the diner salivated over the order, raised their hands and called, “I’ll take that!”

Justin wanted to curl into a hole and die. “I hate all of you,” he spat.

At that moment, Ben, Michael, Emmett, Drew, Ted and Blake poured into the diner.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Michael asked, looking around the chaotic restaurant.

“Oh joy!” Justin bellowed. “The gangs all here! I thought you were all busy tonight?”

“Baby, we just happened to meet up,” Emmett tried.

“Sure,” Justin hissed, slamming the plates on the counter. To his utter horror, mashed potatoes and gravy splattered his face and hair but for the moment, he ignored it. “Where’d you meet up, huh? Woody’s? Oooh those are some big plans fellas! Some friends you are!”

The patrons all let out a loud, “Ooooh.”

Justin turned on his heels and glared through the window at Arnold. “Where’s Brian?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” the cook said, afraid of the young blond man. Justin used to be such a sweet boy. He wondered if the kid was on drugs.

Justin marched around the hall’s corner and slammed into the bathroom. “Brian!”

Brian spun toward Justin, hard dick in hand; sweat pooling on his upper-lip, eyes wide in shock. “Sunshine?”

“Sunshine?” He pushed Brian’s shoulders, backing him up against the sinks.

Brian, pants around his ankles, shuffled toward the door, closed and locked it.

Justin was right behind him, pushing Brian against it as he turned around. “Sunshine? Ain’t no Sunshine no more! You said so yourself, ‘Mr. Dick of Apprehension’.” He stood on his tiptoes and yelled in Brian’s face. “This is what you’ve been doing while I’m trying to control a circus!”

“It wouldn’t be a circus if you took fucking orders right,” Brian replied, his words weak, knowing long before he spoke them that they were oh so wrong.

“So, this is my fault now?” Justin hissed. “I’m the one to blame? I suppose you blame me for wanting to have a kid in the first place. I mean, you have Gus, but why I should I want to have a child of my own? A child, I thought was both of ours!”

“Brian, Justin?” Michael called from the other side of the door.

Brian watched Justin’s eyes turn toward the jiggling handle on the door. “What the fuck is Mikey doing here?” he asked Justin.

“The whole fucking gang is here,” Justin replied dryly.

“Not the time, Mikey. Not the time,” Brian warned. Justin’s eyes were darker and his expression meaner than he’d ever seen before. Brian didn’t want his friend caught in the crossfire of his own fuck up.

Justin turned away from Brian and walked over to the sinks. He removed the top part of the apron from around his neck and looked at himself in the mirror. “I’m covered in food! My face is greasy! I’m going to get zits!” he ranted.

“Well at least they won’t be on your ass,” Brian said gently, pulling up his pants.

“It’s not like you’d see my ass to care,” Justin cried out. “You haven’t seen it in a month!” he whimpered, splashing water on his face.

“Brian, you guys have to come out. They’re getting angry out here,” Michael yelled.

“What part of not now do you not understand?” Brian growled. “You’ve worked here before, fix them. I have to fix Justin, he’s much more important than that angry mob,” Brian replied, walking toward his husband.

Justin collapsed onto his knees and glared up at Brian. “Don’t even think about it. I’m just down here cause my feet feel like they’re about to fall off.”

Brian laughed as he lowered himself to the dirty floor and put his arms around Justin. “You’re a fucking mess,” he whispered against Justin’s temple.

“Bite me, Asshole,” Justin replied softly, laying his head on Brian’s shoulder.

Brian playfully bit the shell of Justin’s ear. “Where else do you want me to bite?”

Justin wiggled out of Brian’s arms and used the man’s shoulders to stand up. “I don’t want you to bite me anywhere in this skanky ass bathroom.”

“We’ve fucked in here dozens of times, it never bothered you before,” he said, standing up and kissing Justin’s greasy cheek. “God,” he moaned. “I always get so hard watching you bust tables and take orders. Your cheeks get pink, the way they do just before you’re about to come.” Brian’s hands expertly pushed Justin’s t-shirt up his torso.

Justin shoved Brian’s hands away and unlocked the door. “There’ll be no coming, until we finish Debbie’s fucking shift.”

Brian groaned, “Well, at least I have something to look forward to.”

Justin pulled Brian with him and as they turned the corner, they both stopped dead in their tracks. All of their friends were taking orders, juggling trays, carrying bins of dishes and cleaning up. The diner looked almost as good as it had when Debbie had left.

“You guys look like you got it under control,” Brian said, trying to keep the amazement out of his voice as he pulled Justin toward the front door.

“Keep up the good work,” Justin said, untying the apron from around his waist and shoving it into Ted’s hands.

“What do I want with this?” Ted asked, dropping the broom to the floor.

“This is your shift,” Michael said worriedly.

“We just wanted to help get things in order,” Ben added.

Blake said nothing, he laughed, knowing it was a pointless battle.

“They can’t be serious,” Drew said, looking terrified.

“They aren’t, Baby, we have plans,” Emmett told his lover.

“We’re busy tonight,” Michael said.

“We have plans too,” Justin said, nibbling on Brian’s chin.

“And you all look very busy indeed,” Brian chuckled, shoving Justin out the door.

“Thanks, guys,” Justin called back. “You’re true friends!”

TBC in Heavy Head