In a deceptively calm and sterile room, Justin Taylor sits in a chair and stares down at his plastic cup.

He’s never had trouble getting it up before, with the exception of the few months after he was bashed. He could get hard at will for the most part. Hell, his high sex drive has caused boners that he didn’t want.

But now? Now, it’s just strange. Checking out the viability of his sperm isn’t the most erotic thing he’s done in his life by far.

Turning the specimen cup around in his right hand, he lets out a sigh and forces himself to take a magazine off the shelf. Tits. Just what he needed to get himself turned on.

Growling out his frustration at his shrinking cock, he takes a look around the room. If he were still in a relationship with Nathan, he would imagine the two of them fucking in the room. Nathan fucking him against the counter, Nathan sinking onto his cock as he straddles Justin’s lap. But going through with those fantasies just to come would get him fucking depressed.

He had toyed with the idea of digging up a hot memory with Brian. Even though they’ve been over for years, there are still memories that get him turned on. But Brian is his friend and so is Eric. Using Brian to get off seems would probably be crossing a line, even if it is in Justin’s head.

So, what? Just close his eyes and start to stroke? Maybe if he works himself long enough, the physical reaction will eventually come.

Before he gets to ponder that idea, he spots something out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his eyes widen in curiosity when he sees a drawer with a clear and professional label, the words Male/Male in black font against the white paper surface.

Standing up, Justin walks across the room to pull on the drawer’s handle. Inside lay at least ten DVDs of men in various positions, some hotter than others. Some more hilarious than others.

Analggeddon

Brothaload: Volume 7

Spread ‘Em

Bareback Mountain

Male Stampede

Cum Hungry Guys

Ass Candy 2

Anal Creampie Maniacs

Justin really doesn’t know what it says about him, but the first thing he is tempted to do is take a picture of the drawer and send it to Daphne.

But he doesn’t do that. he promised himself that he’d keep this quiet, at least until he got a surrogate and a pregnancy was confirmed. He knows that some of his friends would be supportive. Fuck, Brian’s the one who gave him a nudge by letting him take home that pamphlet. But he also knows some of his friends and family would be concerned. Concerned that he would get overwhelmed as a single dad, concerned that it might lower his chances when it comes to finding the right guy.

But those concerns are ones that Justin already has. However, he has considered it carefully and knows the good will outweigh the stress.

Coming to a silent resolve, he blindly picks out a DVD and ends up with Bareback Mountain.

He enjoyed the original movie. He remembers hoping for more explicit sex scenes but also remembers crying near the end and thinking the movie was beautiful while Brian scoffed next to him at IFC over the tragic dick softening bullshit. That had been his ex’s first visit up to New York and Justin recalls feeling almost relieved at Brian’s assessment of the movie. It had been so him and so not the fiance he had planned an almost wedding with. Justin had thought Brian was back to normal.

Then he turned out to be wrong.

Although, he had also watched the movie with Nathan last year. Nathan had only been 14 when the movie came out and never got around to seeing it. Not surprising, considering his fucking terror of a life as a teenager. But Justin remembers being surprised that Nathan’s reaction had almost mirrored Brian’s.

He puts Bareback Mountain back down and makes a grab for Anal Creampie Maniacs instead. The title is absolutely obscene and the porno itself is pretty messy and, at times, gross. However, Justin manages to get turned on by it and starts stroking his cock until he spills over into the cup. Breathing heavily, he seals up the cup, pulls up his jeans, leaves it on the counter, and washes his hands before heading out the door and bumping into the nurse.

“Oh!” She exclaims, before putting a bright smile on, “I was just about to check on you! You were taking a while.”

“Couldn’t decide on a movie,” Justin smirks, “Sample’s on the counter. How long do the results take?”

“It’s 9 am and we don’t have a lot of appointments filled for the day,” she tells him, “We’ll fax the results to your doctor in the next couple of hours and you could probably call and see if he’ll meet you as soon as later this afternoon.”

“That soon?” Justin asks, surprised.

“If he doesn’t make you wait, sure,” she shrugs.

“...Alright. Great. Have a nice day.”

Justin takes the elevator down to lobby and thrusts himself onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk. People are rushing to work, dressed in suits and skirts with their briefcases at their sides. Probably worrying over their morning conferences or the raise they asked their bosses for all while Justin wonders how his sperm is doing. He’s sure it’s fine. He is healthy and still relatively young. And it would be good to find out before he started looking through egg donor databases next week and meeting surrogates the week after that. This way, he can be sure that this kind of attempt will be effective and not take several months.

He knows that he’s dwelling. Hyperfocusing like he often does with his paintings and obsessing to the point where he can’t get his mind to think about anything else. Trying to find a way to clear his head and focus on something else, he decides to head to the gallery to put in some hours there.

The trains are about as packed as the streets are, something that isn’t pleasant in the middle of August. With the extreme heat of the underground stations and the lack of deodorant on some of the passengers, it is hard being in a confined train car packed in like a sardine, even with the air conditioner blowing at full blast. He’s tempted to take an exaggerated gulp of air once the Bedford Avenue stop is called but reigns it in and heads on over to Bagelsmith Bedford to grab some bagels to take back to the gallery. Which is something he should be thanked for, due to being such a considerate employer, but that isn’t the case.

“I’m not eating gluten,” Lola says in a flat tone, not taking her eyes off her copy of The Age of Insight: The Quest to Understand the Unconscious in Art, Mind, and Brain from Vienna 1900 to the Present by Eric R. Kandel.

“I hope you know how pompous you are being right now,” is all Justin can say before throwing a bagel over her book, “I got you a gluten-free one because I am a wonderful boss.”

“Mmhmm,” Lola hums, “Do we have any of that apple butter Molly sent you?”

“In the fridge,” Justin informs her, “But don’t use it all. I want some too.”

“Stingy,” Lola mutters, rolling her eyes as she hops down off her stool and following Justin to the kitchen in the back, “Kinroy picked up those paintings he bought last week while you were gone. And bought another one.”

“Which one?” Justin asks as he puts his bagel in the toaster.

“The Highest Point by an artist named Justin Taylor,” Lola smiles, “I can’t believe you climbed Todt Hill. With that giant canvas and your supplies. You’re nuts, you know that? Staten Island. Pfft.”

Justin stifles a laugh, “It was not that bad. Strenuous to climb down after dark though.”

“I can’t believe you stayed in Staten Island for four days just to get the bones of it. You have dedication, I’ll admit that,” Lola tells him, putting her bagel in the toaster once Justin’s pops up then clears her throat uncomfortably, “So...are you going to Cormick’s birthday party tonight?”

Justin sighs at the question. When he and Nathan met, they had a few mutual friends already. Despite the fact that there were eight million people in New York City, you could often find out that someone was a friend of a friend of yours when you ran in certain crowds. After Justin moved away from Pittsburgh, got over his homesickness and, in turn, the brunt of his Brian-sickness, he nestled in quite nicely with the creative crowd. Networking is important and he has a slew of friends who are artists, dancers, musicians, comedians, photographers, actors, set designers, writers, independent filmmakers, the list goes on. He had met Nathan through Stanley and Cormick through Nathan. Cormick is an animator and had designed a couple of The Accidental Native’s music videos after forming a friendship with Nathan. Justin likes him. He respects him as an artist and even more so as a person so he would really feel like shit missing the guy’s 28th birthday party, especially when he hadn’t talked to him much the past several months. Cormick had been working on a short animated film in San Diego since January and didn’t get back until May, a little less than a month after he and Nathan broke up. He had reached out to Justin a few times but Justin had been busy himself. And when he wasn’t, he had tended to put off meeting anyway.

“I don’t know,” Justin admits, “Are you going? Max?”

Lola rolls her eyes, “Max? At a bar? I can’t really imagine that. But Remy invited him too, so who knows? He may decide to surprise us all. I’m going though.”

“Hmmm,” Justin hums, turning away. He has always prided himself in being a friendly employer. He likes working with people who have become friends, to an extent. But he knows it has to be awkward for Lola and Max to be friends with both him and Nathan now that they’re not together anymore.

“Well, I think it would be good for you,” Lola declares after she takes a bite of her bagel, “You need to have fun and not be an introvert. Like someone we know.”

“Be nice,” Justin warns.

“I am being nice,” Lola insists, “I just think Max needs to come out of his shell. Meet a girl. Get laid. Same goes for you.”

“Like hell I’m fucking a girl,” Justin scoffs in disgust.

“Yeah, that would be pretty terrifying,” Lola laughs before turning her head at the sound of the bell on the door ringing.

“Time to go do your job,” Justin comments, biting his cheek, “I’ll toast Max’s bagel and go give it to him.”

Lola, in a somewhat out of character fashion, stuffs the last half of her bagel in her mouth.

“What?” She asks, her words muffled by the food in her mouth, “I didn’t want it to get cold.”

While Lola works her charm on their customer, Justin fixes Max a breakfast and heads through the back hallway to the inventory room. They got a shipment of artwork this morning they had bid on for the third floor, most of it from the 60s and 70s but a couple of pieces dating back to the 1800s. He was completely immersed in paperwork, with art history books stacked around him, probably trying to double fact check the stories they had been given on the pieces and know everything he can before he schools Lola and goes on the floor himself. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Max turns a page and begins reading it too, all while not noticing or just flat out ignoring Justin.

“Max,” Justin says, “Max. MAX.”

Max gets startled by his voice, knocking a book over in the process before looking up at Justin.

“Yeah?” He asks, after getting a grip.

“I got you breakfast,” Justin points out, holding up the plate before setting it down in front of the younger man, “Why don’t you take a break and have a couple of bites? You’ve been here since early this morning and haven’t taken a day off in a week.”

Max seems almost hesitant to get out of his groove but slowly takes the plate and nibbles on the bagel.

“Learn anything new?” Justin asks him, taking a seat.

“Well, I’ve dated this Burri painting to 1946, while the auctioneer said it was from 1958,” Max informs him, showing him a digital photo of the piece, “Which means that it was one of his earlier paintings that he did right after moving to Rome. I’m guessing the historian who researched it isn’t familiar with his work. We can probably make the fact that it is a lesser known and early piece work in our favor and put a higher price tag on it.”

Justin smiles and pats him on the shoulder, “See? This is why you’re the best art historian in the city.”

Max rolls his eyes before looking back down at his notes. Justin studies him for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Why don’t you take an easy night tonight?” He suggests to his employee, “You’ve been working so hard and, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you practically run the place. But it makes me feel guilty to have you doing so much. Why don’t you come out with me and Lola to Cormick’s party? He invited you too.”

Max shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s not really my scene.”

“I know,” Justin admits, “But it might be fun. It might be good for you to take an edge off. Hell, maybe stay out late and come in late tomorrow.”

“You shouldn’t encourage tardiness in the people you pay to help run your gallery.”

“When I say late, I mean come in when the gallery opens at 9. Not at 6 o’clock in the morning,” Justin smiles before sobering, “And besides, with everyone who will be there, I don’t know if I can keep track of Lola tonight. You know how she gets. She’s either completely sober or stumbling out the door. And after what almost happened a couple weeks ago…”

Max goes frigid at that. Justin’s given him a low blow and he knows that. But seeing Lola almost get roofied when she was drunk as fuck had not been a good experience. God knows if any drugs were put in her drinks before Justin caught a guy reach over to pour some powder in as she drunkenly dismissed his friend’s advances. Justin hadn’t punched him but it was a close call. Instead, he had poured the drink over the man’s head and knocked him off his barstool before Liam kicked the two men out. Then Justin had walked her to the gallery, which was closer than either of their apartments. Max had been working late again. And Max, having the obvious feelings he has for Lola, had not taken what had happened well at all.

“Alright. I’ll come,” Max gives in, “What time do I need to be there?”

“Not until like 10:30,” Justin tells him, “It’s at The Back Room on the Lower East Side. It’s really cool. Secret entrance, alcohol served in tea cups and paper bags. It’s one of the places left from the Prohibition Era. Remember to dress up.”

Max looks panicked for a second, “Justin, I don’t have stuff like that to wear.”

Justin just shrugs, “We’ll go shopping then. Around 5 or so. Get you a suit or something.”

“Justin-”

But Justin just brushes off his protests and heads back into the main room to work the floor for a couple hours as more people come in. When noon hits, he excuses himself for lunch. And he really does go back home and eat lunch. But he also wants to call his doctor and check to see if he’s reviewed his results yet.

So he sits down on his couch, finds the number in his contacts, and presses call.

“Dr. Abdullah’s Office, this is Mary.”

“Um, hi. This is Justin Taylor. I had an appointment this morning at Maze Laboratories and and they said something about having the results sent to Dr. Abdullah by noon? I was just wondering if he had gotten them yet and if I could schedule an appointment with him tomorrow or sometime next week to go over the results.”

“Taylor, Taylor,” the RN mutters, assumingly looking through the files, “Yes, we did get paperwork sent on you from Maze around 11. Dr. Abdullah is in an appointment but we did send the paperwork back to his office on his break. I will let him know you called but make an appointment for you if he doesn’t get back to you today. Can you be available at 2 pm tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Justin tells her.

“Alright, Mr. Taylor. 2 o’clock. Have a great day!”

“Thanks, you too.”

Justin is relieved that he doesn’t have to wait long. Just a little over 24 hours. He had been prepared to wait almost a week so he’s surprised he won’t have to.

But he’s even more surprised when Dr. Abdullah calls him as he’s about to step out of his apartment door.

“No need for you in for appointment tomorrow,” Dr. Abdullah jumps right in with his thick accent, “I don’t have time for you.”

Justin huffs out a laugh, “Honest as always, Doc. I take it that my counts are good?”

“Very good. Volume’s 2.7 millileters, sperm count is 180 million per milliliter, 80% swimming, 4 on the quality scale. Shape’s good. You can get any able girl pregnant. No need for worry and no need for appointment. I’ll send you the results to the email on we have on file.”

“Can you fax them to Tiny Treasures National too?” Justin asks him, “They wanted to have them since I’m planning on getting a surrogate.”

“Ah,” Dr. Abdullah answers, “For you and your partner?”

“...No,” Justin answers, “I’m doing it on my own.”

“I’ll recommend a good psychiatrist when I have the time,” Dr. Abdullah jokes. At least Justin thinks he’s joking.

“You’re a funny guy, Dr. Abdullah,” Justin says with a forced chuckle.

“Hmmm,” the man hums, “Good luck with the baby, Mr. Taylor. Don’t forget your checkup in October.”

With that, the doctor hangs up the phone and Justin stares at it.

Well, nothing’s holding him back now. His sperm was the one worry in the way and it turns out it’s pretty much perfect. Money isn’t a problem. If Brian and the surrogacy agency are telling the truth about the process being relatively speedy if everything goes to plan then he should be good to go.

He’s at a point where he thought he might want to back out. Wait until Nathan changes his mind about kids and comes back or, more realistically, wait until he establishes a relationship with another great guy who wants the same things he does.

But he doesn’t. He’s ready.

So with that resolve, he heads back to the gallery in a good mood, sells a few paintings at lucrative prices and gets asked by both Lola and Max why he’s so chipper. He just shrugs. Things aren’t perfect but he feels good about this. Independent. Capable. With the way his mood has been about everything, that could change in a few hours but he's feeling good now. He's going to embrace it.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Justin drags Max out of the store at 5 and makes Lola stay the last two hours to close up. He takes him to Soho and pays for Max’s black three piece suit despite his employee’s protests. It’s higher end and makes the guy look fucking hot.

“If Benedict Cumberbatch had a baby with Andrew Garfield, you would be the child in question,” Justin decides as he studies him. He can’t believe he didn’t see it before.

“I’m not British.”

But Justin ignores the claim as he hands over the garment bag and they take a cab back to Williamsburg. It probably would have been better if they would have just stayed in the city, got dinner there and waited out the extra time until it was acceptable to show up at the bar for the celebration. But he has a suit that would be okay to wear at home and Max looks a little worn down, probably from the extra time he has been putting in. So Justin lets the man nap on his couch while he makes the two of them a light, late dinner. They eat around 9 and meet Lola at the train around 10. Justin doesn’t miss the jaw drop as she takes in Max’s appearance and he doesn’t miss Max’s stammering at hers. Justin’s surprised by it as well, to be honest. Her hair is a different color from this afternoon. A rich chestnut rather than what she called ‘mermaid green.’ The marcel waves compliment her bob and the sequined, tasseled flapper dress compliments her thin frame.

“You look...you look,” Max stumbles for the words as he stares down at the ground.

“Fabulous?” Lola guesses, spinning around and letting the tassels fly out from the movement.

Max nods and clears his throat as Lola smiles.

“You look fabulous too, Maxy,” she grins, punching the man lightly in the arm, “You clean up real nice.”

Despite the commute, the three of them are the first ones there and Lola lets out a sigh.

“We’re early,” she mumbles, “We’re officially the losers of the celebration.”

“Didn’t Cormick say 10:30?” Max asks curiously, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sits down before giving into the effects of the summer heat and taking it off altogether.

“10:30 means at least 11 and with Cormick it means at least 11:30,” Justin chuckles, sitting down across the two in the private room.

But it isn’t just the three of them for too long. At 11:02, Carmen and Liam come in. Justin’s frankly surprised that Carmen came out. Eight months pregnant, she is waddling and needing help from Liam sitting down.

“I came to keep track of him,” she informs them, “Look how nice he looks. The girls would throw themselves at him if his pregnant fiance wasn’t here to remind them he’s off-limits.”

Justin just smiles at that before coming over to bend down and hug her. Then, he looks at the bump and Carmen rolls her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Carmen tells him, “Despite the late hour, he is moving around and giving me a hard time.”

Justin grins and crouches down a little before putting a tentative hand to her stomach.

“Hi, Milo,” he coos softly, “Can’t wait to meet you...shit, he is moving around.”

“He’s just excited to see Uncle Justin,” she laughs, “The man who helped his daddy paint an impressive Under the Sea nursery mural.”

“It was the least I could do. You couldn’t help him, after all. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to get up and out of that chair.”

Carmen lets out a shocked laugh and swats at him, “You shut your mouth! It’s never a good idea to piss off a pregnant woman, Taylor!”

“She’s right,” Liam interjects, “Just let her live in denial, Justin. It’s better for everyone.”

Carmen mutters something under her breath in Spanish before sighing, “You both are awful.”

Several more friends and acquaintances through Cormick come in, greeting them in the process, a couple of them already a bit drunk, as if they had started the party before coming by or had a few drinks before coming back. It isn’t until 11:30 that Cormick and Remy burst through the door. Cormick has a three piece striped suit and a fedora hat on but the fedora isn’t all that out of place for him.

He greets everyone individually, asking about how they’ve been, before getting a big smile on his face when he gets to Justin.

“Really glad you came, man,” Cormick tells him, patting his back, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, same here. But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Justin says, a little sheepishly.

“Thanks, Justin,” Cormick smiles before clearing his throat and lowering his voice, “You know that Nathan will be here in about 20 minutes, right? Petra texted me. They had to go to some after party in midtown so they’re just running late.”

“I expected he would come,” Justin tells him, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Cormick nods, “Okay. I hope things are getting better between you two.”

“We aren’t bitter. It’s just sad,” is all Justin can say.

And even though he harbors no bitter feelings towards Nathan, he can’t help but feel his pulse quicken as he waits for him to come. He tries to distract himself by talking to other people in the room, getting more drinks than he should, and eyeing Max as he’s hit on by Luna.

“God, you look so hot,” the woman sighs, giving him a thrice over, “I never realized how...how...has anyone ever told you that you look like a cross between Benedict Cumberbatch and Andrew Garfield?”

“Not until today,” Max deadpans, taking a nervous swig from his beer.

“It must be the suit,” Luna decides, “You look good in suits. It gives you this sort of intellectual and posh but sweet and nerdy aura. Hey, you wanna-”

“Max!” Lola interrupts pointedly, butting into the conversation, “Why don’t you come to the bar with me?”

Justin’s surprised what just might be jealousy on Lola’s behalf but minds his own business and mingles with the other guests.

He’s not even facing the entrance to the room when it happens. It’s as if the air suddenly changes when Nathan walks in. Maybe it’s because they had been together for over two years but he just knows.

The attention returns to the group of four for a few minutes. He looks good. Tired, but good. It isn’t as if Justin hasn’t seen him. He just hasn’t seen him much. Texts that touched base and the very occasional group outing where they both had been invited have been the extent of their communication since the premiere of Nathan’s show. He’s missed him.

Glancing over, he can see Nathan glancing back. And it’s hard. It’s been four months and he still wants to kiss him when he sees him. He’s getting over the breakup. Moving on by starting the process to become a dad. He just still feels that hole.

So he may drink more than he should. He does it to let himself unwind a bit though, not because his ex is in the room. That would never be the reason. Besides, he deserves a bit of drunkenness. If things keep going forward, then who knows how many more opportunities he’ll have to drink with abandon? He can’t do that when he has a baby, nor would he want to. And he doesn’t want to be the type of dad who leaves the kid a few times a week with a nanny so that he can meet hot guys or get drunk. He wants to be as present as possible. Maybe he can have an occasional night off when family comes in but they live in different states so that won’t happen often. He’ll be raising an infant and he’ll be alone. Well and truly alone.

Taking another teacup from the drinks brought in, he tries not to go into a drunken panic and instead wonders how ridiculous he looks.

“Hey.”

Justin turns his head and looks up when he realizes the greeting was directed towards him. There Nathan is, standing there in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, not dressed for the occasion at all. Justin isn’t surprised by that. Nathan never really did Halloween either. Once he did James Dean, only because it didn’t take much effort. Some hair gel and a leather jacket was all it took for Justin to get him looking somewhat like the man.

“Justin?” Nathan prompts.

“Yeah?” Justin answers, his voice lazy and slightly slurred.

“You alright?”

Justin nods, suppressing a hiccup, before looking back down in his teacup.

“Hey, put that down before you spill it on yourself.”

Nathan gently takes the teacup from Justin’s hands and sets in on the table before glancing down at the empty spot beside him.

“This seat taken?” Nathan asks.

“...No,” Justin answers, concentrating on Nathan’s gesturing hand.

Nathan slides in next to him and studies him for a moment. Justin meets his eyes. Or tries to. The room is spinning just a little and it’s hard to direct his line of vision in one place for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

“How was the show?” Justin asks, trying not to slur too much.

Nathan takes a second but answers, “It went really well. How was your exhibition last week?”

“You knew about that?” Justin wonders.

He can swear that Nathan flushes a little before shrugging, “I saw it on the gallery facebook page.”

“Hmmm,” Justin hums, curious because Nathan doesn’t even have a Facebook, “It went well. So how’s life outside of the show?”

“What life?” Nathan asks, biting back a smile, “Seriously, the show takes up most of my time.”

“...No guys?” Justin asks him. He doesn’t really mean to but his mouth is sort of thinking for itself.

“...No, Justin,” Nathan answers softly, “No guys. I...You know why.”

Justin nods, feeling like shit for even unintentionally bringing up the trepidation Nathan has on sex and relationships.

“Although I’m making out with Rebecca every night,” Nathan says offhandedly, “A month ago she decided to improvise and rip my shirt off onstage. Jeff liked it so much that it stuck. I think she just did it to be edgy and get noticed.”

“Is she jealous over the attention you’ve been getting in the reviews?” Justin smirks.

Nathan looks surprised that he even knows and Justin shakes his head.

“Don’t think I haven’t been checking up on you too.”

Nathan smiles a little, “I guess. She’s sort of lukewarm when it comes to me. I don’t get the big deal. It’s all pretend.”

“Nice way to talk about your long-term gig,” Justin answers, amused.

Nathan shrugs, “Well, I wouldn’t say it out loud to anyone but you.”

It’s a sentence that Justin shouldn’t look too deeply into but he does so anyway.

“So any guys in your life?” Nathan seems to force himself to ask.

Justin looks around, “Well, I didn’t bring anyone with me tonight.”

“Ha ha,” Nathan drawls sarcastically before sobering up, “So...so you haven’t...you know, been with anyone?”

Justin stays silent as taps his fingers on the table. He doesn’t want to lie. He has hooked up with a few guys. First in Portugal, then back in New York. Nothing substantial, just sex. No dates unless he counts the dud from last week. But he doesn’t want to hurt Nathan with the anonymous sex or even the semi-blind date. He really doesn’t.

“It was all pretend. Just brief shallow shit,” Justin mutters, starting to sway in his seat.

“Alright,” Nathan soothes, “I think we need to get you home.”

“Fuck,” Justin sighs, “I’ve become...that guy. That drunk guy who has to go home because he can’t hold his liquor.”

“Believe me, you aren’t the only one. Liam and Carmen took Jasmine and her girlfriend home. Vince threw up in the bathroom. Charlotte fell asleep in a booth. You haven’t singled yourself out at all. You feel sick?”

Justin thinks on it before shaking his head.

“I’ll be fine,” Justin waves off, stumbling as he stands up, “I just need...need to go outside and walk to a train or somethin’.

Nathan holds onto his arm and watches him with concern as Justin walks in an erratic line, aiming for the main lounge but only questionably making it there himself.

“Sit down for a second,” Nathan commands as he pushes him into a chair against the wall, “I’ll be right back.”

Justin waits there in a daze, watching people in costume think they’re fancy as shit for drinking at a speakeasy. Speakeasy. Speakeasy. That’s fun to say. Why is it called that though? He can’t remember. He should look it up.

Fumbling for his phone, Justin attempted to type the word into the search bar. Easier said than done, in god’s honest opinion.

“Hey, buddy!” Cormick greets with a friendly voice, “Nathan tells me he’s getting you home. Just wanted to say thanks for coming. I’ll text you tomorrow. You, me, and Remy can get lunch. Sound good?”

“Yeah, third wheel’s just fan...fantastic,” Justin hiccups, “Where’s my phone?”

“In your hand,” Nathan reminds him.

“Where’s my jacket? It’s ex...expensive.”

“In my hand,” Nathan answers again, holding up the grey suit jacket.

“Aw, Nate,” Justin slurs with a goofy grin, “You’re so resourceful.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Nathan sighs, “You want to wear your jacket or do you want me to carry it for you?”

“It’s hot,” Justin absolutely does not whine.

Nathan glances at Cormick, purses his lips, and looks almost amused.

“See you later, Cor. Happy birthday.”

“Later, guys!” The birthday boy waves as Nathan drags a drunk and curious Justin out the door.

“So...taxi?” Nathan asks as soon as they’re outside.

Justin shakes his head with force because fuck that, “Too quick. Train.”

“Yes, because ‘too quick’ is a bad thing,” Nathan snorts.

Justin nods solemnly. He’s glad Nathan understands what he’s saying.

“A driver probably wouldn’t want to pick your drunk ass up anyway,” Nathan comments, keeping a steadying hand on Justin’s back as they start to walk.

“You’re probably right,” Justin agrees, “Remember that asshole?”

Nathan looks confused for a second before a moment of recognition, “I remember you telling me about that asshole. I still don’t remember any of that night.”

Justin lets out a giggle and slurs out the story, “You were so drunk. I wasn’t that much better but you were so out of it and I was so fucking worried. We couldn’t find our way to the fucking train and you had no excuse for that because you grew up here but that was the case. I flagged a taxi down and you started to feel sick just a block in so I made him pull over, paid him, and he drove off. You threw up then unzipped your pants to pee on the sidewalk. We walked around for at least a mile trying to find our train. No one would pick us up because you could barely walk and they were all afraid you would puke in their car. Some sailor that was visiting the city hit on us and bought us water but I don’t remember that much about it. I told him to leave. Then a little bit later, I told the asshole cab driver who stopped then refused to let us in that he was a heartless bastard and to go fuck himself. Then someone nicer picked us up. And we got back to my place. And you ate two bags of Pop-Tarts.”

“Beautifully told story. The buildup of the plot and the infliction of your drunken voice really drove it home,” Nathan can’t help but laugh, “Jesus, I have never been that drunk before or after that night. That was awful.”

“We’re all allowed at least one night of bad choices,” Justin yawns as he starts walking to the side.

“We’re almost to the train,” Nathan tells him softly, steadying Justin once more, “Just another block or so.”

“And then a transfer,” Justin groans.

“Justin, I really think a cab would be better. You don’t need to be waiting for two trains. It’s past 2 am. Williamsburg Bridge is right there. A cab ride would take less than ten minutes.”

Justin bites his lip, “I just wanted to walk with you.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’ll...I’ll ride in the cab with you. If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

He leaves it to Nathan to lead him off the side streets and closer to Delancey Street. They wait at the corner for a few minutes, Nathan searching for a cab and Justin staring down at a pigeon on the sidewalk. He doesn’t even notice the yellow car come over until Nathan urges him to get in.

“I’m tired,” Justin sighs, closing his eyes, “I’ve been up since…”

Justin counts off on his fingers, squinting down at them before coming to an answer.

“6 AM.”

Nathan raises his eyebrows, “6 AM? Shit. You’ve been up for 20 hours.”

“I had to go get my sperm tested,” Justin yawns, not computing the jolt of surprise that goes through Nathan, “It’s good sperm. Dr. Abbadabbadulah said so.”

He sort of hears Nathan correct the name. Nathan would know, being fluent in Arabic and all. He’s so smart. But Justin can’t focus on that when he finds his cheek resting against Nathan’s shoulder and even more so when Nathan doesn’t stiffen from the contact or try to push him off.

Nathan just lets Justin rest and, even in his drunken and slightly delirious state, Justin not only can feel the fingers that run through his hair but he can feel the cheek that presses into his scalp right after as well. It feels nice.

“You’re home,” Nathan says softly, all too soon.

Justin’s eyes flutter open and he slowly begins searching for his wallet.

“In your back pocket,” Nathan reminds him, yet again, “And I paid for it anyway.”

“You...You didn’t have to do that,” Justin answers, still feeling slightly depressed that he is sitting up straight again.

“It’s fine,” Nathan insists, “...Shit. Can you even make it up the stairs without falling?”

Justin brushes off the concern until he trips over his feet a few steps out of the cab.

And he’s fine. He catches himself. But Nathan, sweet Nathan, just jumps out and has his hands on him. And it’s disappointing to hear Nathan ask the driver to keep the meter running but then a selfish relief washes over him when the sounds of a car on asphalt reach Justin’s ears.

“Dick,” Nathan sighs as he looks at the departing taxi, “Come on, Justin. Inside.”

Nathan reaches into Justin’s pocket to grab the keys and opens the front door to the apartment building. He leads Justin upstairs, slowly. Probably to make sure Justin doesn’t fall. Justin can’t blame Nathan really. Even he knows he’s a drunken mess tonight.

Nathan makes him sit on the couch when they make it through the apartment door. Steadying him, his ex goes into the kitchen and digs around in the fridge and comes back five minutes later with a microwave meal and a large glass of water.

“Come on,” Nathan urges, sitting Justin up, even though Justin just let himself lie down, “You need to eat something to soak up the alcohol and get this water down so that you’re not completely throwing your guts up in the morning.”

Justin groans and feels his head spin as his balance his thrown off once more.

“I don’t wan’ the food,” Justin slurs.

“Too bad. Open up.”

Nathan makes a space shuttle noise as he brings the fork to Justin’s mouth, urging the older man to open up.

“Open the pod bay doors, Justin,” Nathan commands in a calm voice.

Justin scoffs, “You’re drunk.”

Nathan takes the chance to put the bite of microwave lasagna in Justin’s mouth before putting the fork back in the container, “But not nearly as drunk as you are. Now eat.”

Justin logically does know that it would be for the best if he does what Nathan says. He knows he’ll be fucked tomorrow either way but at least the hangover might not last as long if he eats a bunch of carbs and drinks probably a gallon of water. So he tries to fight the need to pass out and focuses on nourishing himself. Nathan even turns on the television and puts Friends on to keep Justin awake long enough to do so.

“Which episode is this?” Justin asks between bites.

“‘The One With the Embryos’” Nathan reads as he clicks on the guide.

“Hmmm,” Justin hums.

Nathan looks down at the hardwood floor for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

“Uh...speaking of embryos…”

Nathan gestures with his hand, trying to search for the words, all while Justin just watches him in curiosity.

When Nathan realizes that Justin is too drunk to know where he’s going with this, he lets out a sigh.

“So you got your sperm tested?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Nathan looks briefly concerned, “Did Dr. Abdullah think there was something wrong?”

“No. I wasn’t…” Justin starts, thinking over his words, “I wasn't sent there by him.”

“Oh?”

“Nah.”

Nathan waits for a little give and gets nothing.

“Who were you sent by then?” He asks.

“My con...consultant,” Justin tells him, “At the agency.”

“Agency?”

Justin doesn’t think he could ever be drunk enough to be completely oblivious of Nathan’s desire to know what’s going on.

“I...I decided to do it alone. The baby thing. That was the first step. I look at...I look at egg donors next week. Surrogates after that.”

Nathan blinks, “Oh.”

“I...I haven’t told anyone. Not really,” Justin admits.

“I won’t say anything,” Nathan murmurs.

“I was going to tell you first,” Justin blurts out.

Nathan looks at him in confusion, “Really? Why?”

“Because...Because I didn’t want you to find out from...from anyone else. Because you wanted me to go after this. Because I l-love you…”

And yeah, he’s fucking drunk. Tears can basically be a given when he is sitting next to a man he was lucky enough to be with but unlucky enough to break up with. On top of being sad about that situation, he’s already been on an emotional roller coaster for months. And to have Nathan here, caring for him like he used to from time to time back when they were together, that fucks him up just as much as the liquor does.

“...I appreciate that,” Nathan sniffles, wiping at his eyes as he smooths back Justin’s hair.

Justin collects himself relatively quickly, taking in steadying breaths and finding comfort in Nathan’s touch.

“I’m not…” Nathan starts helplessly once Justin’s quiet sobs die down, “I didn’t push you into anything, right? You aren’t rushing yourself into this because I wanted you to go and have a kid?”

“...No,” Justin tells him truthfully, “I want this. I really do. I wish I could do it with you. But I understand why that isn’t happening. Even so...I’m excited about it.”

“I’m glad,” Nathan chokes out but offers a small smile when Justin glances at him.

They sit there in silence once more, or would be if it weren’t for the studio audience laughing at Chandler and Joey’s antics. Justin can barely keep his eyes open. He’s feels his head jerk every so often when he starts to nod off and he knows he can’t stay awake much longer.

“Come on,” Nathan requests softly, standing up and taking Justin’s hand, “You need to get to bed.”

Justin lets himself be led to the bathroom, catches Nathan eyeing his old toothbrush in the holder with surprise, before brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth. He relieves himself and Nathan turns his back. Justin has no idea why since it’s nothing Nathan hasn’t seen before but it is what it is.

“Wash your hands,” Nathan reminds him and Justin rolls his eyes. Like he would forget.

He stumbles into his bedroom, fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt and pulling down his pants as he goes. It’s a warm night so he opts to just sleep in his briefs with only a sheet covering him. He feels he will be comfortable that way. With the fan on and the window open, it’s warm but creates a nice breeze that’s comforting.

“Sleep on your side,” Nathan tells him, helping Justin straighten out on the bed, tucking the sheet up over his shoulders in the process.

Nathan leaves briefly and Justin lets his eyes wander in the dark room, the only light source coming from the alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:21 AM it says. He doesn’t know why but it makes him feel alone.

But then the door creaks back open. Nathan comes back in with a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin and puts it next to his alarm clock.

“In case you wake up and start to feel like shit,” Nathan informs him needlessly, “Are you going to be alright?”

Justin shrugs in the dark and Nathan traces his finger over his bicep.

“I should go,” Nathan whispers, “I have a show tomorrow evening.”

“You should stay here,” Justin mutters, without thinking.

The finger on Justin’s bicep tenses and Nathan’s breath hitches.

“Justin...” Nathan trails off.

Justin turns his head and looks up at Nathan in the darkness, “It’s hard to catch a cab in the middle of the night in Brooklyn. It’ll take hours to get just to yours and Petra’s by train. Don’t be stupid.”

“I can do Uber,” Nathan protests.

“At this time of night? You’ll be waiting for at least half an hour,” Justin slurs but he’s being reasonable. He knows he is.

Nathan looks around the room, “I guess I could sleep on the couch-”

“You need to sleep in a bed. You have a show tomorrow.”

Nathan huffs but the fight seems to leave him.

“...I...I suppose I’ll go brush my teeth then.”

Justin nods and watches Nathan leave the room. He really thinks his drunken state is helping here. It’s keeping him calm in a situation that would otherwise have his heart racing.

Nathan’s back in a few minutes and stands on the other side of the bed. With Justin watching closely, he slowly takes off his shirt, revealing his toned abs, before lowering his jeans to reveal his white boxer briefs. Carefully slipping under the sheet, he lays his head on the pillow and stares into Justin’s eyes, their faces inches away from each other.

Justin’s body is acting on autopilot when he slowly reaches over and strokes Nathan’s chest, right over his heart. He doesn’t know why he does it. Fuck, yes he does. He hasn’t had him in his bed for months, the bed they bought together before moving into the apartment they picked out together. Both places just feel less lonely with him in them.

Hesitantly, Nathan places his hand over Justin’s and holds it there before pressing his forehead against the older man’s. They kiss. It’s inevitable and Justin really has never been one to hold back when it comes to physical affection. It’s soft and chaste and loving and comforting but above all else bittersweet because they both know the deal.

“We can’t,” Nathan whispers, pain lacing his voice.

“I know,” Justin murmurs, because that’s obvious already.

“It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“I know.”

“It’s just that we’re not-”

“Nathan. It’s okay. I know.”

The exchange doesn’t stop them from kissing once more. It doesn’t stop them from embracing each other as they fall asleep. It doesn’t keep them from having the best slumber they’ve had since they fell apart.

And it doesn’t keep Justin from waking up that morning alone, nor does it keep him from having a hangover. He’s sick until the middle of the afternoon and nurses himself back to health with the combination of Gatorade and Saltines he found in a sack on his kitchen table this morning. He can’t deny that it made him feel a little loved.

Even though he knows that Nathan loves him and he maybe, just maybe, could keep trying to convince him that they could work again, he doesn’t let it keep him from going through the donor database one week later. He picks someone with blonde hair and blue eyes so the baby will have a greater chance of looking like him and there will be no question that he is their dad. He decides to be kind with his choice too. According to the profile, the woman is 5’10’’ so his son or daughter might have the height that he never had. She also is an Open ID, meaning they can meet her one day should they choose to.

Despite the huge step he has just made and the irreversible effect that step will have on his life, he feels like he is going to be okay.