Brian was becoming increasingly nervous. Not that he would admit that.

He had taken the day off. Well, it was a Saturday. And last night had been hell, in fact, that had been the reason for this whole ridiculous situation in the first place. He’d been working at 10:30 in the evening with no end in sight, a Friday night for fuck’s sake. Lindsay had dropped Gus off since she and Cynthia were off on a date, so he had ended up playing with Gus instead of getting work done. What in god’s name had he imagined he was doing, setting up those two women? What was the classic Seinfeld expression? Worlds colliding? He could only imagine the discussions they were having. If they were talking at all… shudder, ugh, ack, run away from that mental picture…

Okay, there really wasn’t much of an excuse for losing his shit where Justin was concerned. He had been glad for the phone call at first, even if all that work waited for him. Owning your own business was more work than being a partner in one. But definitely worth it. Some nights, though, it really dragged out. Especially Fridays.

When Justin had started complaining about the movie, that was fine, he could relate. Maybe if he pulled the discussion in another direction, he could get some hot phone sex going here, much more interesting than a mutual bitch session. Fuck, he wanted… But no, listening to Justin struggle with his little project was fine. When it became obvious something more drastic was up, Brian had been fairly straight to the point. He wanted to get whatever drama queen moment was coming out of the way. He hadn’t exactly shifted out of work mode at that point, but he was close, and had naturally reacted like a completely impatient prick. Par for the course, just ask Ted.

Fuck.

It wasn’t really his, Brian’s, fault. If anyone’s fault, it was Justin’s, damn it. It was his fault Brian now had a baseball player fronting Brown Athletic when he could have had a New York Knick. Everyone knew basketball was the hottest sport these days. At the time, he’d reasoned he’d chosen baseball over basketball because Kinnetic needed to focus on a sport that tended to be less scandal-ridden, and thus a safer bet after the close call with that fuckup Drew. And Leo Brown loved baseball. But if he were honest with himself, he knew, he’d chosen Buzz because Buzz was in California.

Shit, even he couldn’t spin the blame game on this one.

But that didn’t mean he about to go chasing Justin’s ass out that way again, tossing work aside, making decisions based on where his boyfriend was hanging out at any given moment. So when Justin had suddenly gotten choked up in mid-conversation, and Brian had felt the sudden desire to hop on a plane the second his lover whimpered, he had snapped. Okay, maybe he had been a little harsh. Or maybe a lot harsh.

Brian had tried to just put it aside and get back to work. But that nauseated feeling, what the fuck? He couldn’t work with it. He’d grabbed some ice water, which hadn’t helped, Pepcid, nothing. Couldn’t drink himself silly, he really had to finish this project. Finally, he’d given up, given in, got up on line and placed that ridiculous order. Impulsive, really. Then he had called to cancel twenty minutes later, and somehow ended up giving more specific instructions.

The whole thing had been stupid.

And then it was Saturday, and he took Gus back to Lindsay’s, and went to the gym, and got the new weight trainer to blow him. It hadn’t been great, but what the hell. Gone home, gotten some leftover paperwork done, not really work, but it filled the void. Watched some really bad t.v., and then “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” just because. Took a call from Mikey, who said they all hadn’t been out together in too long. So planned to meet the guys at the diner at 10 p.m., grab something to eat, hit Woody’s at 11. All day, coasting, routine without thinking. Same old Saturday shit. And here he was, sitting in the corner of a booth at the diner, Emmett and Ted across from him, Mikey and Ben in the booth behind them. Drinking water, not really hungry. Not being nervous. Not waiting for a call that hadn’t come.

Maybe Justin hadn’t gotten back to his room yet. Who knew what the hell was going on? Fuck if Brian knew, if Justin wouldn’t tell him. He did not play Twenty Questions. Maybe it was something else. So maybe… he would just go through his jaunt through the clubs, and then maybe, maybe he’d think about tracking Justin down. A couple of drinks might help facilitate his willingness to do that. Being told to fuck off had really… honestly? Worried him. There. He’d thought it. Justin hadn’t told him to fuck off since, well, that Hobbes shit. So maybe he was worried.

Shouldn’t he have heard from Justin by now? Maybe something was really, really wrong. Maybe he should call him, now instead of later. Maybe he should have called him earlier.

Damn it, no. That impulsive gesture, shit. What, was he going to get on his knees, next? No way, not even for activities more interesting than begging. He’d need to see a lot of bending over by one blonde twink ass to help balance these scales after that ridiculously romantic gesture. If Justin knew what was good for them… uh, good for him, he’d be the one dropping to his knees, giving up that ass ASAP. Brian had stooped low enough.

He knew Justin was physically fine anyway, he had been talking about the movie, nothing else seemed wrong. And then, boom, out of the clear blue, total freak out. Maybe Brian had lost his temper a little too quickly; maybe he’d pushed Justin a little too much. Or a lot too much. Okay, obviously trying to push Justin at all at that moment had been a slight miscalculation.

So what, to counter that stupidity, he’d gone right off the other end, dropping right off into the other extreme? Justin would probably see this as a sarcastic mockery, wouldn’t he? Well, of course he would. Brian Kinney did not do romance. Ever. And besides, a bouquet was romantic. A virtual garden’s worth… yeah, just a bit off the deep end.

This is why he didn’t do emotions, he obviously had no idea what the fuck he was doing. You’d think Justin would have figured that out by now, and would have stopped trying to get Brian to use a faculty that just didn’t function properly in him. Not that Justin had asked him for much of anything recently. Hm, that was true, wasn’t it? What was up with that?

“Brian. Brian!”

Brian looked over to where Michael was leaning over the booth, in the space between Emmett and Ted. “Hey, did you hear they’re having the Pecs of Steel competition at midnight? Do you think that guy we were checking out the other night at Woody’s’ll be in it?”

“Oh, yeah, that guy,” Brian said sarcastically.

Emmett had twisted slightly, leaned back, and was stabbing at Michael’s hand with his fork. “Do you mind, personal space? I’m trying to eat here.”

Michael moved a bit sideways, but still hung over the back of the booth

“So, anyway,” Emmett continued around a bite of chicken kiev. What passed for chicken kiev. “I hired this waiter for the party who looked just like Greta Garbo? Only, about seven inches on her.”

“In all the right places,” Ted added.

“Huh,” Emmett chortled. “Let me tell the story! This party, I had all the greats there, Lana Turner, Greta Garbo, Brigitte Bardot, Clara Bow, no Marilyn though, she was declared too tacky.”

“As opposed to Bardot,” Brian commented.

“Shush, you! The customer’s always right. So anyway, Greta was a bottom, who’d have thought that! Nothing but she would have it so. There we were, cleaning up after the party, all the guests had gone home, the hostess was in the kitchen, and Greta leans over to me, and whispers, ‘So, darling, are you going to fuck me my tip or not?’” Emmett’s Garbo was perfectly rendered.

“And of course you did,” Michael added.

“No, my dear, I did not. I am a professional. I would not fuck in a customer’s house while there on a professional basis.”

“Unless you’re working as a naked maid.”

“Or going by to pick up the check.”

“Or maybe if he’s just hotter than the job.”

“I didn’t realize Emmett was versatile?” Ben put in his two cents.

Emmett turned red. “Well, anyway, I was professional that night.”

“Garbo never was your thing.” Ted summed up the reason Emmett wouldn’t fuck the guy in the walk-in.

“No, Garbo’s fine, but he was so… I don’t know, I got the feeling he’d just lie there. And any self-respecting receiver knows, that just won’t do.”

“So you fucked him after you were off premises,” Brian stated, impatient with the story already.

“Yes, well…” Emmett’s attention was grabbed by something outside the booth. “Well, well.” Ted was suddenly smiling, and Michael sported a puzzled squint.

And Justin was dropping his bag under the booth, and sliding next to where Brian’s feet were propped up on the seat of the booth. “Hey.”

“Hey…” They stared at each other for just a second. Then Brian leaned forward, reached out with one hand and grabbed the front of Justin’s t-shirt to haul him forward. Brian’s right leg slid off the booth as he opened the space between his legs, and clutched at Justin’s hip with his other hand to pull his entire body over, settling Justin against him and zeroing in on those lips. Then he paused, and his eyes shifted off the deep red to look up into light blue, but Justin only smirked, and at that look, any conversation could wait anyway, and Brian reached for that ever-present pout, bringing their mouths together, and no talking, good, even better, lips in connection, mouths and tongues in electrifying contact and not yammering at each other, so good, so close, closer. Justin braced himself with one hand on Brian’s chest as his left foot slid onto the floor and he almost fell with the eagerness of the other man’s final pull forward as Brian’s hand moved off Justin’s hip and onto his ass, pressing him upwards. Lips, tongue, scent, all were not enough, he was going for full body contact, and he got it. Justin ripped his mouth away. “I’m gonna fall under the table,” he gasped.

“That’s okay, Justin, he’ll follow you,” Ted put in.

“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t get to watch,” Emmett complained, gesturing with his knife. “Use your knees, scoot that butt up.”

Brian would have glared, but he was too busy taking Emmett’s advice and lifting said butt onto his thigh so Justin’s knees had a better purchase straddling his hips. He brought Justin’s arms up around his neck, settling his own around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him in. Then they were kissing again. This went on.

And on.

“Justin. Justin,” Michael called, unable to get his attention.

“Give them twenty minutes,” Ben told him. “Better yet, try tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding?” Emmett called over the booth. “Try Monday.”

“But we’re going out tonight!”

Ted snorted. “What’s this ‘we’ shit, paleface? I’m not sure those two are going to make it out of that corner.”

Debbie had walked over, and stood there, watching for a minute. “Hey, Sunshine, you here for a visit, or you staying?” she asked.

Justin lifted his head, and Brian’s teeth promptly took his ear lobe. He yelped. “Staying,” was all he managed to get out, before Brian nudged his face back in the place he wanted it. Justin gladly gave back in, squirming as he felt Brian’s dick, hard under him. His own had responded to the first kiss. His breath was turning ragged, and then he started to pull air into that deep place in his chest, the movement of his hips unconsciously responding as his body moved into the singular beat. Shit, this was getting too intense.

Brian didn’t care. He squeezed his arms around Justin’s waist and released, falling into the unconscious rhythm, just wanting him closer, closer than this.

“Jesus, I always joked about it, but I think they might actually fuck in the booth.” Deb stared. Everyone in the diner had turned to watch the two men move from making out to something far more primitive.

“Yeah, like that’s never happened,” Michael replied, turning back to Ben, crossing his arms across his chest and rolling his eyes.

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to leave these two to it, and stroll over to Woody’s for a drink at least?”

“Yeah, definitely. Pecs of Steel await, you guys ready?” Michael replied. Emmett and Ted looked at each other, surprised. They would have expected Michael to bag the whole evening, but he was sliding out of the booth and shaking his head at Ben. Ted put in, “I’m up for a game of pool, but Babylon’s out for me.”

Ben smiled down at Michael. “Think I have a shot at winning the competition?”

“Oh, absolutely, baby,” Emmett answered as the four walked out of the diner.

“Michael?” Ben asked as they walked out.

“Are you kidding? I’ll be the consort of the best chest in Pittsburgh! How can I pass on that?”

Back at the table, Debbie said, “Uh, guys. As good as you are for drawing in customers…” As she spoke, several men came into the diner to watch, nodding and grinning as they passed the booth at which Brian and Justin were, uh, sitting. Debbie repeated, her voice firmer, “Boys.”

Finally, Justin pushed off of Brian’s chest, and turned around to look over at Debbie. Brian nuzzled his neck. Justin felt a shiver race down his spine, but he held Brian off, turning the whole way around to see what Debbie wanted. Brian arms went around his waist, and he hauled his butt firmly into his lap, putting his head on Justin’s shoulder.

Deb smiled down at them. “You two…” Brian was actually smiling back, who’d have thought? For just a moment, then he started kissing Justin’s neck again.

“How’s Carl?” Justin asked.

“Good, thanks for the postcards, Sunshine, we loved them. Well, I loved them, Carl was a little embarrassed by naked men making out on Rodeo Drive.”

“Yeah, I liked that one.”

“They got postcards?” Brian asked.

“You got phone sex,” Justin shot back.

“Geez, I’d definitely prefer that,” Deb responded. “So when’d you decided to come back?”

“I walked into my apartment at 10:30 this morning after being out all night. I decided about two minutes after that. In fact,” Justin continued, grabbing Brian’s hand and scooting out of the seat while dragging Brian out after him, “I came here straight from the airport. Can we go home?” He turned around, and Brian leaned down to kiss him again. Then he grabbed Justin’s bag and propelled him toward the door, plastered against his back, Justin’s arm reaching around to pull him up to his side, and they were through the door and hurrying off.



***

They didn’t speak the whole race home which was fine with Justin, who was exhausted, and Brian, who was thinking of speech only as some odd foreign concept he’d probably dread if he decided to grace it with his consideration. Out of the car, up the elevator, into the loft, bag dropped, keys tossed, and Justin slammed against the loft door as Brian dropped to his knees to pull his pants down for him. “Uh…” Justin breathed as Brian’s mouth took him with no preliminaries.



***

Later, in bed, Brian chuckled. “A few measly blooms, and you come running. Behold his mighty hand!” Brian deepened his voice to threw in the necessary gravelly tone for the last bit. He had decided to grab the proverbial bull by the horns once he’d re-familiarized himself with the other function his tongue was good for. But they needed to get this discussion out of the way. Brian stared up at the ceiling as Justin propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

Justin shook his head. “This isn’t the Ten Commandments, and you aren’t Charlton Heston.” Brian glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you are indeed better looking. Although Charlton Heston on the raft in a ragged loincloth and chains after the battle scene in Spartucus…”

Brian smacked him. “That was Ben Hur, dolt, Spartucus was Tony Curtis.”

“And I didn’t come running because of those flowers,” Justin went on, ignoring the last, “I actually felt bad leaving them behind, they were beautiful.” Mr. Alvarez had said he could arrange for them to be sent to the local hospitals. And his wife worked at a shelter. They would be lovely there. He'd kept the red rose, and the calla lily. He planned to dry them out, and keep them forever, as a reminder. But Brian didn't need to know that. “Why’d you send them?”

Brian hesitated. He had expected Justin to supply his reasons for him, so he could just deny everything while enjoying the results. “Took care of my ever needing to do it again. And you won’t expect me to repeat that one.”

But Justin was shaking his head. “No, seriously.”

“You mean you haven’t figured it all out to your satisfaction in that diabolical head of yours?”

“I’m not doing it for you anymore, Brian.”

That sounded serious. “What, no more rim jobs?”

“Uh… I hope that’s a joke. No, I’m not filling in your blanks anymore.”

“Blanks… I have blanks?”

“Yeah, the part where you act from the heart and expect me to fill in the blank of your true motive because you’re talking shit? That. I’m not doing that anymore. I have enough blanks of my own to work on, I really don’t have the time or energy for yours.”

“I hardly ask you to do any of that.” Brian had curled his brow upward and twisted his mouth.

“Maybe not, but you expect me to.” Justin continued to stare down at Brian’s face, waiting for him to meet his eyes. He wondered if he would feel this level of equanimity if he weren’t so exhausted that he felt he had entered another plane of existence, but Brian’s scowl didn’t bother him at all. Justin had thought about this on the plane, when he wasn’t dozing. Besides, he had decided to return to Pittsburgh not because of Brian’s gesture alone, but because of a lot of things. He wanted to be sure this was clear. “Why did you send the flowers, Brian?”

Brian tossed a forearm over his eyes and laughed. Justin knew that laugh, the I-can’t-believe-you’re-actually-asking-me-this laugh. This was Justin’s cue to push Brian on the arm, to say he understood, to let him off the hook, somehow.

But Justin remained silent. Brian dropped his arm to look up at the young man staring down at him. An enigmatic smile played on the lips hovering just over him. Brian’s eyes shifted.

“No sex either, talk to me first,” Justin commanded.

Groan. “Oh, I can come up with all kinds of things to say to you…”

“Not sex, Brian. Why’d you send ’em? It’s not a contest, it’s a question.” He waited. Nothing. “Fine, if you don’t want to answer me, I can really catch up on my sleep…” He started to roll onto his back.

Brian pounced on him. “You’d actually withhold sex?”

“What are you talking about?” Justin rolled his eyes. Good god, sometimes, dealing with this… “You call the last four hours withholding sex? I’ve had like three hours of sleep in the past two days. I’m in this weird twilight zone. But I still roused enough to go at it with you for hours.”

Brian relaxed his body to cover Justin’s. He lay his head down on his chest. Justin was enjoying the feeling of floating, his head cushioned on the wonderful goosedown pillow, his favorite flesh blanket covering him…

There was a mumbling sound by his sternum.

“What? Brian?”

“I said I wanted you home.”

Justin touched Brian’s shoulder, and ran his hand up through Brian’s hair. He could feel Brian’s breath, warm on his skin. In the quiet that followed Brian’s words, Justin fell into a deep sleep.

***

And was awoken by pounding on the door. “Brian! Open up! I gotta talk to Justin!” Pound pound pound…

Justin blinked his eyes open and looked over at Brian, who was raising himself on an elbow and squinting into the sunlight. A sound like steam escaped his lips. “What the fuck…”

“What time is it?” Justin mumbled, glancing around, finally settling on the clock. Noon. He yawned, stood up, and walked into the bathroom. Brian pulled on a pair of jeans and walked across the room to open the door, letting Michael in. Michael didn’t even greet Brian, just barged past him toward the bedroom.

“Good morning,” Brian said sarcastically, and then he shut the door with a slam.

“Justin! Justin, damn it, come on out.”

“Jesus, Michael,” Justin answered, opening the door and talking around his toothbrush. “Give me a minute.” He shut the door again.

Brian shook his head as Michael gravitated back into the kitchen area, where Brian poured coffee beans into the grinder.

“Did you know that Brett…” Michael began, but Brian pressed down on the grinder, and its horrendous whining filled the room. When Brian let up to shake the grounds in the mill, Michael tried again. “Did you know…” Brian pressed down on the lever again, and the noise again drowned Michael out. Finally, the whirring wound down.

Justin had walked into the kitchen by this time, tugging a red shirt over his head. Brian smoothed down his partner's bedhead as he walked by, on the way to the fridge.

“Justin.”

“Hm?”

“Justin!”

“WHAT Michael?” Justin closed the refrigerator and leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do you know Brett’s been trying to call you since last night? Apparently, someone had a meeting scheduled that he never showed up for.” This last was directed at Brian, who raised an eyebrow, wondering what the fuck he had to do with it.

“Yeah, a meeting that I demanded in the first place,” Justin answered. “And yeah, I know he was trying to contact me, that’s why I turned my phone off.”

Michael stared at him, his jaws clenched. “Why’d you come back here then?”

Brian absolutely hated it when Michael got this way, beating around the bush, never getting to the point.

Justin seemed quite used to this, though. “Is the coffee done yet? You know, I just woke up,” he complained. Brian turned to get a couple of mugs.

“Want some, Mikey?”

“No, I’ve been up since nine.”

“Why don’t you all hang out in the living room and I’ll bring you coffee when it’s done.” That was directed toward Justin, who understood immediately that Brian was not in the mood for this. Shit, who was?

Justin nodded, and moved toward the living room. Michael frowned at Brian, then trailed in Justin’s wake.

“I figured I’d send an email to Brett to let him know I’ll call him tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to sleep.”

“And figure a few things out?” Michael prodded. “Like, when you’re going back?”

“So he called you? What’d he say?”

“Not a lot, just wondered if I’d heard from you because you were supposed to meet him yesterday. I told him you were in Pittsburgh, and he seemed…”

“What? Surprised?”

“No, not surprised at all.”

Justin grimaced and shook his head. “That figures.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Not a lot. In fact, a whole lot of nothing was happening. Alan OD’d…”

“We heard that was exhaustion!”

“Well, it wasn’t. There were set delays, and Brett wasn’t telling me, but I heard the budget is going through the roof…”

“So you just left?”

Brian leaned over the back of the couch and held out a cup of coffee. “Here you go, dear,” he said, in his mocking falsetto.

“Thank you, honey,” Justin answered with a grin.

“Ahem,” Michael cleared his throat.

“What, you want some now?” Brian asked.

“No, I want to get back to the point.”

“Which is?” Justin asked, sipping at his coffee. Brian moved over to the computer, and sat down to check email.

Michael leaned forward. “Your not being out there.”

“It was counterproductive to my goals,” Justin said dryly. He thought he heard a snort from behind him, but he kept his attention on Michael.

“Brett seems to really need you there!”

“No, he doesn’t, believe me.”

“Well, what about me!”

Ah, thought Justin, there it is. “What about you, Michael?” he asked carefully.

“Rage is all I have! If you’re not out there to watch our interests, who will?”

“It’s too late, Michael we sold the story rights. Brett wasn’t consulting me at all anymore…”

“But he still wanted you,” Michael interrupted. His voice was low, the way it got when he was saying something that had been hanging around, unsaid, for god knows how long. Justin’s eyebrows went up. “Yup, he still wanted you, you go out to Hollywood, things aren’t exactly the way you want and you come running home. Art school lets you back in, and you go crying off at how they suck because they didn’t lay out the goddamn red carpet. I didn’t even get a chance to go to school, for fuck’s sake! Don’t you ever know what you have! Even with Brian you keep treating him like he’s a time share…”

Brian called from behind them, “Some of the best sex happens in time shares, Mikey. And for the record, I’m also the duplex, condo, vacation home, and primary residence. And I aspire to be a pied-a-terre. Just so’s you know.”

Thank god he’s in the mood to joke about this, Justin thought. He was grateful to be given a second to pull his thoughts together around this attack.

Michael ignored Brian, to round back toward Justin. “You get this great chance not just to sell our comic to Hollywood, but to actually go out there and safeguard it, and here you are, right back here. Well, what did I expect!”

“Michael, you have no idea what you’re talking about. They were turning Rage into a chase movie!”

“And what were you doing about it!”

“There was nothing I could do about it! You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about!”

“I know I would never in a million years have any of the chances in life you keep throwing away!”

“You know something, *Mikey,*” Justin said, slamming his cup down on the coffee table, “Maybe you’ve just been lucky enough not to have to deal with the kind of crap I have, but I’ll give you a real life demonstration at exactly how good I am at walking away from bullshit.” And he stood up and marched toward the door.

“Hey,” Brian called, and tossed him a cell phone. Justin caught it, put it in his pocket and left, slamming the door behind him.

Brian stretched, unfolded his long frame from the chair, stood, and picked up his mug to bring it to the living area and sit in the spot Justin had just vacated. He looked at Michael.

“What?” Michael bit off.

“What was that all about?” Brian asked mildly, placing a coaster under the mug Justin had left behind.

“Don’t give me that, you heard,” Michael answered, looking away. “It wasn’t about you.”

“It is when you just chased off my afternoon plans.”

“So go to the gym, or the baths.”

Brian shook his head. “Mikey, Mikey…”

“What?” Michael demanded. “Great, so now he got bored with his latest amusement, and it’s bad enough I barely see you as it is, but he’s walked away from probably the only big thing in my life! Sure, he has opportunities dropping from trees, but this is a big deal for us poor schmucks!”

Brian took a long sip of his coffee, moved Justin’s cup to the side and put his own cup down on the vacated coaster. Then he rested his hands on his stomach, and turned a deceptively casual gaze on the smaller man,. “Are you jealous?”

“It’s not that! It’s that… He has everything! He has art school on a stick, Hollywood waiting for him, and…” Michael stopped, clamped his mouth shut.

“Me?”

“He walks in and out of your life like it’s vacation land,” Michael replied. “It has nothing to do with jealousy, Brian, maybe it’s because I’m not just handed these things like he is, I actually appreciate what those opportunities mean, I mean, you’re my best friend… What?” Brian had started to smile. “What’s that smirk for?”

“Well, let me ask you something. How’d Ben do in the Pecs competition last night?”

“You heard us talking about that? I’m surprised your face wasn’t too busy getting sucked off…”

“Michael.”

“Oh, fine. Well, he won. Of course he won! Ben’s got the best pecs in Pittsburgh, and you should have seen the guys he had to beat out. Swear to god, they had to get into a chest pumping competition…”

Brian held up a hand. “So, you had fun, huh?”

“Sure.”

“And who did you go to Water World with last week? And who tagged along to the comic book explosion…”

“Symposium.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, well, Hunter pretended not to dig it, but he did. And Ben actually found some rare illustrated Lovecraft…”

“You have a great time with Ben, don’t you?”

“Well, of course I do, he’s my husband.”

“So why do you keep insisting that I’m your best friend?”

Michael was silent, staring at his friend’s face, searching for something other than what he saw there. “Brian…”

But Brian was shaking his head. “Don’t. Just… let it go, okay? It’s okay. We’re great friends, and we always will be.”

But Michael’s eyes were filling with tears. “If it’s okay, why do you insist on making a big deal out of it?”

Brian bit his lower lip. “Things aren’t as easy for Justin as you think. You grew up surrounded by people who protected you.”

“People like you.”

“When I was there. And your mother. And you both protected me, when you could. And, when you got out of school, you had a job that was safe. I’m not saying that to belittle you, you know I’m not. It’s just different from what Justin has in front of him, and behind him. He is brilliant, you know. When he almost lost the raw talent he’d been given…” Brian paused, and cleared his throat. “But he’s different.”

“You watch out for him. The way you used to watch out for me.”

“We watch out for each other. I know you don’t get that.”

“No, I do. I get it. You need each other.” Michael continued to watch Brian’s face, but Brian had turned away, and bent forward to pick up the mugs. He stood and walked into the kitchen.

Michael trailed behind him. “I’m sorry, Brian…”

“Sorry’s bullshit, Mikey.”

“Yeah, maybe I should just apologize to Justin.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Brian poured another mug of coffee. “He’s had enough bullshit in his life.”

“Well, at least I can go get back your afternoon delight.”

“Now that might be appreciated, but,” Brian added, walking Michael to the door and opening it, “That’s why I tossed him the cell phone.”

“You’re a great friend, Brian, to whatever degree,” Michael said, walking into the hallway, before turning to look back and smile.

“Yeah, it’s a curse.” Then Brian slid the door shut and leaned against it for a moment, shaking his head. Justin had his cell phone. Brian walked over to the bed, and stared around. Where the fuck would Justin keep his own mobile... pants? Now, where had they thrown those last night? Brian turned around, frowned at the living room, until he spotted a piece of clothing over by the loft door. Ah. He retraced his steps, intent on the pockets of Justin's clothing. Time to track the boy down, get his ass back to the loft, naked and in bed, where he belonged, at least for today.