“He asked you to move in with him?” Daphne asked her sometimes-roommate, who leaned against the foot of the couch, and accepted the pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream before he handed off the Cherry Garcia to her. It was a weird combination, but it worked. Kind of like the two of them.

“Yeah, can you believe it?” Justin answered, sucking in the pink ice cream.

“And you said…”

“That I’d think about it.”

Daphne paused, and then looked up from where her spoon was digging around a chunk of Heath. “What do you mean, you said you’d think about it?”

“Well, I am your roommate, just moving out suddenly would be kind of rude…”

Daphne snorted. “Yeah, right. What’s the real reason?”

Sometimes it sucked, having a friend who knew him that well, though it definitely saved time. Not having to defend himself, explain, backpedal, evade, say one thing while working his way to a seemingly unrelated point, that all was pretty convenient. And he could tell Daphne anything and not worry about it getting to sources he’d rather keep his opinions from. “Um, well, Brett offered me a job. Assistant art director on Rage, the movie.”

“Holy shit!” Daphne stared, wide eyed. “Wow! So, what, you’d like, move to California?”

“Just for a few months. Well, six-ish.” Or eight-ish. Or more, Justin had heard about movie schedules, and he wasn’t an idiot.

Daphne reached for the Cherry Garcia and handed the Heath Bar Crunch back. “So, what? What did Brian say when you told him about that?”

“Uh, well. I haven’t exactly told him that yet.”

Daphne stared at Justin. She said nothing. She just waited.

Justin stared back. Then he stood abruptly, avoiding her stare. He walked over to his coat, and took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket.

“Hey, don’t smoke that shit in here,” Daphne said. Justin just raised an eyebrow as he withdrew a joint from the pack and waved it at her. “Oh,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “Okay, that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I know,” Justin said, lighting it up. He puffed on it, and then walked over to lie back on the couch, before handing the joint to her. “I think we did this wrong. It should be joint first, ice cream second.”

Daphne shrugged. “We still have Dove bars and Hagan Daz Crème de Leche in the freezer.”

“Chips?”

“Salt and Vinegar and barbecue. You said you had a Brian crisis, I happened to be shopping when you called."

"I said I had a personal crisis, not a Brian crisis."

"There's a difference?"

"Daphne..."

"Yeah, anyway. Figured we’d need all this to fill the void.” She gestured at him with the bag of chips.

“You are the best. When you aren't the worst. Did you get…”

“Two six packs of Molson and a bottle of Stoly.”

“Molson? We’re flush this week?”

“Got a check from home. I know you detest Budweiser, and if you’re going to pull the drama princess thing, the least I can do is supply the proper drinks. Hang on.” Daphne handed back the joint, walked to the kitchen and came back with two beers and the bags of chips. She sat down on the floor, and turned a scowl onto Justin. “Okay, now tell me why you’re being a complete moron and not talking to Brian about this?”

“I’m not being a moron, I just don’t know what to do.”

“You’re being a moron.”

“If I had told him about the job, he wouldn’t have asked me to move in with him in the first place.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. He’d tell me the job sounded like what I wanted, good career move if that’s what I wanted, he wouldn’t hold me back from what I wanted, blah de blah blah blah. Everything else is so good for me to experience. Except for him. It’s never about what he wants. It’s never about us.”

“He wants you to move in with him,” Daphne pointed out.

“Yeah, as long as he thinks I was a sure bet to say yes.” Daphne sighed, but Justin was steaming up to full rant mode. “You’d think he’d stick out his neck for us just once, but it’s like, he expects me to be him at that age. And even he’s not himself at that age anymore, so why should I be? He thinks I should fuck everyone else and take care of my own needs, even at his expense, even at our expense, just steam ahead into my brilliant career and fuck anyone who gets in the way, oh, but, never fuck anyone more than once of course… so he still doesn’t really believe I’m really interested in being in a RELATIONSHIP, and fuck it if I won’t use the word. I can’t seem to figure out a way to make him hear me when I try to tell him in so many words: Brian, I am not you!”

Daphne washed down a salt and vinegar chip with her beer. She handed the bag to Justin, who took it morosely. “You’re both morons,” she declared, taking a final toke off the joint and passing it to Justin. He stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Uh… there’s one other problem.”

“Yeah?”

“I kinda told Brett I wanted the job. And I’d be coming back. To Hollywood. For the job. I kinda said yes.”

Daphne stared at him, biting back her initial response, deciding instead to lull him in before letting him have it. “Really. Why?”

Justin sighed. “I don’t know, really. Well, I do. It really is a great opportunity. And… I guess I was on kind of a high, I mean, just getting in from fucking Connor James…”

“YOU FUCKED CONNOR JAMES??!!!”

Justin giggled at her reaction. He had been looking forward to springing that on her.

“HE’S GAY??!!!” She stopped and scowled at him. “Oh, fuck you, Justin, you’re only trying to distract me.”

Damn, so close, but worth another shot. “Yup, he’s gay, and yup, he likes to take it up the…”

“Stop!! Stop, stop! Okay, I get it, you’ve sufficiently crushed another illusion. Of course he’s gay, I was far too attracted for him to be straight.” She shook herself to get back on point. “Doesn’t matter anyway, a buzz from fucking a celebrity is no excuse. You want to try explaining the real reason you didn’t discuss a major life decision with your life partner before making that big a commitment to a job across country?

“I don’t know if we are. Life partners.” The giggling had stopped. Justin was back to maudlin.

Daphne grabbed a handful of barbecued chips. “Oh, please. Frankly, I’m surprised you and Brian haven’t killed each other yet, but I’m getting close to doing it for you.” She took a long swallow of beer. “Which do you want, your relationship or Hollywood?”

“It’s not that simple,” Justin replied.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he glared at her, “He tosses me out of his life like every other week. He won’t open up to me when major life shit like, oh say, cancer? happens. And lately, it seems we’ve been apart way more than we’ve been together. I mean, we’ll mention vacations but never actually take them – and I say mention because I can’t remember the last time we actually talked. The only quality time we’ve spent together in the last, what, months? was competing for a trick, and then, when Brian actually did get back on his feet, he was training for that bike ride thing.”

“And you wish he were… riding you?”

“Uh, no that’s fine. But maybe communicating?”

“Brian.”

Justin sighed.

Daphne continued, “C’mon, you know how Brian is. It’s easier for him to just fall back into himself when things get nuts. He resists the Vulcan mind meld thing.”

“You’re such a geek, Ms. Spock.”

“Well, you know the reference, what does that make you?” Daphne stuck her tongue out at him. “Besides, who’s not communicating? So what, are you going to fix this by running away? Again, I might add? But, I guess that’d show him.”

Justin froze as his glare turned into something more like dismay. Then he slumped, and closed his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck a duck.”

“Really. A duck. Is that your latest thing?”

“Fine, fuck you, Daphne.”

“Nope, nobody twice except Brian, remember?” She stopped teasing. “You have to tell him. Seriously, Justin.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t want him to think I’m running away from him. I’m not. I mean… I just need some space to figure out how I feel. It’s like, I’ve just felt kind of, blah lately.”

“You seem more, I don’t know, confused. Maybe, angry?”

Justin’s eyes popped open. He didn’t deny it. But he just shrugged. “So what do I do? How do I tell him about this job without him thinking I’m leaving him?”

“You’re going to have to just tell him and encourage him to respond with more than his tongue down your throat. But hey! that’s probably a good place to start. He’s more likely to feel, um, charitable toward your side of things if you, you know, soften him up first, get him in the mood he likes to be in.

Justin smirked. “Believe me, Brian doesn’t soften up in those moods.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, I don’t mean physically, I mean when he’s more receptive to suggestion, to your side of things. Like, emotionally, sort of, you know, rub up on him, tell him when he’s feeling, um…”

“Hot? Use my seductive powers?”

“Yeah, when he’s less likely to rip your head off… DON’T,” she warned, seeing the teasing glanced slanted her way at that last bit.

“Fine, but you,” Justin said, “are one sneaky ass bitch.”

Daphne beamed brightly. “Yeah! That’s why you talk to me, we do good battle strategy.”

“Call you General Chanders.”

“Heh heh… I like ‘sneaky ass bitch’ better. Is it time for vodka?”

Justin ignored that last question. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. I’d better go tell Brian what’s up.” Justin stood, grabbed his coat and bag. “If Michael talks to Brett before I talk to Brian, this’ll be very bad for me.”

“Fucking Michael.”

“Ugh, don’t give me any mental pictures.”

“He’s an asshole,” Daphne clarified.

“Not helping…” Justin teased, shrugging into his coat.

She growled in frustration. “Fine! You and Brian may be morons, but Michael is dumb as dirt! He has no clue! He thinks he’s protecting Brian but he’s only protecting something of his own that doesn’t even exist, if it ever did, a fantasy relationship he made up for himself that doesn’t help anyone, not even Michael, which he would realize if he weren’t as thick as a post! And he needs to hold his utensils like an adult, not a four-year old!”

Justin tried not to laugh at the pleasure of having a friend who was totally on his side, even as he mentally winced at the accusation that Michael was casting Brian in a fantasy role of his own making. That hit a little too close to home. “Daphne!”

She scowled. “Fine, go talk to Brian before Michael gets to him. But Justin…”

Justin turned, his hand on the door.

“Brian loves you, maybe not as much as I do. Just don’t forget that he really does love you.”

Justin’s smile faded as he walked out.

Alone in the apartment, Daphne went to put the vodka in the freezer so it would be cold when Justin returned, in tears more likely than not. She sighed. They really were a couple of idiots.