“Justin. Justin. Justin!”

So easy to tune Tom out, and just lean up against that hard, warm body that could make him forget that they were standing on a movie set, to just allow his tongue to stroke Brian’s, to accept the caress in return, to feel Brian’s hands play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, to move his own hands over Brian’s forearms, to feel the smooth skin under his palms, feeling the goosebumps rise on the skin as Justin ran his thumbs against the tender flesh at Brian’s wrists…

“Justin!”

Damn, the voice yelling at him was just too close now. Brian broke off kissing first, to look over at the skinny, twitchy guy headed for them with a clipboard. “Tom?” he whispered in Justin’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Mmh…” Justin responded.

“Fuck him.” Brian licked Justin’s lower lip, and leaned in for more, but Justin had noticed that the lights were up and people were starting to stare. He reluctantly pushed at Brian’s shoulder, even as they shared a last, lingering kiss of hello. A greeting that had gone on for twenty minutes. Maybe more.

Tom stared at Brian for just a moment, then turned to his assistant. “Where’s Robin? I need her to confab with the lighting guys, she seems to have a rapport with them, they keep using the wrong green, keep switching to the yellow…” He peered at Brian again.

Justin would not introduce them. “I can go talk to them if you like,” he offered.

“Really? Robin…”

“I can do it, Tom,” Justin grated, turning to Brian. “Stay here, I’ll be back.” And he headed off.

Tom turned away abruptly, and Brian watched the younger man move around the congregation of people where the shoot was taking place, to disappear into the building that formed the left side of the alley.

“Hey,” Michael said, moving to Brian’s side. He had had enough tact to leave them alone for their reunion. Besides, he had been fascinated with the scene being shot, then reshot from another angle. He also enjoyed watching Connor James, even if he had been simply lounging in a chair, doing nothing. The actor to play Rage was seriously hot.

“Oh, hey, Mikey. Thanks for calling.”

“Is he okay?”

“Fine, I didn’t let him watch it.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Michael smirked. “I know you didn’t want to watch that scene. But I thought Justin needed you here.”

“And I didn’t watch it,” Brian answered, slinging his arm around Michael’s neck, punching him lightly in the arm and smiling as Michael shoved him away.

“Hey, Michael!” Both men turned toward the lights. Brett waved them over.

“Ready to thrill your fans, Rage?”

“Born ready,” Brian repeated the well-worn phrase.

***

Thank god that was over, Brian thought. Movies were boring. Worse than photo shoots. Thirty minutes to prep the scene, two minutes to shoot, thirty minutes to set up for a retake, another angle, another two minutes of action, over and over. Boring. Apparently the lights for Rage’s mind-distortion field needed to be filmed four thousand times in a variety of colors. The lights were mounted from a cat walk over the alley, between the buildings. Tom and Brett huddled after each scene, discussing pros and cons of each shade. Every so often Justin had to run up a different shade, which Brett and Tom needed to personally examine before sending it up, and off Justin would run, up three flights so the lighting guys could put it in place. Thrilling job. Not that Brian didn’t understand that sort of quest for perfection. But hell, he’d have figured it out, well beforehand. Or at least limited the possibilities. These guys must have money to burn.

He had wanted Justin to come back with him to the Four Seasons, but Justin said he had to be up early and his place was right around the corner. Since he was already yawning, and Brian wanted as much quality time as he could get, he sent Michael with the car to take advantage of the reservation after dropping them off at the compound where Justin lived. He followed Justin into the tiny room, not bothering to look around before plastering himself onto Justin’s back and bearing him onto the futon that was shoved up against the far wall under the single window. They tore at each other’s clothing, bodies moving together fast and furious, coming quickly and hard. Only after did Brian manage to get a look around.

“Jesus, this is where you live?”

Justin shrugged, leaning back against the pillow, suddenly exhausted. “Where did you live when you were 20?”

“Yeah, all right, good point.”

“I’m not here much. Besides, the studio picks up the tab – you know, you get what you pay for.”

They were silent for a while, just touching each other. Justin figured he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, the way Brian’s hand was teasing out those familiar sensations as it brushed against his stomach, moving up his side...

“You’ve lost weight.” Brian propped himself on his elbow to look down at Justin’s body. He ran his gaze up to his face. “And you’re not getting enough sleep, are you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m busy. You know what that’s like.”

“Hm…” Of course, Justin was right, he was not one to tell anybody else to eat and sleep. He wanted to pursue this anyway, but had no idea how to do it. He didn’t do the concerned mother thing. Shit, he resented the concerned mother thing. So what the fuck was he supposed to say, while not sounding like a total hypocrite? He had watched Justin get ordered around by that asshole Tom; Brian had hated the guy on sight, and no, it had nothing to do with the fact that Justin had gone on ad nauseum, every time they talked on the phone, about how much this guy sucked. But that’s where you started in any business, right at the bottom. Not that Justin should be here at all… But shit, that was not his call, was it?

Justin propped himself onto his elbow and faced Brian on the bed. His eyelids fell halfway down, and he reached out to touch the hand Brian was stroking his rib cage with, lacing their fingers together, and pulling Brian’s arm away from his frame.

“You know, Daphne came into my office and ordered me to come and drag your ass home.”

Justin groaned, pulled his hand away and used it to pull the pillow over his head. “I hope you told her to go to hell and stop telling you what to do.”

“Hm... I told her you probably hadn’t finished fucking your way through the clubs. How are they?”

Justin’s voice was muffled. “Who has time to go clubbing? Some of the guys have asked me, I always end up passing out and sleeping instead. Nobody sleeps around here…” Then Justin’s head peered out from under the pillow. “Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here? To tell me that Daphne wants me to come back?”

Brian couldn’t read Justin’s face at all. He was getting too good at that blank look. “I actually have to go down to San Francisco tomorrow, feel out a new face for the Brown Athletic campaign.”

“Decided not to go with that Drew guy again?”

“Nah. Mikey and I piggy-backed our way on a flight out.”

“Ugh, I just got an awful mental picture, don’t do that to me.”

“Now now, it’s all fun and games. Or, it’s NOT all fun and games. It’s not as much fun without you around.”

“Please tell me Daphne hasn’t gotten to you.”

Brian stared at him. Did he want to show his cards at all? Had they gotten to that point? “Did I tell you I won that bet?”

“What?”

“The bet. The trick. You know, I take you to Ibeza if you win, you go back to school if I win. Well, I won.”

Justin stuck the pillow behind his head. Man, it felt good just to rest it. Even if the pillow wasn’t goosedown, like the ones in the loft. “So how come you never told me?”

Brian put his hand back on Justin’s chest, played with his nipple. “Well… I didn’t bring it up before because, well, the guy was an oncologist.”

“An oncol… oh holy fuck. Don’t tell me that’s how you found out about the cancer?”

“Only I could come up with a way to get a testicular exam and blown at the same time,” Brian returned, twisting his lips.

Justin was not laughing. “Holy fuck, and you walked around with that, for what? All that time, and no one knew. Cuz otherwise you would have been crowing your victory to all of Pittsburgh.”

Brian sighed. Damn it, he did not want to bring this up again. “That isn’t the point, the point is, I won the bet…”

“No, Brian, that is the point. You can come to see me and not tell me you want me back in Pittsburgh even though you obviously do, you can put the words in Daphne’s mouth, you can point out how shitty my room is and that we could be at the Four Seasons right now or even at the loft all on your dime, but your actions make very clear exactly what you think of a guy who would actually depend on anyone but himself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, when you showed up tonight, I was watching that horrible scene being played out. It was hard, but I was getting through it. Then, when I felt you against my back, it was such a relief to sink into you. It’s too easy to do that, to close my eyes and just lean into you, when things become too overwhelming.”

“What’s wrong with leaning a bit?”

“What the fuck do you mean, what’s wrong with leaning a bit? You know exactly what’s wrong with leaning a bit. You never lean. And besides, you can’t always be there for me to lean into. You wouldn’t even have been there earlier tonight if you hadn’t had business in California. You’re here right now for Kinnetic, not for me.” Brian winced, but Justin continued. “And anyway, how do I know you’re going to be there at all, that you won’t just throw me out of your life because you’re too tempted by my presence to forget you aren’t superhuman, that superman is actually tempted to lean a bit himself? It’s okay if I do it, but you… No way.”

Brian stared at him, saying nothing.

And Justin went on, relentless. His temper had taken him from his original point about Brian not revealing his cancer diagnosis, to how Brian refused to own his own desire for Justin to come back to Pittsburgh. On a roll, Justin steamed on: “You really want me to lean on you because when I’m weak, you feel stronger. I can’t do that anymore. I’ve had enough of making a complete ass out of myself when I first met you, chasing you around like some goddamn puppy. I’m pretty sure I caused myself enough humiliation to last this lifetime. I’m not a child to be coddled by sugardaddy Brian. Clinging like a needy weakling.”

“Justin.” Brian finally found his voice. He ignored the “sugardaddy” comment, not sure why Justin seemed determined to piss him off. Shit, this was not the way he wanted this conversation to go. “We’ve all been there.”

“Not you. It’s okay for everyone to be weak and dependent, but not you.”

“No, even me.” Brian tried to play the waiting game, but Justin raised his eyebrows, clearly wanting more than that. Brian relented. “College, sophomore year. I was the teacher’s assistant. Couldn’t get enough of the guy. He enjoyed the attention. Loved the attention. We fucked constantly, he told me I was special, beautiful, he couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he couldn’t help himself… all that cliché bullshit. I eventually found out the hard way I was one in a long list of that teacher’s pets. Nothing special about me. I’d dogged the man, licking his ass for almost a year. And then, all I heard was get away, I don’t want you, I’m done with you now. It took me longer than I care to admit to get the message. So I know what it’s like.”

“What happened?”

Brian shrugged. “Well, his wife found out via anonymous note. Then the dean found out, right after the chair of the guy’s department. Yeah, in the most obvious way – it was my job to lock his office door, oops. Probably a bad idea to send a note to the chairman requesting a meeting right at the time I had my, uh, session with him. Again, oops. The entire student body found out, of course, he was fired, and divorced. Rumors were he was teaching composition at a community college in Florida, last I heard. Fuck if I cared. I’d sent the message out - no one fucked with me. Ever. I went after him, I got him. And never again, I was never going to feel that way again, that humiliated. For the rest of the time I was there, people didn’t know whether to revile me or just be scared of me.” Brian chuckled sourly, remembering. He was not proud of what he had done, but the memory of that man, that feeling, still struck a nerve.

“And you weren’t afraid I was going to do something like that to you?”

“Everyone already knew I was an asshole who screwed every hot guy in sight and never got attached. What did I have to lose?”

“Oh, nothing… just your reputation as an asshole who screws every hot guy in sight and never gets attached?”

“Down, puppy.” Brian twisted his lips, amused at the look Justin shot him at his use of that word. “Your revenge has been much, much worse than mine was.”

Justin snorted, swatted at him.

“Well, so after that, I fucked everything in sight, lots of guys fascinated with the bad boy.” He stopped the story, looked hard at Justin. “That’s not your way, Justin. I ruined the guy’s life, and sure, he deserved it. But you don’t have it in you to be that way.”

“I never wanted to be you. I only wanted to be with you.”

“I forget that sometimes. Or maybe I just didn’t get that.” Justin expected Brian’s comment to end the conversation, but Brian surprised him by continuing. “When you first started coming around, maybe that’s why I put up with you. I didn’t want you to get hurt like I had. And, well, I saw myself in you. When I was younger. You knew what you wanted and went after it. And anyone who got in your way would get run over. I didn’t want you to hit the brick wall I did.” Brian shut up. Words couldn’t make clear the wrenching pain of learning who he actually had been, well, who he had not been, to that man he adored. The ego blow had been tremendous. Even crushing the guy’s life had not restored his emotional balance, what there had been of it. And even if it had been deserved… learning at 21 that you can ruin someone else’s life, getting a taste of that kind of power, it was dangerous. For better or worse, it led him to where Justin had found him.

But even now, the memory made him cringe. He had entered college with hope that his parents were the exception; he certainly had said to them as well as to others that they were full of shit. He knew loving households existed. And he had hoped that someone with whom he would feel that essential bond, that organic connection you only find in families and lovers, that he would find that in someone who would recognize his essential worth.

Professor Garrity had crushed that hope, brutally. There had been no turning back after that.

“No brick wall, just a bat,” Justin said quietly. “You couldn’t spare me that. And you can’t spare me from what I have to do here. This is for me.”

“What, staying in a shitty room, getting bossed around by an asshole while your fabulous director consults you when it’s convenient?”

“Yeah,” Justin shot back. “I’m doing what I can to protect what’s mine, what’s really mine. Rage is mine. Well, and Michael’s, but it’s the only thing I have right now.”

Brian opened his mouth to say something, but Justin held up his hand. “I don’t know if I’ll have the guts to say this to you ever again, god knows I’ve been walking on eggshells enough – no, not because of the cancer, because of me, so just let me say this.” He took a deep breath, and looked away from Brian as he went on. “You had that asshole teacher crush your romantic dreams, I had Hobbes. With one swing of that bat, it was like an essential piece of me was just gone. You know, that whole Pink Posse thing, I could have killed Hobbes? I had that gun in his face, I could have pulled the trigger. But I walked away, thinking, then, that he wasn’t worth it. And it was like I was high for days after that.”

Yeah, Brian remembered that, Justin had seemed transformed, not angry anymore, but not exactly happy. More like feverish, or on uppers. And then he had settled down, and seemed, well, subdued. And then there had been Brian’s medical issues, and Justin’s emotional affect had taken a back seat. And then there had been Brian’s determination not to let a little thing like cancer stand in the way of biking over 300 miles. And Justin’s seat in the back seemed to recede, further and further.

So Brian kept quiet, letting Justin have front seat tonight. Shit, it was about time he did. Obviously this was a long time coming.

“But I think now that I walked away because I realized that Hobbes had nothing to do with it anymore. I could have killed him, and nothing would have changed. Well, I might have gotten locked up. That’s about it.” Justin lifted himself up, leaned against the wall at the head of the futon. “He didn’t matter. It wasn’t about him anymore. Before he bashed me, I had, well, belief. No one could stop me. Not you, not my parents, nobody. I knew, deep in my heart, from the minute I met you, that you were the one, and the more you let me around you, the more you fucked me, the more I was certain that you felt the same way, I knew it, everything in me shouted it. It wasn’t just that I wanted you, it was that our lives wouldn’t be right if we weren’t together. The Universe would weep, it was The Truth, not just my truth, but really, really the truest thing I had ever encountered, bigger than God. And all I had to do was to convince you to see the light, and you would get it. You would be convinced. How could you not? It was the truth, you were big on that, no bullshit.”

Brian bit his lower lip, wishing he could stop this; he did not want to hear this, but he forced himself to listen.

“After Hobbes hit me… I woke up realizing that I was wrong, about everything. It was just me, all along. Anyone could stop me, anytime they wanted. I was really freaked out.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brian said, quietly.

“And I started walking on eggshells around you, because I realized, it wasn’t just a given thing, me and you. That thing between us. I had made it all up, out of sheer will. And I was terrified you were gonna call me on it, tell me I was full of shit, just completely wrong, all along. And that would be the end of it. So I needed to hear, I so needed to hear from you that it wasn’t just me, that you knew about that thing I used to believe in, I needed you to help me find it again. But you didn’t. And so I found someone who would tell me that thing existed, even if it wasn’t you.”

Brian closed his eyes, with no idea of what to do about this. He could feel a pressure building inside him with nowhere to go.

“But Ethan was bullshit too, it was all just me making up stuff to believe in, again.” Justin paused, took a deep breath. “Brian, I know you love me. When you took me back without punishing me for fucking up with Ethan…”

“You did what you had to do.” Brian did not open his eyes. He couldn’t bear what he might see.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. When you let me come back, understanding it all… I knew then that you love me. But then, it was like…” Justin stopped.

Brian opened his eyes, saw that Justin had crossed his arms and was looking away, toward the door. “What? It was like what?”

“It was like… I realized that I made everything up. I knew you loved me, and I still love you, but…”

“Justin, damn it…”

“It just wasn’t the same. I was afraid. I’m still afraid, all the time, that it’ll just go away. Before Chris hit me, I thought there was something there, something that wasn’t just me or you, something bigger than us, meant to be. Like a mountain we sat on or something. Or, like a house built just for us. After I woke up… it was gone. That belief. The conviction. I felt like I couldn’t believe in anything.” He shifted, closing the distance, putting his forehead on Brian’s shoulder. “Everything that happened to me after I came out, my father, Hobbes, even you… I just felt, I lost something. Something essential to who I am… was.”

Brian reached over, stroked his hair. “It’s better this way.”

Justin barked a laugh of disbelief, raised his head, and grabbed Brian’s hand. “Better? It feels like shit!”

“Yeah, and you’re in the real world. You see the way the world is. You find what you want to believe in, you don’t make things up, instead you find things that really exist because you choose them for yourself. Not the fairy tale shit, none of your roses and signs from God. Real world, every day, gritty things that mean something. You’re in control of where you want to be, and what defines you for yourself. Nobody else makes a house for you, Justin, you build one yourself. And if you don’t work on it, it disappears.”

“I guess that’s what I’m getting at. Rage is mine. It’s not someone else, outside my control. I’m just not so sure I like this new world I woke up into. Sometimes I’m not sure I like myself anymore.”

“I do.” Brian shifted, turned his weight on the body next to him, forcing Justin down on the bed. He stretched over him, leaned down, took the flesh of Justin’s neck in his teeth and sucked on it gently. Then he lifted his head. “But maybe I’m wrong.” He leaned in again, kissed Justin, then turned his attention to the jaw line.

“About what? You don’t like me? Brian?” Justin shoved at his shoulder, half-heartedly.

Brian propped himself up on his elbows, framed the young man’s face in his forearms, and twined the blond hair around his fingers. “Not that. I think we create what we believe in. But maybe… anything you create, even with someone else, well, maybe it’s bigger than just your idea of it.”

Justin chuckled. “I know you don’t believe that.”

Brian raised his head from exploring the space at the top of Justin’s jaw, just below the ear. “You don’t know what I could believe. Besides, you’ve been gone two months. The world has changed.” He kissed him again, lingering, then pulled back, laughing at the way Justin’s head strained upward, following his retreating lips. “And I’ve been through life-changing events myself, recently.” He became more serious. “Things always change. But if you figure out you can change with them, then you can stay on top of it. You can’t just mourn what you’ve lost, you can also appreciate what you’ve gained.”

“Do you ever listen your own advice?”

Brian knew then how to relieve the pressure that had built inside, as if it were ever in doubt; he ran his tongue along Justin’s clavicle, then bit his way up his neck. He hesitated at his chin, and pulled back. Justin opened his eyes, a smile on his lips for the first time since they had walked into the shitty little apartment. Better. Brian said, “That advice is just for you, not for me. You keep saying you’re not me. From the first night you showed up, you were well on your way to being your own strong, outspoken, incredibly hot homosexual. No matter whose life you chose to force your way into.”

“Ugh, that again, I must have been so totally annoying.”

“Yeah…” Brian rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “There was this kid, following me around, and fuck if I was responsible for him, but fuck if he wasn’t the most…”

“What?” Justin ran his hand down Brian’s chest, lingering in the spot just over his right biceps, an area of heightened sensitivity that never failed to gain a reaction.

Brian drew in his breath sharply. “Ever the persistent one… You were just ripe, the temptation was too big for me. I had to keep biting into you.”

That did it; Justin was instantly hard. He pounced, pinning Brian's arms overhead. “Yeah? Did you expect me to bite back?” Justin leaned down, nipping at Brian’s neck, on the way down to more interesting places. When he reached Brian’s stomach, he looked up. “Hey, Brian…”

“Hmph?” The feeling of the sure fingers lightly skimming the inside of his thighs, moving upward, had brought Brian closer to his favorite place where it was all sensation and no thinking.

“You should just ask me yourself.” Justin meant, if you want me to come home, but he didn’t add that. He was afraid Brian would actually take him up on it. And he didn’t know how he would respond. He wasn’t really ready to answer, but he knew he wanted to be asked.

“For fuck’s sake… fine. Will you please blow me?”

Relieved he had been misunderstood, Justin pressed his lips to Brian’s skin, and joined him in feeling without thought.