Chapter 12 - The Non-Date.

Justin spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning up the disgusting results of his cat’s unfortunate foray into spicy Italian food. Brian, who was still slightly hungover even after all of Justin’s kind ministrations, wasn’t ready to confront Kitty-Vomit and he accordingly fled the scene in order to prevent his own stomach from copying the cat. Poor Justin, whose head was reeling and whose heart was still pumping wildly from the superb hand job he’d just received, was left to handle the cleanup all alone. When he was done, Justin shuffled off, completely flustered, for a solo shower, trying to clear his head and decide what the fuck he was doing.

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Sunday, Justin was back at work - manufacturing the appropriate fake coughing and sneezing necessary to substantiate his calling in sick the day before - but his head was still back at the apartment, mired in confusion about what he was doing with Brian. It didn’t make for a very productive day at work. First he mis-filed an important invoice which he spent two hours looking for later. Then, he accidentally spilled coffee on his boss who was not amused as he stalked off swabbing at his ruined suit jacket. By mid-afternoon, Justin was in a really foul mood and ready to bite off the head of the next uninformed, witless customer who walked through the door.

Right at that moment, the little bell over the door tinkled and Justin turned around, ready to snarl at whoever dared to come into the gallery right at that very moment. Except that the person who came through the door wasn’t just some witless customer. It was Brian, who came bearing a large cup of what appeared to be coffee with a small, uncertain smile.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Brian said, still with that uncertainty that seemed so out of place on the man’s countenance. “I thought you might need sustenance.”

“Thanks, Brian. I’m desperately in need of caffeine. How did you know?”

“Just a guess. So, want to show me around? I have been known to purchase ridiculously overpriced art on occasion - I assume you work on commission?” Brian said with his customary smirk, effectively obliterating the needy uncertainty Justin had glimpsed earlier.

“I’d be happy to show you around, Mr. Kinney. The Founder’s Gallery is well known for our patronage of unimaginative, snobbish artists who think their shit doesn’t stink. If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you the complete tour and It’ll only cost you that coffee drink you have in your hands right now.”

“That’s a deal, Sunshine,” Brian willingly offered up the coffee he’d brought for the boy and dutifully followed along behind his personal tour guide. “I heard that this gallery is currently showing a piece by an up and coming young artist who is likely to take the entire art community by storm in the not too distant future. You could show me that piece first.”

“I think you’ve bought into the hype a little too much, Mr. Kinney,” Justin cautioned his customer. “But, I think I know the piece you’re thinking about. It’s back here.”

Brian gushed sufficiently over Justin’s sole painting to earn him the extra bonus points he’d been seeking. Then he let Justin show him around the rest of the gallery and explain all the other works they were displaying. As usual, they joked around, the mood was light and the conversation was casual. When they’d viewed the entire collection, Brian looked down at his watch and was disappointed to note that there was still more than an hour before Justin could leave. He didn’t really have a plan here - he was playing things by ear - but he silently wished he’d planned a little better.

“Thanks for the tour, Sunshine. I should probably leave you to your work, but . . . Well, I didn’t have any plans for tonight, so I was wondering if I could convince you to maybe, finally, come out to a club with me for a while. I promise not to keep you out too late. I know you’ve got school in the morning. Just a dance or two, a drink and then I’ll have you home and in your bed in plenty of time to make sure you don’t turn into a pumpkin.”

“Brian. . . I don’t know. . . “ Justin fudged again, still unsure where he wanted this ‘thing’ to go.

“Justin, I thought we already had the discussion about where I want this to go last night. I should apologize if I didn’t make myself clear. I’m willing to let this go wherever it might lead, Sunshine. I never do anything I don’t want to . . . which means I’m doing exactly what I want right now. You just need to figure out what you want. . . “

Brian leaned closer to the youth and lightly brushed against the sweet pink lips but then pulled away before he could be tempted into more. Justin really wanted to lean into that kiss and press for more but he was still hesitant. This was the Brian Kinney who had announced point blank that he didn’t do repeats or boyfriends or relationships in general. What the fuck was Justin doing kissing this guy? Especially since the guy he was kissing was his roommate, at least for the near future. And, after Christmas, he was supposed to start thinking about moving out after which he probably would never see Brian Kinney again. Getting involved with the man at this point was madness. It was self-destructive. It was NOT a good idea, Justin told himself.

“Okay. I get off in about an hour. I should be home by 6:00,” Justin heard himself answering and internally yelled at himself for being so spineless.

“No rush,” Brian informed him as he started to walk out the door. “I’ll be waiting, Sunshine.”

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Brian was freaking out the entire walk back to the apartment. Without even realizing it, he had just asked a guy he sorta liked out on a date! His first actual date! Well, okay, second date, if you counted that fiasco back in college when he'd ended up abandoning the dweeb who asked him out half way through the meal and instead fucking the waiter in the alley behind the restaurant. Brian didn't think that really counted.

This one would count, though. Brian wanted it to count and he wanted it to go well. Unfortunately he didn't have a clue what real dates were like and he only had an hour to figure it out. If he were back in Pittsburgh he could have called Lindsey or maybe even Mikey for advice. Except that, if he were back in Pittsburgh he never would have met Justin and even if he had he would have been too busy living up to everyone's expectations of him to risk getting to know the boy. And, he probably never would have called his friends for advice anyway since all they would do was give him shit. So, all in all, it was probably better that he had to figure this out for himself.

It was also probably a good thing that he didn't have more time to plan something. Brian understood himself well enough to know that his perfectionist tendencies might have forced him to do something too elaborate, too staged, which was really not Justin's thing. So, he'd have to go with something simple. Yeah, simple! He could do simple. Brian Kinney could do anything he set his mind to, so he was sure he could do a simple date. He didn't need Mikey or Lindsey and there was nobody here in NYC that knew him well enough to give him shit about it. Here, he didn’t have any stupid reputation to maintain, either. Moving here was turning out to be liberating in more ways than one.

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Justin had no idea what to expect from a night out with Brian Kinney. But, whatever. What could it hurt? They'd go out to some public place - which, as far as Justin was concerned, was far safer than being alone with Brian at the apartment - they'd have a few drinks, dance a little, it would probably be too noisy to talk so he didn't need to worry about that, and then they'd come home and that would be that. It couldn't be too bad.

"Perfect timing, Sunshine," Brian announced as soon as Justin came through the door, where Justin suspected he'd been waiting. "If you need to change or anything, take your time. I was just going through my email and stuff," Brian seemed ready to jump out of his skin even though he was putting on an overly casual act.

Justin decided to take pity on the poor man. "I won't be long, Brian. Just give me five minutes and tell me how dressed up I should be."

"Oh, I didn't think you'd want to go somewhere dressy. I thought we'd just hit this little pub I found and then maybe a club. But, I could call and make reservations somewhere if you'd rather . . . " Brian was so ready to try to please Justin it was almost painful.

"No! That's fine, Brian. I prefer going someplace casual. Really," Justin insisted and waved Brian back down onto the couch. "Just give me a minute okay?"

Justin changed as quickly as he could and then he and Brian were out the door before either of them had a chance to think twice. The bar that Brian had in mind for dinner and drinks was a cozy little Irish themed pub called 'The Cupping Room'. It was only a short walk from the apartment so they didn't even need to wait for a cab. The place was such a tiny hole in the wall, that even though Justin had been living there for close to a year, he'd never noticed it. Inside, though, the pub was comfy and homelike. They had a decent kitchen too - if you liked burgers and hearty pub food. Brian was especially happy with his choice since it was quiet enough to talk if they wanted but it also had a pool table and darts if he needed a distraction. Brian was actually quite proud of his choice, overall, and gave himself a few extra 'dating proficiency points' in his internal reckoning system.

Justin, on the other hand, wasn't ready for a place like that. It wasn't your standard pick up bar. There wasn't a convenient backroom. There weren't a string of guys cruising for a hookup. It wasn't like anywhere he would have pictured Brian Kinney hanging out when he was out on the prowl for one of his tricks. It was sort of like someplace you'd take a date . . .

Fuck! This WAS a date!

When Brian had casually asked earlier if Justin wanted to go to a club with him, Justin had taken the invitation at face value. Brian was always hitting the clubs. It wasn't any big deal. So, they'd have a few drinks together, like friends or roommates, hit the club and dance - probably not even with each other - then head home while they compared notes on the guys at the club, right? That's what a couple of friends did together. They didn't go out to some cozy little pub where they could sit and have a long, peaceful conversation. That was definitely something you did on a date! What the fuck was going on here?

Brian led the way past the long wooden bar to the rear where there were several little tables set up. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was after that, though. He was proud of himself that he’d even managed this far. Brian wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do next. He briefly contemplated holding Justin’s chair for him as the younger man sat down, but then almost immediately decided that was too hokey even for him. Instead he just sat himself down and handed the bar menu over to Justin.

“So, has there been any interest at the gallery in your painting?” Brian asked, using one of the five carefully prepared small talk topics he’d thought up while he was waiting for Justin to get home from work.

Justin really was NOT prepared for a Brian Kinney that did small talk. It was just one hundred percent out of character for this man. What the fuck?

“Um. . . Yeah, a little. I mean, nobody’s willing to cough up the $300 to buy the thing, but a couple of people have asked about it. So, that’s pretty good, right?”

“Sure. You aren’t a big name yet, so it’ll take time. But, any interest is better than none,” Brian responded, trying to desperately think of something more to add - he didn’t want to have to move on to one of his other ready-to-use topics yet since he only had so many and at this rate they’d run out of stuff to talk about before the waiter came to take their order.

Fortuitously, the waiter chose that moment to show up and ask for their drink orders. Brian thought that drinks were a very good idea - a little social lubricant was exactly what he needed right now. Brian abstemiously ordered only a beer, though, not wanting to risk getting too snockered too early. This dating stuff was turning out to be harder than it looked and he wanted a clear head.

After the waiter trotted off to get their drinks there was an uncomfortably long period of silence at the little table. Justin pretended to be studiously examining the menu while Brian nervously flipped a paperboard bar coaster around on the table. The bar wasn’t very crowded, so there weren’t really a lot of distractions to cover up the lack of conversation, either. Brian really hated awkward silences. He wasn’t accustomed to dealing with them much, since his normal approach whenever he saw a hot guy he wanted to spend time with was to just pull him into the backroom, a nearby alley or the closest bathroom stall. ‘Wanna fuck?’ was typically the entire extent of the conversation. Somehow, that didn’t seem like it would be sufficient in this situation.

Fine, Brian would move on and use his second pre-selected topic - Justin’s school. “How much longer have you got in school?”

“This is my second year at the New York School of Visual Arts,” Justin began to explain, slightly more eloquent on this topic than on the last. “I do have a bunch of transfer credits from my one year at Dartmouth, but most of them don’t do much good at an art school. So, I’ll still have at least a year and a bit more before I can finish my Bachelor’s in Fine Arts. Longer if I want to specialize in graphic arts or some other specific medium. Most people go on after that and get their MFA, but I really don’t want to have to do that if I don’t have to. I’d rather be creating art than studying it. Of course, I have to actually sell some stuff before I can afford to do that.”

“What were you doing at Dartmouth for a year, Sunshine?” Brian asked, full of curiosity. “Somehow I just can’t picture you in that type of environment.”

“It was my dad’s idea,” Justin admitted with more than a little animosity evident in his tone of voice. “He went there and had long planned that I would be a good little clone, following in his footsteps all the way through a business degree and then taking over at his company when he was ready to retire. Unfortunately, he didn’t plan on his little boy turning out gay and preferring art over business. . ." Justin seemed to be distracted at that point, looking off into the distance at some part of his past that Brian couldn’t see.

“So, dad wasn’t exactly enthused by you switching to art school, I take it?” Brian ventured a guess.

“No. He really wasn’t. In fact, he immediately disowned me, told me not to bother coming home again and warned me to stay away from my little sister so that I wouldn’t contaminate her with my ‘disgusting lifestyle choices’.” Justin responded acerbically, grabbing the beer that the waiter brought at that moment and taking a big swig to wash away the bitter taste that speaking of his father always left in his mouth.

“Here’s to fathers,” Brian offered, holding his own beer out for a toast. “May they all rot in hell with their unrealistic expectations and lousy career advice.”

”Do we really have to ruin an entire evening by talking about our worthless fathers?” Justin said, refusing to toast to his loser parent, even if it was in jest.

“Definitely not!” Brian quickly agreed. “That’s not exactly my favorite topic either.”

The ensuing lull in the discourse at this point was only briefly filled by the waiter coming back to take their food orders. Brian used the opportunity to review his remaining small talk options and came to the inevitable conclusion that they were all total duds. So much for small talk. It was never Brian’s strong point anyway. In fact, back home, he would have ridiculed his friends for any conversation that was as lame as this one had been. It was obviously time to move on.

“So, Sunshine,” Brian said once the waiter had moved away. “Is this the dullest conversation you’ve ever had or is it just me? Should it be this difficult? We always seem to have plenty to say at home. So what, exactly, am I doing wrong here?”

“It does feel a little . . . Stilted?” Justin agreed, but didn’t offer more.

“Okay, I give up, Justin. Confession time. See, I’ve only ever been on one other date before and that didn’t go very well. I have no clue how to do this. I’m scared shitless by the mere concept of a date and I suck at small talk. All I’ve got left here is the weather and those damn Yankees; neither of which topics are likely to impress you. So, you’re going to have to meet me halfway here.”

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d EVER been on a date before this. I’d say you’re not doing too bad for your second try. You kind of need to relax a bit though. You’re trying too hard,” Justin chuckled at the idea of the always smooth Brian Kinney having to work so hard at something as plebeian as a mere date. “So, what happened on your first date?”

“I left my date in the middle of the meal, took the waiter out to the alley and fucked him and then never went back into the restaurant,” Brian admitted with a self-deprecating laugh that melted Justin’s heart. “Like I said, it really didn’t go that well. I never wanted to try the experiment again after that. Well, until today. . . “

“Brian Kinney, are you flirting with me?” Justin teased.

“Maybe. Do you like it? I could maybe do it more if it meant you would help out a bit more with the conversation thing.” Brian offered coyly.

Justin laughed loudly at Brian’s little confession. Brian might not be good with small talk but he was excellent at flirting. And, after that, the date thing was much easier. The boys got back their usual playful camaraderie with each other. They talked about everything under the sun: Brian’s playboy life back in Pittsburgh, his friends and his time at school, his work today and how hard it was to move up in a place like Kennedy & Collins. This led back to Justin’s art and before they knew it, Brian was asking the young artist’s help with one of the campaign ideas he wanted to present as an alternative to the one the company was working up now. When a pool table opened up, they moved the conversation over there. Before the end of their second game, the pair had come up with a fabulous idea and Justin had already done five or six rough sketches on the backs of beer coasters to illustrate the concepts.

They never did make it to a club that evening.