Chapter 10 - Reactions.

Justin had been in his room for over an hour now. Brian was hesitant to bother him. Brian really didn’t want to deal with whatever was going on - this thing that was happening between the two of them, whatever it was - but he did need to talk to the boy about that call from Lindsey. So, when another fifteen minutes had gone by and Justin still hadn’t come out of the room, Brian tentatively knocked at the door.

“Come in.” Brian heard the response and pushed the door open. Justin was standing in front of his easel in the corner of his room and slapping paint haphazardly onto a canvas. The artist seemed totally absorbed in his work.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Justin,” Brian started off weakly, and then when he heard how lame he sounded he shook his head and decided to try a different tack. “My kid is going to be in town the weekend before Christmas. I told his moms that he could stay with me. They’re going off to do some shopping and have some alone time or whatever shit carpet munchers do. You got a problem with my son camping out here?”

“Uh. . . No. No problem,” Justin was floored by so much in that statement that he didn’t really even know how to respond. “You’ve got a kid?” That seemed like as good a place as any to start.

“Yeah,” Brian admitted, his whole person becoming somehow softer and more human when he started to talk about the kid. “I donated the necessary ingredients to a college friend of mine when she and her lady lover decided they wanted to procreate. His name is Gus. He’s only three. I don’t get to see him much, especially now that I moved here, so it’ll be cool to get some time with him. I’ll have to take off from work for a couple days, though. I’m sure that will go over like a lead balloon. Since I’m the new guy I don’t have any vacation accrued yet and everyone else was expecting me to be around while they all took off over the holidays. Too bad for them, though.”

“Well . . . “ Justin started to offer, but then paused when he wasn’t sure about how Brian would take his suggestion.

“What?” Brian demanded.

“I was going to say that I would be off school by then and I could help out with Gus, if you wanted. But then, I wasn’t sure if that was weird or something, since you haven’t known me that long,” Justin wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable with this discussion, and to hide it, he turned back to the painting he’d been working on.

“You wouldn’t want to hang around all day with a three year old, Sunshine,” Brian said deprecatingly.

“Why not? I get along great with kids,” Justin insisted, but kept at his painting. “My little sister is eight years younger than me, so I have bunches of experience with baby sitting. But, it’s your call. If you don’t think you could trust me or something.”

“I didn’t say that, Justin. I wouldn’t have a problem trusting you. It’s just too much of an imposition, is all. I didn’t bring it up just to rope you into babysitting. I just wanted you to know in case you had a problem with Gus staying here for a few days is all. But, since that’s apparently cool, then that’s all I needed. I’ll get out of your way,” Brian backed away, not at all sure why Justin was acting so pissed off at him or where this conversation had gone astray.

‘So much for the happy, comfortable attraction thing’, Brian thought, shrugging his shoulders resignedly. No biggie. He’d back off and leave the boy alone if that’s what the kid wanted. Maybe he needed a drink. And a blow job. Yes, definitely a blow job. Time to head off to another club, Brian decided, and strode off purposefully towards his room, determined to eventually find the perfect club here in the big city.

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Tonight’s trick was Type B - the tall, thin swimmer type. Brian merely nodded to his roommate as he led the grinning guy past where Justin was sitting on the couch watching TV. Justin hoped that this one wouldn’t be a screamer. It seemed like the Type A - Beefy Boys - were usually the more vocal ones, but you couldn’t always be sure. At least it was still fairly early. Even if the trick was noisy, it wasn’t likely he’d still be here when Justin was ready to head off to his own bed. So, Justin went back to his movie and tried not to care about the decidedly erotic noises that occasionally seeped out through Brian’s wide open bedroom door.

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Brian didn’t know why he’d let the stupid trick stay the night. He almost never did that, except when he was so drunk that he passed out before he got around to kicking the guy out. But, last night, for some fucked up reason, when Brian had noticed the guy starting to drift off to sleep after their third round, he hadn’t felt like waking the guy. The trick had been an okay fuck and he was decent enough looking - pretty young, very pale skin and ashy blond hair but tall and well built - that might have accounted for Brian letting him stay. Brian really didn’t want to examine his motives too much, though.

When Brian had woken up this morning, however, and found the guy plastered across his chest, snoring vigorously, his drool pooling on Brian’s skin and his unpleasant morning breath contaminating everything around them, Brian could feel his skin crawling practically off his body. If he’d had any intent to keep the guy around for a morning quickie, actually seeing the guy now had banished that thought.

“Get the fuck out,” Brian ordered and literally kicked the clingy trick away from him, rolling over to face the wall so he wouldn’t have to see any more of the guy than he absolutely had to.

The trick grumbled about the rude awakening but didn’t really argue. The guy crawled out of the bed and started searching around on the floor. When he didn’t find whatever it was he’d been looking for, the guy stomped back over to the bed and poked Brian in the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, what the fuck did you do with my clothes?” the trick demanded, standing there naked with his hands aggressively balled into fists resting lightly on his hips.

“I didn’t touch your fucking clothes,” Brian replied, not really caring and certainly not wanting to bother getting out of bed to help the lameass guy find his shit.

“I know I left them on the chair over there last night, man. You must have moved them or something,” the trick insisted again. “If you want me out of here, buddy, you’re going to have to give me my clothes back. I’m not leaving here naked.”

Brian reluctantly forced himself out of the bed to help the hopeless trick find his fucking clothes. They were, in fact, not on the chair or anywhere else in Brian’s room, as far as Brian could see. He lifted up the blankets and covers that had been inevitably mussed up, thinking maybe the clothes had been left on the bed and been covered up by a random toss of the blanket, but no. Brian even bent over to look under the bed itself. Nothing. Brian was stumped.

“Did you look in the closet over there?” Brian suggested to the trick while he was picking up his own clothes off the chair, thinking maybe the missing clothing was mixed in with his own.

The trick shrugged, not sure why his stuff would have ended up inside the closed closet, but went over to open the door anyway.

*HISSSSSS* As soon as the closet door was opened a tiny crack, a large grey growling ball of fur blasted out of the enclosed space, hissing at the trick as he passed and then taking up a defensive position in the center of the room. Winston’s hair was standing up all along his spine and he had one paw raised with claws extended, ready to do battle with this unwanted human if it were to come anywhere near him. The trick wasn’t that foolhardy, though. He wasn’t going anywhere near the insane cat. He immediately backed up till he could crawl up onto the bed where he was hopefully safer.

“What the fuck?” Brian was almost as startled as the trick by the crazy cat’s behavior and he jumped back from the hissing furball just as quickly.

Brian and Winston had been getting along pretty well lately - well, except for the dead mouse incident - so the man wasn’t sure why the beast was acting so intimidating now. He also wasn’t sure how the cat had ended up shut into his closet. Or, now that he thought about it, why the cat was in his room at all since the bedroom door was also closed. Maybe the cat felt trapped or something and that was why he’d gone all psycho-kitty? Brian carefully sidled around the edge of the room, trying to give the snarling monster as much space as was possible in the little room.

As soon as he reached the bedroom door, Brian gently turned the knob and pulled the door wide open. Winston immediately took the opportunity to bolt out of there. Both Brian and the trick sighed in relief when the crazy cat was finally gone.

So, why was the cat in his room in the first place? Brian didn’t remember the door being closed when he’d fallen asleep last night. Of course, Justin probably just closed the door when he had gone to bed last night. And, if the fuzzball had been in the room then, it was understandable that he’d gotten trapped inside. But then, how had the cat gotten into the closet? Brian was curious enough to go investigate.

Brian pulled open the closet door and switched on the light so he could see better. Inside, neatly folded and piled up on the floor of the closet, were the trick’s missing clothes. And, right on top of the neat little pile, were Justin’s ugly, dirty, travelling sneakers. That explained the missing clothing and how the cat had managed to get into the closet - although not why Justin had shut the cat inside.

Brian bent to pick up the nasty shoes, intending on returning them to their owner by throwing them at the boy’s head. However, when he picked up the shoes that were normally coated only with crusted mud on the bottoms, Brian saw that this time the soles of the sneakers were coated with something else - bright red paint - which had obviously been freshly applied right before they’d been placed on top of the trick’s clothes. Now, the paint seemed to be dry, but there were lovely red imprints of the sneaker’s treads on top of the folded shirt.

Brian wanted to stomp off to the boy’s room and yell at the immature little prankster but found that he was laughing too hard.

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When Justin got home from work that evening, he discovered his travelling sneakers inside a big zippered baggie sitting on his bed. Also inside the bag, was a dry-cleaning bill for $65. The bill had a yellow sticky note attached to it on which was drawn a big unhappy face and which bore the words: ‘Added to your portion of next month’s rent, Sunshine.’

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Brian was sure that Justin was avoiding him after the painted shoes incident. All the next week Justin had been cold and distant whenever they would meet. The little artist spent any time when he WAS home holed up in his room. Brian was starting to wonder what he’d done that was so horrible that it caused Justin to be this pissed off. He’d fled from the apartment the first few nights, preferring to be alone in a roomful of strangers rather than being alone in his own apartment with an angry twink seething down the hall from him. By Thursday, though, Brian was getting tired of the whole situation and decided to stay home and force the twink to confront him.  

Justin got home from work at the art store and was surprised to find Brian sitting on the couch, Winston purring away in his lap, and several little boxes from the nearby Thai take-out place waiting on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sunshine! I got dinner for us,” Brian announced pleasantly. “Grab a beer from the fridge and join us. Winston said you can even pick which movie we watch tonight.”

“I can’t. . . I. . . I. . . I’ve got studying to do,” Justin was too surprised to come up with a better lie to get out of the proposed dinner.

“Nonsense. You have to eat. You can do your homework after dinner, Sunshine,” Brian insisted, going as far as throwing Winston off his lap and getting up to block the pathway down the hall.

Justin couldn’t think of any other excuse and was therefore forced to stay. He didn’t sit on the couch though, he chose to remain separate and sit in the nearby armchair. He didn’t say anything either, which made Brian very nervous. ‘Shit, I’m going to be forced to make small talk’, Brian thought.

“So, how’s work going,” Brian tried first, admittedly really bad at making small talk.

“Fine,” Justin replied with a shrug and helped himself to a couple of crab puffs which he dipped into the little cup of sweet chili sauce.

“Oooookay!” Not only was Brian not good with small talk, he wasn’t even going to make the effort unless Justin was going to play along. “So, why are you being such a pissy little brat lately,” Brian launched into the real issue, done playing, and took up the box of Spicy Thai Basil Chicken.

“I haven’t been pissy,” Justin contended lamely. “I’ve been busy. I have to work and I’ve got finals starting next week and I’ve got a big project to finish for my Graphics Theory class by tomorrow morning. That doesn’t mean I’m being ‘pissy’.”

“Well, you certainly sound pissy,” Brian prodded and slurped up an extra-long noodle. “If you’re still pissed off about the stupid dry-cleaning bill, Justin. . . I was only kidding about that, you know. The stupid little git was throwing a total fit, though. I ended up giving him an old CK shirt of mine to wear and had to walk the bitch down to the dry-cleaners and pay the cleaning bill before I could get rid of him. It was probably the most annoying thing you’ve ever done - which is saying a lot, by the way - but, I don’t really expect you to have to pay for the dry-cleaning. Actually, it was good for me. It reminded me why I usually DON’T let tricks stay the night.”

Justin couldn’t help it. Brian’s last comment forced a begrudged laugh out of him. It was really hard staying mad at Brian Kinney even though he was the most aggravating, sluttiest, asshole on the planet.

“There’s that Little Miss Sunshine smile,” Brian teased, happy to see his roomie finally smiling again.

“Do you realize how incredibly annoying you are, Mr. Kinney,” Justin finally relented, teasing back.

“Oh, that’s nothing. You don’t even want me to get started on annoying,” Brian was encouraged by the little teasing smile. “I’ve learned from the best. My best friend while I was growing up had the most annoying whine you’ve ever heard. Mikey perfected the art of whining while growing up in a household run by a single Italian mom and a raging queen uncle. He could practically strip paint off the walls with his high pitched whine. . . .”

The rest of the next hour was replete with stories from Brian’s past. Justin learned all about Mikey, Debbie and Vic. It sounded like a pretty great family to be around. Especially during those adolescent years when Justin had been struggling to come to grips with his own sexuality in a household run by the bigoted Craig Taylor. Justin caught himself laughing at several of Brian’s stories, even when he told himself he should stay detached and not get even more involved with Brian Kinney’s life.

“So, why did you move here to New York when all these great friends were there for you in Pittsburgh,” Justin finally had to ask, more than a little curious about why this personable man would leave such a great support system behind when he himself would give anything to have that much acceptance.

Brian looked uncomfortable and didn’t respond right away. Obviously Justin had hit on a sore spot. Brian’s previously animated and relaxed expression melted away and a strange, almost blank expression took over.

“People change,” Brian shrugged and looked intently at his Drunken Thai Noodles instead of at Justin’s questioning face.

“That’s a completely bullshit answer,” Justin announced, staring intently at his roommate and refusing to look away until Brian responded.

“It’s complicated . . ." Brian tried to avoid the discussion, but he wasn’t able to break the connection created by Justin’s big blue eyes drilling into him.

“So what? Life is complicated? That’s a given. Why did you leave the Pitts?” Justin asked again.

“Mikey and I had a . . . disagreement,” Brian admitted reluctantly. “Well, it was more than that. I think he . . . well, let’s just say we aren’t speaking anymore and Deb isn't too happy with me either."

“You guys have been friends since what, freshman year of high school? What could be so bad you would stop talking? Permanently. I know that Daphne and I could never be angry at each other that long.”

“I . . . Well, I sort of told him that he would make a lousy father. He didn’t take it very well. Neither did Debbie,” Brian confessed and then turned back to his food to avoid any further recriminations.

“That seems harsh,” was all that Justin said, his voice as neutral as he could make it considering this disclosure.

“It’s not like it sounds,” Brian tried to clarify his statement. “See, Lindsey and Mel - they’re the mothers of my son, Gus - have been fishing around to find another sperm donor. I turned them down. They asked Mikey next and I tried to dissuade him from agreeing to the deal. But, he was all gaga excited about the idea and wouldn’t listen to reason so I . . . well, the only way I could get him to listen was to shock him. I . . .  I kinda told him that since he’d never HAD a father he’d be a really bad candidate. But, it was for his own good, you know. I knew what it was he would be getting into. I agreed to the deal with Gus and. . . “

Now Justin was intrigued. This was a whole other side of the usually reserved Brian. He didn’t show vulnerability easily. Even though Justin had been trying not to succumb to the lure of Brian Kinney, he couldn’t let that statement sit there unanswered.

“The deal with Gus. . . ?” Justin prompted.

“It’s just that . . . well. . . I didn’t expect to want to be a dad,” Brian felt like he was being forced to bare his soul - it was uncomfortable and liberating at the same time. “The night that Gus was born, Mikey and I went to the hospital to see him and I. . . well, I saw him and I just. . . I didn’t think I would love him.” Brian’s confession was so faint it was hard to hear but Justin knew that this was incredibly important so he kept his glance steady and refused to let Brian retreat from the topic.

“I didn’t have a great childhood, myself, you know. I didn’t think I would make it as a dad. I didn’t have any good role models or anything. So, when Lindz asked me to help out so they could have a kid, I thought I would just donate sperm and then walk away, you know. I wouldn’t have any responsibility to the kid. Lindsey and Mel were going to be the parents and I wouldn’t have to be involved. So, if I turned out to be shitty dad, it wouldn't really matter. But then, the first time I held him, I just knew that I wanted more."

"However, I'd already signed off on the papers that gave up my parental rights, so now I get time with Gus only when the munchers say. And it's not enough. I know Mikey would be devastated if he wound up in the same deal. He'd be the kind of dad who would absolutely dote on his kid, and I didn't want him to have to go through the same struggle I've had with Mel and Lindz."

“Why would you think you wouldn’t be a good dad?” Justin asked, stunned that this very caring man would think he couldn’t make it as a father.

Brian didn’t answer. Instead he got up and started cleaning up the detritus from the Thai take-out and fussing around. Justin decided to back off and not press. It was clear that Brian wasn’t ready to share whatever was bothering him and Justin finally remembered his decision to keep his distance from this far too magnetic man.

“Well, I’d better get working on that project that’s due tomorrow,” Justin said, getting up from the chair and neglecting to tell Brian he’d finished the project three days ago.

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When Brian got to work the next day, he was pleasantly amused to see Justin's sneakers had made a reappearance - this time in his briefcase. Justin had also included a pencil sketch of Brian sleeping in his bed with Winston perched on his chest. It was a wonderful likeness so Brian decided to get a frame and keep it on his desk. Fuck these K&C guys if they didn't like his 'art'.