Friends and Lovers

Chapter 10

Justin sat practically glaring at the bubbles dancing in his glass as he replayed the evening's timeline in his head.

He'd arrived at the restaurant with five minutes to spare before the time of their reservation and had been shown immediately to their secluded table. The waiter had gestured toward the champagne sitting on ice and had promised he'd be back to pour whenever they were ready. He ordered a glass of the house wine to sip while he waited with pleasant expectation for Brian to arrive.

At seven twenty-eight, he'd received the call from Brian.

Seven thirty-one, he'd ordered his second glass of wine.

The waiter had returned with a sympathetic smile and a small plate of exotic breads and cheeses to "nibble on while you wait for the rest of your party" around eight.

At eight thirty, he'd decided to save the waiter the trouble and had opened the champagne himself, muttering a quiet, generously laced with profanity, congratulations to himself.

He turned off his phone at eight forty-five, unwilling to listen to whatever excuses Brian might call with.

By five minutes to nine, he was receiving glances from more than just the waiter who'd been assigned his table.

Said waiter reappeared at nine, asking if he'd like to order and hesitantly informing him that they couldn't continue to hold the table if he wasn't prepared to do so. He'd managed to muster a suitable, though slightly inebriated, smile as he explained that his dinner companion had been delayed by a family emergency. He'd asked for the bill and promised to relinquish the table as soon as he was finished with his drink.

Which brought him to the present. Two minutes past nine and waiting for the bill for his non-existent celebration dinner instead of the man who was supposed to be sharing it with him.

"Justin?"

He looked up and frowned slightly into the face of none other than Dwight Matherson.

"Dwight. What are you doing here?"

"I was having dinner with a client," he explained. He took note of the empty champagne bottle and the fact that only one glass had been used. "Are you expecting someone?"

"Not anymore," Justin murmured, draining his glass.

Without bothering to ask permission, Dwight took the chair across from the younger man with a small frown. "Are you all right?"

Justin huffed a small laugh. "Of course. I'm always all right. And do you know why?"

"Why?" Dwight asked, with just a touch of amusement.

Justin leaned forward as though ready to impart one of the world's great secrets. "Because I'm not a grown man who plays with comic books and action heroes or a possessive lesbian who wishes she was straight."

He sat back proudly as though he'd just solved the mysteries of life.

"I see," Dwight replied, glancing up at the waiter and discreetly passing on his credit card to take care of the bill. Turning his full attention back to Justin, he asked, "Did they have a hand in what happened to your dinner plans?"

Justin frowned. "Not Lindsay, really. I mean, she was probably late, but she's always late."

"Assuming she's the possessive lesbian, I guess that leaves the comic enthusiast."

"Michael," Justin muttered, reaching for the empty bottle. He looked at it for a moment and then at his glass before turning his gaze back to meet Dwight's. "I think I had a little too much."

"Yeah, maybe," Dwight said with a kind smile. "Do you need a ride home?"

Justin shook his head adamantly and then regretted it as the room started to spin, the effects of the alcohol beginning to make themselves known. "Whoa."

Dwight flashed him a sympathetic smile. "Maybe we'd better get you out of here before that makes a reappearance," he suggested, nodding toward the empty bottle.

Justin grimaced. "Don't give it any ideas."

Chuckling, Dwight got to his feet. "Come on. My car's outside. I'll take you home or wherever it is you need to go."

Slowly, he got to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself before smoothing his hands over his new, silk shirt. "I'm OK."

"Of course you are. Come on." Dwight began guiding him toward the door with just a hand on his back, barely stopping to sign the credit card receipt the waiter was hovering nearby with. "Thanks," he said, smiling at the young man and reaching into his pocket for a suitable tip.

Though he seemed to be studying Dwight thoughtfully, Justin was oblivious to the transaction going on right in front of him.

"What?" Dwight asked, catching the pensive look.

"Is this going to affect my job?" the younger man asked, slurring his words slightly.

"No," Dwight assured him with a smile. "You don't officially work for me yet, remember?"

Justin nodded. "Good. In that case, let's go to your place."

"I don't think so," he replied on a chuckle. "I don't want Brian Kinney gunning for me in the morning."

Pushing him away slightly, Justin frowned. "He doesn't own me."

"Of course not," Dwight concurred, discreetly steadying the other man and guiding him once again toward the door.

"We're not monon… monononog…"

"Monogamous. I remember, just discerning."

He was nodding. "Yeah, that. I can fluck anyone I want, anytime."

Dwight chuckled. "Unless you want the whole restaurant to know about your 'flucking' habits, you'd better keep your voice down."

"Okay," Justin whispered.

Once outside, he took a deep breath and groaned a little. "I don't feel very well."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're likely to feel even worse in the morning."

"Fucking Michael."

"I know."

"You know Michael?"

Dwight was opening the passenger side door and trying to get Justin inside without hitting his head. "No, but you told me about him. Comics, action figures. Remember?"

"That's right!" Justin exclaimed. "You do know him!"

"I certainly feel like I do now," Dwight replied good naturedly. "Okay, where to?"

"I thought we were going to your place," Justin replied, frowning a little.

"And I thought I vetoed that as a really bad idea."

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Let me out, then." He awkwardly tried to get out of the car despite Dwight's efforts to restrain him.

"I can't leave you to wander the streets," Dwight pointed out patiently, "and you're certainly in no shape to drive."

"That's probably just as well, since I don't have a car." He laughed for a moment, then leaned his head back against the seat with a groan. "Oh God."

"Are you going to throw up?"

He swallowed once. "No, I'm just sick."

"Sick as in 'I don't want to hurl all over Dwight's new car' sick?"

The responding sound was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "No. Just sick. Of waiting, mostly."

"For Brian?" he asked compassionately as he buckled the other man into the passenger seat.

"For … everything."

With a sad smile, Dwight brushed the side of his cheek with one finger, pulling his hand quickly away when Justin leaned into the touch. Blue eyes focused on his and he found himself unable to look away for a long moment.

"I don't want to go home," the younger man whispered.

"Justin, I …" He shook his head slightly and patted the other man's shoulder. "Sit tight."

Closing the passenger door securely, he walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. He turned to survey the man beside him. "I don't…"

Justin reached out and touched his face, effectively cutting off the words. "Don't say you don't want to. I know you do. We both do."

"At any other place and time, I'd say yes, I want to, but not like this."

A look of hurt flashed in the blue eyes. "Not like what?"

"You're drunk, Justin."

He nodded slowly, unbuckling his seat belt and sliding closer to the other man. "Maybe. A little. But not enough that I don't know what I'm doing. That I don't know what I want."

"And what is that, exactly?" Dwight asked, a wry smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Me?"

"No," Justin replied softly. He reached out to touch the older man's face, searching his eyes for a moment before delivering a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. "To be somewhere else." His lips brushed gently across the smooth cheek where he dropped another small kiss. "Where nobody blames me…" Just the slightest contact of his lips to the other man's. "…and nobody cares that Michael isn't answering his phone."

Dwight swallowed hard against the sensations coursing through him. "Michael who?" he said huskily.

"Perfect," Justin murmured with a smile before leaning in for a real kiss.

Pulling away a moment later, Dwight searched the younger man's face. "This isn't what I had in mind when I offered to drive you home. I was trying to be a friend."

"We can be friends, or we can fuck," Justin replied. "Not both. It's up to you."

"Hell, I have too many friends, anyway," Dwight murmured as his lips descended once again.

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Brian had called Justin's cell the moment he left Michael's, only to be greeted by his voice mail message. Quickly, he dialed the number for the restaurant, disappointed, but not surprised to learn that Justin had already left. With a resigned sigh, he headed for the loft. It was empty, just like he'd expected it to be, and he spent a few minutes deciding his best course of action. Did he wait for his lover to calm down and return on his own? Or did he try to find him in the hopes of salvaging at least some of their night together?

It was only a few minutes later that he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Hello?"

"Daphne, it's me."

"Brian. What's going on?"

"Long story. Is Justin there?"

"No," she replied slowly. "I thought he was with you. He said you were having dinner at La Fenice."

"We were supposed to," he replied with a sigh, "but something came up."

"Brian." Her tone was hard and he knew immediately what she was thinking.

"Not that," he practically snapped.

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "Ok, if he comes by here do you want me to call you?"

"I'd appreciate it," he answered.

"No problem. If he comes home, you do the same, OK?"

"I will." Without further comment, he hung up the phone and settled in to wait.

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Justin awoke, momentarily disoriented, and turned his head to see the still sleeping figure beside him. Closing his eyes, he turned away and sat up on the side of the bed as memories from the night before made their way to the forefront of his mind.

"It's still early," a sleepy voice murmured from behind him. "Come back to bed."

Evading the other man's searching hand, he picked up his pants from the floor and began pulling them on. "No, I have to go."

There was a brief silence before Dwight spoke again. "Last night was a mistake, wasn't it?"

Continuing to dress, Justin replied, "I wasn't too drunk to know what I was doing, if that's what you're asking."

"But you regret it."

He paused a moment. "Only if you somehow got the wrong impression."

Dwight propped himself up on one elbow, studying the bare back of the other man as he stood to pull on his pants. "And what was the right impression? The one you tried to give me that day in my office?"

Justin turned as he zipped his fly, his gaze meeting the older man's evenly. "Nothing's changed. I'm with Brian. I'll always be with Brian."

"Then what was last night?" Dwight asked, frowning.

"Fucking," Justin replied, looking for his shirt and finding it in a somewhat wrinkled heap on the floor. "I also wasn't so drunk that I don't remember clarifying that before the fact."

"I know what you said, but your actions spoke differently."

"Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief among the executive elite, actions don't always tell the whole story."

"Don't try to put Kinney's words in my mouth."

Justin sighed and turned to face the other man while he buttoned his shirt. "Look, last night was fun and it was something we both wanted at the time, but that's all it was, a one time thing."

"Kinney's morals have rubbed off on you, I see."

One blond eyebrow climbed slowly toward his hairline. "You thought I was drunk and took me home anyway and you're going to criticize my morals?"

Dwight had the decency to look away at that comment. "You're right," he finally said, shaking his head. "It was stupid and I knew it at the time, but …"

"It wasn't stupid on your part," Justin said sincerely, "and it wasn't a drunken mistake on mine." He shrugged a little. "It just was what it was."

"A one time thing."

"Yeah."

They were both silent for a moment as Justin continued to dress and Dwight watched him.

"So, that's it."

"There is one other thing," Justin said, turning to face the other man. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline that job offer after all."

"Part of your 'fucks or friends, but not both' policy?"

"Something like that," Justin said absently as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on. He made eye contact with Dwight and smiled a little. "Thanks for being willing to take a chance on me, though. I really do appreciate it." He gestured toward the door. "I'll just wait outside for my taxi."

Without waiting for a reply, he was gone.

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Brian was in the kitchen pouring a fresh cup of coffee when he heard the loft door slide open.

"Hey," Justin said, surprise evident in his voice. "You're up early."

Trying to maintain a nonchalant expression, Brian turned to face his lover. "Thought I'd go in to the office and catch up on a few things."

"Oh." It was an uncomfortable silence that reigned for the next few seconds. "Is everything OK with Michael?"

"He was at the hospital with Jenny Rebecca. They make you turn your cell phones off."

"Is she all right?"

"Ear infection. She'll be fine."

"Good."

"I trust you found a suitably entertaining way to spend your evening," Brian remarked casually.

Turning toward the bedroom, Justin tried to keep his answer as indifferent as the question had been, aware as he was that it was an act on both their parts. "Let's see. After waiting alone at the restaurant for two hours, I ran into Dwight. He offered me a ride home and I crashed at his place."

He was on the first step leading to the bedroom when the question he'd been expecting reached him. "Did you fuck him?"

Turning, he found himself unable to hide the anger he still felt toward his lover. "You, of all people, can't possibly have a problem with that. How many guys have you fucked in the week since I've been home, Brian?"

"None that I'd be working with on a regular basis."

"That shouldn't be a problem since I turned the job down … after I fucked him."

There was a brief flash of surprise in Brian's eyes before he forced a small laugh, shaking his head. "Remind me to sit you down and give you a few pointers on how to get ahead in the corporate world, Sunshine."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the corporate world or what you think my place should be in it," Justin stated, further angered at the sneering tone in which his lover used the familiar nickname. "It's about you breaking your word. Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to having some time alone with you without Michael or Lindsay interrupting with one of their fucking emergencies?"

"It's not like I deliberately tried to get out of dinner. Michael needed me."

"I needed you, too!"

"Lucky for us, you were able to find an alternate source for what you needed." He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. "And on such short notice, too."

As Justin stood staring at the closed door, it was with a sense of hopelessness he hadn't felt in a long, long time.