Friends and Lovers

Chapter 9

Brian let himself into the loft and grimaced at the clock. Even taking the shortest shower in history, he'd never make it to the restaurant by seven. While he hadn't seen the necessity at the time, he was glad that they'd agreed on Justin's plan to meet there. A later reservation might have been better, he admitted to himself, but he was lucky he'd been able to get one at all on such short notice.

Besides, he had plans for a certain blond after dinner and the sooner he could put them into motion, the better.

The phone was ringing as he exited the bathroom after his shower, but he paid it no mind, knowing the machine would take any message necessary. As he was choosing the most appropriate outfit for the evening, Ben's voice rang through the loft.

"Hi, Brian, it's Ben. I don't know if you're there or not, but if you are, I really need to speak with you."

Brian made his way to the phone and picked it up. "Professor."

"Thank God," Ben said. "I'm sorry to bother you but I wondered if you'd talked to Michael lately."

"Not since yesterday," Brian replied, frowning at the tense tone of voice. "Why?"

"I can't seem to reach him. He's not answering at the comic store or the apartment and his cell phone goes straight to voice mail. I was out of town lecturing this afternoon. I'm on my way back now, but I'm still about half an hour away."

"Did you try Debbie?"

"No," Ben admitted reluctantly. "I think Michael's been avoiding her lately. The pills are still making him sick and he doesn't want her picking up on anything. I've been trying to get him for the last half hour and … well, I'm a little worried."

Brian didn't doubt that. Ben wouldn't be calling him if he wasn't more than a little worried. As he remembered the night he'd driven Michael home, his own concern began to grow.

… I don't need you telling me what to do.

No, just to watch over you so you don't choke to death on your own vomit while you're sleeping off the fucking pills!

The words he'd spoken in anger were coming back to him with increasingly ominous connotations.

"What about Hunter?"

"He's having dinner at Jeremy's so they can work on their science project. I could call him, but…"

"But he doesn't know."

"No, and Michael wants to keep it that way. For now, at least."

Brian glanced at the clock. It was already 7:30 and he knew Justin would be pissed, but he'd never be able to relax enough to enjoy their dinner if he was worried about Michael.

"Ok, I'll run by the comic store and the apartment. If I find him, I'll call you back."

Ben breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Thanks, Brian, I'd really appreciate that."

"I'll talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and quickly dialed Justin's cell.

"Hey."

He cringed inwardly at the icy tone of that one word. "Hey. I'm sorry, Sunshine, but I'm not going to be able to get there for a while yet. There's something I need to do."

"Is Gus OK?" Justin asked, his earlier irritation replaced by concern.

"He's fine," Brian assured him. He briefly debated how much he could say. "I just got a call from Ben. He's out of town and can't seem to reach Michael at the store or the apartment."

"Did something happen?"

"To Michael?"

"To Ben. Why is he trying so hard to reach Michael? Is he sick? Or injured?"

"No, Ben's fine. He just… Look, I told him I'd drop by the comic store and the apartment."

"I don't get it, Brian. If nothing's wrong, why is it so important to track Michael down right this minute? And why is Ben dragging you into it?"

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't explain. It's just something I have to do."

Justin was silent for a few seconds. "Fine. Maybe you should check Deb's while you're at it. And don't forget the dry cleaners, the grocery store and the fucking diner. Or maybe he just stopped in to see Jenny Rebecca; did you think of that?"

Brian sighed, hoping it was something that simple. But having seen, first hand, his friend's adverse reaction to the drugs he was currently taking, he doubted it. If he'd fallen sick at the diner or any other public place, someone would have called for help and Ben would have been notified.

But alone in his apartment, or behind the counter in the comic store was a different story, and those images were the ones that had been flooding his mind since Ben's call.

"It's not like I'm going to be scouring the whole fucking city," Brian replied, his own irritation growing. "I'm going to check in at the shop and the apartment like I told Ben I would. It won't take that long and we can still have dinner."

"Unless Michael needs to cry on your shoulder again about what an unfeeling bastard I am and how he's always the injured party. You wouldn't want to miss the encore performance of that, would you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian demanded, genuinely puzzled by the words.

"Like you don't know," Justin said flatly. "But it doesn't matter. Go do whatever you have to do."

It took a few seconds for Brian to realize he'd been hung up on. Resisting the urge to fling the phone across the room, he returned to the bedroom to dress.

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After checking the comic store and finding it securely locked up, Brian made his way toward Michael and Ben's apartment. As he climbed the stairs, he was glad he'd accepted the key Michael had insisted he carry 'in case of emergencies'.

He had the door unlocked and his hand on the knob, but had to pause to take a deep breath before he'd allow himself to push it open. When he found the small apartment empty, with no sign of anything wrong, he breathed a sigh of relief. Taking out his cell, he dialed Ben's number.

"Hello."

"It's me. He's not at the store or at the apartment. He's probably running errands or something equally mundane."

"He always has his cell on," Ben pointed out. "He worries about missing a call if Hunter or I should come down sick."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Professor," he replied, trying to mask his own concern.

"I appreciate your help, anyway," Ben said. "I'll be at the apartment in about five minutes. I'll check the phone messages and take it from there."

"Call me when you track him down," Brian said.

"I will."

He hung up the phone and was about to leave the apartment when Michael walked in.

"Brian? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he replied, his expression and his tone grim. "Ben couldn't reach you and thought maybe something had happened."

Michael frowned. "I got a call from Jenny Rebecca's sitter. She spiked a bit of a fever and Mel was in court and couldn't be reached." He tossed his keys onto the small table by the door and dropped wearily into a chair. "We spent nearly three hours in the emergency room just to find out she's got a minor ear infection."

"You probably should have called Ben. He was worried."

He couldn't miss the hard edge to his friend's voice. "I had to turn off my cell in the hospital," Michael defended himself. "I didn't know he'd be trying to reach me or I would have found a payphone. I don't see the big deal; it's not like I've never missed a call before."

"Before, he didn't have visions of you puking your guts out and passing out from a bunch of fucking pills."

Michael's eyes widened slightly and he looked at his watch. "Oh, my God, Brian, I totally forgot about my pills." He was hurrying to the kitchen where an array of small bottles were lined up along one side of the counter. "I've never missed a dosage before. What do I do, now?"

"First of all, calm down," Brian advised irritably. "You're likely to grab the wrong bottle if you try to take them during a queen-out."

"It's easy for you to say," Michael snapped. "Missing a dose could throw my whole system out of whack."

Ben could be heard entering the apartment and Michael hurried to greet him.

"Ben, I missed my dosage," he said without preamble. "What should I do?"

"Calm down, Michael," Ben replied, putting his hands on his lover's shoulders.

Michael nodded quickly and Brian rolled his eyes. His same advice had been met with scorn.

"Start at the beginning," Ben suggested. "You didn't take the pills?"

"I was at the hospital with Jenny Rebecca."

"Ear infection," Brian intoned as Ben shot a questioning look his way.

"Right," Michael said. "She'll be fine. Anyway, Brian told me you were worried that I'd had a bad reaction and I realized I totally forgot to take them."

"Ok, first of all, you didn't miss a dosage, you're just taking it late. Take them now, then decrease the interval between dosages for a few days until you're back on schedule. It happens, Michael."

"Oh, Ok," he said, obviously relieved. "I can do that."

Ben smiled. "I'll get them out for you." He kissed his partner on the forehead and headed for the kitchen.

Left alone with his best friend, Michael smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I freaked out."

"Not like I've never witnessed it before," Brian said dryly. "Are you OK, now?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Good." He glanced at the clock and swore softly under his breath.

"What's the matter?"

"I had dinner reservations with Justin for seven."

Michael looked at his watch. "That was nearly two hours ago."

"Thanks. I was trying to work that one out," Brian snarked.

"Does he know why you didn't show?" Michael asked, frowning.

"I didn't divulge your little secret if that's what you mean," Brian replied irritably.

"But he knows it's my fault. Jesus, Brian, like he needs another reason to be pissed at me right now. Thanks a lot."

Ben brought in Michael's pills and a glass of juice, pausing in mid stride as the tension in the room became evident. "Am I interrupting?"

Ignoring the question, Brian glared at his friend. "I was doing you a fucking favour," he pointed out. "For all we knew you could have been lying here on the floor in a pool of your own vomit."

Michael grimaced slightly before heaving a sigh. "I'm sorry, OK? I appreciate you coming over to check on me."

Ben was about to add his own appreciation to the mix, but thought better of it.

"So, what aren't you telling me, Michael?" Brian pressed. "What's going on with you and Justin?"

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, but his expression was one of regret more than defiance. "He didn't tell you?"

"If he'd told me, I wouldn't be asking you."

"Maybe it would be best if Michael and Justin worked it out between them," Ben suggested reluctantly.

Michael flashed a sheepish look at his husband. "You're just worried Brian will want to kick my ass when he finds out."

"That's not going to happen," Ben said, sending a warning look in Brian's direction. "Though I can understand why he might be angry, considering."

"Considering what?" Brian asked, his tone leaving no doubt that he wanted answers and wanted them now. "What happened, Michael?"

"Take these first," Ben suggested, handing Michael the pills and the glass.

Michael nodded and took the medication before lowering himself into a nearby chair.

"Michael." The tone held a hint of warning and more than a little frustration.

He sighed. "He came to see me last night."

That, in itself, came as a surprise, but he didn't let on. He'd thought Justin had gone out tricking, perhaps giving him a taste of his own medicine. Despite himself, he was curious as to why he'd paid Michael a visit considering how tense things had been between them.

"Go on."

"He demanded to know what my problem was and I told him that I thought he'd let me down when it came to the movie. I accused him of not caring that it was cancelled because he didn't need the money as much as I did."

"That's bullshit," Brian snapped. "You have the comic store; the movie was his only source of revenue at the time."

"I know," Michael replied glumly. "But it's not exactly the same, Brian. He doesn't have to worry about rent or making ends meet."

"Neither do we," Ben said quietly from where he sat across the room.

"But we never know when that's going to change," Michael defended himself. "You could get sick, or Hunter could. And now I have my own meds to pay for and we don't know what's going to happen there."

Ben grimaced and looked away. Brian kept his gaze trained on Michael. "Is that it?"

"No," Michael said reluctantly. "I sort of … suggested that what happened in L.A. was partly his fault."

"What? Jesus, Michael, do you have any idea what was going on out there? Those assholes were out to get that movie stopped and they obviously didn't care how far they had to go to make that happen. How the fuck could that be Justin's fault?"

Michael looked down at his hands. "I thought, maybe, he'd been mouthing off to them or something, trying to prove he wasn't intimidated." He paused for a moment, his expression pained. "The way he did with Hobbes."

Brian was silent for a moment, his expression carefully schooled even though his jaw was clenching. "You said that to Justin?"

Michael looked up, his gaze pleading. "Not in those words, but …yeah. I didn't mean it, Brian, I swear. I know what happened wasn't his fault. Either the prom or the movie. I was just … frustrated and scared and…"

"Fuck!" Brian exclaimed, turning away and stalking toward the window. He stood there for a moment, looking out at nothing, before turning to face his friend again. "He could have been the one killed out there, Michael. You don't have a fucking clue how scared he really was or how hard he took Richard's death." He stormed over to Michael's chair, glaring down at him. "We went to pay our respects to his family and his widow as much as told Justin it was all his fault. How the fuck do you think that made him feel?"

Michael got to his feet, suddenly angry. "I know exactly how that made him feel, Brian! I may not have been out there when all the shit was going on, but I know he could have been killed or hurt again and it would have been my fault! Rage was my fucking dream and it could have killed him! Do you think I would have been able to live with that? Do you think I would have been able to look you in the eyes, knowing what you went through after the prom and knowing I was the one responsible this time? So don't fucking tell me I don't know how he feels! He had no right putting his life in danger for a movie that meant more to me than it ever did to him!"

A heavy silence fell over the room as the outburst took all three men by surprise.

"And I had no right blaming him for making me feel that way," Michael finally acquiesced wearily. "God, Brian, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Brian said grimly.

"I know," he said, nodding in defeat. "And I intend to, if he'll listen."

Brian looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head and moving away toward the door.

"Brian?" Michael called to him, his voice holding a hint of panic.

Brian turned, but still said nothing.

"I'm … sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian intoned before letting himself out of the apartment.

Ben crossed the room to put his hand tentatively on Michael's shoulder. "I'm sorry, too, Michael."

He was still staring at the closed door and huffed a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "For what? I'm the one who just fucked up two friendships."

Ben gently turned the other man to face him, lifting his chin until he could look into the sad, brown eyes. "And I could have fucked up something just as important and for the same reasons."

"What are you talking about?" he asked wearily.

"I was blaming you for my own feelings of guilt in much the same way you were blaming Justin. I'm the one who may have infected you and I got so wrapped up in my own culpability that I failed to see that I was keeping you at arm's length at a time when you needed me the most. I'm sorry."

Michael slipped his arms around his husband and pulled him close, his eyes tightly closed against the tears building behind his lids. "I'll always need you," he whispered hoarsely.

Ben kissed the dark head and wrapped his partner in a strong, protective embrace. "And I promise to be here for you from now on. For as long as I can."