When he awakened well before the alarm went off in the morning, Justin felt surprisingly invigorated, even though he'd had less than five hours of sleep. He'd worked on the sketch for Michael's birthday for nearly half an hour, finally hitting the hay just before one o'clock.

Climbing into the tub-style shower, he sudsed up with soap, lazily stroking his cock as he whistled the refrain to ‘Baby Love'. The plastic shower curtain flapped madly around him, sticking to his legs, and he found himself missing the oversized, glassed-in shower in the loft. Justin braced one foot on the rim of the tub, reaching down to finger his hole with the hand not engaged with his dick, recalling the first time he'd ever had shower sex with Brian. That still counted as one of the most mind-blowing sexual experiences he'd ever had.

Justin's whistling was interrupted by a grunt of frustration when he couldn't penetrate as deeply as he wanted. No question, he was going to have to invest in a dildo as soon as he got his first paycheck; it was a necessity for a gay man. 

Giving up on anal penetration for the moment, the blond settled for imagining Brian slowly feeding his dick into his ass, increasing the tempo once the randy teen was ready. "Fuck, yeah," he muttered, slowly sliding his hand upward along his torso, until it encountered his nipple ring. While one hand practically flew up and down his shaft, the other tugged at the ring, the small jolt of pain tipping him over the edge.

"Aaaah," he released a long, guttural moan along with copious streams of jizz, before collapsing against the tiled wall.

Once he was able to stand upright again, Justin quickly finished his ablutions and got dressed, before bopping down the stairs to grab a bowl of cereal, a bright grin on his face.

"Wanna share?" Vic playfully leered from his seat at the kitchen table. "That sounded like fun."

The mortified teenager turned scarlet as he stared at the older man. "Uh, fuck, I, uh, didn't mean to be so loud," he stammered.

"Really, I enjoyed it," Vic insisted. "Vicarious sex works wonders."

"I'll say," Debbie concurred, walking into the kitchen and waving her hand in front of her face. "You're too hot to handle, Sunshine."

"Ehm," Justin squeaked out, deciding to forgo the cereal. Freezing while he waited for the bus suddenly sounded more pleasant than breakfast.

Meanwhile, Brian also forwent breakfast. He, of course, had different reasons than embarrassment - first and foremost being that there was nothing to eat at the loft. Not having the time to stop by the diner before work, Brian decided to just pour some coffee down his throat and maybe snag a piece of Godiva chocolate from Cynthia's desk.

And he would've done exactly that had his wonderful assistant not disappointed him and actually had some chocolates left.

Brian raised his eyebrows at the empty cream-coloured box. "Really? When I was leaving yesterday, you still had about a third left."

Cynthia shrugged. "First of all," she began, voice sassy, "there were hardly half a dozen. Second of all, I had to sweeten up Bethany from accounting so she would let me use her precious smoothie maker."

"What's wrong with the one I gave you for your birthday?" the brunet stud asked incredulously. "That was barely three months ago!"

"Yeah, about that..." Cynthia drawled. "I might've bought new shoes instead with the check you gave me."

Brian gaped. "Why would you-" he stopped himself. "Do you realise that your ill-timed fancy for a pair of shoes cost me my only breakfast today?" He looked at his watch. "I'm already late just talking to you here."

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "No you're not," she told him. "You still have ten minutes; otherwise, I'd already be shooing you out of here."

Brian sighed. "I need to go get ready then," he told his blonde friend, striding determinedly into his office. He had to check over all the boards for his presentation and take a highlighter to all the key points in his notes, so he wouldn't forget anything. Not that he really needed the notes, he only kept them in case the unthinkable happened and he lost track of the presentation.

A knock sounded at his door when he was about five minutes in, Cynthia poking her head inside. "I have an avocado sandwich for you," she said. "Can you eat it in the next three minutes?"

"Can I?" Brian inquired sardonically. He tilted his head forward slightly and began feeding the foot-long, submarine-style sandwich into his mouth, humming appreciatively as if it were an actual cock.

Cynthia stared at him in bug-eyed disbelief as he swallowed down seven inches, working his way toward eight.

C'mon, Brian, encouraged himself, if I can deep throat Justin's thick dick, I can handle this. On that appetizing thought, he surged past eight inches, almost reaching nine. At that point, however, he simply had to give up, the avocado beginning to squirt out the sides of his mouth and nearly plopping onto his slacks. 

Leaning forward, he let the green stuff dribble onto his leather desk blotter, before hastily wiping it clean with a napkin. "Dammit," he muttered, disappointed by his paltry effort. That must've happened because he hadn't had enough practice lately.

"Ouch!" Cynthia grinned. "Some poor bloke just ended up with an awfully short wiener. "Chop, chop now. Finish off the rest and be in the conference room in four."

Brian nodded, his mouth too full to reply verbally, and shooed his PA out with a flap of his hand. He made a mental note to check himself in his bathroom mirror for any avocado stains before leaving. Swallowing what he had in his mouth, he cleared his throat before stuffing in the rest of the sandwich.

The next two hours were spent charming his clients into buying an ad that was vastly different, though infinitely better, than what they had asked for. They hadn't been very receptive in the beginning, but the longer they were under Brian's persuasive influence, the better they felt about the new advertisement. In the end, the adman left the conference with a signed contract, a self-satisfied smirk on his face and an adrenaline-induced hard-on in his pants. He took care of the latter in his private bathroom with a bit of lube and a touch of fantasy. 

At the library, before his calculus class, Justin worked some more on the drawing for Michael. When Frau Rose looked over his shoulder with interest sparkling in her eyes, Justin informed her that he planned to give the sketch to a friend - Justin used ‘friend' very loosely in this instance, although the librarian didn't need to know that - for his thirtieth birthday. 

The librarian, who apparently had a hidden passion for graphic novels, bombarded the bemused teen with all sorts of questions. "What's his superpower? His kryptonite? His day job? Who does he protect?"

"His name's Captain Astro," Justin identified the dude, "but that's the extent of my knowledge, other than that he's rumored to be gay."

His favorite teacher looked at him intently at that news, although she didn't directly address the topic, instead commenting that he sounded like quite the interesting person. When she powered up her computer and started searching for information on the Internet, Justin felt a bit like a fraud. Sure, he was drawing the sketch - and he was quite certain Michael would like it - but it had been a superficial effort until now.

Fortunately, based on Frau Rose's research and input, Justin was able to draw a much more complex, multidimensional character, one whose shoulders slumped a bit from the burdens he was carrying but who was steadfast in defending the denizens of Liberty Avenue. The drawing depicted Michael standing right outside the entrance to the Liberty Diner, Captain Astro on one side and Brian on the other, the three men with their arms around each other's shoulders.

As he made his way over to Daphne in their creative writing class later that morning, Justin couldn't stop chuckling.

"What's so funny?" the girl probed, drilling Justin in the shoulder with her pencil.

"Mr Sullivan returned our Latin midterm projects at the end of class today," Justin related. "There was this lengthy, complimentary remark penned at the top of the page, waxing lyrical about the ‘depth' of my poem, going on about how I had hidden meaning behind the words of praise about the man's beauty in the ode." A spate of giggles escaped before Justin sobered up enough to finish, "How I was clearly writing about inner beauty and the man's character."

Daphne rolled her eyes at her friend, "Ha. Ha. Ha. I can hardly restrain my laughter, that's so darned funny."

"The joke is that my poem wasn't ‘deep' at all," Justin elucidated, chuckling some more. "When I formulated it, all I could think about was Brian's smooth skin, silky hair, and big cock."

At that explanation, Daphne also burst out laughing, the two friends barely daring to look at each other for the remainder of the class, lest they set each other off again.

Come lunchtime, after scarfing down a sandwich he'd made at Debs', thankful that he could pass on the rubbery-looking pasta, Justin continued working on the sketch while chatting with Daphne.

"Captain Astro's way more cool than I would have expected," his friend proclaimed.

"He kinda is," Justin agreed. "Thank fuck Frau Rose quizzed me about him and did some research."

"Aren't you going to a lot of trouble for Michael?" Daphne wondered. "The guy's such a dweeb."

"True, but I shouldn't use that as an excuse to produce subpar work," Justin replied. "Even though he's a nimrod, it is his thirtieth - that's special for anyone. Mainly, though, I'm doing this because he's Deb's son; she's been so good to me, and Michael's part of her family, so..." he trailed off.

"There, what do you think?" he asked ten minutes later, turning the sketch so that it faced Daphne.

"Fuck. Brian's super hot," the girl proclaimed, lasciviously eyeing the brunet, whom Justin had clad in a skintight, black clubbing outfit. "Why's he smirking like that?" she inquired, after studying the drawing more closely.

"Because he's squeezing Captain Astro's ass with his right hand," Justin explained. "See how his arm has dropped down from Michael's shoulder?"

The two friends laughed uproariously at the typical Brian behavior that Justin had worked into the sketch, speculating as to whether the brunet or anyone else would twig to it.

That evening, Brian prowled through the crowd in his loft, as everyone waited for the birthday boy to arrive after his shift at the Big Q. The brunet was disappointed when he couldn't espy a single fuckable trick with whom he could while away ten or fifteen minutes. Well, the Captain Astro lookalike would do in a pinch, but it wouldn't be right to have the birthday boy walk in on him fucking the man, not before the guy had performed his striptease, anyroad. 

Except for him, and possibly the Astro stripper, however, Michael's friends were clearly a bunch of pathetic losers. In the corner by his computer, a pimply fatso - who the fuck had invited him? - was raving about how amazing it was to have eye candy like Michael and Emmett for neighbors. Certain the bloke must be blind in one eye and nearsighted in the other, Brian hastily backed away, accidentally bumping into Melanie. 

That caused the red wine in the glass the bulldyke was holding to slosh onto her Manolos. "Fuck, Brian, watch where you're going, would'ya?" Melanie griped.

"That's what I'm doing," Brian retorted, adroitly stepping behind the lawyer as the fatty glanced in his direction, wishing for the first time that there were ‘less' of him so that he'd be more effectively shielded by the petite woman. Damn, the troll wasn't as poorly-sighted as he'd suspected.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Deb queried.

Brian tipped his head toward the fugly toad, which caused Deb, Mel, and Linds to chuckle.

"Are you trying to hide behind Melanie?" Lindsay giggled.

An affronted Brian huffed, "I'm not hiding. I don't do hiding."

"Uh-huh," Debbie snorted.

"Bri, honey, where's Baby?" Emmett trilled, throwing an arm across the brunet's shoulders and interrupting their confab.

Christ, was this the way his night was going to go, lurching from one awkward moment to another? Brian wondered. Throwing off the taller man's arm - with the usual fleeting thought that it was annoying to have the flaming queen outstrip him in any way - he snarled, "Don't call me Bri."

"Jesus, Brian," Mel snarked, "you must have forgotten your panties entirely and caught your dick in the zipper."

"Where is Justin?" Lindsay repeated Em's question as she looked around for the blond. "Didn't you invite him?"

As the redhead started to reply, "He's work-" she was cut off by Brian.

"Why would I invite him?" the exasperated brunet replied. "I assumed he'd hear about the party from one of you ladies" - he shot a speaking glance at Emmett - "and come."

"Shit," Deb muttered. "I just assumed that Sunshine knew about the party when I was talking to him yesterday. He offered to work a double shift so I'd have more time to get ready. Poor kid must've thought no one wanted him here."

Brian rolled his eyes, "He's not a child, Debs. He shouldn't need a written invitation to be here. This is hardly a royal wedding."

"Brian," Lindsay reproached him, "how can you be so callous? You can't convince me you no longer care about him, even if you did toss him out."

"We're not in a relationship," Brian growled. "The kid was just bunking at the loft temporarily. If we ever were together, we certainly aren't now."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Bri," Emmett angrily interjected, before stalking away.

In response to the pointed stares from the rest of the group, Brian scowled truculently. 

Fortunately, before the conversation could become even more hostile, Emmett yelled, "Quiet, everyone! Ted just texted that Michael's coming up the stairs."

Brian had told Michael that Ted would pick him up after work because he'd be busy with a client. Michael had jested that Brian must be providing ‘special services,' which pissed Brian off - his childhood friend apparently believed he couldn't get a client any other way. The ad exec had barely managed to set aside his irritation, so he could concentrate on providing a memorable birthday bash for Michael. Now, he let out a relieved sigh that Ted had adequately carried out his task. 

The stud couldn't wait for this shindig to be over and done with. Although Emmett had been surprisingly restrained with the decorations and the carb-laden goodies, the brunet stud couldn't wait to kick everyone out and reclaim the space for himself - and maybe a trick or two.

Emmett quickly turned out the lights, and everyone hushed, anticipating Michael's arrival.

"Surprise!" the horde shouted when Michael called out, "Brian?" before sliding open the metal door and stepping over the threshold moments later.

Brian rolled his eyes and muttered, "Whoopdifuckingdoo." A thirtieth birthday called for a funeral, not a celebration, as far as he was concerned. He nevertheless pasted on a smile and sauntered over to the birthday boy, who was taking everything in with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"Shit!" a delighted Michael exclaimed, as his friends took turns hugging and congratulating him. "I didn't suspect a thing."

"You weren't supposed to catch on, Mikey," Brian drily commented. "Otherwise, it wouldn't be a surprise." 

"Thanks, Brian!" Michael threw his arms around Brian and snuffled into his burgundy Versace shirt, immediately contradicting his previous statement by asserting, "I knew you wouldn't abandon me on my birthday."

Brian did an internal eye-roll. As usual for Mikey, no occasion was complete without Brian. "Don't get snot on my shirt," he mocked, hastily motioning David over. It was high time for the doc to take Michael off his hands.

"Oops!" Emmett intervened, handing Michael a handkerchief, into which he promptly blew his nose, the noise resembling that of a foghorn.

"Did ya get it all out, Honey?" Debbie inquired with a hearty laugh.

"Thirty years' worth," Michael jested, making everyone chuckle, even Brian. His self-deprecating sense of humor was one of the things Brian most appreciated about his friend.

When Michael noticed David standing next to Brian, his jaw dropped and he stammered, "Wh... what are you doing here?"

"I'm hoping you'll give me another chance," David earnestly offered, an unusually diffident expression on his face. "I shouldn't have acted as if I know what's best for you; I can assure you that I do respect your opinion."

Jesus, doc, bare your soul, why don't you? Brian ruminated, wincing, fleetingly wondering what it was like to feel so strongly about another person that you'd put it all the line like that.

"Of course he'll give you another chance!" Debbie screeched, shattering the intensity of the moment by squeezing David in her arms and planting a smooch on his neck. She'd obviously been aiming for his cheek, but hadn't been able to reach quite that high. Her face pressed against the doc's chest, she turned her head toward Michael, finishing her declaration, "Won't you, Honey?"

The room erupted in laughter, as a scarlet-faced Michael shrugged, "Well, if my mum approves, what else can I do?"

"Good choice, Sweetie." Deb patted him on the cheek and moved back so the two men could exchange a kiss.

Brian took the opportunity to sidle over to the liquor cart, pouring himself a healthy draught of Beam. He tossed it back in one go, immediately pouring another. He'd better drink while it was available; there wouldn't even be dregs left in the bottles by the time this horde of thirsty queers finally departed. Thankfully, he hadn't yet restocked the really expensive stuff, like the hundred-year-old Glenlivet.

"Mind if I help myself?" Ted inquired, looking as if he desperately needed a drink.

"Free range... this one time, Theodore," Brian hastily cautioned as Ted filled a glass almost to the brim with Jim Beam Black label.

"Fuck, that's good," Ted moaned gratefully. "The whole way here I had to listen to Michael whinge about how the big boss wants him to dress up like a giant chicken for the upcoming holiday. Somehow," he added wryly, "that's supposed to attract more customers."

"Thank fuck we don't work in retail," Brian commiserated, tapping his glass against Ted's.

The two men leaned against the kitchen counter, shoulder to shoulder, watching Emmett guide Michael over to a table, piled high with gifts, which had been placed in front of the bedroom panels.

"Oh my God, this is totally rad," Michael gushed. "I can't believe all of these gifts are for me." 

Next to Brian, Ted snorted, noting, "Talk about being stuck in the eighties."

Brian couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping, turning his head to share a grin with the accountant. There were times when Ted's dry wit was absolutely spot on.

While they were laughing, Michael started ripping the paper off the gifts like a kid at Christmas. "Oh, wow, Ma! Thanks!" he effused. "I've wanted a Lynda Carter Wonder Woman wristwatch for ages!"

Debbie grinned and shrieked, "You deserve it, Sweetie. You're the best son ever."

Rubbing his forehead, Brian pondered how much longer this lovefest - which was not of the type he preferred - would go on. To his surprise, when he glanced to his left, he noticed that Ted also seemed to be attempting to soothe away a burgeoning headache. Fuck, there was something wrong with this picture; Ted was not and never would be his best bud.

"What did you guys get me?" Michael asked as he wrestled with the large box from Ted and Emmett.

"You're gonna love it!" Em jumped up and down in excitement.

"Here." David held out an Exacto knife, so that Michael could cut through the packing tape.

"Uh." A baffled Michael studied the item after pulling it out and setting it on the table. "Why would you give me a statue with drooping tits?"

"What the fuck?" Ted exclaimed, pushing away from the counter and forging his way through the crowd. "It's supposed to be a Captain Astro statue, one of a limited edition of seventy-five."

When he turned to Emmett, the flamboyant queen threw his hands up in the air. "Don't look at me, Teddy; you're the one who pressed ‘buy,'" he absolved himself of blame.

"Yeah," Ted replied, "after you got sidetracked on the website browsing for statues of Priapus."

Looking sidelong at the statue, Em mused, "Don't you think it could be a double-penetration toy? Those look kinda like two erect dicks to me."

Ted reluctantly began laughing, turning to Michael and claiming, "You'll have to let us know what you think of your new toy."

"The card says this is a representation of Ninepone, an African fertility goddess," Dr Dave read.

"Michael," Vic jested, "is there something you haven't told us? Who got you up the duff?"

"Honey," Debbie interjected enthusiastically, "I just knew there was a reason you were so keen on baby talk at the last Sunday dinner. Who're you gonna have it with - Lindsay or Melanie?"

"What? No!" three horrified voices spoke nearly simultaneously, Michael looking like he might faint, while Melanie and Lindsay trod on Vic and Deb's toes as they backed away.

"Oh, c'mon," Emmett joshed, "Melanie, you and Michael could play daddy together."

"No. No. No." Michael nearly stamped his foot in vexation. "I'm not ready to be a dad."

Melanie wilted against Lindsay, the blonde looking equally relieved.

"I'm only thirty, for fuck's sake," Michael concluded.

Brian shifted uneasily, feeling like his friend had punched him in the gut, instantly concerned that he also was too young to be a father. It had taken Lindsay almost a year to badger him into donating his sperm, with Brian acquiescing as long as he'd be a dad in name only. Since Gus had been born, however, he'd become more and more enamored of his son, which had him worried that he was turning into some kind of domesticated Stepford fag.

His dark thoughts were interrupted when Dr Dave stepped aside, revealing the Captain Astro surrogate, who'd been working his way through the mob of guests. "Someone's here to see you Michael," the doc advised his newly acquired boyfriend.

Michael's eyes went wide with wonder, as Captain Astro declared, "I heard it was your birthday, so I thought I'd fly by and bring you something special." With that, the superhero handed Michael a comic book in a cellophane wrapper.

Gazing back and forth between the comic and the Astro stand-in, Michael spluttered, "This is a first edition of the first appearance of Captain Astro in print. Do you know how much this is worth?"

"Anything for you, Michael," David stated sincerely.

"You? You got this for me?" Michael asked in amazement. "I thought this must be from Bri-"

Dr Dave cut him off with a thorough kiss, to much hooting and hollering from their audience. When they came up for air, he mouthed ‘Thanks' at Brian over Michael's head.

Brian smiled smugly at him in return. Thank fuck that had gone right. It looked like his ‘best friend' would be both happy and occupied with the good doc for the foreseeable future.

At that moment, however, Michael blanched as he looked toward the open doorway.

Following his gaze, Brian discovered Mikey's friend from the Big Q had arrived. Fuck, maybe this hadn't been his brightest idea, he mused, as he walked over to the young woman.

"Come on in," he invited the girl. "Michael's just opening his presents."

"You invited her!" Michael half-shouted as he hurried across the room. "Why?"

"Because she's your friend, Mikey," Brian wearily replied. Fuck, this was ruining his efforts to give his friend the best birthday ever - and get him out of Brian's hair in the process. What had he been thinking when he'd invited whatshername to the party? He suddenly couldn't remember.

"Mike," she uttered in a hushed voice so that no one else would overhear them, "I don't care that you're gay." 

Michael turned betrayed eyes on his friend. "You told her that, too? It's no one's business but mine," he insisted.

"Michael, I'm not going to out you at work," whatsherface interrupted. "I'd never do that, even if I didn't care about you. But you never should have led me on, made me think that you liked me."

"I do like you, Tracy," Michael protested, "well, as a friend, anyway."

Ah, that was the girl's name, Brian thought. There was a remote chance he might even remember it the next time he saw her. He snorted, probably not.

"Rather than trusting me and being honest, you fooled me into believing you wanted me as your girlfriend," Tracy hissed, shoving a small, gift-wrapped box into Michael's hands. "I'm having a hard time seeing you as a friend right now, so I'm just going to go."

With that, Tracy left the room, clattering down the stairs in her high heels.

"How could you?" an upset Michael asked Brian. "How do I know that she won't out me to Marley and Andrew? I could lose my job, Brian!"

"Michael," Brian paused to run a hand through his hair, making it stick up in disarray, "I thought you could use some backup at the Big Q. Tracy's not going to tell anyone you're queer, but you'd better mend some fences with her if you would actually like to have a friend at that fucking store."

Right then, David came up, inquiring, "Who was that, Michael?"

"Just someone from work," Michael sullenly replied.

"I wish she'd stayed. I would have liked to meet one of your colleagues," David stated.

"Yes, surely, you want Dr Dave to meet your friend from the Big Q," Brian stressed, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the liquor cart.

"We're gonna talk more about this," Michael threatened to Brian's retreating back.

Brian could hear David cajoling, "Hey, c'mon, don't be in a bad mood. It sounds like Brian was trying to do you a favor."

Turning around, the stud observed a clearly unconvinced Michael muttering, "Maybe," while looking mutinous.

Shit, Brian reflected, he should have known better than to try and do a friend a good turn. It never worked out right.

Brian stationed himself next to the alcohol, knocking back the Beam as David steered Michael toward a chair in the center of the room. "Captain Astro has a special performance planned for you," the doc loudly informed Michael as well as everyone else.

"Yeah?" Michael asked, his gloomy countenance brightening as ZZ Ward's ‘Move Like U Stole It' began streaming through the speakers.

Captain Astro danced out, shimmying and gyrating in front of Michael, as he slowly removed his costume. He circled around the birthday boy, trailing a finger down his torso, popping open a few buttons along the way.

Shouts of, "Take it off!" and "Show me more!" resounded throughout the loft, Emmett sashaying over at one point and grinding up against the Captain, his eyebrows lasciviously waggling.

"Go, Emmylou!" Vic hooted.

Once Astro was down to his black mask and a scarlet jockstrap, which didn't quite cover his package, he seated himself in Michael's lap.

Michael's face was a fiery crimson, but he was enjoying himself immensely if the moans and groans emanating from his mouth were anything to go by.

When the superhero leaned down to claim his mouth in a searing kiss, Michael got so overexcited that he tipped the chair over, spilling both of them to the ground.

"Hands off," Dr Dave half joked, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he helped Michael to his feet. "He's mine."

Brian extended a hand to Captain Astro, who licked his lips as he stared at the studly brunet. Tipping his head toward the bedroom, Brian disappeared up the steps moments later.

"Fuck," Vic sighed, gazing wistfully after the two men as the Captain hastened after Brian. "That used to be me."

"You've still got it, Victor Grassi," Debbie insisted, laying her head on her brother's shoulder. "We just need to find the right guy for you."

Later that evening, the candles on the cake were blown out and the chocolate and peanut butter confection consumed - with the partiers wiping away smears of frosting while incriminating photos were snapped. That was followed by hours of dancing and drinking, before the party finally began to wind down. 

"Wait, Michael, you haven't opened all your presents," Emmett noticed, dragging his friend back over to the table, where an unassuming, plain white envelope had been placed, Michael's name scrawled on top in Brian's sharp cursive.

After opening it, Michael gave the taller man a hug, muttering, "I'm still pissed at you, but I'm thrilled that we'll be going to the New York Comic Con togeth-"

"Who, Mikey," Brian halted his friend's babbling. "The tickets are for you and Dr Dave."

"But," a bewildered Michael replied, "we've talked about going there for years. David's not interested in comics."

"I am if you are," David came up behind Michael, wrapping his arms around the younger man.

"You are?" Michael asked, a dazed look in his eyes.

"I am," Dr Dave assured him.

Brian almost barfed, the moment was so sickeningly sweet.

"I'm off to another job," Captain Astro interrupted. "See you at Babylon sometime?" he addressed no one in particular while glancing at Brian.

"One time only," Brian reiterated his infamous policy, to the Captain's obvious disappointment.

"Hold on just a sec," Michael requested of Captain Astro, grabbing a piece of thick paper off of a nearby table and unrolling the drawing he'd found earlier that evening amongst the pile of presents. "This is a killer sketch; I'd like a photo with you guys on each side of me, with me holding it."

Brian glanced down at the drawing as he took his place next to Michael, David raising his camera to take the shot. Fucking blond brat, he thought, his conscience twinging slightly at not having invited the teen to the party. He quickly forgot his misgivings, though, as he eyed the sketch more closely, taking in the details. A habitual smirk on his face, he goosed Captain Astro just as David pressed the shutter button. 

"You'll have to display the photo and the sketch side by side," Brian recommended, chuckling as the Captain rubbed his abused posterior.

While the party was going on at the loft, Justin and Kiki were being run off their feet at the diner. It had been insanely busy from the moment he'd walked into the diner at five minutes to three o'clock. He'd handed the rolled-up drawing, gaily tied shut with a multicolored ribbon, to Debbie as she was preparing to leave, declaring, "Here, this is for Michael."

"Thanks, Kiddo," Deb had bussed him on the cheek. "I'm sure he'll love it."

Justin had his doubts, but it wouldn't have done to mention them to the motherly redhead.

"I swear, all the queers in Pittsburgh have descended on this diner today," Debbie had stated as she handed her apron to the teen for him to hang up. "You'd think there was no other place to eat in the city." Scanning the diner filled with customers, some of whom were trying to flag her down, she'd offered, "Maybe I should stay..."

"What's the point of Mr. Süc excusing me from my IT class if you stay?" Justin had asked, pushing her toward the door. "Get going. Kiks and I can handle it."

"Well, if you're sure," Debbie had allowed, calling over her shoulder as she'd rushed out the door, "The crowd has to thin out soon."

That had turned out to be a false prophecy as more and more diners had squeezed into the diner in the next few hours.

Now it was nine o'clock and the joint was as busy as ever. Kiki moaned, "Holy cow," as she paused behind the cash register, removing one aching foot from her high-heeled shoe and kneading it. "I've never seen it so busy on a Thursday night. It's almost enough to make me wish I were celebrating with that pipsqueak, even if he does get on my nerves."

"The half of Liberty Avenue that's not at Michael's knees-up must be here at the diner," Justin diplomatically replied, ignoring her depreciatory remark about Michael, even if he did agree with the tranny. 

"That's a fair assessment, Sherlock," Kiki teased, sliding her foot back into the shoe and freeing the other foot for a quick rub.

The blond had been too busy until now to think about the party, the crowd distracting him. Now, however, he was reminded of how bereft he felt that Brian hadn't invited him. Although Justin and Michael didn't get along very well, he supported the friendship between Brian and Michael, knowing how much it meant to the Brian. He'd thought the estrangement between himself and his former lover had eased enough that Brian would think to invite him to the do, but he'd clearly been mistaken.

Giving his head a shake, Justin refused to dwell on it for the nonce. He turned his attention to Kiki, admiringly stating, "I don't know how you manage in heels," wishing he could as easily kick off his sneakers. "Actually, I don't know how you manage at all. I'm not even eighteen yet, and I'm worn out." The blond reached around to massage his lower back, trying to ease an annoying kink.

"Truly, it's much better for your feet if you aren't standing around flat-footed," the tranny informed him. Raising an eyebrow, she suggested, "You should try heels sometime. I bet they'd make your calves look even more shapely."

"Uh," Justin sputtered, unsure how to respond.

Right then, a gravelly voice inquired, "What's good tonight?"

"Well, honey, I'm always good," Kiki teased the weary-looking detective.

"You do look mighty fine," Carl flirted with the tranny, "but I'm in desperate need of some sustenance. I'm on shift for another three hours."

Justin smiled, pleased to see the bluff detective. "The fare's pretty standard tonight," he reported, "since Harry's not on duty and neither - thankfully - is the crazy Finnish wannabe chef."

"Today's cod fillet is pretty decent, if you like fish," Kiki interjected.

"No quaint name to put the customers off?" Carl jested.

"Well," the tranny drawled, "the dish is properly referred to as Catch a Snatch. Lesbians love it."

Chuckling at the aghast look on the copper's face, Justin revealed, "She just made that up on the spot. You're safe with the cod; I promise."

"Uh-huh. I bet I'd be even safer with a burger and fries," Carl retorted. "Care to join me? I haven't seen you for a few days."

"Go on," Kiki urged, "you haven't taken a break yet, even though you've been here since three o'clock." 

"Yeah, I'm wasting away," the teen joshed sarcastically, his stomach emitting a rumble that seemed to underscore his statement. "You sure you can handle it on your own?" Justin added in a concerned tone, glancing over as a group of ten rowdy customers exited the diner.

"Positive," the tranny insisted, also glancing toward the door. "The crowd is finally thinning out."

"Here," Kiks placed platefuls of food in front of the two hungry men mere minutes later. "Avocado hamburgers with sweet potato fries. And just for you, Mr Detective, so you can decide whether there's anything fishy about it, I've included a small portion of the cod."

Both Justin and Carl burst out laughing at the waitress' cheekiness, Carl winking and saying, "I will investigate it thoroughly. Should I take it up with you if I find something fishy about the cod?" 

Kiki left them to their food with a cheerful titter. 

The men chatted while they ate, Carl mentioning that there hadn't been any real progress yet in regard to the burglary. Justin contemplated telling him about the torched locker - as everyone had been pressuring him to do. Desperate to keep matters from escalating at St. James, the teen decided to wait another day or two. He figured he could better assess the situation after meeting with Dr Perkins the next morning.

"Huh," Carl commented, wiping his mouth with his napkin before standing up, "that cod really wasn't bad at all. Didn't even taste like fish." 

The tranny was busy with customers at the other end of the diner, so Justin offered, his blue eyes twinkling, "I'll let Kiks know there was nothing piscine about it."

Chuckling, the copper tossed a twenty on to the table, claiming, "I'd better get back to my shift. Watch out for yourself, okay?"

Justin's conscience twinged that he hadn't confided in the gruff but sympathetic detective when he'd had the perfect opportunity. Standing up in a rush, he said, "Let me just get your change," as he headed toward the front counter.

"No need," Horvath insisted, buttoning up his coat before striding to the door. "Tell the lady it's a tip for not serving me any fishy business."

The teen chuckled about that conversation on and off until the end of his shift and he was still smiling as he slid into his bed just before midnight. He immediately fell sound asleep.