Justin staggered into the kitchen on Saturday morning, so dead on his feet that even a quick, cold shower had failed to revive him. Had he been wrong to tell Daph that he could easily get by on little sleep? he wondered, having trouble even just putting one foot in front of the other. Then again, he'd gotten less than four hours of shuteye the night before, and that had been after a full shift at the diner and dancing at Babylon. He had every right to feel groggy, he decided.

The teen propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands while he waited for the coffee maker to finish percolating, his eyes drifting closed. Justin remembered a different morning about a month ago, and a slow smile spread across his face as he recollected Brian's idea of breakfast and the avant-garde use for his MomentoItalia table.

Brian had woken him early on a school day that morning, insisting that as they hadn't had the energy to fuck the night before because they'd passed out after getting home from Babylon, Justin was obliged to take care of his needs. Justin had been a little pissy because he wasn't used to a six o'clock wake-up call, but once Brian had told him what he'd had in mind and had seduced him with a couple long and dirty kisses, he'd found himself excited at the prospect of an early morning fuck.

"You sure this is going to hold up?" he had asked his lover as the brunet had deposited him atop the modern but flimsy-looking table.  

"Of course it will," Brian had smugly reassured him. "I sure as hell paid enough money for it."

"Yeah, but did you tell the designers how you planned to use it?" Justin had inquired doubtfully. "I bet the specs didn't take this kind of activity into account."

Brian had shaken his head, smiling fondly at Justin. "It's gonna hold up," he'd promised, leaning in for a kiss and pushing Justin back to lie down in the process. "You'll see."

"Um, okay," the teen had acquiesced, hoping he wouldn't end up on the floor.

Brian bit at the blond's lip, grunting distractedly, and soon Justin could feel his lover's hand worming its way underneath his sleep tee.

"Mmm," he mumbled in pleasure as the brunet's fingers trailed upward, pausing to tug at his nipple ring. A few moments later, Justin obligingly lifted his shoulders off the table so Brian could remove his T-shirt, goosebumps immediately forming on his skin. "'s cold," he murmured.

"You'll warm up." His lover grinned down at him unrepentantly.

"Hmm." Justin smiled lewdly, wiggling his arse on the smooth surface. "I thought you were gonna warm me up?"

"That's the idea," the brunet concurred, bending over to claim another kiss and running his hands down Justin's sides, causing the blond to twitch at the tickling sensation.

He giggled as Brian's destination was revealed, the brunet pulling at the white briefs he'd worn to bed. "These tighty-whities have got to go," he teased.

"You like my tighty-whities," the teenager insisted with a pout. "They show off my package. Just imagine if it was all hidden behind some ugly pattern."

"I like you even better without them." Brian smiled, waggling his eyebrows and palming Justin's cock through the cotton. "Lift your arse, would'ya?"

Justin did as he was told, giving his pelvis a good swivel for show. "Like this?"

"Mhmm," his lover hmmed, pulling the underwear off and tossing them aside, before leaning down and blowing a warm breath across Justin's cock.

The teen shivered, although not from the cold. "Do that again," he requested.

Brian smirked before ducking his head even lower and giving Justin's member a brief lick. Only then did he blow across the wet patch of soft skin.

"Fuck!" Justin shouted, his hips bucking as he tried to follow Brian's mouth. "More," he begged.

His lover pecked his hip teasingly. "More of what, Sunshine?"

The increasingly desperate blond gestured toward his groin and his distended, purplish erection. "There," he growled. "Put your mouth there."

Brian pressed his lips softly right at the crease of Justin's thigh. "Here?"

"Up and to your-" Justin paused as he tried to figure out whether his lover needed to move to the right or the left, his arousal making it difficult to think. "Left," he guessed.

Brian snorted. "Left? You want me to kiss your hip again?" he teased, sliding his hands over Justin's thighs. "You know, for someone so clever, you should really learn to tell your rights from your lefts." 

As anxious as he was for Brian to pay attention to his straining manhood, the teen couldn't help but laugh. "I'm ambidextrous, remember?" he giggled. "So it doesn't usually matter."

"I'll remind you of that when you start taking driving lessons," Brian snarked, before finally turning his attention to what really mattered and kissing the head of Justin's hardness.

"Mmm," Justin purred, ignoring the brunet's snide remark. "So good," he moaned as his lover started swirling his tongue around the glans of his engorged cock.

"Was that what you wanted?" Brian inquired, raising his head and peering at the teen through his eyelashes.

"Why'd you stop?" Justin complained, his impending release curtailed. 

"A blow job would hardly test the durability of this table," the brunet replied with a wicked leer. 

The teen wanted to scream at Brian to get a move on as his lover slowly unbent, stretched, and sauntered over to a bowl on the kitchen counter to retrieve a condom and lube.

"Hard and fast or slow and easy?" the brunet queried, acting as if they had all the time in the world.

Justin smiled. "I suggest hard and fast if you want to make it to Ryder on time, Stud," he told the older man.

"Hmm, I think you lack patience, Sunshine," Brian commented as he ran his hands along the blond's legs, "but I suppose I can save that lesson for another day."

"You're going to have to if you plan on shagging me anytime this century, Bri," Justin exclaimed, a touch of desperation entering his voice.

"Tsk, tsk," Brian chided him, torturing the teen by slowly covering his straining member after opening the condom package. "It doesn't have to be quite that fast."

Justin gyrated his hips, grabbing onto Brian as soon as his lover was back in reach. "Just come here and fuck me finally," he demanded. "One would think you didn't want to with how much you're stalling."

"I'm not going to fuck you without prepping you first," Brian reprimanded the eager young man, again moving at glacial speed as he ran the tip of one lubed finger around Justin's opening, before adding another finger and ever so gradually pressing in.

"Ah!" Brian's ministrations punched a breath out of Justin. "At least be quick about it," he asked of his lover. "Or I'm gonna take matters into my own hands."

"Quick or fast - you're a bright lad, so you should know those are synonyms that won't help you reach your goal." Brian grinned down at the squirming blond, his hands on Justin's hips preventing the teen from sliding closer to his dick. He then boasted, "There's no way you can take charge right now - quite the predicament you're in, I fear."

Justin almost growled. "I bloody know those are synonyms!" he complained. "And if you think I can't take charge while lying spread-eagled on my back, you don't know me," he finished, his eyes sparkling.

"Prove it," the brunet dared him.

Sitting up swiftly, not heeding the two fingers buried in his ass, Justin reached out to wrap his fist around his lover's cock. Squeezing the hardness firmly, he whispered into Brian's ear, "If you don't get on me right now, I'll make you come before you even make it into my ass. How's that?"

The older man grunted, "Aaah!" clearly struggling to control himself. "I'm not going to give in," he finally gritted out, "so you'd better let go if you truly want me to fuck you, you little brat."

Justin pumped his fist over Brian's length, adding a little twist at the end. "I'm quite content to jerk you off and then fuck myself on our little glass friend once you leave for work," he lied. "Is that what you want?"

"Uh-huh," Brian scoffed, his tensed muscles showing the effort he was exerting. "I haven't forgotten I'm your ride to school, little boy. Or were you thinking of playing hooky?"

"I could always take the bus," Justin suggested nonchalantly, his hand not stopping its movements. "Now are you ready to get on with it or should I actually put some effort into the handjob?"

Brian grimaced, warning, "You'd better rethink that. You'll be late for your maths class if you have to catch the bus; more importantly, you won't have time to play with our favourite toy because you'll have to hoof it to the bus stop."

Seeing he wasn't going to win with words - a dumb assumption to begin with; Brian was a master of persuasion - Justin decided his only chance of outmanoeuvring his lover was to take action. Leaning back and sliding off the brunet's fingers, Justin went to jump off the table. "Fine, I'll just go ahead and-" he cut himself off with a yelp as Brian grabbed him underneath his arms and manhandled him back into position

"You're not going anywhere, Sunshine," his lover growled, pushing his fingers back into the blond's heat. "Now be a good boy and take my cock."

Since Brian was finally ready to use his God-given gift as he was meant to, Justin sighed happily. "Oh, Brian," he moaned softly. 

"We'd have gotten to this point sooner," his lover grunted as he pushed into Justin's snug passage, "if you'd stop being such an obstinate little shit and listen to me."

"What?" the teen quipped on a breathy moan. "Am I supposed to heed my elders?"

"That's not going to get you the fucking you want," Brian threatened, his brow furrowing as he forced himself to ease out of Justin's ass.

"Why? Does the reminder of your age make your dick go- hmpf..." Justin's bratty reply got lost in another one of Brian's pornographic kisses.

"Not the best way to shut you up," the brunet noted when their lips finally separated so they could heave in air, "but my dick's otherwise occupied at the moment." With that, he shoved in, hard.

"Ah!" Justin screamed, writhing wildly in order to adjust to the sudden intrusion. "Fuck, yeah."

Brian smiled fiercely at the teen, gradually pulling back until only the tip of his cock remained inside, before plunging forward again. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow onto Justin's lips.

The teen grinned back at his lover as he licked up the droplet, murmuring, "Yummy."

"You pervert," Brian breathed out with a surprised huff of laughter. "That's hot."

"Have a taste," the teen offered, tilting his head so Brian could clearly see the moisture trickling from his hairline.

As he slammed back into the teen's warmth, the brunet swiped his tongue along the side of Justin's face. He then leaned in for another scorching kiss.

"Yeah!" the young man screamed, deciding it was time to demonstrate that his lover wasn't quite as in charge as he thought. He squeezed his inner muscles, watching as Brian went cross-eyed above him.

"Gah, Jus," the older man gasped out as his hips twitched uncontrollably. "Fuck, do that again."

Justin obliged, squeezing even harder this time.

Brian's pelvis thrust forward on its own again, and the brunet panted, "Oh, yeah, come on."

"Once more," the teen urged, also panting. "I'm almost there."

Brian slowed down his movements immediately. "Not so fast; Sunshine, I'm not done with you yet."

"Yes, you are," the teen insisted as he heaved in air. He clamped down so hard on Brian's prick that he feared for a moment that he might've severed it from his lover's body. He could see Brian squeezing his eyes shut, a pained expression on his face.

"No, not yet," the brunet moaned desperately, looking tortured but somehow managing to keep himself from coming yet. "Come on, Jus," he begged. "Just a little longer."

The teen almost took pity on his lover - it would be for their mutual pleasure, after all - but then he noticed the focused gleam in his lover's eyes, revealing that the brunet didn't want to lose their power struggle. Bracing himself on his forearms, the teen rammed himself onto Brian, his muscles tightening on his lover's dick like a vice, while he demanded, "Fucking come, now!"

Brian almost started crying as his orgasm was torn out of him forcefully. "Fuck, fuck!" he cried, hips jerking, cock spasming, and hands shaking. "Justin," he sobbed out. "Shit."

The teen bared his teeth triumphantly, screaming, "Briaaan!" his head thudding down onto the table as his cock erupted, streamers of viscous liquid decorating his torso.

His lover was still trembling all over, eyes glazed. "Jus," he croaked before slumping down over his smaller form.

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's shoulders, rubbing his back soothingly. "Shh, it's okay, Bri. That was wonderful." 

"I think you killed me, Sunshine," his lover mumbled into Justin's chest.

The blond chuckled warmly, squeezing his lover's nape. "You are a bit of a dead weight," he teased softly. 

As the blond reached up to run a hand through his lover's hair, he was rudely jolted back to the present when his fingers instead dipped into a mug of hot coffee. "Ow!" he shouted, shaking his hand and blinking in confusion as he realized he was leaning against the counter in Deb's kitchen, the two siblings eyeing him keenly.

"Uh, hi?" he ventured uncertainly.

"That must've been some daydream - or should I say Bob-dream?" Debbie cackled. "It looked like you were about to come in your pants, Sunshine."

"Yeah, we hated to interrupt before the culmination," Vic joked.

"Um, I didn't- I mean, I didn't you know..." he stuttered out embarrassedly. He glanced down as inconspicuously as possible, relieved to note there were no stains on his khakis, although the cotton was tented suspiciously.

Debs tittered merrily. "Oh, we know," she exclaimed with a suggestive raise of one eyebrow. "One might even say, we are intimately acquainted with the situation."

The teen was too flustered to say anything else, and he became even more chagrined when the cheeky budgie chose that moment to chirp, "Hellooo, Briaaan," in a seemingly indelicate tone.

"Oh, shut up, you." Justin rolled his eyes at the bird fondly.

The blue budgie bobbed its head. "Shut up, Baby!"

"I think our Harley has heard that once or twice before," Vic chuckled.

"I wonder why," the blond shook his head ruefully at the little pest.

"Shut up! Come, come, come, Baby! Come eat!" the bird continued cheerfully, babbling.

"He has you all figured out, Kiddo," Debbie quipped. "Come and eat, the two most important words for a gay teen."

Vic grinned. "Any gay, really," he amended. "Speaking of, I'm peckish."

"Fuck!" Deb exclaimed, looking at the clock. "We'd better wolf something down pronto, Sunshine, or we won't make it to the diner on time." Winking at her brother, she inquired, "What're you fixing for us, Vic?"

"I make a mean bowl of cereal," the older man teased, even as he quickly went to scramble some eggs and pop a couple bagels into the toaster.

"At least that's one appetite assuaged," Debbie jested a bit later as they walked toward the diner.

"Well, if you hadn't interrupted..." Justin trailed off, blushing furiously as they approached the eatery.

"There's always the men's room," Debbie joked as the teen held open the door for her.

"Um, I think I'll wait till I get home," Justin mumbled, grimacing at the thought of all the accumulated body fluids on the restroom walls.

"Probably a good choice," Debbie agreed with a roguish wink as they donned their aprons.

Mercifully for the blond, they were soon far too busy serving customers for the redhead to twit him further.

"Fuck," Justin muttered to himself as he stumbled, almost dropping a tubful of dirty dishes onto the floor. He was practically sleepwalking after four hours at the diner, and he still had half of his shift to go.

"Here, taste this," the Finnish dishwasher requested, shoving an unappetizing glob of boiled spinach at the teen.

"Uh, no, thanks." Justin averted his face and slunk around the chap, who was filling in for Fahad during the chef's lunch break, so he could deposit the tub next to the sink.

"It's really good," the Finn insisted, following Justin. "I added raisins to the spinach."

The teen felt his stomach turn. He'd be sure to vom if it tasted as bad as it smelled. He grinned, however, as he contemplated what Michael would have to say about ‘buggy spinach'. The raisins kinda did look like dead beetles. If Michael and the rest of the gang came in for brunch, as they were wont to do on the weekend, maybe he could surreptitiously add a dollop to the dweeb's order and then enjoy his reaction...

As if his thoughts had summoned Michael, the bell jingled and the short brunet tumbled through the doorway, David evidently propelling him with a hand in the small of his back. Suddenly, Michael's foot slipped and he skidded across the slick floor, arms windmilling in a desperate attempt to regain balance. Losing his fight with gravity, the brunet ended up on his arse right in front of the cash register.

Dr Dave hurried over to his boyfriend, loudly inquiring, "Michael, are you okay?"

Michael looked up at the chiropractor and dazedly mumbled, "Dunno."

David's eyes lighted on Justin, and he chastised him severely, "Wet floors are dangerous. You need to mop the floor dry pronto, and in the meantime, you'd better post a warning sign."

The teen pointed toward the door and the large, neon-yellow, A-frame sign proclaiming, ‘Caution: Wet Floor', which had been knocked akilter by Michael's precipitous entrance. A bit irritated by Dr Dave's demeanor, he brusquely replied, "We can't keep the floor dry with customers traipsing in and out. We've warned everyone to be careful, and there haven't been any problems - till now."

"Well, I wouldn't recommend that method for knocking some sense into yourself," Brian wryly remarked as he sauntered over to Michael.

"Sweet Cheeks," David offered, a concerned frown on his face, "maybe I should take you to the ER."

‘Sweet cheeks?' Ted and Brian mouthed at each other over the injured man's head. Justin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright, unable to determine whether sweet cheeks or honeybun was a more nauseating pet name.

"I'm okey-dokey," Michael assured Dave as his boyfriend gently helped him to his feet and led him over to a booth. "I don't need the hospital."

Mincing over to the booth in his leopard-print pants and high-heeled boots, Emmett squeezed in next to Michael, joking, "At least you didn't whack your head, Honey. You can't afford it."

Justin bustled over with a steaming cuppa, placing it in front of Michael.

Scowling at the teen, Dr Dave snarled, "That's the least-" before he was interrupted.

"Cool your jets, Doc," Brian advised. "The kid's not to blame. As far as I could tell, you were the one who ushered Michael into the diner; you must've nudged him a bit too hard after you opened the door."

"Huh, you're right," the chiropractor acknowledged. Tipping his head toward Justin, he uttered sincerely, "Sorry."

Warmed by Brian's unexpected defence, the blond nodded in acceptance of David's apology.

Debbie barrelled into the eatery at that moment, returning from her break and vociferously grumbling, "It's fucking monkeys out there." After removing her coat, she looked around and shrieked, "Sweetie, what happened?" The redhead rushed over to the booth, tugged Em out of his seat, and scooched in beside her son, patting him down as she checked for injuries.

"Ma!" Michael complained, "How did you even know anything happened?" 

"You joking?" She raised her eyebrows. "A mother can always tell when her child is hurt." Then she turned to glare at Brian, accusing, "What'd you do?"

"No one was at fault, Deb," Ted hastily intervened, relating how Michael had slipped and fallen down. "It was an accident."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Brian," Debbie excused herself. "I just know Michael would leap off a cliff after you; he wouldn't even think twice."

"Why the fuck would I jump off a cliff in the first place?" the adman queried.

"Because you're just like Captain Astro! Performing feats of derring-do!" Michael enthused, making a sudden recovery from his encounter with the wet floor.

"That cartoon wonder," Ted muttered. "He must've scrambled his brains jumping off one too many cliffs."

"No shit," Brian agreed, looking a little disconcerted to again be in agreement with the accountant.

Michael expounded for ten minutes about all of his superhero's attributes, while everyone's eyes glazed over. Two minutes into her son's diatribe, Deb stood up, murmuring to Justin that she'd take care of the clamoring horde at the back of the diner.

Justin quickly bussed a couple of tables and took orders from a boisterous group of bears, returning to the gang in time to hear Brian interject, "Christ, Mikey, as long as Astro has a big dick, he's good to go. That's the most important attribute," the advertising exec stressed. 

Emmett confirmed, "Size matters, ya know."

"But," Michael spluttered, "a big dick won't help Captain Astro rescue his sidekick, Zephyr, from the evil lesbians who are holding him hostage."

"All he has to do is whip it out and shake it at the carpet munchers," Brian suggested. "The lezzies will run screaming in terror."

Justin stifled a giggle, politely inquiring, "Are you ready to order?"

"I'll have the tuna salad," Brian decided. "It wasn't half bad the last time. No-"

"Hold the mayo. Wheat crackers on the side," Justin finished, nodding and giving the tall brunet a smile. "Guava juice to drink."

"What would you like, Honeybun?" David questioned after Emmett and Ted had both ordered the Pink Plate Special and Dr Pepper.

The other four men winced at the endearment before quickly donning poker faces.

"Tuna salad sounds kind of good, don't you think?" Michael piped up.

Justin groaned to himself at the notion of another Jessica Simpson debate.

"Are you sure?" Dr Dave pondered. "I was thinking of having a burger."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Michael eagerly acquiesced. "That red meat protein would definitely be healthier."

The chiropractor's eyes crossed as he obviously tried to follow his boyfriend's reasoning, before shrugging in what might've been concurrence.

The teen coughed to cover up the snicker that tried to escape; Brian and Ted rolled their eyes; and Emmett fake sneezed, emitting a foghorn-like noise.

Somehow, Justin resisted the urge to give a PSA lecture on the ‘good fat' and ‘lean protein' in tuna versus the ‘twenty-five to thirty percent fat' and ‘lower protein content' in the regular ground beef generally purchased by the diner. "A triple-decker cheeseburger, a large order of fries, and a giant Coke?" the teen rattled off.

"Good," Michael approved with a satisfied grin.

"The same for you?" Justin asked David, quirking an eyebrow at the doctor.

"Uh, no, not quite that much for me," the man stammered. "How about a single patty, no bun, and a salad on the side?"

"Coming right up," the blond promised. As Justin put in the order with the Finnish cook, the teen mused aloud, "I wonder whether they'd like to try that spinach concoction."

Justin took orders and delivered meals to other tables after serving the gang's drinks. Shortly thereafter, he smiled mischievously when he discovered the Finn had taken the hint. "Two Pink Plate Specials, a tuna salad, one single burger, and a triple-decker with the works," the teen announced, setting their plates in front of the five men.

"What is that?" Michael immediately squawked, attempting to climb over Em to get out of the booth. "It's moving!"

"Honey, what's got your knickers in a twist?" the tall queen screeched in protest as Michael kneed him in the balls.

"There's bugs - live ones! - in that green glop!" Michael shrieked, his hand shaking as he pointed at his plate.

Justin was giggling madly as he slowly cleared the dishes from a neighboring booth.

"It's just spinach, Sweet Cheeks," David noted, scooping up a spoonful and chewing it. "A little odd with the raisins, I admit, but spinach contains lots of important nutrients."

"Why'd we get ‘beetle spinach'?" Michael yelled, still endeavouring to climb over the tall queen. "None of us ordered that!"

"It's not so bad," Emmett tried to both console and fend off his friend as he took a bite. "The raisins kinda add flavour."

"Better than this pork chop," Ted observed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "It tastes like cod."

"That Finnish dude must be at the cooker," a resigned Brian noted, poking at the unappetizing green blob on his plate. "Thank fuck I ordered fish."

As Brian contentedly ate his salad and the other boys picked at their fish-flavoured meals, Emmett excitedly asked, "Have you guys heard about what went down at Babylon a few days ago?"

"It's not news when a trick - or ten - goes ‘down' on Brian," Michael guffawed, gazing adoringly at his friend.

"Whatever," Brian intoned dismissively.

"Believe it or not, Michael, not everything is about Brian," Ted inserted acerbically.

Jesus, the adman ruminated, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief to have the spotlight off himself, Ted was becoming damn near indispensable. He barely remembered to give the accountant an obligatory eye-roll and disbelieving smirk for his caustic comment.

"Is this about the wagers riding on the ‘long schlong contest'?" David inquired curiously.

"No! No! No!" Em bounced in his seat, clearly eager to impart the latest titbit.

"Breathe," recommended Ted drolly, as the tall queen turned red in the face from holding in both his breath and the news.

Emmett exhaled noisily, gushing, "Backroom goss has it that a homely fag ran amok, assaulted a redhead, and that the ginger's boyfriend then punched Mr Fugly."

Brian stiffened, worried the rumors could stem from that demanding trick attacking him. He was beginning to feel like he couldn't escape the bastard no matter what he did.

"Huh," grunted Dr Dave, "I heard some guys were at fisticuffs over an attractive blond twink, but there was nothing about an assault."

"Attractive?" Michael interjected. "Couldn't have been the teenybopper brat then."

Brian forcibly relaxed his rigid muscles as the chatter turned to the blond teenager. He didn't think anyone had noticed his distress, although he avoided looking at Ted since the man had been far too perceptive of late. 

"Honey," Em shook his head at his deluded friend, "Justin's way beyond attractive. Didn't you see all the money those horny homos were shoving into his briefs last night?" The tall man directed his gaze toward the gorgeous blond, who was toting another tubful of dirty dishes to the kitchen, lamenting, "Baby's gotta do something about those tighty-whities, though. They're a disgrace."

"Bubble butts are a dime a dozen," Michael dissented, pouting. "Mine's better than the twink's, isn't it, Boopsie?" he asked, turning to Dr Dave and batting his eyelashes at the chiropractor.

"I plead temporary insanity," Ted murmured as the two men billed and cooed at each other. When Brian eyed him quizzically as he lifted his glass of guava juice, the older brunet clarified, "For ever being enamored of someone who calls his partner ‘boopsie.'"

Brian chuckled. Unfortunately, he had just taken a rather large swallow of juice, which caused the normally debonair man to choke on the liquid. "Shit!" he cursed when pink dots appeared on his Givenchy black silk tee.

"Anyway," Emmett interrupted loudly, "isn't it horrible that someone would try to assault a trick in the backroom? Babylon is supposed to be our safe space; imagine if it happened to one of us."

Michael acquired a doubtful look. "I don't think anything like that could happen to any of us; we could all defend ourselves against some perv."

Ted frowned. "I think that anyone can have a vulnerable moment, Michael," he said.

David nodded, seemingly agreeing with the accountant, but Mikey protested, "If you can't defend yourself, you shouldn't be going in the backroom alone. I always make sure Emmett or Brian is with me- I mean, I used to, before David, of course."  

"Huh?" Em denied. "I don't remember accompanying you. It shouldn't be necessary anyhow, since there's usually plenty of people one knows back there."

Michael hesitated. "Eh, well, it's not like I went often or anything," he explained, "so I guess I usually relied on Brian."

Since Michael had frequently tagged along after him rather than finding his own trick, Brian wanted to scoff at the man's claims. He was half petrified, however, concerned that his friends would somehow winkle out that he'd been involved if he joined in the discussion. "Whatever," he finally grunted.

Michael looked affronted at the cavalier dismissal, while Emmett flapped a hand at him in irritation. "Don't act all high and mighty, Mr Kinney. You like a juicy bit of gossip just as much as any other fag."

"It would help," Ted caustically inserted, "if there were a little more to go on than a vague rumor of someone being assaulted in the backroom." When the queen opened his mouth to object, Ted held up a hand and continued, "Something more than ‘a homely dude attacked a redhead'. C'mon, Em, I bet if we listened in on some of the other lunchtime conversations here in the diner, one fag would maintain that the assaulter was a redhead, while another would contend that there were five people involved in a knock-down-drag-out fight - and that they were all blonds."

"Yeah." Emmett beamed at Teddy, gleefully rubbing his hands together. "Isn't hot gossip the best?"

While his friends blabbed, Brian decided a smoke might calm his nerves. He reached into his leather jacket to check for his Lucky Strike cigarettes, smiling when he looked at the familiar red-on-white logo. Whoever dreamed up that name was bloody brilliant, he thought for the umpteenth time. He wished he could come up with something equally good for his fledgling advertising firm. "AdStud," he enunciated, hating the name just as much as when Cynthia had first proposed it; sadly it was the best suggestion so far.

"Huh?" Michael prompted. "Ad what?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Nothing, just some bullshit Cynthia said," he waved it off.

Ted raised a teasing eyebrow. "AdStud? Is that the name for your new company?"

"Does that mean you need to ‘add a stud' to be successful?" Em quipped slyly.

"Fuck, no!" Michael objected. "Brian's the studliest stud ever - no need for any other studs. AdStud," he slowly pronounced the two syllables. "I can't believe, though, that your blonde bimbo secretary was the one to come up with such a cool name for your new company."

"It certainly is reflective of your persona," Emmett concurred.

"Wait! I have a better name," Michael volunteered.

"Well?" Ted prompted.

"TopAd! Isn't that the best idea ever?" the short brunet gushed. 

Brian groaned, "Unbelievable. An idea that ‘tops' Cynthia's..."

His childhood friend beamed.

"...for the most juvenile name ever," the adman concluded.

Once he stopped laughing, Dr Dave consoled his pouting boyfriend, "That was brave of you to try and help your friend out."

"What about BAKin?" Emmett suggested, grinning mischievously.

The advertising exec's eyes narrowed as he waited for the punchline.

Once the queen was certain everyone was listening, he divulged, "It plays on your initials as well as the first three letters of your last name." The other men didn't look any more enlightened, so he spelled out, "You know. Brian Aidan Kinney - ‘bak in'."

"What?" Michael squawked. "That makes it sound like Brian bottoms - like he backs into other men's cocks." Spittle flew from his lips as he adamantly postulated, "Brian would never, ever bottom, no matter the circumstances."

The adman feared that the conversation was going to deteriorate into an inane argument about topping and bottoming, but he couldn't figure out how to redirect the discussion without revealing his discomfort with the topic. "Why don't you concern yourself with your own sex life?" he snarled at the obstinate little man.

Michael blinked at him in confusion. "My sex life is good. David tops and I bottom," he ingenuously explained.

"Gee, that sounds exciting." Ted yawned. "Have you ever thought about mixing things up?"

"What do you mean?" his perplexed friend inquired.

"Reverse roles," Em clarified.

Michael stared at Emmett, gesturing between himself and the tall queen. "We're the same," he insisted. "Both total bottoms. You're just more..." his voice petered out as he searched for the right expression. "Nelly," he finally finished.

"You think I've never topped?" Em fulminated, an outraged expression on his face.

Oh, fuck, Brian thought to himself. This conversation was getting out of control. He did not want to hear any details from the flaming queen. Fortunately, Ted came to the rescue.

"Guys," the accountant reminded everyone, "as exciting as this sounds, we're supposed to be helping Brian name his new agency."

"I still think TopAd is cleverest," Michael reiterated.

Brian heard sniggering to his right and looked up to see Justin holding a tray with a carafe of coffee, cups, saucers, and spoons. "Coffee, anyone?" the teen inquired as another giggle escaped.

"Fuck, yeah," the adman assented. Since he hadn't gotten a smoke, coffee was the next best thing. Caffeine had to help, right? Maybe it would jumpstart their brains enough that there wouldn't be even more idiotic suggestions.

The others agreed that they wanted coffee, their responses ranging from, "Please, Baby" to "About time you got your lardass over here."

Justin poured coffee for everyone else and then waited, the carafe poised over Brian's cup.

"What?" Brian barked in irritation. He needed that infusion of caffeine, stat.

Quirking an eyebrow, Justin asked, "Did you want me to pour the sugar for you?"

"Christ," Brian muttered, rolling his eyes, while Ted and Emmett yucked it up at his expense. When the blond continued to wait patiently, he grabbed the sugar dispenser and shook the white stuff into his cup, grateful that using a shaker prevented his friends from counting the spoonfuls.

Next to him, Theodore quivered with laughter as the sugar reached the quarter point.

"So," Brian queried, "what's your suggestion?"

"Hmm?" Justin innocently responded.

"Don't be a twat," Brian fondly teased. "I'm sure you've been earwigging our conversation, so you must've sussed out that I need a name for my new agency."

After removing his order pad from his apron, Justin scribbled something, tore off the piece of paper, and plunked it down in front of Brian. "Problem solved," he declared, moving away to take orders from another table.

The adman glanced down, grunting, "Well, I'll be damned," before folding the paper in half and placing it in his shirt pocket.

"What-" Theodore began, clearly dying of curiosity, when he was interrupted by Michael.

"There's no way that muppet would come up with a better suggestion than mine," the short brunet sniffed disdainfully.

Brian grinned smugly at Ted, for once grateful for Michael's rudeness. 

His gratitude only lasted for a few beats, however, his oldest friend whining, "By the way, Brian, we never get to hang out any more. Why don't we go to Woody's for a beer and an afternoon game of pool?"

"Why don't you go with Dr Dave?" he brushed Michael off. "I'm sure the doc can give you some pointers on how to play."

"But... but I already know how to play," Michael spluttered.

"Sure, if your goal is to have your opponent whup your arse," Em snickered.

"I'd be glad to give you some tips, Love Nugget," David offered, bussing his boyfriend on the cheek.

Brian thought he might puke. What was the deal with all these nauseating endearments? When he glanced at Ted and Emmett, he caught similar looks of distaste on their mugs.

Michael pouted. "Well, but... I mean," he stammered before ungracefully conceding, "Oh, okay, I guess."

"Does anyone know what's happening vis-à-vis the stalker situation?" Emmett changed the subject. "I'm worried about my Baby."

"He's not yours," Brian barked. Shit, he chastised himself, he hadn't meant to sound so possessive. He calmed down when he reassured himself that he only wanted Justin for a fuck buddy, that no one else would suspect him of being interested in the blond.

"Of course, he's mine," Em pooh-poohed, flapping his hand at Brian again. "I'm his friend. How about you, Bri?" the queen asked with an impish wink. "Are you Baby's friend?"

Predictably enough, in the adman's opinion, Michael immediately refuted that possibility. "No! No way is Brian friends with that irresponsible, inconsiderate, insensitive, incautious, impolite, uh, i-" Michael floundered, obviously searching for another ‘i' word, before yelling, "inhuman milksop!"

"Huh," Ted deadpanned, "that explains the problem with my trick last night. Guy was an alien."

Once the merriment had finally died down, Dr Dave leaned forward and enthusiastically disclosed, "That guy who's always near the entrance to Babylon's backroom, the blond... Tad or something like that-"

"Todd," Emmett interrupted. "He's a great guy."

"If you say so," David muttered. "Anyroad, when I ran into him, he told me that some bloke was pestering Justin to autograph his naked body in jism."

What the fuck? Brian wondered. He barely knew Todd, but even though the man might have wagered on the mattress auction, he doubted the friendly bottom would invent such a wild accusation.

His speculations were interrupted by Michael, whose nose was scrunched up in repugnance. "Ew!" he protested, conveniently forgetting that Brian had repeatedly fucked Justin. "Who'd want to be that up-close with the blond brat's dick?"

"Pretty much every dick except yours," Emmett retorted.

Dr Dave shot an apologetic glance at the other men, suggesting, "Honeybun, why don't we head over to Woody's now? I could really use a cold one."

"Briaan," Michael begged, "you should come with us. I bet there's a trick just waiting for you to drill him in the bathroom."

The adman barely stifled a shudder. Fuck, he mused in disbelief, was he actually developing an aversion to the word trick? "No can do, Mikey," he offhandedly replied. "Something's come up."

The short brunet laughed happily, craning his head around to try and espy Brian's latest target as he followed his boyfriend out of the diner.

"Shall we join them?" Em inquired of Ted, motioning toward the door.

"You aiming for another beatdown?" the accountant joked.

"I've been practising," the queen riposted, "so you'd better watch out," both men waving farewell to Brian as they continued their amicable bickering.

The adman sipped his coffee as he waited for an opportunity to flag down Justin and find out the truth behind the ‘jizz autograph' rumor. Regrettably, the diner was hopping, and although he succeeded in getting his coffee refilled thrice over the next hour, the blond didn't otherwise have a moment to spare as he scurried from table to table. Brian finally gave up, figuring he'd probably catch up with the teen at Babylon later. He made sure to leave a hefty tip underneath his coffee cup, before sauntering out the door. 

In the mid-afternoon, Justin was eagerly anticipating the end of his shift at the diner. The jangling bell over the eatery's door had him looking up to see Emmett strolling into the diner, a disgusted expression on his face. The teen groaned. Any other time, he would have been glad to see his friend, but he had a feeling Em's arrival meant he wasn't going to get that longed-for siesta. He shrugged in resignation as the taller man approached; at least this would give him an opportunity to find out what had happened in Babylon's backroom. He'd only caught snippets of the gang's discussion earlier in the day.

"Hey, Baby," the queen greeted him, draping his arms around the blond and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Whassup?" Justin asked. "You looked like you'd bitten into a lemon when you came in just now."

"Well, I was feeling really proud of myself for beating Teddy at pool," the tall man disclosed.

The teen raised his eyebrows in astonishment. His friend really must have improved if he'd beaten Ted, who was the best player in the group, after Brian.

"Okay, okay," Emmett immediately confessed. I only won one game out of five, but I came really close to winning two others."

"That is a big improvement," Justin acknowledged.

"I know, right?" Em bestowed one of his gap-toothed grins on the blond. "I'll be a pro player soon."

"Uh, not that much of an improvement," the teen chuckled.

"Probably not," Emmett ruefully agreed. "Anyhoo, Teddy and I were enjoying a post-match beer and cosmo, when Michael and the good doctor started making out in front of us."

Justin gazed at his friend blankly. That was hardly unusual behaviour at Woody's.

"Don't get me wrong," the queen hastily continued, "I'm all for some slap and tickle, but then David started this wink, wink thing - which looked kinda like a possum with a nervous tic to me - and suggested that he and his ‘dumpling' should engage in some ‘afternoon delight.'"

"Is there something wrong with calling a fuck what it is - a fuck?" the blond puzzled.

"Exactly my question," Emmett emphasized.

"Geesh, even ‘nooky' would be more appealing than ‘afternoon delight,'" the blond stated, scrunching up his nose. "Sounds a little like a dessert, though."

Em sighed, "Until Dr Dave and Mikey outgrow this ‘cutesy phase,' I fear we're going to hear a lot more of it."

"If they ever do outgrow it..." Justin muttered.

"At least while they're wrapped up in each other, Michael's not hankering after Brian," the older man noted.

The teen raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Not as much," Em amended, with Justin nodding in agreement.

"When Dr Dave and Michael started their ‘afternoon delight' right then and there," Emmett explained further, "I commented to Teddy that I see plenty of Michael at home, so I thought I'd check out other entertainment. Teddy," the queen chuckled, "said a nap sounded far more interesting than what was on offer at Woody's."

Biting his lip so that he wouldn't blurt out that a nap also sounded good to him - it would be embarrassing to be compared to the staid, older accountant - Justin asked, "Hey, what happened at Babylon the other night that had the lot of you atwitter during brunch?"

Emmett avidly related the rumors about the assault before pouting, "I still haven't been able to figure out who was involved or if there was actually an assault in the first place - it may just have been a free-for-all. All I've been able to determine is that whatever went down occurred last Sunday."

"Huh, it must've happened my first night dancing," the teen grunted in a somewhat discontented tone. He felt a bit out of the loop. One night ago, when the rumor mill must have been in full swing, he'd been shaking his arse again.

"Don't worry, Sweetie," Emmett comforted him, "As soon as I hear anything - factual or not - I'll be sure to pass it along to you."

"Thanks, Em. You're a true friend," Justin averred with a giggle as he exchanged his apron for his jacket and scarf.

"As a true friend," the flamboyant man declared, "it's my duty to tell you that those boring white briefs of yours have to go. I simply cannot be associated with someone who wears such horrendous underwear. Why don't I take you shopping, Baby?"

"I don't have the money right now," Justin admitted as they exited the diner. "I spent most of my money on a new toy."

"Ooh!" Emmett clapped, before executing a hop, skip, and jump, halting in front of the teen. "You have to show it to me," he joshed, "so I can tell you whether it has the Honeycutt seal of approval."

"If it doesn't, I can hardly return it," the younger man retorted drily. "I've already put Bob to good use." Justin wanted to kick himself when he realized he'd slipped and called the dildo by name.

"Bob?" Em immediately latched onto the name, chuckling. "Bob as in your fuck buddy, Bob?"

"Yeah," the teen admitted, his face turning red.

The queen doubled up, laughing hysterically. "That's priceless," he gasped. "You were completely truthful about Bob being a fuck buddy, but you sure got the gerbils working double-time in Mr Kinney's brain as he tried to figure out how a ‘Battery Operated Boyfriend' could've usurped him in your affections."

"Battery Operated Brian," Justin clarified, blushing even more.

Emmett laughed harder. "I want to be a fly on the wall when Brian finds out just who his competition is."

"Good color coordination," Em pronounced a few minutes later as he sat on the bed in Justin's room, examining Bob. "That shade of blue matches your eyes."

Vic, who'd crowded into the bedroom behind the two younger men, concurred, "It really does, Sunshine." Turning to Emmett, he joked in a falsetto voice, "More, Briaaan. Fuuuck, yeah. Right there. Aaaaah, Briaan."

"I don't sound like that," Justin protested, his face burning as he led the two laughing hyenas back downstairs.

There, he was greeted by Harley chirping, "Hellooo, Briaaan. Come, Baby," which elicited another round of laughter.

"C'mon, ragazzi," Vic ordered, "you can help me prepare dinner so it's ready when Sis gets home."

Later, while the four of them were chowing down on spaghetti con aglio, olio, e acciughe, Emmett commented, "The only time I've ever been able to abide anchovies is when you or Deb includes them in a pasta dish, Vic. I normally can't stand the slippery, salty little buggers."

Debbie cackled, "You should adore them. They taste a lot like pungently flavoured dick to me."

"You should've had plenty of practise ‘grabbing hold' by now," Vic chimed in.

"There's no such thing as too much practise," Em riposted with a wide grin. "I'll keep working on it."

As they were finishing their meal, Justin moaned, "Ugh!" when ‘In the Navy' started playing on the radio.

"It's your song, Baby!" Emmett applauded wildly, his eyes sparkling. "You should've seen the dance steps Justin came up with," he excitedly informed Debbie and Vic. "All the horny fags lapped it up." 

"Show us, Kiddo," Vic requested.

"Only if you help me develop some more dance sequences," the teen bargained. "If tonight's anything like last night, I'll be dancing to that damned thing at least half a dozen times."

"If ‘In the Navy' is that popular, you'd better devise routines for ‘YMCA' too," Vic advised.

"And ‘Karma Chameleon'," Emmett recommended, humming the obnoxious tune under his breath.

Shortly thereafter, the kitchen was turned into an impromptu dance floor, all of them kicking up their heels and shaking their arses. Deb and Vic traded off with the camera so they could catch everyone in action.

"Jesus," the redhead exclaimed, collapsing into one of the chairs at the dining table. "I haven't danced that much since my high school prom."

"You'd better get used to it, Sis," Vic teased. "That detective of yours might want to squire you around the town to more than a bowling match."

"He's not mine," Deb asserted, her cheeks pinkening as she tacked on, "yet."

Justin enjoyed hearing his surrogate mum get a ribbing, thinking it was nice not to be on the receiving end for a change. 

The unplanned dinner party broke up when Em declared, "I need to get home, put on my make-up, and change into my dancing togs, so I'm my usual fabulous self at Babylon tonight. I'll see you there, Baby, okay?"

"You're going to help with the garage sale tomorrow, right?" Debbie demanded, Emmett having avoided her earlier request while they were eating.

"Okay," the queen reluctantly agreed, "as long as I get first dibs on any vintage clothing."

"Deb's already claimed Nonna's frilly apron," Vic said, "although you would look fetching in a pinny."

Emmett pouted briefly before replying, "Something else then," and disappearing with a, "Toodle-oo."

After glancing at the clock, the teen dashed up the stairs for a quick shower before heading off to Babylon with Vic. He hadn't gotten the nap he'd been craving, he deliberated, but at least he felt better prepared to swing his tush to ‘In the Navy' and other similar drivel.

Brian was just slipping out of his Zegna shirt, preparing to turn in early for once, when someone knocked on the loft door. Cursing quietly, he figured Michael must've followed him home from the diner in hopes of spending the evening together - the man was like a dog with a bone when it came to his friendship with Brian. Honestly, he should've expected this after the way Michael's face had fallen when Brian had told him he was going home. He really hadn't been in the mood for company, though, his mind still reeling from the conversation at the diner.

Shrugging his shirt back on, though not bothering to button it up, he shuffled over to the door, words of dismissal for his best friend on the tip of his tongue. Sliding the heavy door open, he was genuinely startled when it wasn't Michael he came face to face with.

"Uh," he breathed out in surprise, blinking at the man in his doorway like an imbecile. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" the man asked, the sheepish slump to his shoulders at odds with his determined expression.

"Depends on what you want, Theodore," Brian growled, eyes narrowing at the older man.

Ted sighed. "I know what happened to you," he uttered quietly. "That night in Babylon, the assault Emmett talked about, I know it was you."

Brian spluttered. "What the hell, Theodore? Are you high?"

The other man shook his head, an uncomfortably sympathetic look on his face. "I know, Brian," he insisted. "I know it was you who got assaulted on Sunday."

"Bullshit!" the younger man roared. "There's no way you know anything. You weren't in the fucking backroom." Brian paled as he realized he'd all but admitted that he was the one who'd been attacked.

"Brian," the accountant spoke gently, "I saw you leaving the backroom that night. I was standing at the bar."

"Well, then you didn't really see anything," the ad executive insisted, desperate to find a way out of the conversation. "Did you want anything else?"

"I think it would do you good to talk about it," Ted persisted. 

Brian scoffed. "There's nothing to talk about. Now, if you don't mind, I was about to take a shower, so unless you have anything else to say..." he drawled, motioning Ted towards the door.

A stubborn look on his face, Ted didn't move an inch. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated firmly. "You need a friend, and since I'm the only one who's figured it out, you're stuck with me."

Sighing resignedly, Brian finally deflated. "How did you even put it together?" he asked, not meeting his friend's eye.

"You half-staggered your way out of the backroom," Ted explained, "and you were as pale as a ghost. If I'd been alone, I would've offered to help you - in spite of the ‘don't touch me' vibe you were giving off. Instead, I made sure Michael and Emmett's attention was directed away from you."

"Thanks," Brian grunted. He really was grateful that Theodore had kept Emmett - and especially Michael - off his back.

"Then the rumors about an assault started circulating," Ted continued, "and the time frame seemed to fit."

"No way would that be enough for you to connect the dots," Brian argued. "I could've been lurching about because I was drunk out of my gourd - which I was, as a matter of fact."

"So what?" the older man shrugged. "You've been drunk and high plenty of times, but you were still in charge of yourself. I'd never before seen such a forlorn, devastated expression on your face, however. You looked like you couldn't escape whatever had happened fast enough. Then, when I stopped by the loft the next night, you brushed off my concern by stating you'd had a ‘lousy blow job.'"

"More of a nonexistent blow job," Brian admitted.

"This afternoon at the diner, you flinched when Emmett raised the subject and were utterly silent after that," Ted elucidated. "That clinched for me that you were the one who was assaulted."

Brian flopped down on his couch, waving a hand in the direction of his liquor cabinet. "Help yourself," he offered, "I probably shouldn't drink if I'm going to talk - or else I will never stop."

"You probably don't want to reprise that night at Babylon," Ted allowed. "I think I'll pass on the booze tonight, too, so I can be a good listener."

"Probably for the best," Brian agreed. "I already feel like a fucking girl about this, no need to start crying into our drinks on top of it."

"Jesus, I'd be a fucking basket case if I'd been attacked," Ted asserted. "There's nothing girlish about your reaction."

"Oh, yeah?" Brian snarled challengingly, "I can't even go and fuck a trick now! If that doesn't mean I'm touched in the head, then I don't know what would. It's like everywhere I turn, I see the guy's ugly mug."

"That's natural, I'd say," Ted responded. "It can't be easy to get past being assaulted."

"Yeah," the younger man breathed out. "Thank fuck for those two guys that intervened. I don't really want to think about what might have otherwise happened. As I said, I feel like a damned lesbian obsessing over the whole thing. It's not like anything serious even happened." 

"Not serious?" the stunned accountant retorted. "That was sexual assault, Brian, or at least attempted sexual assault. Your brain needs time to process it," he advised in a rational tone, "and the only way for that to happen is to go through it again and again."

"Well, I don't like that!" Brian complained. "I wish it would stop, and I could just go and fuck any arse I wanted again. I've got the worst case of blue balls I've had since ninth grade."

"I know you normally avoid repeats," Ted commented, "but is there someone you trust enough to fuck them again? Maybe that would help you feel in control. Even if there is someone you can use for sexual relief, however, I don't think it will completely resolve the problem. You need to relive what happened so that you can move past it."

"Are you a headshrinker or something?" Brian snarked.

"Why do you say that?" Ted wondered. "Because I suggested fucking someone you trust?"

"That's not exactly a long list," Brian confessed. "I don't fuck friends - and I'm sure as hell not gonna touch a twat."

"How about Justin?" Ted inquired. "You seem to have established a sort of détente with him."

"Why does everybody keep throwing Justin in my face?" Brian protested. "I can make my own life decisions, you know? Including who and when I want to fuck." 

"You just admitted you can't do that - not right now, anyway," the older man reminded Brian.

"I can't fuck a random fag in a back alley; that doesn't mean I'm incapable of thinking for myself! I will decide when I fuck Justin, not you and not Vic."

"Hmm," Ted mused, "it sounds to me as though you're already considering Justin as a potential fuck. Maybe," he teased lightly, "you should listen to the combined wisdom of me and Vic."

"Fuck off, Ted. If you have nothing rational to say, just shut up."

The older man tilted his head quizzically. "What have I said that could possibly be construed as irrational?"

Brian flapped his hand. "Just stop all this hogwash about Justin, and either start talking about something else or stop talking altogether."

"Fine," Ted agreed, "we can talk about something else - as long as you promise to consider my suggestion."

"I make no promises," Brian insisted. "Though I hope you do. I need your word this whole assault thing doesn't leave this loft."

"As if I'd betray a confidence," Ted objected. "Whatever we discuss stays between us. That doesn't mean, though," he added with a grin, "that I won't give you more advice, even if it's unwanted." 

"Do whatever the fuck you want, just don't expect me to listen," Brian shrugged, a petulant look on his face. "Now onto a different topic, Theodore, I'm serious."

"How about you share the name that someone proposed for your agency?" Ted slyly inquired.

Just then, the telephone rang, preempting the need for Brian to reply.

"Mr Kinney? Detective Horvath here," came the voice from the other end of the line once Brian had picked up the phone.

"Yeah?" Brian curtly responded. For a moment, he was so disconcerted by his conversation with Theodore that he thought the copper was calling to say they'd caught the trick who'd assaulted him. Then he realised it was more likely Horvath had some information about Justin's stalker, and he was just stressing himself out for no reason.

It turned out it was neither. "I have some new photos for you to look at," the copper explained. "When do you think you'll have time to stop by and have a look at them?"

"Tomorrow afternoon?" the adman asked. "If you'll be around, that is." He didn't relish the idea of going to the detective's office, only to have another stare-off with the man's partner.

"Sure, tomorrow works fine. If I'm not in, Wen is for sure going to be at the station," the copper assured him.

Brian suppressed a groan. "What's happened anyway?" he asked. "Did some new evidence come up?"

Horvath said, "I assure you, I'll tell you if anything new does come up. We just need you to check through another binder of photos to make sure you don't recognise anyone."

Brian sighed. "Great." 

After he'd hung up, Ted queried, an interested glint in his eyes, "What was that about?"

"The burglary," Brian disclosed, "the investigation of which appears to be going nowhere."

Ted raised his eyebrows. "What did Horvath say?"

"I get to look through more mugshots," Brian replied, "and I may even have the pleasure of that Asian woman's company while I do so."

The older brunet snickered. "I still can't get over you being afraid of a little woman."

Brian glared at his friend. "Just wait till you meet her, Theodore. You'll change your tune fast, I assure you."

Ted shook his head with a grin. "So they really didn't tell you anything new?" he questioned. "What the hell are they doing that it's taking so long?"

"Investigations take time," Brian parroted what he'd been told by the detective. "Lots of time, apparently."

"Do you sometimes feel like maybe they're not telling you everything?" Ted asked. "I mean, Horvath didn't really explain why homicide was still interested in your case, did he? He just went all cop on us, and that was the end of it."

"The police probably don't want anything to compromise their investigation," Brian begrudgingly acknowledged. "I haven't the foggiest what they're cooking, but I have to admit they do look competent."

Theodore nodded. "Well, in that case, stop whining about having to look at those photographs," he said with a smile.

Brian shrugged. "I reserve the right to be annoyed about anything," he mumbled with a pout. "And you can't stop me."

Ted paused, before tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at Brian. "Huh," he commented.

"What?"

"Nothing," the older man waved him off. "I just thought you were Gus there for a second."

Scoffing, Brian rolled his eyes. "Please. It'll take years for my Sonnyboy to perfect a drama routine worthy of me." Somehow or other, he reflected, Theodore had actually cajoled him into a better mood. He smirked at his friend, curious as to what he would say next.

Ted chuckled. "I hate to tell you, Bri, but your kid is already outperforming you."

"He does have a good set of lungs" was all Brian would admit. Strolling over to the liquor cabinet he pulled out the bourbon, announcing, "I think we've talked enough. Beam?"

"I could do with a shot... or two," Ted replied. "But then I'd better mosey on home. Before I knew what I was agreeing to, Debbie roped me into helping out with their garage sale tomorrow. She'll expect me to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"Hmm," Brian reflected, "leafing through those mugshots suddenly doesn't sound so bad."

Later, as he was falling asleep, wrapped in a warm glow from five shots of bourbon, Brian's thoughts turned to Justin. He was thoroughly frustrated that he still hadn't been able to ask the teen over for a fuck. Maybe he should stop by the diner for breakfast the next morning? he pondered. Considering he ran into the brat almost every time he set foot in the eatery, he'd surely have an opportunity to issue his invitation then.