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Brian was annoyed not to find a parking spot anywhere near the diner on Sunday morning, and slip-sliding down the slick sidewalk in his Gucci shoes until he finally reached the eatery didn't improve his mood either. He was determined, though, to corner Justin and persuade him to come to the loft for a fuck, especially after he'd had yet another boring session with his glass dildo earlier that morning. He was beginning to despise the previously favoured toy.

When he realized that Ted's car was parked right outside the door, he scowled. "Fucking Ted," he muttered, kicking at a front tyre. His friend had clearly stolen Brian's previously excellent parking karma. The brunet shoved open the door to the diner, forgetting to be cautious of the slippery floor and almost landed on his keister, like Michael had the day before. 

As he mused that he probably should have been a little more sympathetic toward his childhood friend, he heard Emmett bray loudly, "Ha, ha, ha. Nice save, Bri."

"Don't call me Bri," the brunet demanded, carefully stepping toward the booth where Em and Ted were sitting. "Where's Michael?" he inquired, once he'd safely sat down.

"He's working," Ted replied. "Apparently, a number of employees at the Big Q are out sick with the flu, so Michael was called in."

"And was pissy about it too," added Emmett, a queer expression on his face.

"Christ," Brian complained, "He's bound to spread around germs. Is that why you look so sour, Honeycutt?"

"Uh, yeah... that's it," the flamboyant man confirmed uncertainly. "Germs."

Ted cocked a quizzical eyebrow at his friend. "You don't sound too sure about that, Em."

"I, uh... oh, fine, I'll tell you," Emmett sighed. "When Michael got the call this morning, he was in a huff because he had been meant to meet with David - they had something sexy planned, I think. So I - being the awesome friend I am - told him to call his boo and chat with him... You know, to get his fix or something?"

Brian motioned for him to go on, even though hearing the doctor referred to as Michael's ‘boo' was a little off-putting.

"Well, he called him and one thing apparently led to another and the two of them started having phone sex," he explained with a shudder.

Ted shrugged. "I wouldn't think you were such a prude, Em. Phone sex is normal."

Emmett blushed. "I know it is!" he insisted. "But not when you do it on the living room couch, while your roommate is eating breakfast in the kitchen! He came onto my Aunt Lula's patchwork blanket! And the names they called each other, gross..." 

Teddy consoled him, "At least you can run the blanket through the washer."

"But you can't unhear those smarmy endearments," the adman shuddered along with the other two men. "Do you know how they ended up with all that cutesy-poo shit? For all that I wasn't that fond of Dr Dave at first, I wouldn't have suspected him of being so infantile."

"Yeah, I was hoping that David would have a maturing effect on Michael," Ted commented. "Not the other way around."

Emmett glanced around before leaning forward and confiding in a low voice, "Spending so much time with the doctor does keep him out of your hair, though, doesn't it?"

"I know you don't mean me," Ted chuckled. "Personally, I always thought Michael's lips were glued to Brian's arse. It used to piss me off, back when I had a crush on Michael, but now I'm grateful for it."

Brian snorted. "As if anybody's lips would make it anywhere near my arse."

"Not even Baby's?" Em slyly inquired.

"Do you have trouble understanding the word ‘anybody'?" Brian barked. He glanced around for the teen, reminded of why he'd come to the diner in the first place, but he didn't catch a single glimpse of blond hair.

"Justin was heading to the kitchen, the last I saw of him," Ted remarked.

"Fuck," Brian muttered to himself. Since when had he become so obvious? "I just want some coffee," he stated firmly.

"Uh-huh," Emmett replied disbelievingly. "Why don't you flag down Harry then?" He pointed toward the other server, who was clearing the booth behind Brian.

"I'll wait," Brian insisted, frowning at Em.

"The coffee tastes better when Justin pours it, right?" Ted quipped.

"You're such a fucking comedian, Theodore," the adman retorted.

The blond emerged from the kitchen at that moment, and Emmett immediately waved wildly at him. "Your presence is required, Baby," he hooted.

Justin trotted over to their table. "Yes?" he asked, smiling in his usual friendly fashion.

"Coffee," Brian grunted.

The teen sent a puzzled glance toward Harry, who was now clearing another nearby table.

"Don't ask," Ted advised.

"Just get the growly bear some coffee," Em chimed in.

"Okay," Justin shrugged. "Anyone else?"

Both Emmett and Ted nodded. 

As the teen moved over to the counter, Brian snarled, "I'm not a fucking bear." He then glanced down surreptitiously, worrying that the wax-lady hadn't done a thorough job with his last waxing. His long-sleeve, crew-neck tee prevented him from seeing anything, so he made a mental note to check as soon as he got back to the loft. If there were any stray hairs, he'd be switching beauty parlours immediately.

Engrossed in his self-inspection, Brian didn't notice Justin had returned to the table until a cup was nudged toward him. "Why do I subject myself to this sludge?" he kvetched as Justin poured liquid on top of the sugar he'd just ladled into his cup.

"There's always Starbucks," the teen joked. "We'd even allow you to bring it into the diner and savour it along with our haute cuisine."

"Starbucks isn't much of an improvement over diner coffee, if you ask me," Ted remarked. "Why don't you-"

"No one asked you, Theodore," Brian snarked. "Starbucks makes a primo triple-shot latte."

"I'd think the triple-shot was sugar, but that wouldn't be enough for you," the accountant riposted.

"You're going to need to work on your comedy routine before you go on tour," the ad exec deadpanned. "A repeated joke isn't funny anymore."

"He's wrong," Justin got out between giggles. "You already have your one-liners down pat."

"Traitor," Brian grumbled, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the teen. Shit, he thought as the teen moved away to serve a clamoring table of lesbians. Not talking to the little twat for a couple of weeks - no matter how much he'd deserved the silent treatment - and then calling him a traitor probably wasn't the way to entice the blond into his bed.

While Brian was hungrily eyeing Justin's bubble butt, Emmett asked, "How about the ‘q cafe'? They're supposed to serve queers around the clock."

"Bunch of trolls," the adman disparaged Em's suggestion.

"What's that got to do with their coffee?" the bewildered queen wondered.

"If their brew were any good," Ted explained to his friend, "the place would be frequented by more than trolls."

"Ding. Ding. Ding. You win the prize, Theodore," Brian drolled.

"Oh yeah? And what would tha-" Ted started, only to be interrupted by Emmett.

"Ooh, what does Teddy get?" Em bobbed up and down in his seat. "I love prizes."

"Okay," Brian shrugged, a devilish glint in his hazel eyes. "You can give Schmidt his reward - you get to buy the next round."

Emmett pouted. "What kind of a reward is that?"

"The kind where you get to buy me and Theodore drinks," the adman responded drily.

"Why don't we decide which coffee houses we'd like to check out and take turns buying?" Ted diplomatically intervened.

"If you can find a coffee house that doubles as a bathhouse, I'm all for it," Brian responded, tongue-in-cheek.

While his friends discussed the merits of various cafes - Brian did consider LGBTea quite a clever name - the adman observed the blond as he bustled to and fro serving customers. His eyes narrowed when he belatedly noticed the bags under Justin's eyes. Was the teen so busy fucking Bob that he wasn't getting any sleep? he conjectured. That wasn't very responsible of the walking PSA. Once he was warming Brian's bed, he'd get enough sleep not to look like a walking zombie the next day. It was only charitable for Brian to insist that Justin return between his sheets. Besides, there had to be some kind of ‘right of first fuck' rule in the gay etiquette handbook, didn't there?

"Right of first fuck?" Em's voice jerked Brian out of his musings. "What the flaming heck is that?"

Brian flushed as he realized he must've been muttering aloud to himself. He just hoped the bronzing of his skin from regular use of the tanning bed would hide his embarrassment. "Just wishing that Babylon were a troll-free club," he replied offhandedly.

"We'd all like that," Ted chuckled, "but trolls are a fact of life."

"Teddy and I are going to toddle on down to the Queens' Court," Emmett commented. "Why don't you come with, Bri - check out whether it's troll-free?"

Brian rolled his eyes, about to retort that he wasn't going to fuck a ‘queen', troll or not, when Ted interjected, "He meant to say we're going to drive; it's too fucking cold to walk anywhere."

"Yeah," Em quickly agreed. "We won't be outside for long; Teddy's developed the best parking karma."

The adman glared at the two stooges. It was just like he'd suspected; Theodore had stolen Brian's usual luck regarding parking, and Emmett had probably aided and abetted. He wished he could think of a way to demand that the accountant give it back without sounding like an utter fool.

"Hey Justin," Harry called out, interrupting the dark thoughts Brian was sending in Ted's direction. The Asian server hung up the wall phone, cheekily declaring, "That was Deb. She says to get your perky bubble butt home. It's almost time for the garage sale to start."

Thinking this was the perfect opportunity to have a word with the teen, Brian stood up to offer him a lift, but Emmett beat him to the punch. "Baby, Teddy and I will give you a ride," the queen trilled. "We're just leaving anyways."

"Thanks, Em." Justin beamed at his friend, placing his apron in Harry's outstretched hand for his co-worker to put away.

The disgruntled adman slouched back down onto the banquette, morosely wondering when it had become so difficult to ask a blond twink for a fuck.

"You will be helping out at the garage sale, won't you, Bri?" the stately queen inquired as he rose from his seat, Ted scooting out after him.

"No can do. I'm needed downtown," the adman replied, grateful for his ready-made excuse to avoid freezing his arse off outside Deb and Vic's house. 

"Lucky sod," Ted grumbled. The adman grinned, amused that both of them thought studying mugshots was better than suffering through a garage sale.

Then again, Brian reflected, if he stopped by Deb's after he was done at the precinct, there might be another opportunity to entice the teen over for a fuck. As he was plotting how to approach Justin without being roped into ‘helping out', the three men vanished through the door, Em airily calling out, "Ta-ta."

 

"Um, is it okay if I drop you off here?" Ted asked Justin, stopping a couple houses down from Deb's. "I don't want to endure a lecture for not joining you now."

"Sure," the teen shrugged, knowing his friends would get the rough edge of Debbie's tongue if she did catch them.

"We'll be here just as soon as we've checked out what promises to be my new favourite cafe - the Queens' Court," Em added.

"Shit, here she comes," Ted yelped as Debbie barreled down the sidewalk toward them.

"Later!" Em cried out as Justin slammed shut the back door, the sedan immediately peeling away, leaving a patch of rubber behind.

"They'll be here shortly," the teen assured the irate redhead, who was yelling, "Get your butts back here, you lazy sods," whilst tugging at one of her boots so she could throw it after the fleeing vehicle.

"Someone needs to put a leash on those boys," Deb harrumphed, stomping back toward her house, "and I know just what I'd fasten it to."

Justin blanched as he was suddenly assaulted by a vivid picture of the two men being led about by leashes attached to their dicks. "Ehm," he squeaked, "surely we can manage by ourselves for a bit. Do we really have that much stuff to sell?"

"Vic and I added some stuff that was collecting dust in our closets," Debbie revealed. She cackled, "Fuck knows, even if I lose some weight, there's no way I'm going to squeeze into a size eight again."

"What'd Vic contribute?" the teen asked, a frown of concern on his face. It wouldn't be healthy for the older man to lose any more weight.

Debbie must've surmised the direction of his thoughts, reassuring him, "Don't worry; Vic's not sick. He just doesn't want his outdated clubbing clothes any longer. Geesh," she laughed, "he had this one garish outfit that made him look like a used car salesman; it was hilarious."

As they walked down the sidewalk, they passed Vincent, Deb's orange Ford Pinto, which boasted a yellow placard with a giant arrow and lopsided words directing, ‘Queer Sale Here'. Justin burst out laughing, finally managing to gasp, "Why didn't you ask me to make a sign? I could've done a better job than that."

"Undoubtedly," Debbie concurred, "but this one has character!" 

"Hey, Justin," Vic called as they entered the driveway, "give me a hand, would'ya?" 

"What's this for?" the teen inquired as he helped the older man assemble some flimsy-looking poles.

"It's a clothes rack," Vic explained, "so we can hang up some of the duds we're selling."

"Uh, are you sure it won't collapse?" Justin asked dubiously, the frame wobbling on its feet.

"It's held up in the past, when we've used it for guests," Debbie assured him as she looked at the swaying rack. "It should stabilize once we've put some clothes on it."

That didn't really make sense to the blond, but he supposed some clothing ending up on the floor of the garage wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

"Here," the redhead urged, "let's hang this up first." placing a beruffled, fuchsia-coloured garment on the rack.

"Christ, Sis," Vic reminisced, running a finger along the satin, "I remember Danny coming to pick you up for your senior prom. His jaw dropped almost to the floor when he saw you all fancied up in this dress."

"Yeah," Deb said fondly, waggling her eyebrows at her brother. "It certainly did inspire him later on."

Justin felt like he was missing something in their byplay, but he didn't let it bother him. He just enjoyed the siblings' usual banter.

"Are you sure you want to sell it, Sis?" Vic inquired.

"Heck, yes," the redhead adamantly declared. "It's been taking up space in my wardrobe for over thirty years." With a chuckle, she added, "Even if I were to lace myself into this corset" - she held up one of their attic finds - "I still wouldn't be able to squeeze into that gown. I'd rather another lass give it a whirl at her prom. Do you think Daphne might like it, Sunshine?"

The blond glanced at the fussy, vivid purple dress. "Uh, I don't think it's her colour?" he diplomatically replied.

"That's too bad. Someone else is bound to snap it up," Deb commented.

Justin smiled and shrugged. There was no accounting for taste.

"Let's carry out some of the big items and set them in the driveway," Vic suggested, "while Sis finishes arranging the clothes."

Over the next half hour, the two men toted a massive wooden rocking chair and a pair of nightstands from the attic. They followed that with smaller items, including a vintage radio with large knobs; a small, hooked rug; a manual typewriter; and a chess set.

"Do you play?" Vic asked, pointing at the chess game as they set the boxes down. "It's yours if you want it."

"I know the basics," the blond said, "but checkers is more my speed." Pouting, he admitted, "Even there, I've apparently got ‘tells' that are keeping me from winning. The detective thrashed me on Thanksgiving."

"We can play a couple games if you want," Vic offered. "Maybe I can spot your giveaways."

"That would be great," Justin enthused, setting down a box with an Encyclopaedia Britannica, from which the letter ‘F' was missing. "I'd like to provide some real competition."

Vic placed another box with children's books, old Dick Tracy comics, and paperback mysteries and thrillers, next to the incomplete encyclopaedia set. "Okay, just the boxes from Sis and my bedrooms to go," the older man stated wearily, rubbing at his lower back.

"Why don't you let me get them?" the teen asked. "You could help Deb with displaying all these ‘treasures'."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Vic responded. "There's quite a few boxes."

"It's no problem," Justin insisted.

"Just grab any boxes you see in the bedrooms," Vic directed. "Be careful how you lift them, though. I don't want you pulling a muscle," he finished, rubbing some more at his back.

As the teen carried down the final load, the carton piled high with a bedspread, curtains, jumpers, and two pairs of high heels, he heard the strains of Oh My Darling, Clementine wafting from the garage. He grinned when he saw Vic pumping the handle of the Victrola, Deb's hips swaying as she draped a patchwork blanket across the rocking chair.

"Are you selling the gramophone?" he asked.

"No fucking way," the redhead muttered as she pawed through the box Justin had just delivered. 

"This Victrola is part of our family history," Vic concurred, patting the side of the player fondly.

"Here they are!" Debs triumphantly declared, pulling out a pair of purplish-red pumps. "These go with my prom dress."

"Yoo-hoo!" a voice called out, "Has the garage sale started?"

The teen stared in amazement as a gaudily-attired queen tottered toward them in a pair of stilettos. How the fuck did she manoeuvre in those? Justin wondered.

"Doll," a deep voice greeted him as she got closer. "I didn't know you lived here."

Before the teen could respond, Debbie shrieked, "Marvella! You're our first customer!"

Justin watched in astonishment as the two women hugged. In short order, Marvella turned to him with a saucy grin and enveloped him in a hug as well. "Sugar," she averred, "Debs and I got to know each other when we were discussing your black eye that day in the diner."

Justin flushed, recalling how Marvella had mistakenly thought he'd been beat up by his boyfriend.

"I can't stay long," the drag queen drawled, "since I have to open Second Hand Job, but I just had to stop when I saw the sign on that gorgeous Pinto. Is the car for sale too?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't bear to part with Vincent," Debbie asserted, linking arms with Marvella and leading her toward the clothes rack, "but there are plenty of other goodies here that you might like."

While the drag queen browsed through the offerings, Ted pulled up to the curb in his dark green sedan. Once he'd parked, Emmett climbed out, balancing a cardboard tray of coffee drinks in one hand and clutching a bakery bag in the other.

Deb glared belligerently as the two men made their way inside the garage. "Where were you when we needed you?" she accused. "Sunshine had to haul everything down here by himself since Vic hurt his back."

"We were in desperate need of coffee," Ted weakly excused himself and Em.

"Riiight," the redhead skeptically retorted, "even though you'd just been at the diner."

"We just had to check out the Queens' Court," Emmett elaborated, "and we do come bearing goodies."

"Ooh, I just love that caff," Marvella interjected. "Did you try one of their cranberry scones?"

"We have some right here." The flamboyant man waved the bag enticingly at Deb.

"Could I purchase one from you?" the drag queen sweetly inquired. "I didn't have time to stop and grab a bite."

Justin grinned to himself at Marvella making time for a garage sale but not to eat.

Noticing his amusement, the drag queen chided, "I'm not a growing boy, like you, Sugar. I really shouldn't indulge," she sighed, "but the scones from the Queens' Court are irresistible."

"No charge," Vic insisted, snatching the bag from Emmett's hand and holding out a scone. "You can have one of the coffees, too," he gallantly offered. "My sister has just gone inside to brew some anyway."

"Well, aren't you the gallant gentleman." Marvella fluttered her eyelashes at Vic. As she munched on the scone and sipped coffee, she led him around the garage and the driveway, inquiring about the prices for various items, including the prom dress and what the teen assumed must've been one of Vic's clubbing outfits.

"Hmm," she mused as she looked at the two nightstands, "I could make a killing if I refinish these. Could I get you gents to put them in the trunk of my car?" She pointed to a hot pink Oldsmobile from the 1950s that was parked behind Vincent.

"Wait!" Emmett protested as Justin lifted one of the nightstands, the door to the small cabinet falling open. "There's something inside. Ooh," he whistled after the teen had put the bedside table back on the ground - reaching inside, pulling out an oblong box, and dusting it off with his coat sleeve. "This is the original Twister from 1966!"

"Huh," Justin grunted, not sure what to make of Em's excitement.

"You can't sell this!" the flamboyant man insisted. "We'll have to play sometime."

"Damn!" Marvella stamped her foot. "To think that was almost mine. I was looking forward to DC contorting himself around me. Then again," she reflected, a wicked twinkle in her eyes, "I have plenty of ways to get him to do that."

Justin and Ted loaded the emptied nightstands into Marvella's Olds, while the drag queen paid for her purchases. "I insist," she stated loudly, refusing the change that Vic tried to hand her. "You boys have been real gents, and I'm going to make a killing when I resell these items."

As she drove off, Justin inspected the bakery bag, his stomach rumbling for another scone. He was disappointed to find it empty.

"Sorry, Baby," Emmett apologised. "We didn't account for feeding your bubble butt."

"It takes something more substantial than that to fill our Sunshine," Debbie averred with a lascivious wink as she returned carrying a platter.

"That's Bob's job," Vic inserted slyly, making the teen blush.

"Indeedy," Em affirmed, winking at Justin.

"Have one of these, Kiddo," Debbie suggested, handing Justin a ham and turkey sandwich. "We have plenty of fixings for more sarnies," she said as the teen hungrily bit into the turkey and ham double-decker. The redhead turned to go back inside, explaining, "The coffee should be just around ready, and I'll see what I can rustle up for dessert."

As Justin was scarfing down a second sarnie, a few snowflakes began drifting down.

"We'd better keep an eye on that," Vic warned. "We'll have to throw some tarps over the furniture if the snow gets any heavier.

"I'll handle any clothes-related questions," Emmett offered as more potential buyers approached the garage.

"I'll field inquiries about the books," Ted proposed. "I've read quite a number of thrillers and mysteries."

"I'll man the till," Vic declared, yawning widely and taking a seat in the comfortable chair that had been placed near the cash box.

"I'll eat the food that Deb ferries out," the teen joked.

All four men were soon busy assisting customers, the money in the cash box slowly accumulating.

 

It was nearly four when Brian found himself mounting the stone steps leading up to the Lexington Street police station. He promptly made his way to the first floor and then turned left in the bullpen to arrive at the homicide division.

Horvath's office door was open, but Brian could see the man wasn't at his desk. Great, he thought to himself when he noticed Wen was inside alone, just what he needed.

He knocked at the door frame politely, causing the Asian woman to lift her eyes from the folder she was reading. "Can I come in?" he asked. "Detective Horvath invited me over to have a look at some photos."

Wen hmmed. "I'm aware," she told him with a subtle motion of her hand.

Brian took that to mean he was welcome to enter, so he stepped inside and after a brief moment of indecisiveness, he sat down in one of the chairs in front of Wen's desk. "I'll just wait here, shall I?" he prompted the woman, hoping she'd give him some inkling as to when her partner was going to arrive. Or even better, that she'd just give him the photos herself and he could be done with it.

The Chinese detective didn't acknowledge him, though, instead reaching for a brown folder on a wooden cabinet behind her and opening it. The ad executive took a deep breath, trying to gather his reserves of patience.

The phone on Wen's desk rang, and the Asian immediately picked up the receiver. "Wen," she announced.

There was a few-second silence as the person on the other end of the line spoke, before she continued. "We'll deal with that later," she grunted. "At length."

And wow, that sounded like someone was in trouble, thought Brian gleefully. Was he about to witness a spectacular chewing out?

"I don't need your apologies," Wen was saying, "I need you to do better." A pause. "Then maybe you shouldn't work here," she snapped before calmly hanging up.

Ouch. Brian swallowed nervously as he watched the woman sitting opposite him. "Um, is Horvath going to be here soon?" he asked quietly as not to unnecessarily antagonise her.

Wen looked up from her report slowly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Yes," she told him simply after a bit of consideration, before returning to her paperwork.

Brian nodded in acknowledgment. "Great."

Several long minutes of silence passed, before Brian gathered his courage again and piped up, "How soon is soon exactly?"

The Chinese woman didn't glance up this time, merely throwing a curt, "Soon." his way.

The brunet man huffed irritatedly. Had the woman been raised in a barn? It was a sign of common human decency to look at someone while speaking to them. 

Just then a dishevelled-looking Horvath rushed in, panting. "Sorry I'm late. There was a bit of a- ehm, situation," he explained. "You didn't wait long, I hope?"

Rising to greet him, Brian shook his head. "No, it was fine," he assured the man, shooting a quick glare Wen's way. "The company could use a bit of work, though."

The burly detective grinned apologetically. "She in a bad mood, is she? That would be the guy who managed to flee her yesterday - not something that happens often, trust me."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "I believe you," he admitted. "How did it happen?" he then asked, not able to suppress his curiosity.

Glancing at his partner uncertainly, Horvath shrugged. "Probably best not to talk about it," he advised in a hushed tone.

Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment at being denied a bit of gossip material, Brian nodded. "All right, you said you had some photos for me?"

Horvath nodded, pulling a blue file out of his briefcase. "I have a couple more faces for you to look at, as well as a picture of a vehicle."

"The one used in the robbery?" Brian questioned with a slight amount of excitement. Was it possible that the coppers had finally found something worthwhile?

Horvath passed him the folder. "We don't know, Mr Kinney; it's possible. Just have a look and see if anything or anyone seems familiar, okay?"

Brian opened the folder, peeking inside. There was a face of a black guy with a gold earring and perfectly threaded eyebrows. Huh, thought the brunet, turning a page and looking at a second photo. A white guy this time, nice skin, exfoliated lips. The picture after that showed a blond twink, vaguely resembling Justin, with long hair and eyeliner.

He narrowed his eyes at Horvath. "Why do you suspect a fag broke into my flat?"

The copper glanced at him in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

Flicking his hand against the folder, Brian explained, "These people are all gay - did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"It's an angle we're working on," the older man admitted. "Don't be mistaken, though, these people are all criminals. Pickpockets, thieves, hustlers..."

The ad exec nodded. "Right, I'll see if I recognise anyone," he promised, sitting back down. He flipped through the photos, inspecting face after face, but apart from a couple vaguely familiar fags he couldn't place but that he'd probably seen at Babylon or in the baths, he came up empty. The same was true for the photo of a large, grey moving van, most likely taken from a CCTV footage - didn't ring a bell.

"I'm sorry," he told Horvath. "I honestly don't know any of these people."

The detective sighed. "It was a long shot," he admitted, rising to his feet. "Well, thank you for your time-"

"Wait," Brian stopped him, not ready to leave yet. Not without some sort of information on how the investigation was going. "I take it you've made some progress as you're working this new ‘angle'?" he asked.

The older man tilted his head to the side. "Yes," he agreed. "We got the CSU report a couple days back, which helped us make a much clearer picture of what happened."

"And?"

"We still don't know who's responsible, Mr Kinney; we're following several leads and-"

Their conversation was interrupted by a hissed exclamation of something that sounded like ‘tamada' or ‘tamade' from Wen. The Asian detective stood up and with a quietly uttered, "Be right back." left the office.

The two men stared after her for a second, before looking at each other. "What was that about?" Brian asked.

Horvath looked uncertain for a moment, before he glanced at his watch. "Oh, it's already half four; she's late for the department's sexual harassment seminar."

Raising an eyebrow, Brian queried, "Why aren't you there too?"

"Only one of us is required to go," the copper confided. "And Ming lost the game of Roshambo."

The brunet shook his head. "Could it be that that also added to her bad mood?"

The other man smirked. "Most definitely, the seminar is bullshit. Don't touch anyone's privates without their consent; don't ask anyone to sleep with you in exchange for work perks - that sort of thing."

"In other words, common sense," Brian concluded.

Horvath snorted. "One would think so, right? Anyway, if that's all-"

"I know you're trying to get rid of me," the brunet stated bluntly, "but can you really not tell me anything? I am the victim, after all; one would think I'd have a right to know a little more than just ‘we're working a new angle'."

"Mr Kinney," Horvath said slowly, "this case is bigger than just you. I would really rather not disclose sensitive information about an ongoing case."

"Surely you don't think I'd tell anyone anything? It's in my interest that you catch those cretins that broke into my loft!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Kinney-"

"And stop Mr Kinney-ing me," Brian spat, irritated beyond belief. "I feel like you're talking to my father."

Horvath hesitated. "Brian, then. I am truly sorry, but I can't tell you anything more at the moment."

The younger man deflated at the honest expression of regret on Horvath's face. "All right, sorry," he apologised grudgingly, before promising, "I won't bug you about it anymore."

The copper looked relieved, which just strengthened Brian's resolve to find out what was going on. Horvath might not have realised it, but he had provided the younger man with an important clue when he'd told him the case was bigger than just him - that meant he wasn't the only victim the police were investigating.

 

A couple miles away, the garage sale was in full swing. "Look, Harv," a tattooed biker motioned toward the large yellow vase striated with white that was displayed on a sawhorse in Debbie's garage. "That reminds me of a vase my oma had when I was a child - she claimed she'd inherited it from her grandmother, who was gifted it by Kaiser Wilhelm in thanks for her loyal service."

"What happened to it?" Harv inquired.

"Uh, I knocked it over when I was roughhousing with my brother," the biker abashedly confessed. "It smashed into smithereens. Even without the tanning my dad gave me, I would have felt really bad about it. Oma was in tears for days, lamenting how the certificate of authenticity wasn't any good without the vase."

"Well, Pumpkin," Harv grandly declared, "Price is no object. I have to buy this one for you as a memento of your grandma and your family history."

"Do you think the tattooed dude's name is ‘Pumpkin'?" Ted hissed at Emmett and Justin, who were gawping at Harv as he lumbered over to Vic.

The teenager winced. "Nah. Pet names must be popular right now."

"It's a heckuva lot better than ‘honeybun,'" Emmett intoned.

"Or ‘boopsie.'" Ted grimaced.

"How much for that piece of fine china there?" Harv inquired of Vic. He didn't bat an eye or bother to dicker when Vic quoted an outrageous price, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash, and removing the stated amount. "Thanks," he smiled at Vic, gold-capped teeth showing. "You've made my ‘Pumpkin' happy."

The amazed men watched as the purchasers climbed aboard a motorcycle, the vase secured between Harv and his biker boyfriend, before roaring off down the street.

"Wasn't it kinda mean, charging so much for that vase?" Emmett wondered aloud.

"Not at all," Vic defended the price hike. "If I'd only asked for a couple dollars, Harv would've thought it was worthless crap. This way he not only pleased his boyfriend; he also thinks he pulled the wool over my eyes and acquired a genuine work of art at a bargain price."

"Lesbian art," Ted shuddered.

"I know, right?" Justin chimed in. "So gross. It was shaped like a vagina."

"How would you recognize a vagina?" Vic kidded.

"Fucking health education classes," the teen groused.

"Classes in fucking?" Em teased. "I'm all for that."

"Not if it's muncher sex, you're not," Ted chided.

"Ew." Emmett wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I haven't wanted to touch a vagina since my mother gave birth to me," he joshed. "And I was probably grateful to leave it behind even then."

"Pumpkin custard anyone?" Debbie inquired, entering the garage with a tray loaded with coffee and cups of custard.

"Fuck, yeah!" Justin cheered the arrival of more food.

"How much for a custard and a cup of coffee?" a raven-haired woman asked, glancing up from the box of children's books.

Deb looked taken aback for a moment, but then she quoted a price.

"That's a bargain, if it tastes as good as it smells," the woman asserted, taking a seat where the vagina vase had previously rested.

Debbie did a brisk business after that, selling baked goods, coffee, and tea as fast as she could prepare the food and drink and carry it outside.

"Fuck," Justin complained half an hour later, his stomach rumbling. "I still haven't gotten that custard."

"Ten dollars," the redhead joked as she served another customer.

"Jesus, it's like being in the navy," Ted protested, "lots of work for little pay."

"In the navy," Vic warbled in a pleasing tenor, "where you can find pleasure, search the world for treasure..."

"No," Justin moaned, covering his ears. "I don't want to hear that song ever again."

"Maybe we need new lyrics," Em suggested. "How about, ‘In the garage..."

"No, not ‘garage,'" Vic inserted; "‘gay-rage.'"

"That's it," Justin replied, excited to revise the annoying tune.

"We're all hard-working mechanics," Ted got into the spirit of things, deftly catching the wrench Vic had tossed to him.

"In our grease-free, designer overalls," the tall queen joked. Emmett looked Justin up and down, suggesting, "You'd be a fine-looking woman, Baby. You can be our blonde bimbo receptionist."

Em overrode the teen's protests and soon had Debbie's old corset wrapped around Justin's jumper and was lacing it up from behind. He then pushed the giggling teen down onto a vacant spot on the sawhorse. While Ted removed the blond's sneakers and placed a pair of high-heeled pumps on his feet, Emmett applied the red lipstick and blush that Deb had brought out.

When Emmett pulled Justin to his feet, the teen wobbled two steps in the heels and promptly fell over. "Shit!" he kvetched. "Why do women wear these unstable torture devices?"

"Harder than it looks, ain't it, Sunshine?" Debbie asked, chuckling as she looked down at the blond.

"It just takes practice," Emmett insisted, "but we'd better find you a different pair of shoes for now."

"I vote for my trainers," the teen said, sighing resignedly when Ted brought over three more pairs of women's shoes for him to try on. He ended up wearing a pair of low-heeled, open-toed, lime-green pumps that were surprisingly comfortable.

They hashed out corny lyrics and then danced their way around the garage, vamping it up for the benefit of the customers. Vic only lasted a few minutes before declaring that he had to sit down. "I can still participate from my chair," Vic remarked, looking gleeful as he kicked his legs up.

Even though their performance was rather ragged and out of sync at first, the visitors to the garage sale seemed to enjoy their efforts, yelling encouragement and shelling out money for Debbie's baked goods and beverages while they watched. Pretty much no one left without purchasing at least one of the items for sale.

 

Setting his things down on the kitchen table upon his return home, Brian poured himself a healthy glass of guava juice before powering up his computer. He needed to research some viable real estate for his new company, but first he was going to satisfy his curiosity and follow up on the lead Horvath had inadvertently given him.

Typing ‘Pittsburgh burglary' into the search engine, Brian was assaulted by an enormous number of news articles and reports. Looking at the dates, the brunet raised his eyebrows in surprise. Huh, who would've thought there were so many robberies happening in the Pitts every day? Not having the will to go through each and every article, he decided to add another key word to his search.

The search results were a lot more manageable for ‘Pittsburgh burglary moving van', only spitting out a handful of links. Brian clicked on all of them over the course of the next twenty minutes, but he wasn't any wiser for it. There were two articles that spoke of an art gallery robbery where an important example of the Decadent movement had been stolen - Verlaine or something. Then there was a mention of a hold-up at a jewellery store in downtown Pittsburgh during which a police officer got injured. Speaking of injuries, there were several accounts of an old woman getting stabbed to death during a family home robbery, which just made Brian cringe violently. It was probably very fucking lucky Justin hadn't been home that miserable Saturday. Another report was of a pharmacy burglary during which their whole supply of Percocet and OxyContin had been stolen - a crime the narcotics division had apparently already solved, taking the drugs off the streets. There were a couple recent mentions of family home burglaries in Brian's area that involved a van, but apart from that, the brunet couldn't see a discernible pattern.

Resorting to one last idea, which was to peruse the Pittsburgh Police Department web page, Brian poured himself another glass of juice and then continued his investigation. The ‘Crime statistics' tab only provided him with useless numbers - unless you were interested in the fact that there had been a recent rise in teenage joyriding, of course - and Brian was forced to sift through another seven tabs to find the one he needed. The PPD was in some desperate need of a web-page upgrade, if you asked him.

Taking a sip of his beverage, he began reading nonetheless. Skimming over various reports of joyride cases, drink driving, bar fights, and pickpocketing, Brian moved onto the more serious crimes. There had been six knife assaults, three murders, and one case of suicide in the month of October so far, and it was only the twenty-sixth. Jesus, he could've probably done without knowing that. There had also been four hold-ups, seven armed robberies, and twenty-three home burglaries - four of which had happened in Brian's area. The public reports didn't include such details as what sort of vehicles the robbers had used or if the robberies were a part of a series, though, so the brunet found he wasn't any wiser for reading all that bullshit.

Sighing in disappointment, Brian rubbed a hand across his face. Well, that was that then - it was probable that his was only one out of a series of burglaries just like Horvath had insinuated, but he could find no proof. Standing up to straighten out his back a little, Brian took his empty glass over to the kitchen sink and quickly rinsed it out - no reason using the dishwasher if he barely ever had any dirty dishes. It used to be different with Justin at the loft; the blond cooked often and the dishwasher ran almost nonstop, but now it was just another piece of useless crap that took up space in Brian's kitchen.

The brunet decided to postpone his real estate research for a day or so, figuring that showing his face at Debs' garage sale wasn't going to kill him. Glancing through the window, he noticed it had started snowing - large, soft-looking snowflakes slowly drifting towards the ground. Better dress up warm then, he thought.

Brian spent the next ten minutes picking out clothes that would both warm him and not make him look like a yeti - something insulating but not thick or bulky. In the end, he still ended up with more layers than he would normally like, but red cheeks and a runny nose weren't his best look, so he told himself to suck it up.  

This proved to be a very good decision, because as he drove to Debbie's house, the wind started picking up and the snow began falling faster and heavier. The roads were going to be hell tomorrow, the ad exec realised. Bugger.

 

Parking a couple blocks down from Deb's place, the adman was grateful not only for the warm layers of clothing but also for the scarf wrapped around his neck and his cashmere-lined gloves as he walked. He sourly noted that Ted's car was once again parked directly in front. Were all the queers in the city at this damned garage sale? he wondered. It was hardly on par with Bergdorf Goodman's annual sale of designer goods, so it shouldn't be drawing gays like fucking flies.

He stared in amazement when he noticed the throng in the driveway, all of whom seemed to be intently watching something or other. "What's going on?" he asked a dyke with multiple facial piercings.

"Ssh," she hushed him. "They're just about to start."

Brian had turned to request more information from the leather daddy to his left, when Ted and Emmett strutted to the front of the garage. With a saucy wink at the audience, Emmett strutted forward a couple more paces, placing an upturned hat on the ground, before moving back until he was even with Theodore.

"Where can you find pleasure," Em crooned, running his hands down his torso.

"Search the world for treasure," Ted chimed in, both men turning to point into the garage. As they did so, the overhead light was turned on, revealing a blonde sitting with her back to them, facing Vic.

Why the heck was the woman wearing a corset over her jumper? the adman puzzled. Then she stood up and turned around, singing, "Learn science technology."

Brian gaped, his mouth hanging open as a corseted Justin blew kisses toward Theodore and Emmett. Holy fuck, the kid's fingernails were polished a bright red. The brunet eyed the teen more closely. Was he wearing lipstick and blush? As his dick stirred in his jeans, Brian was disturbed to realize the blond looked fucking hot

All three men trilled, "Where can you begin to make all your dreams come true? On the land or on the sea?"

Justin sashayed over to the table where Vic was sitting. The older man belted out, "Where can you learn to fly?" holding out a box of Special K.

The adman chuckled, getting reminded of the night he'd met the innocent teen. Hard to believe the minx in front of him was the same person.

"Play with balls?" the blond carolled, reaching toward his crotch. 

"And skin dive?" Emmett sang, pretending to strip off his clothes.

The teen pranced over until he was between Ted and Emmett. The three men shimmied and shook their asses, Vic tossing a wrench from hand to hand and joining them in piping out,

     "Yes, you can put your fender at ease

     In the gay-rage.

     Come on people, fall in and bend over,

     In the gay-rage, in the gay-rage.

     Can't you see we need a hand?"

The three men mimed jerking themselves off.

     "In the gay-rage,

     Come on, protect the homo land.

     In the gay-rage,

     Come on and join your fellow man."

Justin stepped back behind Emmett and pretended to fuck the queen, the queen obligingly bending his knees to account for the height disparity.

Brian scowled. Fucking Honeycutt had stolen his move.

     "In the gay-rage,

     Come on people and make a stand.

     In the gay-rage, in the gay-rage!"

While the adman continued to glower, the rest of the audience hooted and hollered, tossing bills and coins into the upturned hat. Shouts of "Bravo!" and "Encore!" resounded from the horde of fags.

Brian couldn't help feeling a little envious of the camaraderie between the three men and how at ease they were with making a spectacle of themselves in public. He himself wasn't comfortable with anything which might lead to making a fool of himself in front of others. Sure, he could wow clients with a presentation, but that was only after a lot of hard work and preparation - not at all the same as this impromptu skit. 

While he brooded, the trio hammed it up, reprising the final lines of the ditty, shaking their tushes and kicking up their legs. When they finished, Emmett beamed at his cohorts, smacking first Teddy and then Justin on the lips.

Brian was irritated by how long the flaming queen lingered over kissing the teen, Justin going on his tiptoes to whisper something - it had better not be a sweet nothing - into the taller man's ear. Noting that the blond now had his back to Emmett, the queen's hands suspiciously near Justin's rear, he decided it was time to break up this farce. He walked over to the boys, intending to deliver a scathing set-down, but what came out was, "Hands off, Honeycutt!"

Em gave him an exasperated glare.

The teen didn't even acknowledge Brian. "Try again," he pled. "I've got to have this fucking corset off. It's gotten tighter, I'd swear; I can barely breathe."

"I can't get the knot to come undone, Baby," Em apologised.

The dyke with the multiple piercings who had been standing next to Brian clomped over to them. "Here, use my penknife," she offered, holding out a gigantic, red, multi-tool Swiss Army knife. "Don't worry about preserving the cord; I'm gonna buy the corset and have it restrung for my Honeybun."

"Wait till Michael finds out that Dr Dave is using a lesbian endearment for him," Ted muttered quietly to Brian.

The adman chuckled, "Are you going to tell him?"

"Heck no," Ted responded, "but I am going to get a laugh out of it every time the good doctor calls him that."

Freed of the restrictive corset, Justin doubled over, heaving in much-needed air. "It's all yours," he huffed, the corset dangling from one hand as he held it out to the dyke. 

The woman smiled jubilantly, declaring, "Wanda's going to love this." before carrying the undergarment over to Vic to pay for it.

As the lesbian was leaving, a middle-aged man with thinning hair picked up a small item, waving it around and calling out, "How much for this?"

"Is Deb purveying condoms now?" the adman huffed out with a laugh.

"Vic put that out for a lark," Justin informed him as he straightened up. "It's from 1959."

"I'm not going to use it," the balding fag responded, his tone bitter. "I'm going to send it to my mum and dad - with a note telling them they wouldn't have ended up with the son they rejected for being gay - if they'd had the forethought to use one of these forty-one years ago."

"Bastards," Emmett grunted, his friends muttering their agreement.

"Take it. There's no charge," Vic said, gazing at the man in shared understanding.

After the man had pocketed the condom and departed, a determined expression on his face, Em turned to Justin, obviously shaking off dismal thoughts. "Baby, I'm feeling rather peckish," he commented. "All that dancing has given me an appetite. Do you think Debs has anything left in the fridge of hers?"

"I'll go see what I can find," Justin offered with a wan smile.

Emmett put an arm around Ted's shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. "So, Teddy," he began in a hushed voice, "did you notice that piece of beefy hunk that kept loitering around and shooting you smouldering glances?"

Brian could see the older man flush slightly. "No, not really," the accountant denied.

Emmett grinned. "He seemed to have been really into you; do you know him, perhaps?"

Ted shrugged, shooting his friend a perplexed look. "Do you think that if I knew someone hot like that, I could keep it a secret?"

The taller man visibly considered this. "You're right, probably not. I know that I would definitely spill everything the second I laid eyes on such a stallion. Too bad, though, he seemed really interested."

Brian shook his head, patting Ted on the head like one would do to a loyal dog. "Don't worry, Theodore, you didn't miss out on anything. I'm sure the guy wasn't looking at you anyway," he soothed him with fake concern.

Ted snorted, shooting him a look. "Thank you, Bri. It's nice to have you as a friend."

It was at this point that Justin returned with the refreshments, which consisted of a platter of English cucumber sandwiches - Deb was obviously reaching a bit after the onslaught on her fridge, courtesy of the garage sale customers - and a boiling hot teapot with Earl Grey.

"Oh!" Emmett called out excitedly, leaving Ted's side and skipping over to Justin. "How posh!"

Brian snorted, grabbing a sandwich and inspecting it. "Posh? I don't think so."

Justin shrugged. "It's the only thing Debbie had left; our fridge looks like it's been cleared out by a raccoon commando."

Emmett swallowed a mouthful of bread, licking crumbs off his lips. "These are really good," he praised, reaching for another one.

Brian, who'd carefully bitten off a small piece and was now thoroughly chewing it, hmmed in agreement. "Not bad," he admitted. Then, seeing the customers had basically all left and a clean-up was imminent, he excused himself, "Now, I need to go. The backroom at Babylon is calling!"

The boys waved him off as Brian began the long walk back to his car. Despite what he had told his friends, he didn't actually plan to go to Babylon; instead, he was thinking of getting a look at those real estate listings after all. Or he might just go straight to bed and jerk himself off to sleep - now there was an idea.

 

Chapter End Notes:

ta ma de = fuck, shit, an exclamation of anger

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