The blond teenager had discovered another advantage to taking an earlier bus to school. Not only did he no longer have to worry about making it to class on time if the bus was running late, the Port Authority vehicle that departed from Liberty Avenue at ten minutes past six was also much less crowded than the one that left shortly before seven o'clock. Although he still had to transfer once, his wait for the next bus wasn't as long.

Justin selected a seat near the middle of the bus, close to the exit doors on this Wednesday morning. He then pulled out his spare sketchbook - not the private one he kept in the desk in Michael's room, because he no longer dared carry that one around for fear the Hobbs or another bully would get hold of it. As he flipped open the pad and began sketching, he reflected that he'd have to be careful to avoid Hobbs and his cronies, especially since he didn't want to give Debbie and Vic any more cause for concern. 

While he mulled over how to avoid the jocks, his fingers were flying across the page - he'd been itching to capture the apple-cheeked woman with the craggy features who'd boarded the bus just before him. This was the second day in a row that he'd seen her, and he marveled again at her positive outlook. She was wearing a black garbage bag as a poncho and toting what appeared to be all her possessions in another trash bag. Yet, she'd saluted the driver with a jaunty "G'day, mate" as if she had not a care in the world.

The teen doubted he'd be so sanguine if he were in her shoes. Far worse to be homeless, without family to offer him a place to stay, than to be in his current situation. Sure, he had to evade the bullies at St. James, but that was doable. After thinking about it, Justin had realized Hobbs and his pals were probably arriving early for football practice, so it should be easy enough to escape their notice as long as he didn't go anywhere near the football field. His new locker, unfortunately, was in fairly close proximity to the gym, but he could always skip using it in the morning.

In fact, as long as he was getting to school well before eight o'clock, maybe he could hang out in the library until classes started. He'd have to check with Frau Rose this morning; the librarian was an early arrival and usually opened the book room by seven. Relieved to have found a feasible method for dealing with Hobbs, Justin glanced again at the homeless woman, who had taken a seat near the front of the bus and was merrily chatting away with the driver, the sack with her worldly goods wedged between her feet. His brow furrowing, the teen looked back down at his drawing, trying to figure out what was missing. Ah. Her cheeks needed to be shaded differently to bring out the ‘color' infusing them. The blond artist quickly smudged the charcoal with the edge of his thumb, producing the effect he'd wanted, before reaching up to tug on the cord so the driver would halt at the next stop.

Justin kept the sketchbook open to the picture as he stood up, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder. Rather than using the exit by his seat, the teen moved toward the front of the bus, removing the drawing as he went. Before he could change his mind, he dropped the portrait onto the homeless woman's lap, calling "Cheerio" to the driver as he jumped down to the sidewalk. He'd been tempted to add the finished likeness to his portfolio, but it had seemed more appropriate to bestow it on the cheery woman as a thank you for putting his own circumstances into perspective.

Half an hour later, after alighting at the bus stop near St. James, he hurried through the school corridors toward the library. The teen was chuffed to see that he'd guessed right; the door was open, and he glimpsed Frau Rose re-shelving some books. When he knocked on the door, the English teacher looked over, placing a hand on her chest as if in shock and teasing, "What are you doing here at this hour, young man? I remember how you could barely keep your eyes open during my eight a.m. literature class."

The teen's face reddened. It was true that he'd never been much of a morning person, and although the sprightly teacher had chosen what were to become some of his favorite literary works for that sophomore course, he hadn't fully awakened until his morning cup of joe kicked in - usually around twenty minutes into the lesson. "Yeah, well, if a worm is the reward for being an early bird, I may have to reconsider my new approach to mornings," he joshed.

The librarian playfully shook her forefinger at Justin and scolded, "Only bookworms allowed in here, young man."

Pretending fright, the blond dashed behind the next shelf, before peering out and cheekily questioning, "The kind that read books or the kind that eat paper?"

"The kind that shelves books," Frau Rose teasingly retorted, placing a stack of books in the teen's hands. "Those all go in the row you're standing in," she instructed.

After shrugging off his backpack, Justin obligingly began returning the books to their proper locations. "Would it be okay if I hung out in here most days before my first class?" he diffidently inquired, before elaborating, "I'm taking an earlier bus to be sure I won't be late, but that means I end up getting here well ahead of time."

"Hmm," the librarian murmured from the next aisle, "far be it from me to prevent an eager student from carpe diem."

The teen chuckled wryly, "Part of my quam minimum credula postero philosophy."

As they met up at the book cart, Frau Rose looked closely at Justin, a worried frown on her face. "Come with me," she ordered, leading the way to the small restroom provided for the librarian's use.

Bewildered, the blond followed along behind the woman, wondering what was up - the bitter note in his voice shouldn't have aroused such concern. Once he glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink, however, he immediately understood what had caught Frau Rose's notice. He'd taken a smidge of Deb's concealer from the jar in the medicine cabinet earlier that morning and had used it to disguise his black eye. That had been his intention anyway. He'd thought he'd thoroughly smoothed the makeup around his eye and along his cheekbone; however, he could now see that he'd done an uneven job with the cosmetic - probably attracting rather than deflecting attention.

When Justin shook his head in response to her raised eyebrows, the librarian didn't say a word about his black eye, simply suggesting, "Let's touch this up." She used a tissue to even out the makeup the teen had already applied and then touched it up with concealer from a compact on a shelf above the sink.

The blond felt incredibly embarrassed that he'd made such a poor effort at concealing his bruises. "Thanks," he muttered as the librarian finished the camouflage job. He figured his favorite teacher must have heard not only about his torched locker but also about yesterday's ‘altercation' and greatly appreciated her silence on the subject.

"This color's a better match for your skin tone," Frau Rose stated, pressing the compact into his hand. "Keep this for as long as you need it."

"But-" Justin protested, placing the item back on the ledge.

"Ah," the librarian surmised, "you'd rather come back here when you need to reapply it, am I right?"

The teen nodded gratefully before exiting the bathroom and heading back to the book cart. Frau Rose, however, shooed him away, ordering, "Study or relax for a bit, Justin. The bell for first period will ring soon enough."

Justin gave her a sunny grin, before sitting down and pulling out his sketchbook for the second time that morning. As a picture of the librarian shelving books began to take shape under his fingers, he decided he would create a collage of drawings that he could present to her at the end of the semester.

As they cleared tables after the early dinner rush later that day, Deb nudged Justin in the ribs and declared, "That's going to be some do tomorrow night, huh?"

The teenager stared at her blankly, having no clue what she was on about. Before he could ask about what party she meant, Debbie went on, "What'd you get Michael for his birthday anyhow? You know me; I'm nosy, especially where my son is concerned."

Justin couldn't help feeling left out - not only because he clearly hadn't been invited to Michael's party but also because he actually hadn't known about it at all - although he did his best to hide it. Fortunately, Debbie rattled on about the gifts she'd purchased, including a Wonder Woman wristwatch, and didn't catch his fleeting look of hurt. 

By the time Debs finished reciting all the presents she had for Michael, Justin had composed himself, offering in an unruffled manner, "What if I work a double shift, so you have plenty of time to prepare for the party? You could give Michael my gift, right?" He wanted to recognize Michael's thirtieth birthday even though he hadn't been included in the celebrations; turning thirty was a milestone for anyone. He set aside his disappointment, deciding to go with what appeared to be the theme for the occasion. When he got home tonight, he'd draw Michael together with Captain Astro, using the knick-knacks and other decorations in his bedroom to accurately replicate the superhero. 

Clearly torn about accepting his offer, the redheaded waitress shook her head dubiously, muttering, "I don't know. You have school on Friday, and you wouldn't get home till after midnight if you work a double shift."

"Do I have a curfew, Debs?" Justin quipped. "C'mon, you know I'm often up past midnight studying, or uh..." the teen trailed off, not sure how to rescue himself from the sudden conversational pitfall.

Debbie cackled, "It's no secret, Kiddo. I know just what you get up to. Thin walls, remember."

"And creaky bedsprings," the blond concluded ruefully, joining in the merriment at his own expense.

"Shit. Sorry I'm late," Daphne apologized when she dashed into the diner at twenty minutes past eight that evening. "I'm so glad you're still here."

Noting his friend looked rather disheveled, Justin teased, "Is your top inside out, Daph?" after she shed her coat.

Daphne hurriedly glanced down, her cheeks flushing. She let her breath out in a whoosh of relief when she discovered her top was on correctly. "You prat!" she exclaimed, punching Justin in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Justin protested, rubbing the spot, before taunting, "I bet I know what you were doing."

"Fuck, Jus, we aren't five any longer," Daphne retorted. "Can it, okay?"

"Alright, I'll give over," Justin conceded, "even if I do have the upper hand for once."

"That's not the proper order of things," Daph joked, spreading out her maths textbook and notes, while glancing longingly at her friend's glass of Coke. 

Taking pity on her, Justin shoved his cup toward her, before standing up, fetching a fresh glass for himself, and topping up Daphne's glass. 

"The problems on our midterm still look like Greek to me," Daphne groaned in disgust, pushing away her D- exam.

Justin sardonically arched his eyebrows but forbore from saying anything. When his friend warned, only half-playfully, "Not a word, Jus, or I swear-" he was glad he hadn't commented.

"Look," he offered in a commiserating tone, "I've worked up some problems like those in the textbook and on the midterm. I thought we could review them together."

"Thanks, Jus," Daphne replied, her gloomy countenance brightening. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're never going to find out," the blond gently teased. "Soon you'll be giving me a run for top grade in the class - like usual."

"Watch out, Boy Wonder," the girl jested.

Justin grinned in response, much preferring that nickname from his bestie.

Daphne concentrated on solving calculus equations for nearly two hours, with Justin providing suggestions when she got stuck. He also supplied her with more soda and a couple lemon bars, attesting, "Here. These'll keep your neurons firing."

Massaging her eyes, the other student finally shut her book with a thud, mumbling sarcastically, "Wow. Maybe I'll manage a C on Friday's revision test."

"Why don't you study some more tomorrow night and send me a text if you get stuck?" Justin recommended. "I'll be working a double shift but will get back to you as soon as I can."

"A double shift?" Daphne echoed. "How're you gonna function on Friday?"

"It's not like I've never pulled an all-nighter," Justin defended himself. "I'm pretty sure I'll get at least six hours of sleep anyroad, so I'll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

His friend looked at him contemplatively, drolling, "It's true that you do have a bushy tail." 

"Daph!" Justin spluttered in protest.

The two friends giggled so hard that Justin got the hiccups. When he gulped from his Coke to try and stifle them, he ended up snorting soda out his nose, which set the friends off all over again.

Once their laughter had finally tapered off, Daph probed, "You really aren't at all worried about the revision exam, huh?" Sighing, she admitted, "Not that I think eight or nine hours of sleep would make a whit difference for me."

"I do want to be alert enough to print the solutions to the test questions as neatly as possible," the young man acknowledged. "Although, if he really wants - and he undoubtedly will - Dixon will make some excuse to knock off a few points, even if I again solve all the problems correctly."

"Wanker," Daphne muttered angrily, with Justin nodding vehemently in agreement. "Wait," she suggested, "maybe you could practice writing like a computer. Then your answers would be completely indisputable."

"Great idea!" Justin enthused. "Wanna manufacture an hour for me to try that?"

"Hey, you're the one complaining about a surfeit of sleep," Daphne jested. "So I've solved two problems for you.

"I could really use your input," Justin changed the subject. "When I was cleaning out the attic with Vic, I discovered an autographed Babe Ruth baseball card in mint condition, which - if you can believe it - is worth thousands of dollars."

"You're shitting me, right?" Daph interrupted. "Thousands?"

"Like three or four thousand," Justin confirmed, "maybe upwards of ten thousand. Anyway, both Deb and Vic insisted it was my ‘finder's fee' for helping clean the attic; they wouldn't let me refuse it."

After gaping at her friend for a few moments, Daph asked, "So, why do you need my input? Aren't you gonna use it to pay down your debt to Brian?"

"That's what I should do," the blond confirmed, "but I'm torn. I'd really like to give it to Molly for Christmas. She'd love it and I'd be sticking it to my ‘sperm donor' by gifting her with something as valuable as the signed baseball Craig gave her for her birthday."

"I don't know, Jus," his friend hedged, "that would put a heckuva dent in what you owe Brian."

"Fuck. I know," Justin agreed. "At least I don't have to decide right now, since it's a hot ticket item. After I get it authenticated, I can sell it on eBay shortly before Christmas, if that's what I decide to do."

"Here," Harry plunked two plates loaded with kebabs and a rice-veggie mixture down in front of them. "Fahad says you two need to eat something more substantial than lemon bars."

Right on cue, Justin's stomach rumbled, causing both Daphne and Harry to laugh.

"What?" he protested. "I have it on good authority that I'm a growing boy."

"Yeah, sure. You're sitting on what you're growing." joked Harry.

"You're just envious of my fabulous ass," Justin retorted, scooping up a forkful of rice.

"Since you're my bestie, you really should share," Daph proposed. "Glenn wouldn't mind if I had a bit more up top."

Justin scrunched up his nose, pleading, "C'mon, no indelicate topics while I'm eating."

Harry concurred, "Righto. Dicks, yes. Tits, no."

"Sure," Daph amiably consented. "After all, I like dick too."

While the boys chuckled, she asked, "What am I eating, anyhow?"

"Lamb kebab and... What's the rice thingy called again?" Harry shouted in the direction of the kitchen.

"Baghali polo," Fahad replied, sticking his head through the hatch, his long-suffering tone suggesting he'd answered the question many times that evening. "Rice with dill and fava beans. It's a traditional Iranian dish."

"Mmm," Justin hummed contentedly twenty minutes later, slouching down and rubbing his stomach.

An equally replete Daphne mumbled, "Yummy," leaning her head against the top of the banquette.

Since the diner was filling up with queers who'd be hitting the clubs within the hour, Justin didn't want to flag down Harry or Kiki to clear their table. Forcing himself to his feet, he suggested, "Lemme take these dishes to the kitchen, and then I'll give you a pop quiz."

"Ugh," Daph halfheartedly demurred. "Anything that improves my calc grade is a good idea, though."

Thirty minutes and a lot of head-scratching later, Daph shoved the ‘quiz' across the table to Justin, wincing as he noted where she'd gone wrong.

"Shove over," the blond ordered, standing up and sliding in next to his friend, painstakingly going over each problem with her.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she mourned, "Fuck, that would barely earn me a C."

"Daph," Justin remonstrated, "a C/C- is a whole grade or more better than your D- on the midterm exam."

"True," Daph sighed, "but I want to raise my grade for the class to at least a B."

"Let's make these study sessions a regular thing," Justin proposed, "and by the time finals roll around, you'll have a good shot at doing exactly that." He chided playfully, "You will have to cut back on your ‘Glenn time', though.

"Can do," Daphne responded. "I mean, I really like him, but I'm not sure he's the one, so I'm not letting him past second base."

"Ehm," Justin muttered noncommittally, stroking her head in commiseration.

"Jus, do you think you-" she began, only to be cut off by the boisterous arrival of the boys, Emmett playfully pushing Michael as they laughed uproariously at some joke, Ted and Brian lagging behind.

As he passed them, Michael griped, "Hop to it, Boy Wonder. We need service."

Justin gritted his teeth at Michael's automatic assumption that he was on duty so late at night, even though the man could see Harry and Kiki bustling around. It was almost enough to make him rethink creating a sketch for the pissant's birthday.

"Relax, Mikey," Brian commanded, glancing at the textbooks strewn across the table before pushing the man into the neighboring booth and sliding in next to him. "The kid's just studying with his little friend." 

Horrified that his attitude toward the teen could almost be construed as fond, Brian looked toward the back of the diner, seemingly tracking a tall, tattooed bloke, who had just emerged from the bathroom. He hadn't expected to encounter the irresponsible teen at the diner at such a late hour and didn't want to contend with him now. Tired of having Justin invade his dreams, he'd convinced himself that if he didn't see the careless muppet for a while, he would finally relegate him to former trick status. That would never work, though, if the kid kept popping up at the diner at all hours.

"Yo, Harry!" Emmett interrupted Brian's dark musings, calling out as the waiter rushed past their table with an armload of plates, "What's the special tonight?"

"Read the chalkboard," Harry threw over his shoulder.

"You've gotta try the baghali polo," Justin enthused, pronouncing the name of the dish perfectly.

"Bug alley?" Emmett's brow furrowed in bemusement.

"Ew, I don't eat insects," Michael claimed, his mouth screwing up in disgust.

Brian rolled his eyes. When he caught Ted doing the same, they shared a smirk at the way Michael had jumped to that conclusion.

"Not bug," Daphne enunciated, her tone indicating she thought Michael was a moron. "The first syllable of ‘baghali polo' is pronounced buh."

"Still sounds like ‘bug' to me," Michael muttered sullenly.

"Uh, what's in it?" Emmett inquired, rubbing his hands together. "I love discovering a new culinary delight."

"Try the backroom later tonight," Brian recommended. "The ‘delights' on offer there surpass anything at the diner."

Ignoring the brunet's interruption, Justin explained, "Dill and fava beans mixed with rice."

"And the accompanying lamb kebab is to die for," Daphne added.

"Mhmm," Justin agreed, conjecturing, "maybe I could fit in another serving..."

"No way," Daph protested, with the blond immediately countering, "Yes, way."

"Show me how to work this equation once more," the girl insisted, drawing Justin's attention back to the impromptu quiz.

Half an hour later, Brian polished off the final bite of an indisputably delicious helping of rice. He'd been annoyed at Michael for carping on and on about the ‘buggy rice', so he'd decided to order some for himself, rationalizing that the carbohydrates from the rice would be more than offset by the healthful benefits of the beans. He'd largely tuned out the inane chatter of his friend, surveying the fags in the diner for his first prospect of the night, when he suddenly heard Daphne's voice rise as she warned Justin to watch out for ‘that crazy Hobbs fucker because he might hurt you the next time'.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Brian inquired sharply.

"Huh?" Michael's head swiveled toward his friend.

"Not you. Her." Brian pointed at Daphne.

"Daph!" Justin hissed, trying to shush his friend, but she didn't listen.

"That homophobic jock is out of control," she furiously remonstrated. "What's he going to do next time?" she worried, reaching out and touching Justin's cheekbone, above which the black eye from yesterday's altercation could be seen through the greasepaint.

Shit! Justin berated himself. He'd entirely forgotten about touching up the makeup before leaving school. Daph knew about it, of course, but he hadn't wanted it to be visible to everyone in its multihued glory.

While he was regretting not taking Frau Rose up on her offer to carry the concealer with him, Daphne continued her diatribe. "I mean, he shoved you around yesterday..."

"Fuck, Daph, I can take care of myself," Justin interjected, not wanting to seem like a helpless weenie.

"Jus," his bestie argued, "there's no way you can take on two or more of those jocks at once. And if he catches you unawares, Hobbs will kick the shit out of you at the very least. Yesterday, he roughed you up just because you defended that scrawny frosh he and his cohort were bullying."

"Baby?" Emmett had twisted around on the bench and was craning his neck to look at Justin more closely.

As Em examined his face, Daphne concluded, "The day before, he torched your locker. I repeat, what's next?"

Brian's eyes narrowed as he stared at the back of the blond's head. He refrained from commenting, but his fingertips began to drum nervously against the tabletop as he contemplated what might befall the stubborn little fucker.

"Ah, the memories," Ted reminisced. "Getting the shit kicked out of you on the playground."

"Having lit matches thrown at you in the locker room," Emmett recalled sadly.

"Yeah, let the good times roll," Michael moaned, his shoulders hunching. "Spat on, tripped, punched... it was never-ending. Until Brian came along, anyhow."

"I don't suppose anything like this ever happened to you, Brian?" Daphne speculated.

Brian wasn't all that keen on sharing - especially with half the diner avidly listening - but for some reason, it didn't feel right to pretend he'd never been subjected to bullying. "Hmm," he mused, "there was the time a brawny, straight football jock manhandled me to the toilet, dunked my head, and held me there for what felt like forever."

That caused Justin to turn around and gawk at him. "What did you do?" he asked, his eyes wide with shock, the shiner making him look like a lopsided raccoon.

The vindictive glee he'd experienced at the time swelled up in Brian again as he divulged, "I followed the fucker to his locker, with my wet hair dripping all over the floor. After he unlocked it, he braced his hand against the open edge of the locker, too busy yukking it up with his buddies to even see me. I slammed the door so hard it broke three of his fingers."

A roar of approval from the fags in the diner greeted that announcement, with Daphne breathing out in awe, "Holy shit. Did you get suspended?

"Natch," Brian shrugged, "but it was well worth it, since it was the end of the season for him."

"Baby," Em cautioned, "that may not be the best example of how you should proceed."

"Why not?" Justin retorted, mightily tempted to do the same to Hobbs. "All I've done to stand up for myself so far is talk, and that hasn't changed things one iota."

"You are kinda mouthy," Daph mumbled. "Maybe it would be better if you toned it down a little."

"What the fuck!" Justin exclaimed, feeling betrayed by the one friend he'd always been able to count on.

"You know I'm on your side," Daphne assured him, pleading; "I just want you safe, not dead in an alley somewhere. With the administration at St. James turning a blind eye, I'm really freaked out that that could happen."

"Yeah, sometimes you just have to keep your head down," Michael interjected. "I can't come out at the Big Q, or it might cost me my job. So, you know, maybe you should go with the flow at school."

"Go with the flow?" Justin reiterated. "Uh, you do realize I'm out at school, right, Michael?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, I was in Brian's ‘faggot-painted' jeep that morning," a flustered Michael stammered. "But I don't want you to end up dead either, so maybe you should, you know, keep a low profile."

"I don't know," Ted reflected. "That hasn't done much good so far. What'd the police say when you reported the locker incident to them?"

Justin replied, "Uh, I didn't report it." He was still a little baffled that everyone was taking the torched locker so seriously, while he mainly thought of doing without a locker as a hassle. "Um, no one was hurt," he offered hesitantly.

"But you could have been burned," Emmett ventured. "What would you do, Baby, if it were so bad that you could never draw again? I think Teddy's right. If the school won't do anything, you should go to the police."

"That'll only make matters worse," Justin insisted. "Hobbs and the homophobic teachers that support him will torment me even more."

"If that's the way you feel about it, then just do what Mikey said and keep your head down," Brian advised. "You've only got, what, six more months in that hellhole?"

"So I should just ignore it if either I or someone else is being tormented?" Justin fumed. "That's hardly what you did."

The brunet did his best to hide the smirk that wanted to steal over his face. Now that Brian was making him think, perhaps Justin would see sense and report the bullying to the police. The master manipulator reassured himself that he was only stepping in to keep Deb off his case; it wasn't because he cared about the blond. He actually admired Justin for behaving as he would have done in the same situation. If the twat didn't take action, Brian would have to put a bug into Horvath's ear the next time he talked to the detective. For a copper, he seemed like a decent enough bloke, and that partner of his could certainly intimidate anyone. 

Once the conversation about bullying had finally eased off, Emmett returned from a trip to the kitchen with an ice pack. He sat down next to Justin and promptly applied the compress to the blond's eye, with Justin flinching and complaining, "Fuck that's cold."

"Don't worry. It won't heat up," Em joked, "but it will reduce the swelling."

Chuckling at the lube humor, Justin noted ruefully, "It's good that the diner patrons focus more on my gorgeous ass than on my pretty face; otherwise, I'd lose out on tips, big time."

After glancing downward, Em patted the blond's thigh, joshing, "No worries, Sweetie."

"Hey," Justin beamed at Emmett and Daphne, "did I tell you I've already gotten a pay rise?"

"Wow. That's the kind of job I need," joked Daph, "one where I get an increase after working less than two weeks."

"It's not that big an increase," the blond clarified, "but Debs insisted on giving me the increase because I've been a server as well as a busboy from day one."

"That's wonderful, Baby!" the tall queen enthused, throwing his arms around Justin and kissing him on the mouth.

None of the trio noticed Brian frowning and Michael glowering, albeit for different reasons, in the booth behind them.

"Fuck, Brian, that kid should be in prison for stealing from you," Michael pouted, "not getting more money. It's not like he does much work anyway, just standing around and gabbing with the customers."

"While the brat was careless and inconsiderate," Brian drily allowed, "he didn't actually burgle the loft himself, Michael."

"You never know; he might have tipped the thieves off," Michael groused. "In any case, he should be handing all his wages over to you."

Brian dissolved in laughter. He just couldn't help it - as if the lad's salary would be a drop in the bucket compared to the value of the goods that had been stolen.

"Yeah, maybe that would pay for one sleeve of his Armani jacket," Ted commented wryly, gesturing toward the black leather garment, which Brian had slung over the top of the banquette.

In the other booth, Daph glanced out the window, muttering, "Shit!" when she noticed the snow coming down more heavily. 

"Everything okay?" Em asked, lifting his head from the caricature of Michael eating ‘bug rice' - each kernel shaped into a different insect - that Justin was sketching in the margins of the girl's notebook. Michael was just about to bite the head off a weevil. 

"Oh, yeah," Daphne sighed deeply. "I just hate driving in snow and ice. I haven't had much practice in these conditions, so I'm always afraid I'm going to skid off the road and mow someone down. That's why I haven't been giving you rides, Jus," she apologized. "I even had Glenn drop me off earlier."

"No biggie," the blond replied. "I've got the buses completely sussed out - so much so that I've manufactured an extra hour in the morning to study," he jested.

"In the morning?" Daph queried, her eyebrows rising almost to her hairline. "Since when are you an early bird?" The astonished expression still on her face, she pulled out her mobile and dialed a number, soon requesting, "Hey, Mum, can you come pick me up at the diner?"

"I must want that worm," Justin quipped, quickly adding a couple of the squirmy invertebrates to the rice cartoon. It wasn't as if Michael could distinguish between insects and worms anyway, he mused.

"Justin!" Daph protested as she got off the phone and finally looked at her friend's doodle. "I don't want to look at that every day."

Emmett and Justin started giggling when they realized she was incensed by Michael's face, not the buggy rice.

When her mum pulled up in front of the eatery twenty minutes later, Daph bundled herself into a down jacket, wrapped a long scarf around her neck multiple times, and inserted her hands into gloves.

"Jesus, Daph," Justin chuckled, "it's only three steps from the door to your mum's car."

"I'm still adjusting to winter having arrived so suddenly," his bestie protested. "I can't believe we had temperatures in the seventies and eighties not two weeks ago. It was still blissfully warm the day you started working at the diner, in fact."

"That's what happens when the ‘sunshine' moves indoors," Emmett teased, holding the door open for the young woman.

"Oh, did you want us to give you a ride?" Daph asked, one foot already out the door.

"Heck, no," Justin replied, donning his jacket and looping his rucksack over his shoulder. "A ride for a few blocks is more trouble than it's worth."

"Brr," Daph retorted, waving goodbye as a blast of icy air hit her in the face.

"See ya," Justin kissed Emmett on the cheek and followed her out the door, trotting toward Deb's house. He didn't feel the cold, a warm glow enveloping him at having spent the evening with his closest friend; he was looking forward to their future study sessions. He was surprised to realize that seeing Brian hadn't fazed him; instead it had felt like they might - at some point - become friends. If they couldn't be lovers, Justin definitely wanted the man's friendship...

Brian had pulled a muscle on the underside of his right foot. If you'd asked him how he had managed that, he wouldn't have been able to tell you, but there it was - a sharp pain every time he made a step. He reckoned it also didn't help that he refused to even slightly limp and thus was further aggravating the injury as he walked. Fucking new shoes, he raged quietly as he slipped out of his Zegnas after arriving at the loft; it must've been the stupid heel that had screwed him over.

The brunet padded his way across his polished floor towards the bedroom, carefully limping on his right leg. Flopping down on his bed, he sighed. He was still reeling a little bit from what he had found out about Justin's situation at school and was in some desperate need of relaxation. Normally, he would just go on a pull to Babylon or to the baths, but since he was currently a proper gimp, he couldn't do that. Instead of finding a trick to fuck, he decided to pull out his bottle of lube and jerk off to one of his favourite fantasies.

He remembered a similar evening not that long ago - he had overdone it at the gym that day and had pulled a muscle in his neck during push-ups. When he'd come home, he hadn't had the will to go out, but thankfully, Justin had been at the loft to soothe his aches. 

He remembered how frustrated with himself he had been, and how Justin made it all better. They had started off lying on their sides in their bed, naked and making out like teenagers. Justin was running his artistic hands all over Brian, massaging his shoulders lightly before sliding his hands south, over his butt.

Brian had hmmed in contentment, pressing himself closer to the blond. He pushed his tongue deeper into Justin's mouth, receiving a pat on the bum for his troubles.

"Stop that," he had grunted, lips still mashed to Justin's.

The younger man grinned, pulling away slightly. "What was that?"

"I said," he had repeated, enunciating carefully; "stop that."

Justin just patted him again. "What, this?" And again. "Are you sure?" And again. "Do you really want me to stop this?"

The pats hadn't really been hard enough to be called spanking but they were enough for his arse to start itching slightly. "Yes I do," he had said breathlessly, though he knew Justin could feel how hard he was against the teenager's thigh.

Justin had chuckled, rolling them over, so Brian was on top with his legs on either side of the blond's hips. He'd received another series of pats, a little harder this time, and his dick twitched again.

"I think you're getting off on it," Justin had whispered to him, hands rubbing his pink arsecheeks. 

"And I think you're getting really cocky," Brian countered, squirming slightly in his lover's lap.

"Oh, I'm gonna get cocky," the blond had teased, wiggling his eyebrows, causing Brian to burst out in laughter.

"That was a horrible pun, Sunshine," he retorted.

Justin had giggled prettily, patting him again. "You want to be on top?" he asked him, a few of his fingers teasing at Brian's crack.

The brunet stud had raised his eyebrows. "What do you think?" he challenged, pressing his arse into Justin's crotch.

"I think," the blond had whispered hotly in his ear, "that you are going to ride me until we both come."

Brian would deny it till his dying day, but he might've whimpered at those words coming out of his lover's dirty mouth. "Yeah?" he asked, voice tight with arousal.

Justin had pressed his fingers against his hole in answer, causing Brian to choke on his spit. "Justin," he breathed out, pressing his butt back to increase the pressure of the blond's fingertips.

"Come on, Brian," his lover had encouraged him, using his right hand to fumble with the bedside drawer and pull out their bottle of lube. "You ready?"

Brian hmmed in agreement.

Justin's slicked-up fingers had pressed against his entrance, massaging the rim with even pressure, and Brian wasn't able to help himself, again pressing back against them. The blond had waited for him to wiggle a few more times before finally pushing his forefinger in, sliding it in as far as it would go.

The older man had felt a shiver run up his spine, and when that nimble finger brushed against his prostate, heat had pooled in his stomach. "Justin," he moaned.

"I know, Bri," his lover had soothed him, one hand caressing his back, the other pumping the digit in and out of his entrance. "More?"

Brian hadn't bothered to speak, just nodding his head, drops of hot sweat flying at the movement. He was rewarded by Justin's middle finger as the blond started loosening his hole by scissoring the slick fingers inside of him. The occasional brush against his sweet spot had kept the heat in his stomach pulsing, the feeling thick and heavy as molten lava.

He hadn't even registered the third finger at first, because he had been distracted by Justin's mouth sucking at the skin right behind his ear. "No mark," he managed to whimper, vaguely remembering he had a client presentation the next day. Justin's only reaction had been to suck harder.

It hadn't taken long for the blond to declare him ready, knowing from experience that Brian liked to feel the stretch when Justin entered him. The stud had helped his lover slide a condom over his thick hardness and then, barely waiting for Justin to lube himself up, he moved to sit over it. He had slid down the engorged length with a long hiss of breath, watching the younger man's blissed-out face and plump lips. He remembered being determined to ride Justin to completion and then have the teenager blow him.

Once he had been fully seated, he immediately lifted himself up again - not giving either of them any time to adjust to the penetration. His slender thighs had strained with the effort, and Brian found himself thankful that his earlier disastrous workout at the gym had concentrated on his upper body muscles and not on his legs; otherwise, he'd be too tired to do this.

He'd huffed with the effort as he set up a regular rhythm, riding Justin slow and hard. He was able to feel each and every inch of his lover's shaft sliding in and out of him, the big head teasing his prostate at every pass. "Jus," he'd grunted, closing his eyes briefly in concentration - he didn't want to come too soon.

Soon, Justin's hands had found his thighs, caressing the straining muscles lightly. Brian had thought about Justin's own muscular thighs and how the teen could ride him forever before tiring, while Brian was already feeling the strain five minutes later. He had decided to pick up the pace, refusing to admit he was running out of steam, which earned him a deep grunt of pleasure from Justin.

"Jesus, Brian," the blond had groaned, voice raspy and breathless.

The brunet chuckled, grinding down forcefully. He'd then felt Justin slide his hands up his thighs all the way to his arse and squeeze, causing him to buckle. "Oh, fuck," he moaned out, feeling the hot tingle spread from his centre.

"You close?" Justin had questioned, teasing at Brian's crack.

The brunet hmmed in response, enjoying the way his lover had rubbed at the tight ring of muscles around his filled-up opening. The tingles had almost reached the top of his spine at that point, and his thigh muscles were screaming with exertion.

"I think you can take a little more," his blond lover had murmured and before Brian could've realised what that meant, Justin pressed a forefinger inside of Brian, right alongside his cock.

"Oooh!" he'd yelled out, left gasping at the new stretch. He had never before had anything so big inside of him, and quite honestly, it surprised him how nice it felt. Justin had been watching his face intently, presumably for any signs of discomfort.

Brian wasn't in any pain though - well, not in any bad kind of pain - as the tingling feeling had shot to his toes and fingertips. "I'm coming," he'd warned Justin as he felt his hole spasming around the teenager's fingers and his cock jerking in preparation for a mind-blowing orgasm.

"Me too," the blond breathed out, giving Brian's shaft a few tugs.

They had come almost simultaneously, Brian spurting out a second or two before Justin but not caring in the least, both calling each other's names.

Now, as Brian lay alone in his bed, slick fingers sliding in and out of his own tight hole, his orgasm crept up on him unexpectedly. He grunted loudly, biting his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything, and his whole body jerked. Not even the sharp pain in the sole of his right foot as his toes curled could ruin his high.