Chapter 9

Justin ran down the street as if the devil himself was chasing him. Momentarily confused at where he was, Justin held out his hand to hail a cab. A taxi pulled up and Justin got in telling the driver where to take him. The traffic was heavy, still in the middle of rush hour and Justin wasn't going to feel safe until he was back at the hotel in their room.

"Here we are," the driver said in a heavy accent. Justin paid the fare and left him a sizable tip. The door man rushed up to open the door. Justin hurried across the lobby to the elevator bank. He pressed the up button over and over. He was feeling nauseous.

"You're back early," John exclaimed as Justin came barreling through the door. He threw off his jacket then ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut in his wake. John stood up and went to the bathroom door. He could hear Justin retching up the contents of his stomach.

"Justin?" John gently knocked on the door.

"Go away," Justin cried in between puking up his guts.

"Justin, please let me help," John pleaded. He didn't like feeling helpless on the other side of the door. "Justin, do you need a doctor?"

"No," Justin said meekly. His stomach was now empty. He flushed the toilet several times to remove the evidence. Justin sat on the floor next to the porcelain god. John gently knocked again then took the chance that the door was unlocked.

"Justin?" John slowly opened the door and peered in. "Oh Justin," John said as he spied the younger man on the floor, tears streaming down his face. He quickly strode in then sat next to the blond. "What happened?" John asked gently as he cradled the distraught man. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Justin sniffled into John's chest.

"You done throwing up?"

"I think so."

"Then let's get you cleaned up and into some sweats. You'll feel better clean and in loose clothes."

"Okay," Justin agreed, sounding so much like a small child. John helped the man up then helped him out of his clothes. John thought he could smell the scent of liquor and a hint of cologne. The cologne wasn't Justin's or Brian's. As Justin got into the shower, John went to put the clothes in the laundry bag.

When John heard the shower go off he gently knocked again and waited for Justin to acknowledge him.

"Come in."

"Feeling better?" John asked as he handed Justin one of his sweat shirts and soft sweat pants. John couldn't find anything in Justin's room so he got out one of his own sets.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Justin, I'm not going to ask you to explain what happened tonight but I trust you to talk to Brian about it. He knows something's wrong."

"What does he know? Did he say something?"

"No, he didn't but I can see it in his eyes. He has a lot riding on the New York office.  He's trying so hard to concentrate."

"Are you implying that if he's worried about me, Brian won't be able to concentrate on his work?" John didn't bother answering Justin's question. Justin already knew the answer.

"Justin, I'm going down to the gift shop to buy some bottles of water. You need to re-hydrate yourself."

"Okay."

"And Justin…" The seriousness of John's voice made Justin look up into John's eyes.

"When he gets home, you talk to him."

"Him who?" Brian said as he came into the room.

"Um…" John said before he beat a hasty retreat out the door.

"Where's he going?" Brian asked as he watched the door close behind his brother. "What's going on?" Brian took another look at Justin and he could tell something was wrong. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

Justin blanched. It hadn't taken Brian long to figure out that something was up. How the fuck was he supposed to tell Brian that he had had too much to drink with another man, and had almost let that man kiss him, had even wanted the man to kiss him … just a little bit.

"John went to get some bottles of water. I … I threw up."

"You're sick? What happened?" Brian asked moving over to Justin and feeling his forehead.

"I'm fine. I'm not sick," Justin said ducking away from Brian's touch.

Brian frowned. "What's going on? Where's Bree?"

"She's been asleep ever since we came back from Central Park."

"And where have you been?"

Justin flinched. He was going to have to tell everything, but he wished John would come back with some water. He was thirsty and he needed something to fucking do with his hands.

"Brian, I have something to tell you, but I don't want you to get mad. Nothing happened … really," Justin said hopefully.

"You sure make it sound like nothing," Brian replied sarcastically. "I need a shower and some food. Order something and have some water when John comes back. Maybe then you'll be ready to talk." Brian walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

"Shit!" Justin reacted. He had already ticked Brian off, just what he didn't want to do.

The door to the room opened and John entered carrying three large bottles of water. He handed one to Justin. "Where's Brian?"

"Um … taking a shower."

"So you didn't talk yet?" John asked as he put the other two bottles of water in the fridge under the bar.

"Not really, but we will when he comes out. He wants me to order some food. Do you want something?"

"Nope, Bree and I ate just before you came home."

"She was awake?"

"Yep, woke up and was a little scared. From what I could make out she was dreaming about goats chasing her."

"So she had some food?"

"Yeah, we ordered some pasta and she ate a bit. She was tired from all the fresh air and running around. Right after she ate she fell asleep on the couch so I put her back to bed."

"Thanks for everything, John," Justin said as he finished off about half the bottle of water.

"You're welcome, but don't forget to have that talk. It will only get worse the longer you put it off."

"I know," Justin sighed. "It's hard."

"Do it," John said before he went into his room and carefully shut the door.

Justin picked up the phone and ordered room service making sure to get some things that Brian would approve of. Then he got up and went to look in on Bree. She was sleeping peacefully, her arm wrapped around Muñequita. Justin wondered how he could have been so stupid as to risk everything, and for what? A momentary attraction. A stupid thrill. But he hadn't let it happen. He supposed that he deserved some credit for that, but he doubted that Brian would see it that way.

He walked back into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. He took another long drink from the bottle of water. He heard the shower shut off and knew that Brian would be out in a minute. The moment of truth was almost upon him. He waited, trying to figure out what to say.

A couple of minutes later Brian emerged from the bedroom dressed in his favorite jeans with the top button undone. He had on a black wifebeater that made him look dark and dangerous. Justin shivered at the sight. No one turned him on like Brian. What the hell had he been thinking?

"You ordered some food?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, it should be here in a few minutes."

"You ready to talk?"

"I guess," Justin said taking another drink from his water bottle. His throat had suddenly become very dry.

"So talk."

"Something happened today," Justin said and then hesitated.

"I figured. Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?"

"I don't think I want you to guess."

"Okay, so tell me. You know you can tell me anything."

"The other day when I was at the museum," Justin began. He watched Brian's eyebrow shoot up. He plowed on anyway. "I met this guy. He started to talk to me when I was sketching. He had an English accent and a neat sense of humor." Justin stopped.

"Go on," Brian said. Justin could tell he was not amused.

"He sort of hit on me."

"Sort of?"

"Okay, so he hit on me."

"And that's when you came running back to N'rgy with your bad hand?" Justin nodded. "But you were really running away from him."

"Well, kind of, but my hand did start to act up. You saw what it was like."

"Guilty conscience," Brian mumbled.

"Brian, I admit I found him attractive, but nothing happened. Really, it didn't."

"Then why the fuck are we having this conversation?"

"It almost did," Justin muttered.

"What almost happened?"

"I went out this afternoon and I found myself at the bar where he had mentioned that he hung out," Justin confessed.

"Just found yourself there!" Brian snorted.

"Well, I guess some part of me wanted to see if he was there."

"And was he?"

"He came in."

"Justin, for Christ's sake tell me what happened. It can't be any worse than what I'm thinking."

Justin blanched. Brian probably thought that he had slept with the man. Fuck! "I … I drank too much. He kept buying me drinks and then some chicken wings and they were hot and they burned so I gulped down my drink and I got pretty drunk," Justin gasped out.

"Ugly drunk!" Brian murmured. "So did he take you home and fuck you?"

"Jesus, Brian. No!" Justin protested.

"Then what happened. Did he hurt you?" Brian asked anger suddenly clouding his features.

"No, no, nothing like that."

"I haven't heard much to be upset about. What do you need to tell me?"

"You're not upset?" Justin asked.

"Nothing has happened … at least this far into your story."

"But … he flirted with me and I went to the bar and drank too much."

"There has to be more," Brian sighed. "Spill."

"I was kind of drunk and I knew I should get out of there."

"Before something really happened?"

"Yeah." Justin took another drink of water and rubbed his hand across his face. "I tried to pay for the drinks and the food but he wouldn't let me. He took my arm and we went outside. He said his place was close by, and … I was this close to letting him take me there. And then … and then, he tried to kiss me and I looked down and saw the picture of you and Bree in my wallet and I ran."

"Back here to throw up?"

"Yeah," Justin sighed.

Brian chuckled. "My, my, my."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Justin asked indignantly. Here he was baring his soul, confessing his transgressions, and Brian was fucking laughing at him.

"Don't you think that I get hit on? Once or twice I've been tempted to stray. There are a lot of beautiful men out there," Brian said waving his arm at the windows. "They're ripe for the picking. But, the important thing is that I don't pick them. I pick you. I come home to you. Just like you came home to me today. That's what matters."

"Oh, Brian," Justin said as he threw himself into Brian's arms. "I was so scared about how you'd take this." He kissed Brian's lips and then nuzzled his neck.

"Is that why you threw up?"

"Partly, and I had too much to drink on an empty stomach."

"It's amazing what guilt will do."

Justin pushed back so he could look in Brian's eyes. "Was I wrong to feel guilty?"

"Not at all. That's what kept you on the straight and narrow, no pun intended."

"I love you, you know"

"I know."

Another longer and deeper kiss ensued, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

"That must be our food," Justin said still holding onto Brian's neck.

"Then I guess we better answer it."

"I guess." Reluctantly Justin got to his feet and placed his hands over his crotch. He went to the door and opened it peering around from behind the door. "You can put it over there," Justin said. He stayed by the door keeping it between him and the waiter. Brian had disappeared into the bedroom.

"Here," Brian said reappearing and holding out some money to the waiter. The man nodded giving Brian the once over. Brian shook his head and the waiter walked back to the door. He smirked at Justin on his way out.

"He was flirting with you," Justin stated.

"They all flirt," Brian said smugly.

"How come you never feel guilty about it?"

"I'd spend all day every day feeling guilty. Is that what you want?"

"Asshole," Justin accused. He went over to the cart and lifted the lid looking at what he ordered. "I need to eat something."

"Me too."

They shared some of what was on each plate and took it back to the sofa to eat. Justin gobbled down half of the burger he had ordered and stuffed in the fries he had on the plate. Brian picked at his pasta and nibbled at the fries Justin had shared with him.

"I thought you were hungry," Justin said around a mouthful of food.

"I am."

"Then eat, don't just pick at your food."

"I don't need to inhale it to eat it," Brian stated. "You eat your way and I'll eat mine."

"Are you mad at me?" Justin asked stopping eating long enough to ask that question.

"No, not mad," Brian said gently.

"Then what?"

"Do you think I should feel guilty when men flirt with me?"

"No, Brian, I didn't mean that. It was a given from the time that I met you that men were going to be attracted to you. Women too, for that matter."

"But you know that I don't act on it, right?"

"I know. I think what scared me so much was that some part of me wanted to act on the flirtation. I was attracted to Henry."

"Henry?" Brian asked raising an eyebrow.

Justin chuckled. "You'll never guess what his name was."

"Henry?" Brian smirked.

"Of course, Henry," Justin giggled. "But what's the rest of it?"

"Let's see, 'Enry 'Iggins!" Brian guessed using a British accent.

Justin choked on his burger and started coughing. Brian thumped him on the back.

When he had recovered, Justin asked, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know someone's name when there's no way you should know it."

"You mean the fucker's name actually is Henry Higgins? I was fucking joking."

"That's his name."

"Christ, Justin, I thought you would have better taste than to fall for someone named Henry Higgins."

"You don't know what he's like. He's suave and debonair and British," Justin declared.

"Are you defending the object of your desire to ME?"

"Oh, I guess I am," Justin giggled. "Well, you criticized my taste. You don't know anything about Henry other than his name."

"Are you sure?" Brian asked keeping a straight face.

"You, you haven't been spying on me, have you?"

Brian shook his head. "I'm trying to open a new business. When the fuck would I have time to spy on you?"

Justin frowned. "But you seem to know more than you should about Henry."

"Would you stop calling him Henry?"

"What should I call him?"

"Don't call him anything. Can we please forget about Henry fucking Higgins?"

"Okay, sure," Justin agreed finishing up his burger and fries.

"Want this?" Brian asked holding the rest of his pasta out to Justin.

Justin shook his head. "I want you," he said huskily.

Brian smirked but set the dish down on the coffee table and pulled Justin against him. "Now that's more like it."

A long period of kissing and groping ensued.

"We should take this to the bedroom," Justin whispered as he came up for air.

"Okay, I'll stick the cart out in the hall."

"Meet you in the bedroom," Justin giggled.

Brian grinned and got up to load the dirty dishes on the cart. He pushed it to the door and out into the hall. When he closed the door he shook his head. "Henry Higgins," he muttered to himself. He headed for the bedroom.

Justin was sitting on the side of the bed looking at his wallet.

"What are you doing?"

"This … this is what stopped me," Justin said glancing up into Brian's eyes.

Brian looked at the picture of himself and Bree. "I didn't know that was the one that you carried around with you," he said gently.

"It was the happiest moment of my life. My husband and my daughter together for the first time. It was the beginning of our family."

"Yeah, it was," Brian agreed as he sat down on the bed beside Justin.

"Brian, why weren't you angry about Henry. I expected you to be furious and jealous and…"

"Is that what you wanted?"

"I … I don't know," Justin replied shaking his head. "I just thought you would react differently."

"Well, if I ever see that Henry Higgins," Brian stated shaking his fist in the air. "Just you wait, 'Enry 'Iggins, just you wait!"

Justin giggled and pulled his husband down on top of him. "That's better," he giggled.

"I'll do whatever you want, you know."

"I know. I love you. I've grown accustomed to your face."

Brian laughed. "And so have I."

His mouth captured Justin's and that was the end of the song lyrics … at least for that night.