Saturday night, Babylon...

After leaving Matthew's house, Brian got in his car and sat there, unable to move and turn on the jeep. Leaning his head against the steering wheel, he wondered how his life had become such a mess in such a short time. The one thing he was sure of at the moment was that he desperately needed to forget about his disastrous night. And there was only one place he could think of for that.

He parked his car near the diner fifteen minutes later and walked toward Babylon with only one goal in mind. Entering, he made his way through the crowded space, shamelessly checking out the men bold enough to touch a part of his body. At the bar, he quickly downed several shots of Beam, his body craving the burning sensation of the liquor, before turning around to face the dance floor. He scanned the guys dancing, but no one succeeded in capturing his attention. They were too tall, too skinny, too ugly, too toned, or too tasteless - with another major flaw.

They were not Justin.

"Fuck!" Brian cursed loudly as he turned back to face the bartender. The guy looked at him quizzically, but he quickly grabbed the hundred Brian handed him. "The bottle will do," Brian volunteered with a fake smile, prompting the bartender to push a full bottle in his direction. Brian snatched it and picked up his glass.

Emmett, Michael, and Ted found him trying and failing miserably to pour himself another shot of whiskey.

"You shouldn't bother with the glass," Ted quipped.

Brian stared at Ted, already too wasted to catch the humor. Giving up on his attempt to use a glass, he muttered, "Good idea," and took four large gulps from the bottle. He grimaced, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his Armani shirt, while his friends stared at him as if he had perpetrated the ultimate sin.

In a way, he had.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Michael asked. He hadn't seen Brian drink that much since Gus' doctors started talking about his surgery. "Weren't you supposed to go to a recital tonight?

"And this is your business because...?" Brian snarled, not in the mood to answer his best friend's annoying inquiry.

Michael scowled. "No need to be rude!" he exclaimed offendedly before walking away with Ted.

Emmett, though, stayed and sidled up next to Brian, leaning against the counter. Brian eyed him as if questioning the man's sanity.

"You seem like you could use a sympathetic ear right now," Emmett eventually claimed.

Acknowledging that his intimidating gaze wouldn't be sufficient to make his friend disappear from his sight, Brian gave up and gulped again from the bottle of Beam before slamming it back on the counter.

Emmett stifled a smile at the glare Brian had directed at him. Indicating with a toss of his head the bottle the brunet was still holding, he asserted, "You're going to be sick if you keep drinking like that."

Brian huffed derisively. "I can hold my liquor, thank you very much," he sneered, taking another couple of gulps to demonstrate his point. The truth was, he could already feel the effects of the alcohol flooding his veins, but he didn't care.

"Not when you haven't drunk like that in months," Emmett refuted.

Brian ignored Emmett's statement, glaring blatantly at the half-empty bottle. While he had been aware that drinking like a fish wouldn't resolve anything and that it was counterproductive to his goal of helping his son, it had been the only solution he could come up with to forget about Justin. Now, though, it seemed it had not been his best idea since he felt like he wanted to talk about Justin with Emmett.

Alcohol was such a bad influence.

"He is going to be the death of me," Brian declared as he started to roll the bottle between his hands.

Emmett frowned, propping himself up on his elbow. Brian was now staring absently into the depths of the bottle as if it held all the answers to his problems. "I assume you're talking about... Justin?" he asked on a hunch, not one hundred percent sure who Brian was referring to.

Brian didn't respond, but he didn't have to. The expression on his face said it all.

"What's the matter?" Emmett bravely inquired before divulging, "The last time I saw him, Justin seemed to really like you. I mean, more than like you. And from what I can see, you're far from being indifferent to the kid's charms too, aren't you?"

"So what?" Brian questioned, scowling. "What difference does it make... if we keep hurting each other?" he drunkenly voiced his thought out loud.

However, as soon as the words had escaped his mouth, Brian froze, berating himself for opening up to a gossip like Emmett. He peered at his friend, who seemed very proud of him for admitting he had feelings like the rest of the mere mortals.

The thought made him want to gag, although the booze he had consumed probably didn't help either.

"If you did something that hurt Justin, maybe you need to come clean?" Emmett suggested, placing his hand on Brian's shoulder.

Brian stared at Emmett's hand, then at his sympathetic face. It was funny how eloquent his friend could become when he was drunk. "You're right. If I don't come clean, I won't come at all," Brian eventually quipped, snickering at his own stupid joke.

"Brian!" Emmett exclaimed. "Not that you're not right, but that's not... Brian?" he called in consternation as he witnessed Brian suddenly turning around and taking a step toward the dance floor, almost losing his balance in the process. "Where are you going?"

"To Justin," Brian answered, unperturbed, even if his head was definitely spinning. Driving drunk was probably not the best course of action, but the brunet didn't want to waste any more time now that he had made up his mind. Although there was only one way to find out if he could drive or not.

"You're kinda drunk," Emmett remarked, preventing him from falling as Brian stupidly tried to balance on one foot.

"I kinda don't care. That's what cabs are for, right?" Brian lied, certain that he wasn't too drunk to navigate his way to Justin's place. That he would have fallen if not for his friend's help ‘kinda' didn't register in his brain. "Toodles!" he drawled foolishly, saluting Emmett before leaving, bumping into nameless bodies on his way out.

The drive to Justin's place took much longer than he had anticipated since he missed the correct turn twice. He ultimately pulled his open jeep over in front of Justin's building in one piece, but once he turned off the car, he didn't get out. He searched for his stash in the glove compartment instead.

The joint soothed his inebriated self a little more. He leaned his head back against his seat, contemplating the big moon in the sky, which looked an awful lot like a bright street lamp. The night was cloudy and the moon therefore couldn't be seen, but that didn't faze him at all.

A few minutes later, Brian swayed dangerously as he entered Justin's building.

He surprisingly pushed the correct button to put the elevator in motion. After getting out on Justin's floor, he arrived at the blond's door and pressed his finger against the doorbell, not lifting it until he heard significant movement, followed by some colorful cursing. Grinning goofily, he started knocking. Loudly.

"Hold on!" Justin shouted, obviously not happy to be awakened at three in the morning. Brian heard him unlocking the door. "You can't keep forgetting your key, Daphne!" Justin complained, before opening it. However, he froze when he noticed the overpowering aroma of booze. He questioned, "Are you drunk? Did you have another fight with... whatshisname?"

Brian couldn't look away from Justin's sleep-tousled hair, his pajama pants clinging to his slim hips, his bare chest looking warm, soft, and just damn perfect. He wanted to touch his skin, to lick it, suck it, caress it, and more. He briefly wondered if Justin would be okay with him cuddling his skin. Could a skin be cuddled and adored? Justin's skin so deserved to be worshipped. Not just his skin, though. Maybe a shrine would do, then?

"Justin, I want to cuddle your skin," Brian slurred. He was totally wasted.

Justin's eyes widened. "Brian?" he pronounced the brunet's name, astonished. He was apparently so astounded, in fact, that he didn't react when Brian walked in without his consent.

As Bran squeezed in next to Justin, he grabbed the door and pushed it closed. Taking a step sideways, he tripped over air, falling into Justin's arms. Justin barely caught him and helped him straighten up.

"What are you doing here?" Justin inquired, but he didn't ask Brian to leave.

"I told you. I need to cuddle your... No, wait. I don't cuddle. I don't cuddle?" Brian questioned dubiously before squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stop his head from spinning so fast.

He opened his eyes again and noticed Justin was still waiting for his explanation, a puzzled expression on his face.

Since he couldn't think of anything to say, Brian enveloped Justin in a hug.

Justin's hands pushed against his chest. "What the fuck are you doing?" His tone wasn't truly angry, but Brian could hear the confusion lacing his words.

"I was at Babylon and..." Brian frowned, trying to remember his conversation with Emmett. "I realized I needed to see... you," he volunteered, the alcohol running through his body making it difficult to form a coherent sentence.

"I thought you had a client tonight," Justin reminded him curtly before heading in the direction of the couch.

"Yeah..." Brian responded dazedly, just realizing Justin had moved and was now standing, very, very far away from him.

Brian took the two steps separating him from the couch.

Justin sat and shook his head. Brian carefully came to sit next to him, feeling the beginnings of a headache hammering at his skull.

Justin turned his head toward Brian, obviously trying to decide what to do with him. Ultimately, he asked, the exhaustion evident in his voice, "And? You have nothing else to say? Really?"

"I have plenty to say," Brian answered stubbornly but couldn't think of another thing to say. He felt suddenly sick.

Justin huffed when Brian didn't elaborate. "You're fucking wasted."

"I think... you may be right," Brian grimaced, trying to control his breathing. "...right back," he breathed out as a wave of nausea suddenly overwhelmed him before standing and hastily stumbling towards the bathroom.

Brian's threw up profusely, his stomach heaving with every spasm as he retched into the bowl. He wasn't sure what was worse - the fact that he felt like he was going to die from the pain in his stomach or the pounding headache he was experiencing.

He didn't know how long he stayed kneeling on the tile, his forehead resting against the cold porcelain. After a while, he pulled the toilet seat down and sat on it as he waited to feel steady enough to stand up. Then, he headed toward the sink and turned on the water, cupping it in his hands and splashing the cold liquid on his face. He braced his hands on the edge of the sink, his eyes closed, and focused on breathing for a moment before shuffling out of the bathroom.

As he came back into the living room, Brian noticed Justin was holding a pillow in his hands.

Justin heard him approaching, and he stood up, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"You made a bed for... for me?" Brian inquired almost audibly, ignoring Justin's question as he peered at the white blanket covering the usually red couch.

Justin didn't respond. He placed the pillow on the makeshift bed. "Come here and lie down," he demanded. Brian didn't need to be told twice and he fell face first onto the couch with a groan of satisfaction. "Turn around," Justin then instructed, making Brian smile as he felt his eyes closing against his will.

"...'re bossy tonight," he teased, feeling Justin tugging on his shirt. "Trying... undress me?"

"Shut up," Justin countered, but Brian could have sworn the blond was smiling, although he couldn't open his heavy eyelids to check.

Brian felt the blond opening his jeans, and he managed to lift his hips off the couch enough to help Justin get rid of his pants. The fact that his dick wasn't hard would have been a life or death matter if he'd been sober but, fortunately, he wasn't.

"I failed..." Brian slurred again, feeling himself slipping farther and farther away into unconsciousness.

"Huh?" Justin responded as he covered Brian's body with a warm blanket.

"...forget you..." Brian garbled drowsily, before falling into a deep slumber.

When Brian woke up the next morning, he realized three things.

Firstly, he wasn't in his comfortable, king-size bed, wrapped up in his silky soft Ralph Lauren sheets, but on a lumpy old couch adorned with a cheap white blanket. It gave him a pretty good idea of the reason his back was killing him.

Secondly, he had drooled copiously during the night, Brian's chin as well as Justin's pillow underneath his head now showing the evidence. Frowning, he rubbed his chin and rolled onto his chest, burrowing his nose further into Justin's pillow, the blond's unique manly scent assaulting his senses. He smiled before realizing how lesbianically he was behaving and forced himself to scowl instead.

Thirdly, he had just been awakened by a hard, unidentified object hitting his already throbbing head. Needless to say, he was not in a good mood and doubted his morning could get any worse.

Of course, he was wrong.

When he heard Jennifer Taylor's voice echoing in his ears, calling for her son, he froze. He would have groaned, but he didn't want her to notice he was there. It was stupid since she was bound to discover his presence, but he still harbored the wish that if he prayed hard enough, she would magically disappear; or at least, she might not feel the need to retrieve her purse - the one which had encountered Brian's head - and find him lying half-naked on her son's sofa.

However, the sound of her heels clicking away from the living room informed Brian she was heading toward her son's bedroom. The brunet sighed in relief, contemplating the possibility that he would be able to sneak out of Justin's apartment before she returned.

He rubbed his temples, trying to fight off the hammering in his skull. It was a lost cause, and he winced as he tried to get up, the sudden pressure in his head nearly unbearable. A few seconds elapsed before he could focus again, when he noticed his jeans neatly folded on a nearby armchair. Leaning forward, he grabbed them and pulled them on slowly. He was about to don his shirt when he heard Jennifer storming out of Justin's bedroom, with her son on her heels trying to stop her.

Jennifer halted abruptly when she discovered him standing shirtless by the couch. "Brian?" she called his name in astonishment. The look on her face also showed that she was not pleased to see him there.

Brian was about to complain that he couldn't stomach a possible meltdown without having at least gulped one cup of coffee and two Advils, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate his request. And, truthfully, an upset mother was not something Brian wanted to deal with right now.

"Mooom! I'm asking again. Why are you here?" Justin exclaimed disapprovingly as he fumbled to grab his mother's shoulder.

"I came to check on you, obviously! I thought that after last night, you could use a little TLC," she retorted. "But then, I discover Brian is here? What is this all about, Justin?" she demanded as she pointed at Brian, who hastily put on his shirt.

"None of your fucking business!" Justin surprisingly yelled back. "Now, I want you to leave," he ordered, his voice demonstrating how deadly serious he was.

"Justin, you can't..."

"Now!" he added forcefully, guiding his mom toward the door.

"Always a pleasure, Jennifer," Brian bid goodbye in a jesting tone, waving at Jennifer as he handed over her purse on her way out, unable to keep his lips from turning upward. He sobered up, however, when he saw Justin glancing in his direction, looking fairly pissed.

Justin closed the door behind Jennifer, his hand lingering on the handle as he took a deep breath. He then turned in Brian's direction and inquired dryly, "Coffee? I could use a cup."

"Sure," Brian acquiesced, following Justin into the kitchen. "Let me help." He grabbed the carafe, filled it with water from the sink, and poured it into the coffee machine. Meanwhile, Justin had opened a cabinet and retrieved a tin with coffee grounds and a filter.

Brian took them from Justin, their hands brushing lightly. The brunet cleared his throat, feeling a spark at the simple touch. He swiftly returned to his task and finally turned on the coffee machine, watching the drops slowly fall into the carafe. "How are you?" Brian eventually questioned in a low voice.

Justin leaned back against the counter, his hands supporting him. "Okay, I guess," he responded with a shrug.

"You don't seem okay," Brian replied, touching Justin's face to make the blond look at him, although as usual, his shades hid his eyes. Justin was paler than normal, betraying how tired he was.

Again, Justin didn't respond to his statement. He straightened up and stepped away, escaping Brian's grip.

"You still take your coffee black?" Brian asked, sensing Justin needed some space and therefore deciding that light conversation would help with the blond's weird mood.

"Sure. The sugar is in the cabinet next to the microwave," Justin replied as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

Brian turned away, smiling as he realized Justin had remembered how he liked his coffee. He opened a couple of cabinets, locating two mugs and the sugar bowl. "Do you have something for headaches?" he asked, wanting to ease his throbbing head.

Justin snorted before answering. "In the bathroom. On the top shelf of the medicine cabinet."

Brian placed the cups on the counter and added five teaspoons of sugar to one as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Once it had, he poured the hot beverage. Clasping the mugs carefully in his hands, he turned around and took the two steps that separated him from the table. He placed a cup in front of Justin, gently reaching for Justin's hand as he cautioned, "Your coffee's ready. Careful, it's hot."

The touch lasted for a moment too long, and Brian had to restrain himself from doing something stupid. Justin too had stilled at the touch.

"Breathe. I'm not going to take advantage of the situation," Brian volunteered as he withdrew his hand from Justin's, sensing that his companion was as affected as he was.

"I..." Justin began, his voice trailing off as he shook his head. He raised the cup to his mouth and blew on the liquid a couple of times before carefully taking a sip. Setting the cup back on the table, he chose to ignore the sexual tension between them and instead reminded Brian, "Don't forget to take some pills for your hangover."

Brian decided to respect Justin's unspoken wish to let it go and repeated Justin's directions from earlier, "Top shelf in the bathroom?"

Justin nodded.

Brian walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. He paused when he saw his reflection in the mirror, with dark circles under his eyes. Getting drunk had definitely not been his brightest idea, but at least it had led to him spending the night at Justin's place. The blond hadn't pushed him away so far, even though Brian could feel uneasiness between them that hadn't been there before.

Brian needed to show Justin that he genuinely wanted to make amends. Justin might not be so easily convinced since Brian had still been very adamant about shutting the young man out of his life a couple days earlier, but Brian had never backed down from a challenge and wasn't going to start now.

As he stared at his reflection, Brian vowed that he was going to make things right. He turned the faucet on and bent over to splash his face with cold water. Drying himself with a yellow hand towel hanging to the right of the sink, he opened the cabinet, checked the top shelf, and grabbed some Advil.

Justin didn't really understand what was happening.

Seeing Brian at the gallery had caught him totally off guard. As he had related the truth behind their supposed romance to his mother, Justin realized Brian's silence for the past month hurt more than he had anticipated. After their encounter at the gallery, the blond had gone home feeling depressed, with Jennifer hovering over him, refusing to leave his side before eleven.

Brian showing up at his place in the middle of the night had been a complete surprise. The brunet had been drunk out of his mind, ready to demonstrate his undying love for Justin if only the blond was inclined to let him.

He wasn't.

Justin wanted the man just as much as the last time they'd been together, maybe even more. For a month, Brian's absence had increased Justin's yearning, each rejection nourishing his craving and turning the blond into a pathetic mess. But their reunion at the gallery had made Justin realize he wouldn't be able to deal with a new rejection in the morning, next week, or next month - whenever Brian freaked out again.

So, he had resisted. He had offered Brian a bed and helped the inebriated man undress. Brian had mumbled incoherently just before passing out, Justin's heart skipping a beat at his words. He hadn't dared read too much into them, considering the brunet couldn't possibly comprehend what his alcoholic brain had him confessing.

Justin had gone back to bed but barely slept. His mother's visit in the morning had simply been the icing on the cake. Moreover, now that he was alone with Brian, he didn't know how to deal with him.  

"I want to go to the Pride Parade," Justin heard Brian declare. He'd been so lost in thought that he didn't hear his guest come back from the bathroom.

"Huh?" Justin replied, surprised by Brian's announcement.

"We're going to the parade. The boys will be marching with the LGBT Center. I need to take pictures - blackmail material to hold over Michael's head for the rest of his life."

Justin's brow furrowed as he turned his head in Brian's direction. "Again, uh?"

"Are you deaf? Or just blind?" Brian mocked, Justin hearing the grin in his voice.

"Fuck you!" Justin retorted. "Why do you think I'd want to go?"

"I'm going," Brian responded as if that explained everything.

Justin snorted. "You will have to find a better reason than that."

"I want you to go with me," Brian volunteered.

"Why?" Justin questioned. If Brian really wanted them to start seeing each other again, Justin would make him work for it.

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Brian huffed. "Okay, then..." he began, breathing deeply before professing, "I've been a shit to you for the past month. But I have an oversized ego and I'm queer, which is sufficient to explain why I acted like a..." he paused, before complaining dryly, "God, I hate that expression."

"Like a what?" Justin pushed, thoroughly amused now.

Brian sighed. "A drama queen."

"You forgot to add that since you're the best at everything, you queen out better than anyone else," Justin jested.  

"Don't push your luck, Sunshine," Brian warned, although Justin could hear the brunet's grin.

Justin's own smile faltered as he sobered. "I shouldn't have given you money," he declared solemnly.

"You shouldn't have," Brian agreed. "But what's done is done."

"So..." Justin carefully rose from his chair. He didn't know exactly where he stood with Brian. The man might have forgiven him, but Justin wasn't sure what it meant. Did Brian want them to be friends now? Lovers? Something in between?

Brian walked over to him, Justin feeling the nearness of his body, the brunet's warmth and scent enveloping his senses. "...friends?" the blond eventually asked bashfully.

Brian didn't respond, raising his hand to slip his fingers into Justin's hair. His hand finally rested on the blond's cheek for a few seconds, before Brian dropped it by his side. "Friends," he confirmed softly.

The truth was, it was impossible for Justin to be just ‘friends' with Brian. The pull was too strong, impossible to ignore, the sparks overwhelming him every time the brunet touched him.

But it didn't mean he couldn't try to refrain from having sex with Brian right away. So, he smiled, and declared, "Okay, Buddy. Let's go to the parade. But first, we need to shower. Especially you."

Brian chuckled before suggesting in a husky voice, "We could shower together."

So much for trying to take things slow.

"I think I'm going to shower alone, if you don't mind," Justin responded, although he blushed, of course.

"You're boring," Brian drawled. "Don't you know that the spirit of Pride means to love your neighbor as yourself?"

Justin burst out laughing as he headed toward the bathroom.