Chapter 29 - Suspension.

“Wow. That’s pretty good,” Justin exclaimed as he looked over his nephew’s shoulder at the pencil drawing the teen was working on.

“Thanks,” Jesse responded, pausing to survey the drawing himself and then adding a touch of additional shading to the curve of his sister’s chin. “I wish you could convince my dad of that, though.”

“Is your dad still giving you a hard time? I thought your mom had talked him into backing off a bit,” Justin asked, concerned by how fast the apparent rift between the sixteen-year-old and his father had grown.

“Yeah, I thought so too, but then last night he went off on another tangent about how I need to get involved in more school activities or I’ll never get into the ‘right’ college,” Jesse complained, finishing off his drawing, tossing the sketchpad aside and then flopping down on his bed dejectedly. “So, I’m like, fine. But when we got into it more, it turns out the the only ‘acceptable’ extracurricular activities in his opinion are the Future Business Leaders of America club or sports - neither of which are of ANY interest to me. Not to mention that the stupid FBLA shit would interfere with Art Club. Then we got into a whole ‘nother argument about why I should quit Art Club.”

Justin joined his friend on the bed, lying the opposite direction cross-wise over the width of the small twin mattress so that his head was down near Jesse’s legs and vice versa. The two teens laid there for a couple of minutes, neither saying anything, contemplating the off-white ceiling above them. The familiarity of just being there together and hanging out was comforting to them both. They didn’t need to talk to share that sense of support.

“Give him a chance, Jes. He’s trying to make sure you have what he considers a good life. He just doesn’t understand that your idea of what a good life would be isn’t the same as his,” Justin tried to excuse his younger brother’s actions.

“Whatever. I wish he’d just back the fuck off already. I’m never going to be the good son that follows in Daddy’s footsteps and takes over the family business like he did. I mean, seriously, can you see ME as a businessman?” Jesse snorted a huff of laughter at the mere thought.

Justin could empathise. He and his nephew shared a lot of common traits, including their affinity for art. He wouldn’t have been any happier than Jesse was at the thought of having to go into the family business. Luckily for Justin - or not so luckily, as the case was - he never had to have that particular argument with his father due to his untimely death. Other than to just bide his time and try to reason with his father as best he could, though, Justin didn’t have any advice for the frustrated youth.

“So what about you, Unc? Everything copacetic in the land of the unliving? You haven’t been around here moping about how difficult Brian is being for a while, so what gives?” Jesse asked as soon as they’d talked his parental problems into the ground. “Did Brian finally come around and admit he was madly, passionately, desperately in love with you?”

“Well, not exactly . . .” Justin answered hesitatingly, his face so red that Jesse immediately knew something was up.

“No way . . . you two finally did the nasty? Wooooo Hoooo!” Jesse jumped up off the bed and danced a victory circuit around the room, hooting and hollering up a storm.

“Shut up, Jes,” Justin complained, grabbing Jesse as he made yet another lap and pulling him back down to the bed. “Do you really want your Mom to come in here and give you the third degree about why you’re running around and yelling like a nutcase?”

“Hey, I’m just happy for you, Bro. You finally lost your cherry. That’s epic. And it only took you, what, fifty years?”

“Hahaha. You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” Justin stuck his tongue out at the teasing imp that was giving him such a hard time, responding in an equally immature manner.

“Soooooo? Come on. Spill. How was it? Did he rock your world the way you always dreamed he would? How big is his dick?”

“Fuck you, Jesse. I’m not going to tell you shit. Not if you’re going to make fun of me,” Justin pouted like the teen he seemed when you looked at him.

“Fine. I promise I won’t make fun of you. Sheesh. Touchy much, Bro?” They both laughed for a couple seconds at how ridiculous they were being before quieting. “Seriously, dude. Tell. Me. Everything.”

Like the tiny teen gossip queens they were, Justin and Jesse spent the next half hour or so discussing every single moment of Justin’s brand new sex life. Jesse was having a great time embarrassing Justin with awkward questions. Justin was totally waxing poetic about every detail and the purple prose was flying in all directions.

“So, if everything is so amazing and wonderful and perfect, what the hell are you doing here wasting time with me?” Jesse asked when his uncle seemed to momentarily run out of praise for Brian Kinney. “Why aren’t you still holed up somewhere with Brian getting your ass fucked into the mattress by his prodigious member?”

“Well, unfortunately, Brian and his prodigious member are currently being held hostage by his annoying friend Michael,” Justin complained, slumping back on the bed dejectedly. “Ever since the girls told the family about Brian agreeing to help them with the baby thing, Michael’s been on this ‘Free Brian’ kick. It’s like he thinks Lindsey and Mel having a baby is going to instantly change Brian into Ward Cleaver or something. He’s been dragging Brian out to the bars every single night this week and almost force feeding him alcohol, trying to make sure he stays in Stud Mode as long as possible.”

“So why doesn’t Brian just tell him to fuck off? He’s a big boy, right? He doesn’t have to do everything his ‘bestest fwend’ tells him to, does he?” Jesse didn't seem at all impressed with either Michael’s possessiveness or Brian's lack of spine.

“Yeah, I don't think Brian would ever tell Michael off. They've been friends too long and Michael was there for him when he didn't have anyone else to turn to. Brian's nothing, if not loyal. And, even if I could get him to understand that he doesn't need to follow Mikey's every dictate, he'd see telling his friend off as some kind of betrayal,” Justin reasoned, his forehead knotting up as he tried to analyze the problem in a way that was simpler to explain. “When they're together like this, it's kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy or something. It's like, Michael sees Brian as some Fantasy Stud - somebody that he’ll never be himself, but has always idolized - and then Brian wants to make Mikey happy so he puts on a show, acting out the fantasy. But, after a while, Brian forgets it’s only a fantasy and starts believing it’s real.”

“From what I’ve seen of him - and heard from both you and Winnie - Brian Kinney IS that guy, bro. He’s basically a slut. I don’t think it’s just a fantasy,” Jesse argued, worried that Justin was putting his new lover up on some ridiculous pedestal.

Justin wasn’t going allow that type of oversimplification though. “It’s true. Brian does have the potential to be that guy . . . He is, sort of, that guy . . . Only I don’t think he really wants to be that guy. At least not forever. I think he’s actually getting pretty tired of acting like the Stud all the time. I think, if he was left to himself for long enough, he’d get over it. But then his act gets reinforced by Mikey every time they go out together and the cycle starts all over.”

“That’s . . . twisted, bro,” Jesse voiced the same sentiment Justin had been feeling for a long time. “So, how do you break the cycle? You know, make Brian realize he’s more than just the operational attachment at the other end of his dick?”

Justin laughed at that characterization. “No idea, Jes. No idea.” Justin sat up and crossed his legs so that he appeared more determined. “I thought that the two of us getting together would help, but Brian still isn’t fully embracing the idea of a ‘relationship’, let alone a relationship with someone . . . like me.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t blame the guy for that one, dude. It’s not like he can actually introduce you to his family as his boyfriend or anything, seeing as how you’re mostly invisible. So, it makes sense that it’s not quite real to him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I get that, but still, it kinda hurts. It’s like I’m only real to him when we’re alone together at his loft and the minute he walks out the door I cease to exist for him. I know the whole idea of me - a relationship with me, in particular - scares the crap out of him, but I really thought that was changing. The more time he spends with Michael, though, the more I feel him pulling away so he can resume the mantle of King Kinney the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Which is exactly what Michael wants, cause in some strange way that makes him the Prince of Liberty. Fuck! It’s so screwed up!” Justin punched the pillow in front of him for lack of any other target to hit in his frustration. “If I was fully corporeal, I think I’d go kill Brian’s father. And his mother too, maybe. They really did a number on my guy’s head, you know?”

“Well, don’t give up on him. Maybe he’ll come around eventually,” Jesse said as he sat up and reached for his sketch pad again. “You already got further than I thought you ever would - getting him to do the baby thing AND hooking up with you. The man’s come a long way, Bro. I bet once the baby gets here it’ll be better, and in the meantime, you just need to keep him as busy as possible so that his little codependent enabler can’t fuck with his head.”

Justin wished it was that simple. He didn’t know how to consistently keep Michael away from Brian. Maybe Jesse could help him brainstorm a comprehensive strategy. A foolproof plan of some kind.

Justin turned to his co-conspirator and was just about to open his mouth, when he noticed that Jesse had dropped his pencil and was rubbing his neck. He was also scrunching up his eyes as if the low lights in the bedroom where too bright.

“You okay, Jes?”

“Yeah. Just a headache. Probably all the stress of dealing with my Dad, you know,” Jesse offered, smiling gamely over at his friend as he set aside the drawing once more. “I should probably hit the sack and get some real rest for a change instead of staying up all night bullshitting with you on a school night,” he teased, trying to deflect Justin’s evident concern.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Justin stood up and then bent to ruffle Jesse’s hair and leave a kiss on his nephew’s crown. “I guess I’ll go haunt Babylon’s backroom and try to divert Brian’s attention from his tenth trick of the night. Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Jesse waved at the already disappearing apparition and then took his own advice by getting ready for bed.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Brian stumbled up to the bar after his latest trip to the backroom, already more than half soused. Michael was waiting for him with another drink ready. Brian gave him a sloppy, drunken kiss hello and grabbed the glass from his friend.

“Now, isn’t this better than staying home and spending the night working,” Michael asserted, parroting the excuse that Brian had unsuccessfully offered up as the reason he didn’t want to go out.

Brian didn’t answer. He only rolled his eyes at the man who was grinning adoringly up at him. Brian wasn’t about to explain the real reason he’d wanted to skip the club that night - which was that he’d rather spend his evening fooling around with a certain incorporeal blond - so he didn’t really have the ammunition to argue with Michael. He’d been out with the guys every single night that week, though, and, not to put too fine a point on it, he was sick and tired of the club scene.

It was the same thing every night. Mikey would either call him with some excuse why Brian simply HAD to join him that night or, if Brian tried to make an excuse, he’d barge into the loft and physically tow Brian out the door. Once Brian had capitulated, they’d head to Woody’s for drinks and to meet up with either Ted or Emmett or both. As soon as everyone was sufficiently lubricated, the crew would migrate over to Babylon where the debauchery would continue at an even higher level. Meanwhile, Mikey - Brian’s self-appointed personal cruise director - would devote himself to making sure that Brian was sufficiently supplied with drinks, drugs and dick. And no amount of complaining, forestalling or even flat out telling the little pimp-wannabe to fuck off, seemed to do any good. Michael acted like his prime purpose in life these days was to get Brian as fucked up possible every night and then play mother hen to the wasted results. Not that Brian didn't enjoy himself, but he didn't need Michael encouraging him to get drunk every single night and he certainly didn't need the man to help him pull tricks.

The way that Michael was constantly hanging on Brian all the time was a bit concerning too. If it weren’t for the fact that his longtime friend was constantly pressuring him to head off to the backroom with every hot-looking trick that walked by, Brian would have pegged his possessive, touchy-feely behavior as jealousy. Not that Mikey had any reason to be jealous, even if he had a right to be, since Michael couldn’t possibly know about the invisible Justin. But he’d become so demanding and covetous of Brian’s attention and it felt way too close to what Brian imagined a jealous boyfriend would be like.

Which just didn’t make any sense at all. Brian and Mikey had never been THAT to each other, even though Michael might not have objected if they’d reached that level. Brian had very assiduously avoided that pitfall though and he wasn’t about to move in that direction now. He had never felt any romantic attraction to Michael. Never. Mikey was, for all intents and purposes, his older but slightly less mature brother. His feelings for Michael weren’t anything at all like what he felt for Justin.

“Shit.” Brian voiced his annoyance with that unwelcome thought aloud, causing Michael to look up at him questioningly. “Nothing,” he mumbled, hoping to deflect Michael’s attention by reapplying himself to the bourbon he still held in his hand.

Brian wondered what the hell was up with him lately. He didn’t know why these unwelcome thoughts about the blond kept insinuating themselves into his subconscious dialog. It was ludicrous that he was thinking of the ghost boy as someone he was attracted to or that he’d want some kind of relationship with. Brian didn’t believe in relationships. As far as he was concerned, that was a dirty word that he planned never to utter aloud. Why that particular curse word seemed to be invading his thoughts all the time lately, he wasn’t going to speculate. Besides, even if he had wanted something more with the tempting little blond, it was a complete and total impossibility. His imaginary fling was just that - imaginary - and Brian needed to keep reminding himself of that fact before he went totally around the bend.

While he was trying to clear the ethereal blond out of his already drink-muddled head, Brian finished off the rest of his Beam. Michael noticed immediately and was already waving the bartender down to order him a refill.

“I don’ need ‘nother, Mikey,” Brian announced, realizing after the fact how very slurred his words sounded. “Gotta work ta’morra.”

“It’s early still, Brian. You’ll be fine by morning. You always are. I’ve never seen anybody that can drink like you. Besides, I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound,” Michael promised, slipping an arm around Brian’s waist and squeezing affectionately. “If you need me to, I could even stay with you tonight and make sure you get up on time for work,” he offered.

For a minute, Brian had an image of himself in bed with Justin and Michael at the same time, and it caused him to break out laughing almost hysterically. Michael looked at him as if he was offended. Brian tried to wave away the man’s affront, but he’d reached that stage of drunkenness where he wasn’t completely in control of his motor skills and ended up actually hitting Michael in the nose instead. Which caused Brian to laugh even harder.

“I’d say that La Kinney has had enough Beam for one evening,” Emmett pronounced, coming up from behind Michael and witnessing the tanked up display. “You better get him out of here before he embarrasses himself and then blames you for it tomorrow morning. Can’t have Liberty Avenue’s Number One Stud acting like a common drunk, now can we?”

“Nodda common drunk, Honeybutt. Nodda common anythin’,” Brian insisted, “‘cept mebbe a common nut!” *hehehe* Brian broke out laughing at what he perceived to be a hilarious joke.

“Wow! I don't think I've ever seen Brian THIS wasted,” Ted stated, eyeing the giggling brunet with amusement. “How many drinks did you force on him, Michael?” He asked, having witnessed at least the last three rounds and the way Michael had cajoled Brian into drinking more than was obviously good for him.

“S’nothing. I'm fffffine,” Brian exclaimed.

Unfortunately, in the process of turning around so he could reassure Ted directly to his face, Brian spun a little too fast and ended up whirling into him like an off-balance, dizzy, tornado. Ted only just barely managed to catch Brian and keep them both from toppling to the floor. As it was, the two of them ended up in an embrace that made it seem like Ted was dipping Brian at the end of a particularly well-executed waltz. Brian found himself staring up into a surprised accountant’s eyes.

“Anybody ev’r tell you how pretty your eyes are, Teddydore?” Brian mumbled. “Pre’ hazel eyes. Jus, don’ bat ‘em at me, cause I all reddy got pre’ blue eyes battin’ at me all a time. Big, pre’, boo eyes wid long, long, pre’ blond lashes . . . So pre’ . . . On’y when he bats ‘em at me I can’ts say no. You can’ts say no to boo eyes, right? Amirite? So I jus go on and fucks ‘im again and again an again, e’en tho I know I shoun’t,” Brian explained unintelligently. “S’okay tho. S’okay. He hadn't tol’ me to eats nobody yet, so s’okay. Right? Right, Teddydore? Right? ”

“Um . . . Uh . . . yeah. Whatever, Brian. Let's just get you home, okay? Any time you're complimenting my eyes, it's pretty much assured you've had WAY too much to drink,” Ted placated his drunk armload of brunet as he struggled to get Brian back up on his own two feet. “I'm sure you'll be back to your old self by the time you wake up tomorrow and then you can go back to insulting me like usual. And we’ll all agree to ignore whatever it was you were just babbling to us about blue eyes and eating people. Won't we guys?” Ted prodded his companions, getting Emmett’s laughing agreement easily but only a disgruntled and confused frown from Michael. “Come on, then. Time for bed, Brian.”

Ted draped Brian's arm over his shoulder and started to half-drag the stumbling man towards the door. Michael soon roused himself from his musings over Brian's inexplicable involuntary disclosures and trotted after the others. As soon as he'd caught them up, he took Brian's other arm over HIS shoulder.

“I've got him, Ted. You don't have to leave already if you don't want to. I'll get Brian home the way I always do,” Michael insisted and pulled Brian away from Ted’s hold.

“I don't mind, Michael. I'm ready to head home myself anyway. I've got to work tomorrow, after all,” Ted offered as if hesitant to let Michael take over.

“No, no. I've got this. I'll just plop him in the Jeep, drive to the loft and let myself in with my key. I'm used to it. Besides, I have the day off tomorrow, so it's really no big deal for me.” Michael asserted proprietorially, lugging Brian along and dismissing Ted without a backward glance.

“Hmmm. Now, what do you think THAT’S all about?” Emmett asked as he came up from behind to stand next to Ted, watching as Michael hustled Brian off through the club’s exit.

Ted didn't answer for quite a while, staring after the two departing men with a contemplative look. “Well, I'd like to think it was just one friend helping another, who'd drunk a little too much, get home. But . . .”

“But it WAS Michael that was pouring all those drinks down Brian's throat all night AND he seemed just a little too eager to help his ‘friend’ home, don't you think?” Emmett questioned. Ted shrugged but couldn't deny what Em was intimating. “Damn! Do you think Michael would . . .” Ted and Em looked at each other, their expressions both evidencing a complex mix of worry, doubt, denial and disapproval. “No. Michael wouldn't do that,” Emmett asserted finally. “Michael would never take advantage of a friend like that. He just wouldn't.”

Ted didn't say anything but, at the same time, he didn't seem as convinced as Emmett either. Without another word, the two of them left the club, noting as they exited, the Jeep zooming past them with Michael driving and Brian seemingly passed out in the passenger seat. It wasn't a completely unheard of sight, but at the same time, Michael HAD been acting a little odd. Neither of them felt great about what might possibly happen back at Brian's loft. Not that either would do anything about it though. Brian wouldn't want them to and Michael . . . Michael wouldn't . . .

~**~**~*~**~**~

Justin had been rambling around the empty loft for most of the night. It was already one, but that didn’t mean Brian would be home any time soon - not with the way he’d been carousing lately - but Justin couldn’t think of anything better to do with his time. He’d given up stalking his man through the backrooms because it only made Justin feel depressed. However, he was too unsettled to just pop off into the ether and wait there. So he’d been pacing around Brian’s home and trying again to think up some way to save Brian from his friends and himself.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of unproductive ambulation, Justin heard the elevator rumbling to a stop on Brian’s floor and then the loft door sliding open with a metallic rattle. He also heard . . . Giggling? Very unmanly giggling.

*Snort, giggle, giggle, snort* “Dontcha get it, Mikey? Huh? Tentacles.” *Giggle, giggle, giggle* “Come on, Mikey, s’funny. How minny tickles does i’take to make a squid laff? . . . Ten tickles!” *Hehehe* “Gettit, Mikey? Ten tickles . . . Tentacles.” *Hahahahaha!*

Then Brian, who in his drunken state had apparently reverted to the intelligence level of a seven year old boy, began to laugh so hard he literally couldn't stand up any longer and collapsed in a snorting, giggling, sodden heap in the middle of the doorway. Even Mikey, whose normal comprehension level hovered around that of a pre-teen boy, seemed to be getting a little fed up with Brian's antics. When he bent to try and help Brian up, the humorously-impaired man actually pulled his helper totally off balance and then broke out in a new freshet of laughter when Michael fell on his ass. When Michael started cussing Brian out, struggling to get back up while Brian tried to ‘help’ by shoving at Michael’s derrière, and causing him to topple over yet again, Justin couldn't hold back his own laughter any longer.

“Ohhhhh! Dere's my Someshine! You liked my joke, dincha? Is funny, right? Ten tickles!” Brian hollered at what Michael perceived to be the empty loft. “Why arn’t you laffin, Mikey? Ev’n Someshine thinks is funny.”

“Yeah, you're hilarious, Brian.” Michael finally crawled far enough away from his friend so he could get to his feet without any more ‘help’. “Now, come on and let's get you into bed before you pass out on the fucking floor.”

*pffffffft* “Yer no fun, Mikey. Not like Someshine. Someshine is always fun,” Brian affirmed, smiling and winking at empty space.

Michael managed to lever Brian into a more or less upright position and ducked under the drunk’s arm so he could half-carry him across the loft and up to the bedroom. The spate of joking and laughter seemed to have been it for Brian, though, as his energy petered out. He barely managed to stumble along, lagging behind Michael, his head now drooping dangerously. When it looked like they were about fall again, Brian's weight dragging the pair sideways, Justin stepped up and surreptitiously gave the inebriated man a little additional support.

“Tanks, Someshine,” Brian mumbled and leaned his head against the invisible man’s shoulder.

“Brian. Stand up straight or you're going to fall,” Michael ordered as his friend started to list towards the far side. “And what the hell is ‘some shine’? Why do you keep saying that?”

Luckily for Brian and his little secret, he was too far gone by that point to answer. Michael, with an unacknowledged assist from Justin, maneuvered Brian the last few feet to the bed and let the potted mess fall on the mattress face first. Brian was already snoring. He didn't even come around when Michael rolled him over and yanked at his shoes and clothing until Brian was completely naked. The sot just lay there drunk as a lord.

“Damn it! I didn't mean for you to get THIS drunk,” Michael complained as he started to take off his own shirt. “Guess I shouldn't have given you that tab of E on top of the Beam. Oh well. At least now I have an even better excuse to stay, right? And who knows, maybe you’ll wake up . . .” Michael shoved his pants and briefs down over his hips and bent to kiss Brian's unconscious lips before walking around the bed and then climbing under the covers himself. “. . . And I'll be here when you do, just in case.”

“No. Fucking. Way!” Justin railed loudly enough that the glass panels surrounding the bedroom rattled slightly, although Michael was too busy situating himself as close to the snoring Brian's side as he could get to notice the disturbance. “Brian! BRIAN! BRIAN, WAKE UP, DAMN IT!” Justin howled, grabbing Brian's face so he could focus his complaints more directly. “You need to wake the fuck up right now and tell Mikey to leave! Brian? Brian, wake up.” Justin slapped the snorer’s cheek, getting a snuffle and a weak grumble of complaint. “I swear, Brian. If you don't wake up and make this poser leave right now, I will fucking haunt him for the rest of his life.” Justin was now shoving at Brian's shoulder while yelling at him full volume and it seemed to be working. “I'll make sure he never finds his keys and every single piece of paper in his house mysterious disappears. By the time I'm done with him, Michael will think he's so bat-shit crazy he’ll check himself into the nut house.”

“Dat’ud be funny, Someshine,” Brian chuckled, still only half awake at best. “You could make shit fly aroun’ his head and stuff too. He'd fuckin’ wet himself.” *Hehehe*

“I'm NOT joking, Brian. I'm NOT going to let THIS happen.” Justin pointed to the spot behind Brian where the smaller brunet was chivvying up even closer to his bed mate. Brian looked over his shoulder and blinked with confusion. “Mikey's gone too far this time. First he intentionally gets you sloshed and then he takes advantage of the situation to get his jollies off while you're passed out in bed next to him? No fucking way! This is so wrong.”

While they’d been talking, Michael, thinking his friend was still asleep, proceeded to make matters even worse for himself by beginning to slowly hump against Brian's hip.

Justin literally growled at the interloper - glaring down on Michael like he would gladly bite his head off if only he could.

Even though Brian wasn't all the way alert, he was cognizant enough to realize that something wasn't right. Justin, who SHOULD be the one in his bed, was standing there yelling at him. Meanwhile, Michael of all people was glomming all over him from behind and doing something that Brian did NOT want his friend to ever do against his hip. How he'd got there was hazy, but even in the deplorable state he was in, Brian knew this was wrong.

“Tell him to go, Brian!”

"Whatcha doin’, Mikey?” Brian asked, rolling away from the invader of his bed and looking at Michael with a gotcha smirk. Michael looked back with the typical deer in the headlights expression but said nothing. “It's time for you to go home, Mikey.”

“I was just going to stay in case you needed anything . . .”

“I'm good, Mikey, and you need to go. Now. ‘Fore the evil spirits that inhabit my loft decide to go poltergeist on your ass.”

“Huh?” Michael asked.

“Don’ ask. Jus go. Now. While there's still time. I won’ be able to hold ‘im back much longer. So, bedder go,” Brian mumbled past a yawn that almost muffled the last words.

He did manage to stay awake long enough to scrunch his knees up and then shove with his feet hard enough to propel Michael off the far side of the bed. Michael tumbled to the floor in an inelegant, naked jumble. Justin huffed a disdainful laugh. Brian disregarded them both, but did reach up, latch onto Justin's wrist and then pull the boy down onto the bed with him. While a grumbling Michael gathered his clothing, Brian sighed and molded himself around the form of the man he DID want to be in bed with.

“You're sure you don't want me to stay, Brian? I really don't mind,” Michael tried one last time.

“Fuck off, Mikey. I'm tired. Now go ‘way.”

“Good riddance,” Justin snarled when he finally heard the door closing and Michael turning the lock behind him. “I can't believe he had the gall to do that when you were basically passed out. The little weasel . . .”

“Don’ get your panties all inna twist, Princess. Is s’no big deal. An’ noffin’ really happen’,” a still not completely lucid Brian tried to calm his feisty blond protector down. “‘Sides.” *Yawn* “Mikey's a’ways hadda teensy crush on me. Who kin blame him, right? He doe’n’t mean anythin’ by it.” *Yawn* “Now, stop bein’ so angry squirmy and be a gud pillow, Someshine. I needta s’eep.” *Snore*

“Doesn't mean anything by it, my ass,” Justin quietly continued to fume. “I bet he planned this all along.”

Justin would have railed on Michael for a lot longer if his audience wasn’t once more dead to the world. Justin let himself relax finally, enjoying the feel of Brian’s head pillowed on his chest, the long, lanky, beautifully shaped body curled around his side, and one strong arm wrapped around his waist. The spirit guide let his fingers card through the baby-fine auburn hair while his other hand drew invisible runes along the skin of Brian’s forearm. The snuffly snoring provided a comforting background noise and served to put Justin even more at ease.

“Oh, Brian,” he murmured, leaning forward enough to kiss the top of the snoring head. “What the fuck am I going to do with you, huh? You’re such an adorable, annoying mess.” Brian’s only response was to nuzzle deeper into the succor of Justin’s chest. “If only I could figure this stupid ghost thing out . . . I know that when we’re finally together, out in the real world, I’ll be able to save you, Brian. I know it. I just wish whoever or whatever was in charge of this fuck up would hurry up and fix it.”

~**~**~**~**~