Chapter 25 - A Pretty Amusing Day.

Brian and Justin slept in a little late the next morning. Brian felt justified in taking a little time off after signing that new, multi-million dollar account yesterday. And, by the time Justin got through saying thank you to his man for sending the Hulking Locksmiths yesterday as well as for setting him up with the lease agreement and DPOA's, it was rather late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, the couple extra hours of sleep they got was well earned and needed.

They were just starting to get moving around 9:30 when the downstairs door bell rang. Justin hollered from the toilet that it might be the last neighbor who hadn't picked up his key yet and asked Brian to get the door. Brian finished starting the coffee before he made it to the intercom, and the bell rang a second time.

"Aha, Mr. I-got-lucky-last-night-and-never-made-it-home in 3C is finally here for his key, I presume!" Brian called into the intercom and buzzed open the downstairs door in anticipation without waiting for a reply.

"Hurry up in there, Sunshine," Brian yelled at the dawdler in the bathroom as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile of discarded clothing in the living room still there from last night. "I've got this image in my head of you wearing only a Chef's apron and bent over the kitchen island. I'm already as horny as a fucking bull. As soon as I get rid of 3C I expect you out here, Pretty Boy, on display and ready to be taken!"

There was a knock on the door and, before Brian had finished his directions to Justin, he'd already started pulling open the loft door. By the time the door was only cracked open a few inches, though, he could clearly see that his morning visitor was NOT Mr. 3C. Unless, that is, their neighbor had morphed into a fifty year old woman that looked a lot like Joan Kinney.

"Mom?" Brian balked at the sight and debated quickly whether it was advisable to simply slam the door closed and run for it.

"Hello, Brian. Long time, no see! I hadn't heard from you since your father's funeral and so I just thought I should . . ." Joan hesitated as her son hadn't opened the door any further.

Brian cringed against the back of the door, but just couldn't slam the door in his Mother's face no matter how much he wanted to. "So, you thought you'd just show up here unannounced and start my day off as awkwardly as you possibly could." Brian replied as he pulled the door the rest of the way open and stepped back to let his mother enter.

Joan Kinney ignored the disrespectful quip and strode into the loft bearing baked goods as a token peace offering. "I made a coffee cake. If you haven't had breakfast yet, I thought we could have a bite and catch up a little." She proceeded to place the coffee cake on the kitchen counter while Brian followed behind her, trying to do up the buttons on his jeans and mask his obvious hard on as he went.

"I'm a little busy, Mom," Brian said trying to stay between her and the rest of the apartment before she went in and made herself completely at home. "I was just about to go get ready and head out to work. . ."

"Oh, I'm sure, now that you're a big time Executive and all, you can spare a couple minutes to have breakfast with your mother."

"Mom, I really don't have time . . ." Brian started to explain, grabbing Joan's elbow to try and gently guide her back to the door as he spoke.

That's when the sound of the water turning off and the shower door clicking open cut short his explanation.

"Oh, my," Joan looked around nosily trying to get a glimpse of whoever was there. "I had no idea you'd have company over this early in the morning . . ."

"Okay, Brian," Justin shouted as he trotted around the end of the bed and hopped down the stairs wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips. "I'm ready for my apron . . . " The young man stopped dead as soon as he saw the elderly woman standing next to Brian with the astonished and offended look on her face.

Brian gave up and slouched down onto one of the bar stools behind the kitchen island. "Justin, this is my mother, Joan. Mom, this is Justin," he politely introduced the two, watching as reality slowly crashed over Joan Kinney's little pretend world.

"Hi?" Justin said and waved at the appalled woman as he grasped his slipping towel with his other hand to ensure it didn't fall right at that most inopportune moment.

"Oh my god! Brian! How could you," Joan cried, covering her mouth with her hand at the horror of it all as she grabbed for her purse and rushed towards the door.

"How could I what . . .? Introduce you to my Partner? I figured it was only polite since he's living here now and if you plan on making more of these unscheduled early morning appearances you're bound to run into each other again." Brian couldn't help rubbing it in a little as Joan frantically pressed the call button for the elevator.

Joan kept her back turned towards her son and pretended he wasn't there. Maybe the old Brian Kinney might have regretted the way he'd handled things, tried to talk to the woman or felt sad at this additional rejection on top of all the others he'd suffered from his mother over the years. But, THIS Brian Kinney was simply angry.

This woman was supposed to be his mother. Wasn't she supposed to love him unconditionally? To at least try to understand him? Try to make some effort, no matter how small, to support her son and show she cared about him? All Brian could think about right then was how he was soon going to be a parent himself and that he would never - NEVER - treat his child like this woman had treated him. He wasn't sad. He was irate! How dare Joan be such a horrible, crappy, insensitive, uncaring bitch instead of the kind of mother every child had a right to expect.

Brian snapped. "Thanks for visiting, Saint Joan. I shouldn't have expected you to be supportive of me. You never have been before, fuck, why would you start now? Hmm? You know, a feral dog would have made a better mother than you, you fucking bitch! And don't bother coming back to visit! I don't want you near me or my family ever again!"

Brian slammed the door shut and leaned his head against the cool metal as he breathed heavily, trying to control his anger. He almost jumped out of his skin when something lightly touched his back. He'd forgotten Justin was still there. It did help though to have Justin there, lightly stroking his back, the warm touch of his skin and his steady calming presence nearby. The fruity scent of his clean, freshly shampooed hair enveloped them both and Brian's mood almost instantly picked right up.

"Forget it," Justin whispered with a kiss against Brian's shoulder. "It doesn't mean anything, Brian. You won't be like that. That's not you."

Justin stepped away, thinking he'd best give Brian a minute or two to pull himself together. But Brian didn't need a minute. He caught hold of Justin's hand before he got more than a step or two and pulled the smaller body back against his own, hard. "No. I WON'T be like that, Justin. I promise," Brian assured and sealed the vow with a deep, passion-filled kiss that Justin felt all the way down to his toes.

When Brian finally broke the kiss, Justin was panting and had completely forgotten what he'd been doing beforehand. Brian looked down at the slightly confused expression on the adorable little blond and broke out laughing. Justin really was the best distraction. And, speaking of distractions . . .

"Oh, Sunshine," Brian regained his boy's attention as he moved back into the kitchen and pulled something out of a drawer. "I think you're overdressed." Brian flicked out the item of fabric he'd retrieved from the cupboard and revealed a long, pristine white, well-starched chef's apron, which he tossed at the now laughing blond.

Justin immediately dropped his towel and leapt towards Brian, obediently slipping the apron over his head and tying the waist strap loosely around his hips. Without any need of further direction, the eager little sous-chef draped himself over the kitchen island, with his perfect heart-shaped ass well displayed right alongside the cooktop. Brian reached out and stroked the juicy looking tenderloin and licked his lips. Then, he pulled open another drawer and grabbed a big metal spatula slotted down its length with a series of oblong holes.

"I'd better tenderize this first," Brian declared, slapping the spatula once across the porcelain skin of that beautiful lily-white ass.

Justin grunted a little and then gripped onto the far edge of the counter more firmly. The spatula left a lovely impression of even paler skin decorated with rounded red dots where the holes had been. The sight was very, very distracting, indeed. Brian rubbed his hand over the pattern and reveled in the heat from the little red dots against his palm.

Pretty much instantly, Joan's disastrous little visit was forgotten. All Brian could concentrate on at that moment was the hot, sweet ass lying there ready for him. That and the steady warm pulsing happiness that seeped up from within him as he touched and kissed and looked on the pretty little sous-chef boy who was so decadently serving himself up. Brian was even too distracted to worry about whether or not that nice warm happy feeling might be love.

When Brian did roll into work a little after 11:00 am, Cynthia didn't think it was wise to comment on the silly, happy grin Mr. Kinney was sporting as he breezed past her desk with an uncharacteristic little wave hello. Even as the day progressed and became more hectic, Brian remained mellow and affable. Cynthia almost didn't want to give him the stack of messages she'd accumulated by late afternoon, wary of ending the Boss' idyllic mood. But, when he called her in and asked for the messages outright, she no longer had a choice. She dutifully relayed the concerns and complaints from staff and clients, saving the one she thought would most annoy Brian until last.

"Is that all," Brian asked agreeably, having given directions on how to deal with each of the previous calls.

"Just one more," Cynthia said, laying the pink phone message slip on the top of his desk.

Brian picked up the message which noted at the top it was 'From: Michael'. "Says his key won't work. Wants you to call him ASAP!" Brian read the message aloud and then erupted with laughter as he balled up the slip and tossed it into the garbage.

"Thanks, Cyn," Brian commented as he wiped a bit of laughter induced moisture from one eye. "I really needed a laugh. Oh, and, DON'T bother putting through any of Michael's calls for at least the rest of the week."

Unfortunately for Justin, he didn't have an ultra-efficient secretary to help him deal with the Novotny clan. Since he had a shift at the Diner that afternoon, Justin could only avoid them for so long. Deb had left for the day before he arrived, but the youth came up against Michael's wrath before he'd even been there a full hour.

"Okay, Boy Wonder, what did you do to Brian's loft?" Michael demanded as he stomped into the Diner, gunning for a certain blond boy.

"I didn't do anything to OUR loft, Michael," Justin responded, trying to remain unruffled.

"It's BRIAN'S loft and you must have done something. My key doesn't work anymore!"

"Brian and I had the locks changed yesterday, Michael," Justin advised, still keeping his tone as placid as possible.

"That's bullshit, Justin! Why would Brian change the locks? I've always had a key to his place for emergencies," Michael insisted.

"It's OUR place now, Michael. I'm living there too, remember," Justin reiterated. "And, I don't know why Brian would continue to trust you with the keys when you think of the sheer number of times you've come into the loft without permission in just the last several weeks. I know I wouldn't have put up with it as long as Brian did. I guess yesterday's little surprise visit was just one time too many."

"Fuck you, Justin! You know that Ma and Lindz and I were only there for your own good. We're trying to stop you from making a huge mistake. You can't just give up college in the hopes that Brian will take you in, completely change his whole life for you and you'll live happily ever after. That's NOT Brian!"

"THAT is total bullshit, Michael! You don't know Brian half as well as you think you do and you know NOTHING about me," Justin hissed, the Killer Bunny within making a brief reappearance.

Only, Michael wasn't exactly a big bulldog. It looked more like a mad Killer Bunny taking on a hyperactive and overly cheerful chattering chipmunk. In other words, Michael was absolutely no match for an angry Justin and the older man backed down at once.

"Now, Michael, I've got work to do. So, if you're staying, shut up, sit down and order something or get the hell out. But, if you don't leave me alone, I'll have Kiki throw your ass out," Justin demanded, picked up his bus bin and whirled around to stomp off towards the kitchen.

Kiki herself was standing a few yards away during the whole ruckus. After Justin marched off, she merely pointed at Michael and then at an empty booth seat. He wanted to stand there and at least fume a little, quietly perhaps, but at least venting his anger visually. However, one look down at Kiki's size thirteen stiletto-heeled pumps, and Michael wisely decided he'd rather sit than feel those pointy heels on his backside. Kiki could take Michael out any day, easily, probably without even chipping a nail. It wasn't worth the risk.

It took the gay grapevine almost a full hour before the tale of the Taylor-Novotny Diner Blowout reached Brian's ears. Brian was just finishing up the electronic payment of Justin's first semester tuition payment for PIFA, when he got a call from an acquaintance who knew someone, who had been on the phone with someone else at the Diner during the big show. Brian got his second big laugh of the day at the description of Michael's ungracious tongue lashing from the normally sweet little Justin Bunny and then Michael's further retreat at the threat of Kiki's sparkly red pumps buried in his ass.

Despite how the morning had started, Brian figured it was turning into a pretty amusing day.