*

 

Not that Justin didn't appreciate the gesture - being 'saved' and whisked away by his knight in shining denim - but Brian's dramatic exit left something to be desired.

For one, it was fucking cold out. "Uh, Brian?" he said as he was pulled towards the Jeep. "Our coats are still in the house. And the shirts we got at the museum. And-"

"Yeah," pausing by the Jeep, Brian turned to face him with a smirk. "But going back in now would kind of ruin the impact."

"Well...yeah." That was true. And God knew Brian was all about impact.

He nodded. "I have the keys to the Jeep and the loft - we can pick up the rest of our shit tomorrow. Let's go."

Releasing Justin's hand he turned towards the Jeep, but paused and looked back when Justin reached out to grab his arm.

"Brian..." It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, but... "You can't pay for my tuition."

Staring at him for a few moments, Brian nodded back towards the Jeep. "Let's talk about this some place where my dick isn't about to shrivel up."

Fair enough.

The loft wasn't all that far from Deb's, and when they got there everything was nice and warm at least - no doubt including Brian's cock - and Justin's bad mood lessened a little. At least it wasn't fucking cold anymore.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still pissed off in general.

"You can't pay for college," Justin said immediately, turning as Brian slid the door shut.

Walking further into the loft, he placed the keys on the kitchen counter. "Why not?"

"Because you just can't, Brian! It's not fair. For one, you shouldn't have to, and two, I'm not going to let you."

"Really?" he asked smugly, rhetorically, folding his arms across his chest. "And exactly how do you propose to stop me?"

Shit, why was he in love with such a stubborn shit? "Brian," he tried again, walking towards him, "I can't let you do this. You've done so much for me already, and it's really not-"

"What the fuck have I done for you?" Brian asked seriously, unfolding his arms."Fucked you? Acted like an asshole? Left you laying next to me while I drank myself half to death?"

Taking the last step towards him, Justin grasped onto Brian's arms and met his gaze. "You encouraged me. You've *always* encouraged me with my art, which is more than my own fucking father could do. You took me in when he kicked me out. And after I...moved out of the loft," he hesitated, knowing they were both thinking of endless hours spent inside the shower, "I know you called Debbie. Asked her to take me in." Obviously embarrassed at having been found out, Brian winced and looked away. Justin didn't stop him. "Even then you were looking out for me. But I can't keep expecting other people to take care of me, Brian - I have to take care of myself."

He didn't seem impressed, glancing back at him. "And how, exactly, are you going to pay for college yourself? Sell your sketches for a hundred bucks a pop at the GLC? You're good, Sunshine, but even you can't keep up that production rate."

"So, then...maybe I'll go to Dartmouth after all." Justin almost wished he could capture Brian's expression just then - it was almost comical - but he rushed on quickly, knowing Brian would interrupt at any moment. "If I take a business major maybe I can minor in art or-"

"Since when do you back down from a fight?" Brian demanded. "Since when do you stop going after whatever the fuck you want?"

"Since my parents are getting divorced, Brian!" Turning, he took a few steps away. "Everything's so fucked up. Maybe if I do what my dad wants..."

"It'll what? Fix things? Mommy and Daddy will get back together and live happily ever after?" Jesus, Brian could be such an asshole sometimes. "It won't happen, Sunshine. They're not getting divorced because of you - this is about them. And trust me, divorce can be the best thing that ever happened to you. Fuck knows, if my parents had managed to get off their asses and split up, maybe I wouldn't be the miserable bastard I am today."

In truth, Mom had said something similar - if a lot less colourful. Sometimes ending a relationship is the right thing to do, sweetheart.

Brian was there, suddenly, grabbing his arm and swinging him around. "What do you want?" he asked, gaze boring into Justin.

He didn't back down. "I want my parents to be happy."

"You can't do that," Brian shook his head. "That's up to them. They make their own happiness - and their own pain. The only emotions you can control are your own. Now, again," he kept staring at him, "what do *you* want?"

Shit. Fucking fucker. Fine! "I want to go to PIFA."

"Then *go* to PIFA," Brian shoved him away gently, as to emphasise his point. "Go to PIFA and be a big fucking success and live your life the way *you* want."

Sighing, Justin dragged the palm of his hand across his face. It was what he wanted, but he still wasn't sure about this. But... "Can you afford it?"

Brian smirked. "With cash to spare."

Okay. Okay. But if they were doing this, they were doing this his way - just like Brian said. "Fine. But I want it as a loan. We get Mel or someone to draw something up about a repayment schedule when I'm earning enough money."

"Justin..."

"No," he was absolutely not giving in. "That's the way I want it. If you don't agree, I go to Dartmouth."

Brian gave him a look which Justin translated as you blackmailing little bastard before grunting out, "Fine. But *only* when you can afford to start paying me back. Not a moment before."

"Deal," Justin nodded, holding out his hand.

After shaking hands, Brian muttered something about needing a shower and started getting undressed. Deciding not to go with him this time, Justin sat down on the sofa instead and listened as the water started running.

Shit. He still didn't know how he felt about all this. He wanted to go to PIFA - he'd always wanted to go to PIFA - but he wanted his parents happy, too. Or at least his mom. It was just *weird* thinking of them getting a divorce, that maybe they'd been having problems for years and maybe things hadn't been so idllyic even before he'd come out. If there was the slightest chance...and how was all of this going to affect Molly?

He sat there for a while, mentally arguing with himself over the right thing to do. He didn't even notice when the water turned off, and only realised he was done when Brian's bare feet slapped against the wooden floor of the loft. Peering over the back of the sofa, Justin couldn't help but notice that he looked good. Wearing only a towel around his waist, Brian picked up an apple and fished a small knife out of the cutlery drawer.

Closing the drawer he didn't even look at Justin, heading towards the bedroom, taking the stairs and sprawling onto his front on the bed. Settling in, he lay partially on one side, cutting chunks out of the apple and feeding them to himself.

Justin's fingers began to feel that familiar itch. Within seconds he had the nearest sketch pad and pencil in his hands. As he ran the pencil across the paper the just as familiar joy - and almost contentment - flooded through him, and he absolutely knew he was doing the right thing. He was an artist, and he was going to practise art.

He couldn't make his parents happy - that wasn't up to him. But he *could* go to PIFA.

Because of Brian.

When he was as pleased with the sketch as he could be - Justin always looked over his work with a critical eye, never entirely happy. He knew he was good, but could do better - he placed the pad and the pencil on the coffee table, staring at the drawing for a while.

Having made his decision, Justin eventually stood up. Tugging off his sneakers he made his way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. By the time he reached the side of the bed he was completely naked. Brian - who had long since finished his apple and placed the knife safely out of the way on the bedside table - lifted his eyebrows invitingly.

Kneeling on the bed, Justin pressed on Brian's shoulder, pushing him onto his back. Straddling Brian's body, towel and all, Justin bit his lip and asked three words: "Are you sure?"

Justin, it seemed, was not the only one versed in the art of emotional manipulation.

"Let me do this," Brian said in a rare moment of need. "Let me do this for you."

There was no way on Earth he could say no to a request like that.

So he didn't.

*

Sleep was shattered the next morning by a loud knock on the door. Both of them woke instantly, groaning, but Justin managed to get out of bed first. Blearily picking his pants up from where he'd left them on the floor the night before, Justin tugged them on and yawned as he wondered who'd been insane enough to risk waking Brian up on a Sunday morning.

He had his answer as soon as he unlocked and opened the door.

Deb. Of course.

Greeting him enthusiastically, she bustled by him with an armload of...well, stuff. Dumping most of it on the sofa, she quickly informed him that she'd brought over their coats - which he now recognised - and their shopping and anything else she thought they might need. "Aaaand," she continued, waving a white paper bag around, "I brought cinnamon rolls." Grinning, she moved to place the bag on the coffee table.

The incredibly *greasy* bag on Brian's incredibly expensive Italian coffee table.

Snatching it out of her hand before it could make contact, he grinned. "Uh, thanks a lot, Deb. That was really nice of you. I'll get a plate."

They ended up at opposite sides of the kitchen counter, feasting on the cinnamon rolls together. Justin was waiting for her to get to the real reason she'd come over, and it didn't take long.

"So," she began, "you and His Highness made quite a ruckus before you left last night."

"Yeah," he swallowed some of his milk, feeling awkward. "Sorry I didn't get to say a proper thank you before we left."

Waving him off, she shrugged. "Not like he gave you much of a choice." Pausing, she looked at him. "Your mom left right after you did. I can't say I was happy with the way Brian was talking to her, but...is it true what he said? That she told you you wouldn't be allowed to go to PIFA?"

It was Justin's turn to shrug, focusing on his food. "She pretty much said Dad wouldn't pay for me to go to school if I didn't go to Dartmouth. But," he continued before she could rant about what an asshole dad was - even if it was true, it was too early in the morning, "I talked it over with Brian, and he's going to loan me the money."

"Loan?" she asked, obviously surprised. "How in the hell did you manage that one? I've been trying to give money back to that kid for years."

"Simple," he smiled, "I just told him that if it wasn't a loan, I was going to Dartmouth."

Barking out a laugh, she thumped her hand down on the counter. "Oh, he's definitely met his match with you, kiddo. You don't let that asshole get away with anything."

Pleased, Justin flushed and grinned.

"Did someone mention asses?" Brian asked, stepping down from the bedroom in sweat pants.

Looking past Debbie, Justin smiled at him. "Just how you're one."

"Well, isn't that lovely," Brian said, coming to pause next to Deb. "You should learn to respect your elders, young man."

He nodded cheekily. "Especially when they're *soooo* much older."

Sighing, Brian glanced down at their breakfast. "I see we have junk food for breakfast. Is it too much to hope that you made coffee?"

"We didn't want any."

"Of course not. Morning, Deb." Moving around the counter and behind Justin, Brian started clunking things around - presumably to make coffee. When the noises stopped, Justin knew what he'd found.

Justin and Debbie exchanged grins.

"Cute," Brian said, turning on the coffee maker - that'd been ready to go. Filled with water, filter paper, and coffee grains. When he stood next to Justin a few seconds later, he kissed him on the side of the head.

Deb gave them this *look* and for a second he was worried she was about to go on about how cute they were, but for once she seemed to think better of it.

"Anyway, Sunshine," she continued, as if they hadn't been interrupted by Brian at all, "I don't know exactly how she broke the news but I know your Mom upset you. Just remember that she's a mom, okay? And us mom's - despite a wealth of evidence otherwise - ain't always perfect."

"That's for damn sure," Brian muttered.

"Hey!" Deb warned. "I'm trying to say she's a human being. And like all human beings," she eyed Brian deliberately, "she fucks up now and then. Now. You," she pushed the plate towards Brian, "eat a Goddamn cinnamon roll."

Sighing, Brian declared it an incredibly unhealthy choice for breakfast - but no one missed it when he ate a second one.

 

*

 

Things seemed to calm down for a while, at least for Justin - Emmett was still angsting about Blake. Apparently there'd been some confusion about a missing wallet - Ted had accused Blake of being a thief, and when it turned out he wasn't Ted felt incredibly guilty and was now even more adamant about helping him overcome his addiction.

As a direct result, Justin was starting to understand just how bitchy Emmett could be.

"I nearly caught them fucking the other day," he huffed, angrily sprinkling salt over his fries. "Right there! In Ted's condo! Where anyone could see!" Justin frowned at the logic. Emmett thumped the salt shaker back on the table and stabbed his fries with a fork. "I swear to God, that little twink has no shame at all."

The whole thing was *bizarre*. Emmett had always been one of the friendliest, most open-minded people Justin had ever met. Sure, he had his bad moods like anyone else, but nothing like this. He was pretty sure Emmett had never actively hated anyone before.

"Don't you think..." Justin began carefully, "you're being a little hard on him?" Wow. Even Brian had never looked at him with that much displeasure before. He didn't know Emmett had it in him. And speaking of Brian... "I mean, Brian's an addict and you don't talk about him like that. You don't worry about what's going to happen to me."

Clanking the fork down against his plate, Emmett lifted both hands up and started counting off reasons on his fingers. "One, you can handle yourself. Two - which kind of relates to one - you've got that man so wrapped around your little finger I wouldn't be surprised if he lets you fuck him by the end of June." Justin blinked. "Three - most importantly - Brian never put you in a coma." Picking up his fork again, he stuffed another pile of fries into his mouth.

Okay. So he may have had a reason. Justin just wasn't sure if the actively hating thing was gonna get Emmett anywhere. Chris Hobbs hated him, for example, but Justin was definitely still gay.

As for Daphne, she hadn't been around much lately. Actually, he was kind of ashamed to admit it, but she hadn't been around much for a while. He'd been so wrapped up with school and work and - yeah. Mostly Brian.

When he realised he made a point of calling her more, asking her if she wanted to get together. She usually had other plans, but when she didn't they'd hang out - usually at the loft (Brian never said it, but Justin knew he liked her). They'd watch movies and lay on the sofa together, and those times when Brian was there too - which was most of the time - he'd pretend to be uninterested until he'd inevitably shove Justin further across the sofa and flop down next to him.

He usually brought pot.

Daphne liked Brian a lot.

On one of those particular evenings, Justin and Daphne had moved from the sofa to the rug in front of the TV, and the two of them lay there giggling about nothing in particular. Brian was...somewhere else in the loft, doing...something.

"Seriously," Daph said, sounding awed, "sometimes I really can't believe that you live here." She was staring around the loft - well, what she could see of it - wide eyed, as if she'd never been there before.

There was something wrong with that sentence...oh! "I don't actually live here."

"Oh, thhhhp!" She blew a raspberry. "Everything but! But okay." She was quiet for a moment, apparently composing what to say next. "I can't believe you live here except for that one day a week when you feel guilty and spend the night at Deb's." He stuck out his tongue. She grinned. "Someday," she sighed, "soooooooomeday my boyfriend...uh, the boyfriend I don't have yet. Someday *I'll* have a boyfriend who lives in a palace, and we'll have amazing sex and he'll treat me like a prince. Uh. Wait." She paused, laughing. "Princess."

She thought Brian treated him like a prince? "What alternate universe do you live in?"

"Shut *up*!" she objected. "Lemme have my fantasy."

Brian came back into view, looking down at them. "Hello, kidlings."

They looked back up at him. "Hi Brian!"

"Where'd you go?" Justin asked.

"I forgot to open the mail," he replied, sitting down next to him, shoving a letter right into Justin's face. "Check it out."

Fumbling for the letter, Justin propped himself up on one arm and started reading it. Thankfully his eyesight was excellent, and... "Atlas Awards?"

Nodding smugly, Brian was practically preening. "I got nominated. They're the most famous awards in the business."

"What did you got nominated for?" Daph asked. Justin was still reading the letter.

"General excellence and use of innovative tactics in the advertising industry." Quite unsurprisingly, he'd memorised it word for word.

Justin started grinning. "Brian, that is *so* cool! Congratulations!" Pushing himself up to his knees, he threw the letter to the floor and flung his arms around Brian's neck. Obviously caught off guard, Brian started downplaying the whole thing. He could brag about himself, but the moment anyone else seriously did, he didn't like it - a practise that hadn't escaped Justin's notice. "No," he interrupted, pulling away but not letting go, "Brian, this is fantastic! It's great news, you have every right to be proud."

Naturally, Brian changed the subject to sex. "How about you help me celebrate?" he teased, fingers inching down the back of Justin's pants.

"Umm," Brian kissed him, with tongue, and arousal passed through Justin's body in a slow roll. Groaning, he matched his tongue with Brian's, and it was only going to be one kiss, just one kiss, and then Brian was rubbing a hand against his cock and Justin was losing his mind. "Mmm," he tried to object when his back was lowered to the ground, but Brian was grinding against him and it felt really *fucking* good. "Uhh...Daph..." was as far as he got in pointing out that they should stop, because his best friend was right there and watching the whole thing. Probably taking notes.

Then Brian unzipped his pants.

"Oh," Daphne said, happily, "don't mind me."

And that was how he ended up fucking in front of Daphne.

When he woke the next morning and realised what'd happened, he groaned, blushed, and poked Brian until he woke up.

"*What* for fuck's sake?"

Justin wondered how he was going to finish school now, considering the fact that he had to avoid Daphne for the rest of his life. "We're giving up pot, too."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brian glared. "I can't give up *all* my vices. I'd be totally fucking boring."

"Hi!" Daphne greeted sprightly, practically bouncing into the room, and Justin remembered that she'd spent the night on the sofa. "So," she grinned, "who wants breakfast?"

"On second thought," Brian pulled the covers over his head, "maybe that isn't such a bad idea."

Naturally, Justin blamed the whole thing on Brian. After Daphne left Justin stomped about the loft, picking things up and thumping them back down when he was finished with them. If Brian hadn't kissed him, they wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *thump* If Brian hadn't rubbed his cock, they wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *clang* If Brian hadn't told him how fucking hot he was, they definitely wouldn't have fucked in front of Daphne. *bang*

"Jesus Christ!" Brian yelled, snatching a spatula out of his hand. Justin had no idea why he'd even picked it up. "Will you stop taking your hissy fit out on my designer kitchen wear? Look," he started gesturing with the spatula, realised what he was doing, and threw it onto the kitchen counter. "We got high, we fucked in front of your best friend, you regret it deeply. Deal with it."

Of course, before these get togethers with Daph, Justin couldn't actually remember the last time they smoked pot. He knew Brian hadn't been doing any drugs at all since becoming sober, but he didn't know if it was a conscious choice or just because he wasn't at the clubs anymore. When he'd brought out the pot the first time for Daphne, Justin had wondered if it was a good idea, but given the fact that Brian hadn't smoked any for months he clearly wasn't addicted to it like he had been to alcohol.

Justin had never really tried drugs much himself, and absolutely never without Brian. His tolerance for pot was for shit at the moment, so he obviously wasn't in his right mind and could blame it all on what he'd smoked. "Drugs are bad," he grumped. "I'm not smoking pot anymore."

Now Brian seemed amused. "Fine. But pot didn't make you do this, Sunshine." Stepping closer, he backed Justin up against the counter. Justin swallowed heavily. "It didn't take away that much of your control. You still could've said no." Pressing the tip of his finger against Justin's chest, Brian dragged it all the way down his body. Reaching Justin's groin, he cupped him with his whole hand, rubbing slowly back and forth. Closing his eyes, Justin's hands clung on to the edge of the counter. "You liked showing off. You liked having an audience." Rubbing harder, Brian leant in and breathed against Justin's ear. "You *loved* knowing that someone was watching as I fucked you with my big, hard cock."

It wasn't the pot. It wasn't the pot at all.

Justin had his own addiction, and its name was Brian Kinney.

Later, after Justin had come in his pants and Brian had fucked him into the mattress whispering things about setting up a video camera, he rolled over to look at him. Brian had been right about him liking it - Brian knew Justin's body better than Justin did - but...

"I'm still giving up pot." It didn't feel...right.

Brian shrugged. "Okay." He sighed heavily, as if life were one great big trial. "I suppose you want me to quit too."

He'd be lying if he said it wouldn't make him feel better. "That's up to you."

"Like I'm gonna sit around smoking pot by myself," he sounded offended. "How pathetic is that? Fine, fine, I'll give up pot. At least I still have cigarettes." Justin carefully didn't mention his three-year plan to get Brian to stop smoking. "And coffee. Aaaand..." Grinning at Justin he rolled on top of him, lowering his head for a kiss.

Oh, yeah. There was *always* sex.

That evening - after a shower and a major airing out of the loft to make sure the smell of pot had disipated - Mom arrived. Justin still didn't know how he felt about her coming over. They'd talked since Deb's dinner, but it'd been awkward and hadn't really gone anywhere. Finally one day she just said that she needed to talk to him and Brian about PIFA.

Brian didn't like it. Not that they needed to talk about PIFA, but that the 'mother-in-law' was coming to visit. "This whole thing is so hetero," he complained, trying not to look like he gave a damn what Mom thought of his place.

"Right," Justin teased, "because only straight couples have their in-laws over." The door buzzed, and he turned towards it. "That'll be her."

"Shit, I'm part of a couple," Brian muttered, but Justin figured it was just for show.

Mom liked Brian's place, and Justin couldn't help but notice how her eyes would stop and focus whenever she noticed something of Justin's lying around - a sketch pad on the table, a bag by the side of the bed, his favourite mug on the counter.

Of course, she stared at the bed longest of all.

"So," she said too brightly, taking the coffee Brian had offered her and sitting on the sofa, "Daphne was here last night, right? Did you guys have fun?"

"*No*," Justin practically yelled, panicking. "We didn't do anything! What did she say?" The *last* thing he needed was for Mom to find out that he'd fucked in front of Daphne.

Brian may have been snickering. Justin resisted the urge to kick him.

"Uh..." Mom frowned, staring at them. "I bumped into her yesterday - she said she was coming here." Oh, thank *God*. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine." Now it was Justin's turn to smile too brightly. "So, you wanted to talk about PIFA?"

Going with the change of subject, Mom sipped at her coffee and placed it carefully on the table. "Yes. I..." she sighed. "Honey, I'm sorry about the way I handled things. I just...I know the way your father is, and I didn't want you to get your hopes up-" Stopping abruptly, she started playing with her ring finger - although Justin noticed that the ring wasn't there anymore. Things really had changed. "No excuses." She looked at him. "I fucked up."

Surprised, he almost laughed.

"And Brian," she continued, focusing on him, "Justin's already told me since the dinner at Debbie's that you were serious about your offer to pay. I just...need to hear it for myself. Are you sure?"

He met her gaze. "Yes."

Licking her lips, she nodded slowly. "That's a lot of money."

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Then why?"

Brian didn't look away. "He needs it."

Justin did *not* swoon.

Taking in Brian's words for a while, Mom sipped at her coffee some more before eventually smiling at Justin. "Sweetheart, could I have a moment alone with Brian, please?"

Not at all impressed with this turn of events - he didn't want to miss a single thing - Justin eventually gave in and stropped across to the bathroom. From there he tried to listen it like he had with Brian and Mr Kinney, but both of them kept their voices low and Justin couldn't hear anything specific at all - just vague murmurs of conversation.

After they were done and Mom had hugged him and left, Justin pounced on Brian right away. "So what did she say??"

"Oh, you know," he smirked, closing the door. "The usual threats. Break his heart and I'll kill you, shotgun wedding if I knock you up..."

"Brian," he wanted *de*tails.

Giving in, Brian smiled at him. "Nothing big. She just wanted to make sure I was serious about paying for PIFA. I told her about our contract - which she wasn't impressed with, by the way. Was worried it wouldn't benefit you until I told her what a conniving little twat you are."

"Anything else?" Justin demanded.

"Nothing much."

Oh, he was *deliberately* being vague. "Brian..."

"Sorry, kid," he shook his head, "it's like doctor/patient confidentiality, only with your mom and a really hot gay guy. Now," he slung his arm around Justin's neck. "How about we head out to Woody's tonight? It's been a while. Maybe we could even try Babylon soon."

Brian was sneaky, knowing the talk of Babylon would pique Justin's interest. Would make him think that maybe he was ready, and Justin would stop worrying about what his mom said and would start analysing and thinking and planning instead.

So Justin let it go for now.

But not forever.

 

*

 

Everything went to hell three days later.

Justin should've known it was coming. Things had been good for both him and Brian since the night Mom visited. Justin had had to deal with the whole Daphne thing, of course, but that had mostly blown over in a way he didn't expect at all - the first time they saw each other post-fuckinginfrontofDaphne, they said 'hi' awkwardly about fifty times before she sighed, slapped him on the arm and said, "Will you just get over it, already?"

That was easier said that done but, strangely, it had made him feel better.

At least she didn't keep leering at him or anything.

Brian's accounts had been going well - Ryder had been delighted with Brian's nomination - and when they were alone together things were *good*. They were happy.

They'd been happy when the phone call came, teasing and wrestling on the bed. Given the amount of phone calls they received Brian had finally given in a few weeks ago and put a phone next to the bed. He'd been grinning as he reached for the phone, shoving Justin away and speaking into the receiver. "Yeah, what?" The grin was gone in an instant, his face clouding over.

Justin knew what'd happened immediately.

"When?" Brian asked, then nodded once. "I'll be there."

When Brian hung up, Justin wasn't sure exactly what to do. He'd never lost anyone close to him - although for Jack Kinney, close was definitely a relative term. Saying "I'm sorry," definitely wouldn't have been appreciated.

Deciding on a course of action that usually worked well for them - saying nothing at all - Justin knelt next to Brian and wrapped his arms around him. Brian didn't speak, didn't cry, or offer any explanation at all.

But he did hug him back.

*

The following morning Brian insisted on going to the diner for breakfast. The way he saw it, "the whole fucking world doesn't stop turning just because an asshole like Jack Kinney dies."

That was true enough, and Justin went with him.

Seeing that the boys were already at the diner, they both slid into the booth next to to theirs. Justin had no idea how Brian was planning on telling everyone, but it was Brian's dad so it was Brian's call.

As Rita poured them both a coffee, Emmett peered around her to look at them. "Well, someone was up fucking until the wee hours."

Justin winced. Neither one of them had managed to get a good night's sleep last night, and for once it wasn't just because of sex.

Brian made a point of looking at his watch. "Are you idiots here early or are we here late?"

All three of them responded: "You're here late."

"Oh," he said, lowering his wrist.

There was a brief pause, and as Justin was facing them he took the opportunity to watch as the three of them glanced at each other. They clearly knew something was going on but had no idea what - and just as clearly they figured they'd get no answer out of Brian if they asked.

"So," Ted said, evenutally deciding to change the subject, "anyone want to see that new Matt Damon movie? I read in a chat room last night that there's a dick shot in it. It's brief, but nevertheless dick."

"Oh, totally," Em agreed but he seemed distracted, staring at Justin. Justin glanced away.

"What about you, Brian?" Michael asked.

"I can't. I have family stuff." This was it. Justin passed Brian the sugar. Brian promptly poured it into his drink.

"What," Michael sounded amused, "is your sister fighting with her ex-husband again?"

He didn't even stir it, picking up the mug and taking a sip. "My dad died."

Michael sat up straight, eyes wide with shock. "Your dad?"

Ted looked just the same. "When?"

"Yesterday."

"I..." Em was surprised too, his gaze flicking between both of them. "I'm really sorry, Brian." He looked at Justin deliberately. Are you okay?

Justin nodded, grateful.

"He was sick," Brian offered, "it was time." He looked around for Rita. "Can we get some fucking service?"

That was as far as Brian went in telling anyone.

Justin, of course, hadn't wanted to go to school but Brian had already insisted he was going. "Besides," he'd explained, "I'm going to work anyway. What're you gonna do - sit there and watch me work all fucking day?"

So he regretfully went to school. He knew Brian had to go and see his family tonight, but Justin had his own key now (Brian had left it on the counter one day with a note that simply read, This is yours) and would definitely be waiting for him whenever he got back.

And, hopefully, not have to put any drunken pieces back together.

Justin immediately spilled everything to Daphne, and after school the two of them found themselves sitting by the school swimming pool, dangling their legs into the water and watching the swim team practice. He'd had to roll his pants up, but the water felt good against his skin. "If my dad died I don't know what I'd do," Justin confessed. As shitty as Dad had been, he'd probably still be upset.

"Me neither," Daph agreed. "How old was he?"

"Sixty."

"Ancient."

"Sixty's not ancient," Justin argued, thinking of Deb - although he didn't actually know how old she was and she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he asked. "They say kids born today are going to live past a hundred. Can you imagine living to be a hundred?" He'd been about to ask if she could imagine having sex when she was a hundred, but sex and Daphne wasn't a place he wanted to go right now.

"I can barely imagine reaching thirty," she answered, eyes tracking someone - Glen Reeves, Justin realised - as he sliced through the water. Maybe she had a crush.

"You like Glen, huh?"

Turning towards him suddenly, her mouth opened wide. "I...uh...I..." Her eyes flicked all over the place, focusing on everything but him - she was acting unbelievably guilty.

Justin stared at her. Normally she'd just tell him to fuck off, or pretend she didn't like whoever Justin was teasing her about, but this time...this wasn't just liking someone. Was she actually dating this guy? "Daph?"

Slumping her shoulders, she closed her eyes briefly. "Look. Uh. Glen and I..."

She *was* dating him! And she'd never said a word about it! Shit, now he understood how they'd just 'happened' to end up watching the swim team - it'd been her doing.

"Hey, you!" Glen was out of the water already, shaking out his wet hair as he walked towards Daphne.

"Hey!" she greeted in return, carefully getting up to her feet and giving him a kiss.

Justin couldn't have been more shocked if Brian suddenly turned straight.

Glen and Daph said something about studying together, and within a few minutes Justin was making the journey to the loft in a daze. Daph was allowed to date whoever the fuck she wanted, of course, but she'd never had a serious boyfriend before - and Glen was definitely a hottie. But more than that, he was kinda hurt that she'd never mentioned anything about it. He told her practically everything about Brian and, well, she didn't have to tell him everything if she really didn't want to, but she was his best friend. She could've at least told him she was dating someone. She was practially lying by omission.

By the time he made it back to the loft he'd worn most of his queen out out, and arriving back at the loft reminded him that there were bigger things than Daphne hiding a boyfriend or best friends not sharing their secrets. He gave himself a mental slap on the face.

Changing out of his school uniform, Justin sat on the bed and made a call to Mom. Apparently she hadn't spoken to anyone in the gang today - the fact that Brian'd told Michael, Emmett and Ted that morning meant the news would've already been passed on to everyone they came into contact with - so Justin told her what'd happened.

"Brian's dad died yesterday."

"Oh, honey! I...how terrible. Tell him how sorry I am, will you? Is there anything I can do?"

That there was. "I need the day off for the funeral if it's a weekday, Mom. Could you let the school know?"

"Oh of course, don't worry about it. Just let me know what day it is."

As of that morning the funeral hadn't been arranged yet, so Justin promised he would and ended the call. Resigning himself to the fact that he needed to catch up on some studying, he munched on some Oreo's as he cracked open some books.

Almost before he knew it three hours had passed, and there'd been no word from Brian. Distracted away from studying now, Justin put some water on, intending to cook pasta. At least when Brian came home he wouldn't have the small added stress of finding something to eat, and Justin was not in the *least* bit worried that Brian had left his mother's house hours ago and ended up at a bar somewhere.

He shook the pasta into the saucepan just as the door slid open. Dumping the rest of the dry pasta onto the counter, he skidded to the door.

It was Brian. Tired, worn-out - and completely sober.

Thank God.

"Hey," Justin greeted, feeling guilty for doubting him, watching as Brian slid the door shut. "How did things, um...go?"

"They went," Brian declared, walking into the loft and dumping his briefcase on the sofa; his suit jacket joining it mere seconds later. "I got to organise extremely important details, like what suit my father'll be buried in. What kind of fucking *sugar* we should have at the wake." He started pulling at his tie, sighing. "And of course the whole fucking funeral. At least Mikey was with me."

Justin bit his lip. "I'm glad he was with you," he said, which was mostly the truth. It was *weird* because of what'd happened to their friendship, but there were parts of Brian that Michael knew that Justin probably never would, simply because they'd known each other for so long. Michael would have seen and heard things Brian never would've told anyone, and that gave him an invaluable insight into the Kinney family.

Justin would just have to help in his own way. "Come on," he said, slapping Brian's hands away and grabbing onto the tie, using it to pull him through the loft and up into the bedroom.

"Justin," he sighed, but didn't resist much at all. "Let go of my fucking tie."

"Nope." Reaching the bed, he released the tie and pushed Brian back onto the mattress. When he was down, Justin climbed on top of him and worked on removing the tie - then started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"You know, I can actually get undressed all by my little self."

"Sure you can," Justin replied, diligently helping Brian sit up and slip the shirt from his shoulders.

"Justin," Brian was still half-sitting up, propping himself up on his arms as Justin worked at the zipper to his pants. "You know you don't need to...baby me. You fucking know better-"

"Is this babying you?" Justin asked, grinning as he wrapped his hand around Brian's cock. Brian shut up and fell back onto the bed, so Justin grinned smugly and shuffled down his body, pulling Brian's pants down further until he could wrap his mouth around that beautiful - and very hard - cock.

He made it long, and slow, and by the time Brian came it didn't look like there was a drop of tension left anywhere in his body.

Checking the pasta, Justin made sure it was simmering and came back to the bedroom.

Brian hadn't moved, eyeing him as he stood at the end of the bed. "I can't decide if that was a sympathy blow job or not."

"Nah," lowering himself down and clambering up the bed, Justin settled in next to him. "A sympathy blow job would've made you scream "I'm so sorry!" when you came."

Snorting a laugh, Brian leant in and kissed him. And then they just lay there for a while, listening to the pasta quietly bubbling away.

Justin shifted. "So when is the funeral?"

"Next Monday," Brian looked at him. "Why?"

"Well I need to take the day off school and-"

"You're not going," he interrupted, pushing himself up.

Shocked, Justin pushed himself up too. "The fuck I'm not."

"Justin."

"Brian."

"*Justin*."

God, the man was infuriating sometimes, like he could will things to happen just because he wanted them to. "*Brian*."

"Shit!" Turning away, Brian sat on the edge of the bed with his back towards Justin. "You know what my fucking family is like, Justin. I've given you enough hints. They're-"

"Fucked, I know." He scooted closer, almost but not quite touching Brian's back. "You've told me that before. I don't care."

"I don't want them to..."

There he was doing that sweet/annoying thing again. "Brian, I don't know them. They're strangers to me. They can't hurt me."

He was quiet for a while. "You know I'm not out."

"Don't worry. I won't be there as your...Justin. I'll be there as your friend," he finally placed a hand on Brian's right shoulder. "Your best friend." Justin waited silently for a while, unsure if there was going to be any acknowledgement or not. Eventually, Brian's left hand came up to rest on top of his. Smiling, relieved, Justin closed his eyes and gently butted the back of Brian's head with his forehead. "So...really. What was it like today?"

Brian heaved a giant sigh. "A fucking nightmare," he admitted. "I wanted to kill everyone."

"Just as well you didn't," Justin said, teasing. "I have no intention of becoming anyone's conjugal visit." This time, apparently, the teasing didn't work. Brian didn't snap back some witty reply, didn't laugh at the idea. He just kept facing away from the bed, head slightly bowed. Sighing, Justin didn't know what else to do and spoke quietly into Brian's hair. "I love you."

Nodding, Brian squeezed the hand still resting on his shoulder before slowly pulling away.

 

*

 

Distracted throughout the next day at school, Justin barely responded to anything anyone said - his teachers probably thought he didn't give a shit anymore. It wasn't until the final bell rang and they walked out of school together that Daph called him on it.

"Are you pissed at me?"

Surprised at the question - and maybe even to realise that she was there at all, he thought guiltily - Justin stared at her. "No."

"Because you've been this, like, major freak *all* day," she babbled. "And I know I probably should've told you about Glen, but I was kinda being a freak about it myself and-"

"Daph," he interrupted, pausing and turning towards her. "I'm not angry. I am upset, though, that you couldn't tell me."

"Sorry," she looked down at her shoes. "You're just so wrapped up in Brian sometimes, and Glen and I never have any major dramas the way you two seem to and-"

"How long have you guys been dating?" he asked, because he *did* get wrapped up in Brian and he really should know this stuff about his best friend. Plus, he was getting the impression they'd been dating for a while.

"A few months," she admitted, flushing. "One day after English class he talked about Sister Carrie and how awesome and tragic it is. Before I knew it we were SMS messaging every night."

Months? Shit. "So he's definitely your boyfriend then?"

"I guess. You, uh...you know the last few dinners at Deb's? Since your eighteenth."

"Sure," he frowned, having no idea where this was going.

"Well I never arrived with your mom, right? Even though she could've easily picked me up."

"Are you saying...?"

"Glen dropped me off." She seemed almost proud of it. Scratch that - she *was* proud of it, but still cautious.

Justin was amazed. He knew perfectly well how sneaky she could be - she'd just never been sneaky around *him* before. "Why, Daphne Chanders. You are turning into quite the secretive girl."

"Oh my God," she laughed, "you are spending way too much time with Brian."

So not possible.

Nudging her with his shoulder - letting her know silently that she was forgiven - he kept on walking. She joined him. "So, have you done the nasty yet?" Shit. His 'no mentioning sex around Daph' rule was still in effect, but...shit, he just wanted to know.

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, come on, I tell you everything. And considering what you..." he blushed. "Considering what you saw, there's no way on Earth you could feel more embarrassed than I do just because you're talking about it. Right?"

"Well, I guess that's true..." she hesitated before blurting it out, clearly actually wanting to talk about it. "We've fooled around some. He wants to do more, and so do I." She frowned. "I think. Only he's more experienced than I am. And I don't want to come off as a total freak who doesn't have a clue."

Justin could understand that, remembering how nervous he'd been his first time. "So practice first."

"But I've heard horror stories about the first time," she said. "If the guy isn't careful, it can be really painful."

His own first time had been pretty fucking painful. For a while, anyway. "Yeah, I was lucky. Brian went really slow." Justin found himself smiling at the memory. There was a lot that was fucked up about the early days with Brian - but a lot that was good, too.

"That's why I want my first time to be with someone who knows what it feels like," she glanced towards him. "Like you."

He stopped walking again. Pausing too, Daphne kept looking at him before quickly looking away, clearly nervous. Had she just...? Had *Daph* just asked him to...? "You want me to have *sex* with you?"

"Shhhhhhhh!" Running towards him, she clasped a hand over his mouth and looked around, making sure no one had overheard. When she was sure no one was paying any attention, she lowered the hand and whispered quickly. "Look, I know it's a weird thing to ask. But it's...it's scary, you know? And I know you'll do everything you can not to hurt me. And..." she hesitated. "And after seeing you and Brian together the other day..."

Fuck. He knew it, he'd fucking *known* that would end up causing problems. Fucking Brian and his 'it's over, you don't have to think about it anymore' mentality. Ha! "Yeah?" he asked fearfully.

"Well," she flushed, looking away, "I think you could make it good for me."

Not only did she want sex, she wanted *good* sex? Fuck. "Daph, um," how to say this? Oh, yeah. "You know that was *gay* sex you saw, right? Like, two very gay guys having very gay sex?"

"Of course," she insisted quickly.

"And that's not exactly what you'll be doing," he continued. "I mean, I've never had straight sex at all." Quite frankly, he had no interest in even trying it out. He respected women, but he was more than happy going nowhere near a vagina. "I wouldn't know what I was doing either."

"But at least you've had *some* kind of sex," she argued, "which gives you way more experience than me."

Shit, she was really adamant about this. "Daph..." This was just too much to take in at the moment. "It's not that I don't care about you," her face dropped. Fuck. "It's just...I can't think about this right now. Brian's dad just died. He's a complete mess even though he's trying to pretend he's not. His family are a bunch of assholes who don't give two shits about him, but he keeps having to deal with them because of the funeral, and I'm just focusing on doing whatever the fuck I can to help make him feel better. I care about both of you, but..." he didn't want to say it.

Thankfully, she did it for him. "Brian's more important."

He swallowed. "In this case, yeah."

She was hurt; that much was obvious. She was doing that thing where she was trying to smile too much to hide how she really felt. "I guess funerals kinda take priority over sex, huh?"

At least they agreed on that. "Daph..."

"Nah, it's okay," she waved him off, obviously embarrassed. "You're right. Pretty bad time for me to ask, really, with everything that's been going on. I guess I just got caught up in the idea of getting it over and done with, you know?"

Not such a great way to think about sex. "We'll talk about it more when this is all over, okay?" Yeah, he'd just totally fucked himself over there. But he had to say it. "And in the meantime...if you *do* do anything with Glen, make sure you're safe, okay?" Brian had rammed that lesson into him - in more ways than one - often enough.

"Geez, Justin!" Blushing again, she turned and started walking away. "It's not like I missed Sex Ed!"

"Hey!" he ran after her. "If you're doing it you've gotta be able to talk about it!"

"Shut *up*!"

He grinned. Things almost felt back to normal.

*

Back at the loft, things were still most definitely abnormal.

He fell into the routine he had that first night after hearing the news - finished school, arrived at the loft, studied, made dinner. After they'd eaten last night Deb had arrived with about ten different pot roasts and generally annoyed the shit out of Brian. By the time they finally got her out of the loft, Justin had remarked that at least they didn't need to worry about making meals for the next week.

On the weekend - whenever Brian wasn't dealing with his family - Justin declared that they should go out and do something. He didn't care what, just anything that would distract Brian from the upcoming funeral (not that he mentioned that as the reason).

"Sure," Brian eventually shrugged. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

It was more than Justin expected.

When they ended up parking on the corner of Brighton and Jacksonia, he figured out where they were going. "Brian..." he'd meant for any excursions to be for him. "If *you* wanted to do something..."

"And who says this isn't what I want?" he retorted, and started walking the few chilly blocks that'd take them to the Mattress Factory.

The Mattress Factory was another art museum that'd been around since before Justin was born - but with a difference. It was filled with room-sized installations, each created by a different resident artist. The museum completely supported the artists while they were working, and then displayed their installation for a few months. After that the installations were taken down, and another artist would get to create something in the empty room. As a result of that, whenever Justin visited everything was completely different.

He hadn't been there for a long time - not since before meeting Brian - and mostly he found the current installations interesting. Some of them were amazing, thought-provoking, and some of them...not so much. He may have considered himself an aspiring artist, but sometimes even he didn't know what the fuck other artists were trying to represent.

There was a room filled with trash cans.

And nothing else.

There was no trash in them, they were just...empty.

Was it about the need for recycling? Their over-abundance of trash? Maybe a comment on their lives; how people wasted time with bad TV or not focusing on what really mattered.

Or...they were just trash cans.

"This'll be you someday," Brian said quietly, standing behind him.

Justin stared at the trash cans. "God, I hope not."

"My little art snob," Brian teased, running a hand over Justin's hair. Justin told him to fuck off. "But I mean it," Brian continued, looking across the room. "You'll get your own room, work here for a few weeks and build some artistic shrine to my cock. You'll open to rave reviews and requests for work, and before you know it you'll be flying around the globe."

Justin's throat tightened. Brian had always been his greatest supporter, but the way he was talking now was almost...sad. "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? I haven't even finished high school yet."

When Brian's cell started vibrating - he'd turned it to silent when they'd entered the museum - he took it out and answered the call. Noticing the disapproving looks they were getting, Justin waved his hands to let Brian know they should leave the building.

Outside it was snowing, and Justin wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as Brian argued with his mom. He'd never met Joan Kinney, and already he wanted to smack her silly.

"Fuck!" Ending the call, Brian shoved the phone into his pocket. "I have to go."

Justin nodded, having expected it. "Drop me off at home first?" They started walking towards the car.

"Sure you don't wanna spend more quality time with the trash cans?"

"Hmm," Justin pretended to think about it. "Staring at stupid trash cans or relaxing in the loft where it's warm? Tough call."

"Hey, it was your idea to come out when it's this fucking cold."

Well, that was true. He may not have thought the idea out properly. "But hey!" he yelled. "You got to see that giant paper mache carrot thing that looked like a cock!"

"Truly," Brian snarked, "my life is complete."

*

On Sunday evening it was clear neither one of them was going to be able to sleep. After not-watching a movie and fucking in the shower, they collapsed into bed anyway.

Pot probably would've been a good idea right about then.

Justin had no idea how Brian must've been feeling with the funeral only a few hours away. He just laid next to him, touching him but not smothering him, and kept his eyes wide open.

"Thanks."

Surprised that Brian had spoken at all - and especially the word he'd spoken - Justin turned his head to look at him. He had a feeling what the thanks was for, but didn't want to make a big deal about it. "It was nothing. Deb made it; I just heated it up."

But Brian didn't take the escape route this time, staring up at the ceiling. "For not going through my brief case, or checking the back of the cupboards. For not trying to smell booze on my breath and sneaking around trying to prove..." he stopped, his mouth opening wide a few times as if to exercise his jaw. "I...it's appreciated."

Stunned - he'd been so wrong - Justin shifted closer and scrunched his hand up in Brian's hair, meeting his gaze. He'd felt guilty a few days ago when he wondered if Brian had stopped at a bar but...Brian was right. That'd been a passing thought; he hadn't actively believed... "You gave me no reason to." Brian didn't seem to be adverse to touching just then so Justin moved closer, letting go of Brian's hair and wrapping his arms around him.

Brian sighed into his neck, turning until they were leaning against each other. "One weekend," he said slowly, "when I was...a kid. Pop took me camping. We pitched a tent and went fishing. I swam in the lake and Pop taught me how to play cards. He didn't get angry once. That was..." the hand that'd moved to rest on Justin's side flexed. "That was a good weekend."

Biting his bottom lip, Justin closed his eyes and held on tightly. When Brian started to shake silently, he didn't tell him to stop.

Justin was crying too.

 

*

 

As expected, Brian was a complete asshole the next morning. Justin just ignored it and got ready as quietly as possible. Not only was the funeral today, but last night Brian had done something Justin never would've expected - he'd never even seen Brian cry before, let alone held him while he did.

Not that Brian cried like everyone else. He didn't sob or wail or rant about how unfair anything was - he just buried his face into Justin's neck, and shook.

Justin had admittedly had a few shaky moment himself last night. Sad though he was that Brian was so upset - this his father was dead, that his childhood had been so shitty - and he'd been spending most of his time just concentrating on holding him, making him okay...every now and then he'd realise exactly what was happening and be filled with a sense of awe, thinking, I can't believe it. I can't believe I'm here holding Brian while he's crying, and he's *letting* me.

Of course, the awe would quickly be followed by guilt, and he'd berate himself for thinking about himself at all.

Now, he had the TV on mute and sat on the sofa, clicking through the channels and not watching much of anything. When Brian stood by the end of the sofa - looking beautiful in a dark grey suit - Justin turned the TV off.

"You ready?"

Justin nodded.

"Good. Let's get this fucking over with."

*

The snow had settled overnight, making the cemetery look almost beautiful.

Justin was sure Jack didn't deserve it.

It was, however, absolutely fucking freezing, which seemed to match the temperament of just about everyone there - especially Joan Kinney. She'd barely said two words to her son when he'd arrived, and absoutely nothing to any of his friends. They were all there - Michael, Emmett, Ted. Mel and Linds. Deb hadn't come, and Michael had mumbled to him earlier that it was because she couldn't rationalise pretending to mourn a man who'd treated Brian the way he had.

Other than that, it wasn't a huge crowd clustered around the grave site. Brian's sister, Claire, was crying hysterically (they hadn't been introduced yet, but Justin knew it was her because Brian had told him on the way there that Claire would be crying hysterically). In front of Claire were her two sons - Brian had only ever referred to them as 'the demon spawn' - and other than that Justin didn't know anyone else. Some friends and family members, he supposed, although he couldn't imagine Jack Kinney having many of the former.

Justin didn't like funerals, but then he couldn't imagine that anyone did. He'd only been to a couple before, for distant relatives that his mom insisted they had to show respect to. It was a horrible thing to think, but none of them had mattered the way this funeral did and, most frustrating of all, he couldn't even stand next to Brian.

Not that he'd be able to touch him or openly reassure him anyway, but he wanted Brian to know that he was right *there* if he needed anything - anything at all.

Naturally, the family were all standing next to each other - which couldn't have been Brian's idea. Joan, looking stoic and unmoved, Claire, crying and trying to stop her kids from fidgeting. And Brian. Staring at the coffin like he almost expected the lid to flip open, like Jack Kinney couldn't actually be *dead*.

It didn't happen, of course. Father Wright finished talking, no one placed anything on the coffin, and it was lowered into the ground.

*

The wake was about as exciting as wake's got. Everyone was relieved to get inside, coats and gloves quickly stripped off, fingers rubbing to revive half-frozen faces.

Brian parked himself on a chair pushed up against a wall, and Justin quickly took the seat next to his. Extra chairs had obviously been out out for the occasion and the rest of his friends soon followed suit. Ted and Emmett started murmuring to each other, and Justin took the opportunity to study what he could see of the house Brian had grown up in.

His initial reaction was that it didn't look very inviting. Boring colours, old-fashioned - but not classic - designs. Justin couldn't see a single photograph anywhere, but enough religious pictures and figurines for him to start understanding what Brian's mother must have been like while he was growing up.

Claire came back out of the kitchen, still sobbing as she moved some plates around. Joan walked up to her and, though she tried to be subtle, it was so quiet in the house that Justin heard every word.

"Claire, would you please pull yourself together?"

"Daddy just died, Mother!" Claire wasn't even trying to keep quiet, loudly stacking empty plates on top of one another. "I'm allowed to fall apart."

"Fine," Joan's lips tightened. "Fall apart."

Justin looked at Brian. He was staring out the window.

Clearing her throat, Joan glanced towards her son and the people sitting around him, and apparently decided that was where she wanted to go next. Stepping towards them, she spoke. "I...can't tell you how gratifying it is that so many of Brian's friends thought to come and pay their respects to my husband."

Not a single one of them was there for Jack Kinney.

Her eyes flicked to Brian, but he was still staring out the window. "I, uh...Michael I know, of course." He nodded at her. "And..." she paused, frowning as she studied Lindsay. "Have we met?"

"Lindsay Peterson, Mrs Kinney," Linds explained. "Brian and I went to college together."

"Of course!" she said in realisation. "The two of you dated for a while. I remember wondering if you were going to get married, but..." she looked at Brian deliberately, "I guess it didn't work out." Thankfully, no one laughed.

"You could say that," Linds hedged.

Joan smiled awkwardly. "So, Brian - who are the rest of your friends?"

Brian clearly wasn't about to introduce anyone, so they started introducing themselves.

"Melanie Marcus."

"Emmett Honeycutt." Em was keeping his natural flame down low for the day, but part of Justin would've loved seeing Joan graced with his full presence.

"Ted Schmidt."

Finally she focused on him, frowning.

Justin met her gaze. "Justin Taylor. Nice to meet you, Mrs Kinney. I'm sorry for your loss." He'd learnt the art of bullshit well.

"Thank you," she said automatically, still frowning. "I...you're awfully young to be one of Brian's friends, aren't you? Are you a relative of Lindsa-?"

"No," Justin interrupted, because her small-mindedness was starting to grate. "I'm a friend of Brian's."

"Oh," she paused, taken aback. "How did you meet?"

He picked me up on Liberty Avenue and fucked the living shit out of me. By the way, he's been doing that on a regular basis ever since. Justin opened his mouth to make up some story about Brian coming into the diner where he worked, when Brian shifted and drawled,

"You never took any interest in my friends when I was a kid, Mom. Why start now?"

Nostrils flaring, Joan glared at him for a few seconds (so *that* was where that expression came from), before snapping out the words "Ungrateful child!" and whirling away into the kitchen.

Probably to get a drink. Justin had already seen her try and sneak a few shots of brandy.

Laughing twice - poorly - Brian rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his head in his hand.

This place was...soul destroying. They needed to get him the fuck out of there.

Apparently agreeing, Brian suddenly launched himself to his feet and jogged upstairs, giving no explanation whatsoever. They all stared at each other, wondering what the fuck was going on.

When Brian still hadn't come back down five minutes later, Justin went to investigate under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom. Before he left, Emmett grabbed his arm and gave him a don't get caught fucking look.

The upstairs was just as drab and dreary as the downstairs, and Justin found him in what had to be - or was - his parents bedroom. Standing by the side of the bed, Brian was looking at...a bowling ball.

Justin stepped closer, wary. "Brian?"

Hoisting the ball up higher in his hands, Brian turned it slowly. "This was all I ever wanted from him." He sounded tired. Resigned. He wasn't going to get anything at all from his dad anymore. Picking the bag for the bowling ball up, Brian zipped the ball inside and placed it back on the bed. Leaning into Justin he kissed him long and hard; enough so that Justin almost forgot to be paranoid about where they were.

But Brian didn't care just then, so Justin wouldn't either.

Closing his eyes, he leant against Brian. "Nearly over," he murmured.

"Yeah," Brian said, pulling back and picking up the bag. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Justin really liked that plan. "Anything else you wanna see before we go? Your old room maybe?" He had no idea if it still looked the way it had when Brian was a kid.

"No," Brian shook his head, walking out of the room. "There's nothing for me here. There never was."

Unfortunately, their getaway wasn't as quick as they'd hoped. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire made an announcement.

"Excuse me, everyone. I thought it would be nice if we could all share a good memory of daddy," she turned towards Father Wright. "Father, would you start?"

He was obviously at a loss for what to say. "I...must confess I didn't know him very well. He never came to my mass." Things had to be bad when even a priest couldn't come up with something.

Obviously upset, Claire pursed her lips together and looked around for someone else who might have a story. "Anyone else?"

The silence was resounding but, eventually, Lindsay managed to produce something.

"Uh, it was a while ago; Brian and I were in college. He told me once that I smelled nice. Oh!" she recalled, "and then he gave me a mint."

A really *bad* something.

Thankfully, Michael then cleared his throat and began a pretty detailed story about when he and Brian had gone bowling once - probably inspired by the bowling ball Brian was carrying now. Brian had gotten a strike and Jack had given him a hug, and the whole thing was very sentimental.

Justin wasn't actually sure how true it was, but that probably didn't matter anyway. It was a nice story to tell at a wake, and even if Jack didn't deserve it Michael had done a good job of telling it.

"Thank you, Michael," Claire said, relieved.

Joan nodded her agreement. "That was a lovely story, Michael."

"Yeah, Michael, that was lovely," Brian mocked in a tone of voice that made Justin realise they were heading into dangerous territory. "Makes me want to share some memories of my own. Like the night that he found out that you were pregnant with me," he smirked, looking at his mom before glancing around at his captive audience. "He told her to put on her most *beautiful* dress, took her to the most *expensive* restaurant in town, and then - get this," he paused, smirking, "he leaned over and said, 'Joanie, you're getting yourself an abortion. Because I don't wanna get married or have a fucking kid.'"

Joan's mouth tightened. But as much as Justin wanted her to say something, she didn't deny it.

And although repeating the story in public probably hadn't helped and would make things harder for Brian in the long run, Justin couldn't even think about rebuking him - because the only way he could've known that story at all was if one, or both, of his parents had told him.

Justin had never hated anyone this much. Not his dad; not even Chris Hobbs.

And he'd do everything he could to make sure Brian's family never hurt him again.

 

*

 

Back at the loft, they didn't talk much.

As soon as they'd arrived, Brian had walked straight into the bedroom and shoved the bag into the corner of his closet. Justin couldn't imagine it staying there for long - Brian complained all the time about not having enough room for his shoes - but for now it was out of the way and they didn't have to look at it.

There'd been a message blinking on the machine, so Justin pressed play and Debbie's voice echoed around the loft, telling Brian she was thinking about him, how much she loved him, and that she hoped Joan hadn't been too much of a frigid bitch.

Brian erased it.

Changing into clothes that were less depressing and more comfortable, they ended up on the sofa with the TV on quietly. Brian wasn't watching the screen at all, staring off to one side. Justin wasn't much better, alternating between staring at Brian and quickly looking back at the TV, convinced Brian would catch him and tell him to stop it.

If Brian wanted to fuck he would've tried to already, and if Justin tried anything now it'd probably turn out to be one of the few times he'd be turned down. Talking wasn't about to go down well either - Brian just seemed to want to sit there, thinking.

It was how he'd been acting after they'd been accused of dating all over again - Brian was just being *quiet*. No sex or drugs, no major queen outs, and though Justin had almost always known Brian was more than that, actually seeing it still took some getting used to.

There was only one thing he could think of that might cheer Brian up, or at least bring him up a little out of this particular funk, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. Because of what day it was Brian's reaction really could go either way, so about an hour later when Brian announced that he was taking a shower, Justin said he just wanted to see the end of something and would join him in a few minutes.

Listening as the water began running, Justin waited until he was sure Brian was actually in the shower before diving for the phone.

They picked up after four rings. "Hello?"

"Hey, Linds," he greeted. "It's Justin. I need a favour."

She agreed to the plan readily and, feeling accomplished, Justin pulled off his sweats as he headed to the bathroom and sucked Brian off in the shower.

About forty minutes later they were back on the sofa, leaning against each other. Justin had put A Streetcar Named Desire on, so Brian wasn't completely ignoring the TV; even mouthing the words occasionally.

When the phone rang, Justin stiffened - that hadn't been part of the plan. But when they let it ring over to messages and a familiar voice emerged, he relaxed.

"Hey, Brian." It was clearly Michael. "Just calling to say...fuck, what *do* you say after a funeral? Look, anyway. If you wanna talk or...get together somewhere. Hang out at Woody's, shoot some pool or something. Or if you need anything at all, just give me a call, okay? Umm, yeah. That's it. I love you." They hadn't taken the opportunity to talk to anyone before they left the wake, both eager to get away after Brian had told his story.

When the message ended, Justin rubbed his shoulder against Brian's. "That was nice."

"Yeah," Brian replied. "Now all we need is for Vic to call and we'll have the whole set."

Justin managed a smile. "You wanna take him up on his offer?" It'd crimp his plans, but he could rearrange things. Linds wouldn't mind, today of all days.

Brando came back from bowling and bitched at his wife and, knowing what he knew now, Justin wondered why Brian even liked this movie.

"That depends," he said casually, "was Mikey who you called while I was in the shower?"

Fuck.

Shifting, Justin tried not to blush under Brian's scrutiny. "How did you...?" Screw it. "No."

"Well then, I think we should wait here until we find out exactly what's going to happen," Brian told him, half-mocking and half-serious. Justin knew Brian hated it when anyone 'took care' of him, but given how much headway they'd made together last night he was just going to have to live with it.

"You'll like it," he insisted, and then the knock came on the door. "I'll get it!" Springing up from the sofa, Justin ran for the door. He wasn't fast enough however, and Brian caught him by the back of his shirt, holding him back. "Hey!"

Keeping Justin at an arm's length, Brian walked around him and slid open the door - completely unsurprised to see Lindsay standing there. "Linds."

"Brian," she started immediately, holding Gus in his carrier, "I'm so sorry to do this to you, especially today-"

"Linds," Brian sighed.

"-but Dad hurt his back again. He's back in hospital and-"

"Linds,"

"-it's so last minute and our babysitter already has plans so-"

"Linds!" She shut up. Brian stared at her dispassionately. "Give it up. I know."

"Oh," slumping her shoulders, she looked at Justin and finally seemed to notice that he was still being held hostage inside his own shirt but avoided commenting on that fact entirely. "Well, in that case..." she held out Gus.

When she was gone and Justin was released, they found themselves back on the sofa again. Placing Gus' carrier on the table in front of the TV, they winced when he started crying.

Brian frowned at his son. "This is supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's a working theory," Justin admitted. He hadn't thought about the fact that Gus might be in a bad mood. As far as he was concerned, babies were notoriously hard to predict. Much like Brian.

Muttering and grumbling, Brian carefully freed Gus from the carrier and placed him on his thigh, turning him around so he could face the TV. "See the pretty boy, Gus?" It was hot in the movie, and Brando had stripped down to his sweaty vest. "Bet you don't get to see anything like that at your Mommy's house. Christ," he said to himself, "God only knows what kinds of perverted things you *do* see at your Mommy's house." Gus' wails had deteriorated to the occasional sniffle. "Well, what do you know?" Brian sounded proud. "The pretty boy fixed everything," he smirked at Justin. "Guess we've got another fag in the family."

This had *so* been the right call.

Much later, after everyone had eaten - or been fed a few times - and Gus had fallen asleep, Brian and Justin got ready for bed. Worried about squashing him but wanting him with them, they kept Gus in the carrier in the middle of the bed. Climbing into his side of the bed, Justin propped himself up on his elbow and watched Gus sleep.

Brian looked at both of them from the end of the bed. "I should think about getting him a cot here or something."

Pleased, Justin allowed himself a small smile. "It'd be nice for him to have space to move around."

Leaving the bathroom light on, Brian moved to get into bed but when he suddenly froze Justin knew exactly what he'd seen. Holding his breath, he watched anxiously as Brian slowly slumped down on the edge of the mattress, picking up the framed photograph from the bedside table. Justin had sensed his opportunity earlier, sneaking it over there while Brian was brushing his teeth.

Brian didn't say anything for a while - and then he did. "I guess you must have saved it, huh?"

"Yeah." He'd been waiting for the right moment ever since.

"I just figured it got thrown away."

"I know."

He shook his head minutely. "Should've known better. Sometimes..." he paused. "You push too hard."

Justin bit the inside of his mouth for a moment, worried that he'd made a mistake. Too late to back out now. "Sometimes you don't push enough."

"I don't even know what the fuck that means."

He didn't sound angry, at least. "You'll figure it out. Come on," he continued quickly, "let's get some sleep."

But Brian wasn't ready to let it go. "You know that story Mikey told?"

Surprised, Justin waited. "Sure."

"He was right about some things. We went bowling, and we really were for shit. Jack was there, mostly at the bar. But when I got the strike...Jack didn't hug me. Mikey did. We were celebrating, jumping around, and we ended up kissing. Just once," he paused. "We were happy." Justin didn't say anything. He didn't need to. "But Jack saw. Called us a couple of fairies. I pushed Michael away so hard he nearly fell over." Shifting minutely, Brian continued. "I ran. Not here," he added quickly, confusing Justin until he explained, "I can't have it...here. Not now."

Amazed at the story and that Brian had shared it, Justin knew that - as well as the Gus idea had panned out - this'd been the wrong move. "I...I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he interrupted, not turning around. "Just get it out of the bedroom."

"Okay." There was a small table near the full-length mirror that Brian kept photographs and knick-knacks on. Cautiously taking the picture from Brian, Justin climbed out of bed and walked across the loft. Placing the photograph of Jack holding a baby Brian next to a picture of Deb and Vic, Justin stared at them for a moment before realising there was another photograph behind them that he'd never seen before.

Picking it up and turning so he'd catch more light from the windows, Justin's mouth nearly opened in shock when he realised it was a picture of *him*. It'd clearly been taken at his eighteenth birthday party, but he had no recollection of anyone taking it. It wasn't posed at all - his head had been caught turning, laughing at something that someone - Emmett, judging by what he could see of a lime green shirt - had been saying.

Had Brian taken this? If not, who the hell had he bribed to keep quiet about the fact that he wanted a copy?

"What the fuck is taking so long?"

Jumping, Justin put the picture down and ran back to the bedroom.

At least the day was starting to end better than it had begun.

 

*

 

Deb had been really good about giving him time off with Brian and getting the others to cover his shifts, but when Tuesday came Justin had to go back to school - and back to work. If he wanted his own money, meager though it was, he had to earn it.

Working the after-school shift, Justin heard from Rita that Brian had been there for both breakfast and lunch. When he walked through the door for dinner, too, Justin was a little surprised. Three visits in one day wasn't unheard of, but it was unusual.

"Hey," he greeted as he reached Brian's booth, earning himself a hand around the neck that guided him down for a kiss. He wasn't about to complain, smiling stupidly as he pulled back up, Brian's fingers slipping from his neck. "Did Gus get dropped off okay?" Brian had dropped him at school.

"Yeah, somehow I managed all by myself," Brian quipped.

Justin made a show of rolling his eyes. He'd been worried about how Brian was holding up after yesteday, but at least his sarcasm was intact. "How was work?"

Sighing - but not *too* unhappily, Justin thought - Brian regarded him. "Am I gonna keep getting this twenty questions routine just because my dad died?"

Okay, so he *may* have been caught out, but there was no way it was proveable. Besides, he was pretty sure Brian was messing with him just for the sake of it. "I asked you like two questions."

"Right, and none of them were, 'what can I get you?'"

"Fine," Justin smiled and played along, making a point of taking his notepad out. "What can I get you, Mr Kinney?"

That earned him another kiss; one with tongue this time. Brian's hand held his head in place again, and Justin's hands reached out to help him hold the position - his left on the back of the seat, his right on the table. Now able to brace himself he pushed into the kiss, his tongue meeting Brian's, and he just wanted to push him back on the seat, climb on top of him and make him-

"Oh, *my*. I *have* to take a picture of *that*."

Confused, the words making their way into his foggy mind, Justin regretfully broke the kiss. "Huh?" he asked dumbly - kissing Brian made him lose about 50 IQ points - turning just in time to see a guy at the next table over lowering his camera. Justin couldn't even imagine why he'd be carrying it around with him.

Smiling, the guy winked. "Don't mind me!" Turning back to his meal, he proudly waved his camera at his friends.

Flushing, Justin nonetheless realised that he kind of *liked* that people found them hot together.

Chuckling, Brian smirked up at him and released his neck. "Told you you were an exhibitionist. Now - take my order. I'm fucking starving."

Straightening himself up, Justin ignored smirks and snickers from everyone who'd noticed and took Brian's order. He was just really fucking happy Deb wasn't working right now, because she'd probably never let them hear the end of it.

Five minutes later Justin returned with Brian's dinner - and his own. It was one of their occasional slow days, so Justin grinned at Brian's raised eyebrow and declared he was taking a break.

He talked a bit about school; Brian finally talked a bit about work, but mostly his attention kept going back to the poster that'd been put up near their table. There had been a few of them up in the diner when Justin had arrived at work this evening, and he'd been so far removed from his usual haunts for the last few days that he'd been surprised to realise they'd been put up all around Liberty Avenue.

It was for some competition of Babylon, appropriately called King of Babylon. Also appropriately, a hot, almost naked guy's picture was sprawled across the poster. He was wearing a crown. Brian had had hotter, though, so he couldn't have been staring at it just for the guy...

"So what's the King of Babylon competition?"

Slowly dragging his eyes away from the poster, Brian looked at him blankly. "What? Oh." The question sank in. "It's basically stripping for the throne. You get up on stage and dance, take your clothes off. Whoever's the best wins."

"Wins what?"

"A thousand bucks and a trip to the Bahamas." Shit, that wasn't a bad prize at all. "It's pretty pathetic, really." Uh huh. "Why, do you want to go?"

Justin wasn't falling for it, and met Brian's gaze squarely. "Do you want to go?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Brian looked away, looked back, looked away, and looked back, before sitting up and straightening his shoulders. "Yeah. I want to go to Babylon."

He'd thought that this would be coming soon. He didn't know if it was just time or because of Brian's dad but, whatever the reason, Justin nodded and let a genuine smile appear. "Cool. Me too." Although it'd been easy enough living without Babylon, he absolutely loved dancing with Brian there. He couldn't wait to do that again. Brian had come a long way since that first visit to Woody's, and Justin wasn't too concerned about the idea - he'd be there with Brian, after all.

Hanging around until Justin finished his shift - Brian occupied himself with paperwork he'd brought home - they drove back to the loft together. It was during the drive when Justin was sitting, not doing anything, that the exhaustion started to creep in. Surprised, he tried to fight it off but couldn't hold back a yawn.

Brian noticed, glancing at him from the drivers side. "I'm that scintillating, huh?"

"Don't be sill-uhh," he yawned again as Brian parked the Jeep. Shit. "Silly."

Turning off the engine, Brian leaned over and grabbed Justin's face before he could even open the door. Surprised, Justin blinked and allowed the inspection - although there wasn't much he could do to stop it anyway.

Studying Justin for a while, Brian eventually released him. "You need a good night's sleep." Opening his own door, he moved to get out when he froze. "Fuck, did I really just say that?"

Laughing, Justin got out of the car as he pretended to announce a headline. "Brian Kinney recommends sleep in no-sex shocker!"

"Fuck you," he retorted, not angrily, locking the Jeep. "Anyway, I imagine is has to be tiring," he continued airily, walking with Justin to the building.

"What does?"

Walking up the steps, Brian opened the door and turned back to look at him. "Taking care of me while pretending you're not taking care of me."

Standing stock still, Justin stared up at him. Brian wasn't supposed to *acknowledge* that Justin tried to take care of him. "Uh."

"You think you're so subtle, Sunshine," he smirked, "but you're really not."

Well, fine. Okay. Brian knew. Justin was too tired to argue about it, following him into the building. "So are you gonna tuck me in again?" he asked, mangling the words with a yawn as they boarded the elevator.

Brian pulled down the safety door and pressed the button. "You remember that?" The elevator clunked to life and started moving.

"Sure. I wasn't *that* drunk."

"Huh."

Inside the loft Justin started stripping off his clothes almost immediately, heading straight for the bedroom. He'd planned on doing whatever he could to keep Brian entertained, but that idea of a good night's sleep was becoming more and more appealing with each passing second.

"Hey, don't leave your shit on the floor," was the last thing he heard before his head hit the pillow.

*

"*What*?" A pause. "No, he can't come to the phone right now - he's busy." Another pause. "No, he's not sucking my dick. He happens to be sleeping. I'm not waking him up." A sigh, displeased. "I said I'm not waking him up. He's fucking exhausted, and considering that it's now after midnight-" A groan. "Emmett, it doesn't matter how urgent you think it is, I'm sure you girls will talk all about it - *tomorrow*." Another pause. "I don't care if it is technically tomorrow already - don't be a smart-ass. I couldn't give a shit about whatever the fuck you said to Blake - you two have to be the least threatening fags on the face of the planet. A showdown between the two of you would be like watching two limp noodles fighting." Movement, a tinny indistinguishable voice. "Jesus, keep your fucking voice down. Look, if Ted wants to hook up with Blake, that's his business. His choice." Silence. "Emmett?" More silence. "Fuck you."

Movement again, more this time. He rolled towards it. "Whas'at?"

A hand on the side of his head. "Nothing that can't wait. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm...'kay."

Brian *warm*.

*

The next morning Brian gave Justin nothing to work with, just telling him that Emmett had called wanting to talk about Blake. Taking matters into his own hands, Justin called Emmett and told him they were meeting at the diner for breakfast. Em hemmed and hawed, but he was there when Brian dropped Justin off at the diner.

Brian decided not to go in for breakfast, and drove into work early.

"So what happened?" Justin asked as soon as he was in range, throwing his bag onto the seat, pulling his coat off and sliding in across from Emmett.

An Em who looked like he was trying not to look guilty. For once, though, he didn't try to pretend that everything was okay. "I saw Blake last night."

"So I heard."

"He was in Babylon. With his dealer. I told him to stay away from Teddy - gave him a piece of my mind." Justin suspected it might have been most of it. "And I needed to talk to someone afterwards, so I called you." He fiddled with a napkin.

"We can still do that," Justin said slowly, "but what did you say last night that pissed Brian off?" Flinching, Em looked away. "Em..."

He cleared his throat. "He told me that it was Ted's decision. That being with Blake was up to Teddy. So..." he closed his eyes and quickly opened them again. "Look, I was still angry at Blake. He was tweaked out of his twinky little head when I saw him, and I just keep picturing Ted in his coma and-"

"What the fuck did you say to Brian?"

"I said it was no wonder he took the drug addict's side considering the fact that he's an addict himself."

Fuck. "Em..." He couldn't believe it. Out of everyone who knew, one of the only people he absolutely never expected to give Brian a hard time about his addiction was Emmett.

"I *know*!" he insisted. "It was the wrong fucking thing to say and I hated myself immediately."

Justin was beyond hearing that right then. "I can't believe you'd say something like that! You know how fucking hard this has been for him. Not to mention that his *dad* just fucking died-"

"I wasn't thinking!" Em apologised. "I was angry, and it just came out!"

Jesus Christ. Picking his coat up, Justin climbed out of the booth.

"Justin?" Emmett looked up at him anxiously. "Are you-?"

"Don't worry," he shoved his arms into his coat and picked up his bag. "I'm pissed at you but I'll get over it." It wasn't like Emmett had done anything deliberately. "But I have to get to school. With Brian not around it'll take longer." And he had to figure out some kind of damage control. Leaving with a sigh, he pulled open the diner door, stepped out - and saw the Jeep still parked by the curb. Surprised, Justin opened the door and climbed in. "I thought you were going straight to work?"

"Please," Brian said, "and leave you to take public transportation?"

"That's so swee-"

"I have to listen to you queen out about the experience every time it happens. I'd rather save myself the trouble."

Snorting his disbelief, Justin waited until they were on the road again before speaking. He eyed Brian. "Emmett feels really shitty about what he said last night."

Nodding as if he'd been expecting it, Brian shrugged. "He's got a point. I mean...that's what I am, right?" His response was too off-hand, too casual, and the idea obviously bothered him.

But the truth was that Brian *was* an addict. "I guess, technically..." Yeah, that was gonna make him feel better. "So what if you are?" Justin tried another route. "What matters most is that you overcame your addiction, that you don't drink anymore. You're not the same person you were, and it doesn't control you anymore."

Nothing else was said for the rest of the drive. When Brian pulled up outside St James, Justin turned towards him.

"I know it'll probably follow you around for the rest of your life...but I'm gonna be following you around for the rest of your life, too. So," he smiled bravely, meeting Brian's gaze, "I'm going to school now."

Not waiting for a response, Justin picked up his bag, got out of the Jeep, and went to find out what the day would bring him.

 

*

 

It didn't escape his notice that Brian was trying a little too hard to pretend that nothing had happened and that his dad hadn't died.

It started with that almost overly-passionate kiss in the diner. From there it grew - whenever they were out in public together Brian was the life of the party. He'd tell stories, crack jokes, and spout off wicked one-liners that'd have the boys laughing so hard they'd spit out their drinks (although Emmett, of course, may have been laughing more than was entirely necessary because of his guilt complex).

It was only in the loft that Brian would grow withdrawn. He'd be quiet, thoughtful, and more than once Justin would catch him pausing by the table that held the picture of his dad.

There were much worse ways Brian could've been dealing with his father's death, so Justin simply watched and waited.

A little over two weeks later the night of the King of Babylon competition rolled around. Justin ended up having to work after school, and one by one the guys arrived at the diner so they could all leave for the club together.

They'd taken over the seats at the main counter, although everyone had forgotten how many of them there were now and Steve was left standing. He didn't seem to mind, standing near Emmett.

"Can you believe it's been a year since the last one already?" Deb asked, refilling Brian's coffee cup.

"It always seems like such a big deal," Michael said, "but a week later no one can remember who won."

Ted, apparently, did. "Angel Ascobar - five foot ten, 175'', 28-inch waist, 9-inch cock and a birthmark in the shape of Placido Domingo in his right thigh."

"Wow," Emmett was impressed. "You gave him some serious attention."

Turning towards Ted, Blake nearly went as far as fluttering his eyelashes. "Should I be jealous?" There'd been some kind of reconciliation on the Ted and Blake front. Justin didn't know the details but, whatever had happened, Blake didn't seem to be using at the moment.

Ted quickly assured him he didn't need to be jealous, and as they kissed Justin couldn't miss the skeptical looks Michael and Emmett shared.

Pushing his plate away, Em looked nauseated. "I think I'll skip dessert."

Justin took his plate, depositing it in the kitchen before coming back. "So, have any of you guys ever taken part?"

Emmett stared at him. "In the competition?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God, no."

"Why not?" Personally, Justin couldn't imagine doing it either, but he was interested in Emmett's reasoning.

"It's just not my thing," he offered with a smile and a shrug. "I know; you'd think it would be. It's not like I actually have any shame..."

"That's for damn sure," Brian concurred, and Em glanced away to the side.

Steve cleared his throat. "Besides," he added, "it's not like Emmett needs to get up and strip in front of all those guys to prove he's the King of Babylon - he already is." That was a little cheesy to take in, even for Justin.

Brian rolled his eyes. "More like the queen."

Fake-laughing, Em hit his hand down on the counter, making everyone jump. "That's really funny, Brian! Really!"

"Christ." Muttering, Brian fixed his glare on Emmett. "Will you get the fuck over it already? I've 'moved' on," he mocked. "Why the fuck can't you?"

Justin had been waiting for this for a while, but Em looked completely shocked. Until finally... "Very well. Just let me say one thing."

"And what's that?"

He lifted his chin. "Fuck you."

Laughing, Brian took a sip of his coffee.

"So," Em suddenly changed subjects, turning to look at Michael, "is David coming tonight?"

"I don't know - Babylon isn't really his scene."

"Why?" Brian asked, always taking the opportunity. "Is he at home taking his teeth out?" Justin bit back a grin. He really didn't know how he felt about the idea of spending the evening with David hanging around. He'd only seen him a few times since they'd caught him at the baths, and that'd been awkward enough. A whole evening with him - even if they didn't actually talk to each other, which they usually didn't - would be extremely weird. Mostly because he still didn't know if Michael knew what'd happened.

Speaking of Michael... "I'll have you know that he gets up at 6am every morning to go for a five mile run - instead of staying in bed, like you."

Leering at Justin, Brian lifted an eyebrow. "I feel that's where I get my best cardio workout."

Laughing, Justin walked around Deb and leant across the counter to give Brian a kiss. Drawing back, he grinned at him. "Cardiovascular health is very important, you know. I'm more than happy to help you maintain a good fitness regime."

"Ah, I see," Brian smirked. "So you letting me fuck you is actually for my own health?"

"Exactly."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I thought so," he grinned, and it was only when he turned away from Brian that he realised that everyone - Deb, the guys - was staring at them.

Brian noticed too. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing," they replied.

Announcing that he was going to call David, Michael took his cell phone out. Justin got distracted by someone who needed a drink, and by the time he got back to the counter David had apparently agreed to come and they were going to meet him outside the club. He tried to sound enthusiastic about the news, telling Michael he thought it was great - and just hoped it wouldn't be too awkward.

Ten minutes later Justin's shift was over. Taking off his apron, he grabbed his coat from the back and joined the guys as they poured out of the diner.

"Thanks for waiting for me," he said, pulling his coat on as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh honey, don't be silly," Em assured him. "You think any of us want to go to Babylon with Brian *without* you?" he shuddered dramatically.

Brian wrapped an arm around Justin's neck as they walked, and Justin ended up having to wrap his arm around Brian's waist - not that he minded. "You know, Honeycutt-"

"I've told you before, don't call me Honeycutt."

"-when I suggested you get over it, I *didn't* suggest you turn into a complete asshole."

"Well, you can't always get what you want," he pointed out, and then completely changed subjects again. He had a tendency to do that. "Oh my God, I can't believe we're going to Babylon! It's been *forever* since we've all gone together. And now there's more of us," he grinned, linking arms with Steve. He paused. "Oh my God, do you know what I just realised?"

"What?" Michael asked, turning back to look briefly as he kept moving forward.

"This is practically a couples night!" he exclaimed. "We're all involved! I mean, has that ever happened before? All of us being involved at the same time?"

"No," Ted conceded, next to Blake. "But that's mostly because Brian would kill the idea of a relationship at fifty paces - before Justin, of course," he added, with a small almost-shrug directed at Justin.

"What can I say?" Brian retorted immediately. "He gives the best head I've ever had." He nudged the top of Justin's head with his nose, letting him know that he was teasing and it wasn't the only reason.

"Wow," Ted replied, "considering the amount of head you've had, that must really be saying something."

"It is. Thankfully, you'll never have the chance to find out."

Eww, sucking Ted off? Ted wasn't ugly, but he was definitely no Brian. He was...Ted. Justin wrinkled his nose.

It wasn't long until they reached the club, and they dutifully waited at the corner for David. It'd warmed up some in the last couple of weeks and there was definitely no snow, but after standing there for more than ten minutes Justin was starting to get cold.

Emmett was regaling them all with some tale about a guy with a huge dick who'd come in to Torso ("But don't worry, baby, I didn't touch it."), when Brian must have noticed how much Justin was shifting around.

"Hey," he asked quietly while Emmett was still talking, "you okay?"

"Just cold," Justin replied, managing a smile.

Grabbing him, Brian pulled him closer until Justin's back was against his chest, and wrapped his arms around Justin's torso. "You know," he breathed into his ear, "they say body heat is a very effective way of keeping warm."

"Really?" Justin asked as if he'd never heard that before. "That must explain why I never get cold when we're alone together."

Brian had just started gently biting his ear when David arrived. He was wearing an old pair of ripped jeans which Em just went ga-ga over. Justin wasn't all that impressed, but then he didn't need to be so it didn't really matter.

Turning towards them, David made a point of saying hello to both of them - and Justin knew instantly that what'd happened at the baths had been dealt with. Michael knew, or they'd talked about it or *something*, and Michael must have forgiven him because they were clearly still together.

He looked at Brian and shrugged. Shrugging back, Brian moved back to having his arm around Justin's neck and led the group into the club.

Babylon was always busy, but because of the competition it was even busier than usual - the line seemed to go on endlessly. Thankfully they were with Brian, and being with Brian meant never having to line up for anything at Babylon. He may have been away for months, but that didn't stop them from getting in. Justin noticed a vague hesitation on Brian's face before he approached the bouncer, but he needn't have worried.

"Kinney," the bouncer greeted as cheerily as a bouncer could, "it's been a while."

"That it has," he nodded. "Life got fucked up for a while."

"That can happen," the guy nodded sagely, before checking them all out. "Big group tonight."

"That a problem?"

"No," he nodded towards the club, indicating that they should go inside. "Just don't let Sapperstein know."

Brian snorted. "Like I'd tell that shit head anything."

As they walked up the steps that led into the club, Justin started to feel the excitement bubbling under his skin. By the time they got rid of their coats he was practically bouncing, dragging Brian out into the middle of the dance floor. "Dance with me!"

Not objecting, Brian fell into his familiar bump and grind. He didn't actually have a lot of skill as a dancer, but that'd never mattered to Justin. Wrapping his arms around Brian's neck, Justin closed his eyes and moved with him. *Fuck* it felt good, dancing with Brian again, his arms around him as the music blared in their ears.

As always it was too loud to talk normally, so Justin leant up and yelled into Brian's ear, "I missed this!"

Pulling back, Brian smiled before doing the same thing. "Yelling at me? You do that all the fucking time!"

Laughing, Justin closed his eyes again and kept on dancing.

After a couple of songs they both needed something to drink. Finding the rest of the guys by the bar, Justin knew they couldn't do the same thing - as far as Brian had come, spending the whole night standing next to a bar just seemed like a bad idea.

Luckily for him the competition was about to start. When the sound of trumpets blaring echoed through the club, Justin claimed he wanted to move forward to get a better view, and they moved into the crowd. It wasn't long before the rest of the guys were standing around them, and then the host for the evening arrived in style.

Obviously a drag queen, she was dressed in an Egyptian-style outfit - she was probably meant to be Cleopatra or something - and was being carried in on a throne by four practically naked and extremely well-built guys. Eventually lowered down and stepping out onto the stage, she dismissed her 'servants', introduced herself as Sheba, and started the evening with a few jokes. A few pretty lame jokes, if he were honest.

Still, things got better when the first dancer came out. Allegedly a firefighter, the guy came out in the full yellow uniform as the music began, and started stripping almost immediately. The crowd roared - they loved nothing better than hot guys who got naked.

Laughing at the reaction, Justin turned to look at Brian - and stopped laughing immediately.

While they'd been dancing together Brian had been fine - happy, even. But now he wasn't paying attention to the dancer at all. Frowning heavily, he mostly looked stressed - extremely stressed - and, following Brian's gaze, Justin realised he was staring at the bar.

Shit. Shit!

 

Okay. Okay. Just because Brian was staring at the bar didn't mean he was actually going to drink anything. And it was his first time in Babylon for months - it was only natural that he might be feeling weird, or pressured. Right?

Right.

Even if going back to Woody's hadn't seemed to affect him this much.

Trying to get Brian's mind back on the competition, Justin asked him what he thought of the first dancer. Brian said the guy was okay, but he couldn't make a real judgement unless the guy took his dick out.

When the song ended and the dancer's dick stayed inside his jock strap, Brian remained silent.

The next dancer was dressed as a cop - Justin wondered if any of these guys actually belonged to the profession they were stripping out of - and after a couple of minutes Brian started moving away. By now their ears had got used to the music, and they only needed to talk louder than usual instead of actually yelling.

"I have to take a piss."

"Okay!" Justin yelled back anyway, over-anxious. As Brian walked away Justin couldn't help but notice the looks he was getting from a lot of the guys in the club - and it wasn't the typical "He's hot," looks. They were, "Fucking hell - Kinney's back!" looks. Justin had been so wrapped up in enjoying himself earlier that he'd completely missed them, and realised they must've been contributing to Brian's mood.

Shit, he needed to do something to cheer Brian up, to make sure he wasn't thinking about drinking. Sex might work for a while, but he'd never actually been in the back room before and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that - this was *his* first time back to Babylon in months too, after all.

Another dancer came on stage but by then Justin had stopped paying much attention. He bit his lower lip, absently pacing towards the edge of the dance floor, trying to think what he could do that-

"Why the long face, sweetheart?"

Surprised, Justin turned to see Sheba standing next to him, smoking a cigarette. She'd changed costumes and ended up looking like some mutant version of Carmen Miranda. "Oh," he was too surprised to answer with anything but the truth. "It's my boyfriend."

"Isn't it always?" she said, commiserating. "So, what did he do?"

"It's not like that," Justin insisted, and suddenly the words just started pouring out of him. "It's just...he's an alcoholic and this is his first time coming back to Babylon since he stopped drinking, and I can tell he's starting to freak out and he was staring at the bar and everyone's staring at him because he was this big time stud and he's back here after months away, and I was thinking about letting him fuck me in the back room but I really don't know how I feel about having sex in front of other people because it happened in front of my best friend once and it was like the most embarrassing thing that ever happened."

Sheba stared at him, looking impressed as she blew out a puff of smoke. "Holy shit, kid. If you can go that long without taking a breath, you must give one hell of a blow job."

Flushing, Justin felt embarrassed - yet also a little bit better. Weird. "Uh, thanks. I think."

"You know," she said, "there *is* something else you could try."

"What's that?"

She looked meaningfully towards the stage, where there was a guy who didn't seem to be wearing much underneath a Buddhist monk's robe.

Justin's eyes bugged out. "No way!" He loved dancing, but that was down here among all the other guys who were dancing too. Getting up on stage in front of the huge crowd and being the only one dancing? No way. That was just too much attention.

"Just a suggestion," she shrugged, but still kept eyeing him with interest.

Raised voices suddenly made both of them look towards the dance floor, where Justin saw Brian arguing with some guy who was probably trying to pick him up.

"Will you leave me the fuck alone?!"

Fuck. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Justin swung back towards Sheba before he fully realised what he was intending to do. "I'll do it."

Smirking, Sheba took a drag on her cigarette. "'Atta boy. What's your name?"

He was going to do this. He was. "Justin."

"Well, Justin, I'll give you a sign when it's your turn. And you might want to think of what you want me to say about you when I introduce you. Good luck with your boyfriend." With a last puff of smoke, she turned away and started heading back towards the stage.

What the fuck had he just done?

Feeling dazed, Justin turned around and stumbled back towards Brian - nearly bumping into a guy wearing a cowboy hat in the process. "Sorry."

Yes, *Brian*. That was a good enough reason to be doing this.

"Where the fuck were you?"

It wasn't quite the greeting he'd envisioned. "Uh..." Right. This had to be a surprise. If he announced what he was intending to do, Brian would probably just laugh at him - and not in a good way. "Thought I saw someone I knew, that was all. It wasn't. Why?" he asked, taking the attention away from himself. "You need me to stick around to defend your honour, fair maiden?"

Frowning at him as if he had two heads, Brian grabbed Justin and pulled him close. "You sure you haven't taken anything tonight?"

"Just you," Justin teased as Sheba announced another dancer.

Brian's mood didn't get any better, and his interaction with people in general stayed around zero. He talked when Justin prodded him with questions occasionally, but mostly he ignored everyone - including the guys. Even David wasn't able to rile him up, when normally all he had to do to piss Brian off was breathe.

It was after they'd watched a biker and as a builder stripped - Justin was convinced they'd go through all of the Village People before the evening was done - that he saw Sheba waving at him. Making sure it was actually him she wanted he pointed at himself, and gulped when she nodded.

Shit! He hadn't expected it to be this soon - he'd barely thought of anything to say about himself. Clearing his throat, he peered up at Brian and made sure he hadn't noticed Sheba waving. "Need the bathroom," he tried to say casually. "Be right back."

Glancing away from the bar, Brian focused on him. "I'll go with you."

Fuck. Uh. "No. Seriously, Brian - I actually do need to go. We'll...go do something 'fun' when I get back, okay?"

"Fine," Brian snapped, turning away and pretending to be interested in the competition.

Sighing, Justin headed off towards the bathroom - for all of ten seconds. When he was sure no one was watching where he was going, he walked back around the crowd behind Brian, until he reached the side of the stage where Sheba was waiting.

"You took long enough!" she reprimanded, her eyes running over his clothes with disgust. "You didn't get a costume."

"You didn't tell me I'd need one," he pointed out, frustrated. "Can't I just strip out of my regular clothes?"

Hmming for a moment, Sheba's eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder at something. Pushing by him, she accosted the guy he'd nearly bumped into earlier, and in a matter of moments returned with the guy's cowboy hat and waistcoat. "Take your shirt off," she instructed. "Come on, hurry up. The song's almost over."

Cursing, Justin yanked his top off and passed it to her, sliding the waistcoat on. It had tassles hanging from the edges and exposed most of his chest, but at least it wasn't as tacky as it could've been.

Smiling with satisfaction, Sheba placed the cowboy hat on his head until it fit snugly. "There we go. Perfect! Now," she passed Justin's shirt off to someone, "what do you want me to say about you?"

Less than thirty seconds later Justin was anxiously waiting by the steps that'd lead him up onto the stage. Brian had to be wondering where the fuck he was by now.

He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

The builder dancer - wearing only a conveniently placed hard hat - walked off stage, and Sheba addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next dancer likes the Powerpuff girls, margheritas, and older men who fuck the shit out of him." The audience roared their approval. "I give you...Justin!"

The music started immediately, and so did Justin. He'd made the decision to do this, and nothing was going to make him back down.

The song was familiar and he started moving with the beat immediately. When he realised just how many people were watching him he closed his eyes for a moment - but then it began to sink in that they were cheering him on. All of the other dancers had been big, heavily muscled guys, but Justin looked nothing like them and was being encouraged anyway.

What the fuck had he been worried about? A big crowd of horny fags loved any guy who was about to take his clothes off.

Letting his body flow with the music, Justin made good use of the pole that'd been installed on the stage for the evening. He grabbed it with one hand and bent his body back as far as possible, he hung from it; he even grabbed onto it with both hands and folded his legs up, swinging his whole body around it.

Grinning the more he danced, Justin really started to enjoy himself. Rotating his hips, he slipped the waistcoat off and threw it into the audience. Somebody screamed as they caught it.

He thought he heard Emmett yell, "You go, girlfriend!"

Brian had to be having a shit fit by now.

Unzipping the fly on his cargo pants next, Justin slowly teased his pants down, taunting the crowd, until finally he let them drop and kicked them away.

Feeling surprisingly confident wearing only a cowboy hat and his underwear, Justin turned his ass towards the crowd and rubbed it deliberately against the pole - up and down, side to side. He had no intention of getting completely naked but, recognising that the song was about to end, he began teasing down the edges of his underpants, looking over his shoulder and arching an eyebrow at everyone watching - but really only hoping that Brian saw it.

When the song came to an end, Justin was almost sorry. Still exhilirated, he took the hat off and threw it out into the audience, and then lifted his arms up in triumph. That'd turned out to be seriously fun and, hopefully, also productive.

He was about to leave the stage and find Brian when Sheba appeared besides him. "I believe we have a winner!" Justin turned to look at her, stunned. "Everybody down on your knees - where I know you all want to be - for the new King of Babylon. His royal highness...Justin!"

Watching in disbelief as one of Sheba's servants brought a crown onto the stage - carefully placed on a regal looking cushion, of course - he could only start grinning as Sheba picked up the crown and placed it on his head.

Giving him a hug, Sheba whispered, "Now maybe you and your boyfriend will have something to celebrate, huh?"

Had she just let him win? Just to be *nice*? "I...thank you."

She gave him another squeeze before gently shoving him away. "Now go find your man."

Taking her suggestion, he waved at the crowd one last time before quickly picking up his clothes and taking the steps off the stage. There he bumped into the servant who'd brought up the crown, holding out his shirt.

"Uh, thanks," Justin said, eyeing the guy for a moment before pulling his pants back on and taking the shirt from him. He had to take his crown off while he finished getting dressed, but afterwards he put it back on - kind of proudly - and went in search of the cowboy guy.

He needn't have bothered - cowboy guy was already looking for him. And he must've found his hat, because he was wearing it again.

"Well, hey there," he greeted amicably, "you were great. Wanna hook up?"

"No thanks," Justin turned him down with a smile. "But thanks a lot for your help."

"No problem," the guy replied, taking the waistcoat from him and putting it back on. "Come and find me if you change your mind."

More than a little eager to find Brian now, Justin killed the small talk by walking away. As he made his way through the crowd he got more than a few remarks and congratulations. By the time he reached the gang, he was grinning like an idiot.

They were all staring at him in awe - except for Brian, who had his eyebrows arched and his tongue sticking into his left cheek.

The guys all started talking at once.

"That was amazing!"

"I can't believe you did that."

"Honey, you were *fabulous*!"

But quite honestly, Justin didn't care what anyone else had to say at the moment. The guy with the response he *did* care about was standing right in front of him.

"King Justin, huh?"

Justin beamed. "Yup," he absolutely knew what he wanted to do now. "And as my first official act as King of Babylon, I command that you take me to the back room and fuck me. Hard."

Tipping his head to one side as it he was debating whether or not to follow orders, Brian eventually conceded. "Who am I to deny the wishes of royalty?" Grabbing Justin's hand, he started tugging him towards the back room and away from the guys. "Bye bye, boys."

It felt like they were fucking in mere seconds. Justin barely had time to look around the back room and take in the whole experience before Brian was pushing him up against the wall, their mouths mashing together. Hands reached and yanked at zippers and buttons; Justin was turned around until he faced the wall, a lubed finger entering him quickly. Groaning at the sudden intrusion he tipped his head back; again when a second was added.

"Fuck me," he bit out, and Brian gave into that command too, slowing pushing his sheathed cock inside and waiting until Justin was ready before following the original order, and fucking him hard.

Brian had been right - Justin had serious exhibitionist tendencies. He'd loved dancing in front of everyone, and he loved this even more - knowing that strangers had to be watching; even getting off at seeing the two of them fuck. He didn't last long at all, coming with a loud groan when Brian bit gently on the side of his neck.

After Brian had come too and they'd cleaned up, readjusting their clothing, Brian turned him back around and kissed him. With the dancing and the sex, Justin was almost struggling for breath.

"I know why you did it," Brian said after he paused, then pulled away. "I know why you got up there and danced."

"Oh?" Justin asked, feeling faintly nervous.

"Yeah," he replied, reaching up to adjust the crown - and it was only then that Justin realised he'd fucked with the thing still on. "I know exactly why." Saying nothing more about it, he took a step back and tugged Justin away from the wall. "Come on. Let's go tell your loyal subjects that we're getting the fuck out of here."

Justin didn't mind that plan at all, but took the opportunity to look around the back room as they walked towards the exit. It was pretty much what he expected - low lights and guys fucking.

Wrapping an arm around Brian's waist, Justin smiled up at him and accidentally bumped shoulders with a guy who was walking into the back room.

"Oh! Sorry," Justin apologised.

Turning towards him, the guy paused and gave Brian a double-take when he recognised him. "So," the guy said bitchily, giving Justin a derogatory glance, "*this* is why you wouldn't let me finish that blowjob in the bathroom? I've scraped better looking things from my shoe." Sticking his nose up in the air, he flounced further into the back room as Justin tried desperately not to look shocked.

 

*

 

"So!" Justin forced out enthusiastically, trying not to run out of the back room at full-pelt, "let's go find the guys." Shit. *Shit*. There was no need to feel so fucking upset. Brian had never promised him *anything* about monogamy, and he'd purposefully not been thinking about the possibility that Brian was still fucking other guys - there were other things to worry about.

But now with it being thrust right into his face - so to speak - he couldn't *stop* thinking about it, couldn't ignore it, couldn't pretend that it wasn't an issue, and he pushed through the crowd in front of him. With the competition over everyone had started dancing again, and he fought to get through the thriving mass of bodies.

Brian's voice followed him, rising above the music. "Justin!"

"I'm fine!" he yelled back, not sure if Brian could actually hear him, but not wanting to turn around to make sure just then, either.

"*Justin*!"

"I said I'm-" A hand grabbed his arm. "Hey!" Swung around, Justin was suddenly being pulled towards the exit by his arm. He tried to yank it free but Brian was holding on so tightly he'd probably leave bruises. No one seemed to care that he was practically being kidnapped - did twinks get dragged out of here every fucking night?

Reaching the steps outside, Justin finally had enough room to properly plant his feet and yank his arm away from Brian. Storming down the steps, he was all set to leave and hail a cab when Brian caught up with him again, grabbing his shoulders.

"Will you calm the fuck down?"

Something snapped.

"I was scared out of my fucking mind, Brian!" Justin spat, surprising Brian so much that he released him and took a step back. It felt *good* getting this out, so Justin continued. "You were completely freaking out so *I* was completely freaking out, worried sick that you were gonna drink again, so I got up and danced for you - for *you*!" he kept yelling, not caring where the fuck they were. "Everything is for you! I work and I go to school and I go to the loft and see our friends and fuck and eat and the entire fucking time all I can think about is what I can do to make you feel better!" Pausing for breath, he was pleased to see how stunned Brian looked. "And when I was in there," he pointed towards the club, "worried out of my mind about you, you were getting your dick sucked. And I know - I fucking *know* you never promised monogamy, and I'm probably overreacting, but it's too much right now! So, if you don't mind, I need to be alone at the moment," he finished, effectively dismissing Brian.

Not that Brian was going anywhere.

"That's it?" he mocked. "One fuck up and you throw a princess parade?"

Typical. "Fuck you."

"What happened to the kid who said he'd always be around?"

Justin remembered saying that - Christ. "He got tired, Brian."

He wasn't impressed. "If you don't like something, do something about it - have some balls. Don't just stand there complaining."

"Whatever," Justin muttered, turning away, looking to see if he could escape through the other end of the alley.

But Brian grabbed him again, whirling him back around, his face leaning in so close it was almost touching Justin's. "Listen to me," he said, and Justin could feel Brian's breath against his skin, "are you listening?"

"Yes," he sighed heavily, annoyed.

Brian's hands clutched harder onto his upper arms. "You're fucking everywhere. You're in my head and my cock and my bed. You're there when I wake up and when I go to sleep. There are sketch pads on my coffee table and all kinds of shit in my fridge that I'll never fucking eat. You keep leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor, and the VCR's set to record cartoons that I know I'll probably end up watching even though I can't fucking stand them. You actually giggle when I tickle you in just the right spot, and you know exactly how to make coffee in the morning so I'll drink it. Jesus Christ, you're my *boyfriend*. Your *mom* fucking asked me how I feel about you," he paused, still glaring. "I didn't ask for fucking *any* of it. I didn't *want* any of it. I should hate you," his hands tightened, "I should fucking hate everything you stand for."

Maybe things had changed after all because, this time, Brian was fighting for him - and Justin wasn't as surprised as he probably should've been.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still pissed. "But you don't," Justin said firmly, deliberately holding Brian's gaze. "Because you love me."

Releasing him and stepping away, Brian turned around and cursed, running a hand through his hair. Hardly satisfied, Justin chased after him - and now it was his turn to do some grabbing.

Managing to get a hand onto the side of Brian's face, Justin grabbed onto both sides and forced his head down until they were looking at each other. "What did you say?" Justin demanded. "What did you say when Mom asked you how you felt about me?"

Nostrils flaring, expression dark, Brian's mouth clamped together and his jaw clenched before he finally got the words out. "That I care about you. That you've done more for me than anyone else in my whole fucking life."

Justin considered the implication. "How do I know you don't just want to be with me because you feel some kind of obligation?" He didn't really believe it - the idea of Brian being in any kind of romantic relationship at all, obligation or not, was too unusual - but he had to make sure. "That you 'owe' it to me?"

"No," Brian breathed. "It's not repaying a debt. It's a fucking addiction."

 

*

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