A/N: This story is complete. I will be posting probably a chapter a day while I am working on updating my two WIPS. This was actually supposed to be a St. Patrick's Day story, but personal events in my life prevented me from finishing it on time. Nevertheless, I hope you still enjoy it. Thank you as always to my beta, Gloria, who always provides me with invaluable assistance.

DISCLAIMER: QAF and its characters are the sole property of Showtime and Cowlip Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

Brian's head throbbed in perfect synchrony with the pounding on the loft door; groaning, he temporarily squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to escape from the obscenely bright sunshine pouring in from the windows out in the living room, but it did nothing to prevent the continual rap, rap, rapping on the metal of the door.

"Shit!" he finally snarled in defeat as he opened his eyes and turned his head to peer over at his small, Art Deco, chrome alarm clock, noticing it was 11:00. Groaning from the hangover he had managed to procure from way too much drinking at a new bar that had just opened last night, he turned to rise from the bed, slipping on his discarded pair of jeans lying nearby on the floor before trudging barefoot over to the door.

"Fuck," he uttered in dismay as he recognized the all-too-familiar, sing-song voice calling his name from the other side of the door; it was like an episode of Groundhog Day. Only this time he didn't have a hard-on he needed to hide. Why had he ever reconciled with this woman? Perhaps 'reconciled' was too strong a word. But in either case, he could blame Debbie for it. SHE had been the one who had revealed his cancer to her, and she had somehow managed to convince his self-righteous mother to 'give him another chance.' Like he needed one. But Debbie had still managed the impossible: he and his mother were speaking again, although theirs would certainly never be a very comfortable relationship. Somehow, though, they had arrived at a tolerable plateau: she wouldn't preach to him about his 'inequities and moral inturpitude' if he didn't mock her religion. Yep, the two of them were part of one, big happy family.

"Mom," he almost whined as he slid the door open a crack, his bedhead hair sticking up in every direction. "I thought we had agreed you would call first. Am I late for mass?" he couldn't help sarcastically replying as she pushed her way in none-too-gently, a platter of some sort clutched in her hands, covered with Reynolds wrap. Yep...Groundhog Day...

"You don't need to be so caustic, Brian," she chided him, her pruned lips pressed together disapprovingly. She glanced around, trying to be subtle but failing miserably.

"He's not here," Brian told her.

"I don't know what you mean," Joan responded stiffly as she walked over to the kitchen counter and placed the tray down. "I baked you some macadamia nut cookies and thought you might like them while they're still warm; that's all."

"Uh, huh." You're about as subtle as a linebacker rushing the quarterback, he couldn't help thinking as he reminded her, "I remember the last time you brought me baked goods. What do you want, Mom?"

Joan sighed. "Well, you'll be happy to know that Claire is taking me to church later today, so you're off the hook." She had the decency to at least appear a little uncomfortable as she hastened to add, "It's nothing, really."

Brian sighed as he stood there facing her, brushing his left hand through his hair restlessly as he replied, "Just tell me what you want and get it over with. I have other things to do before the year is over."

"Brian, it's only March."

"Exactly. Will you just get on with it?" he prodded her wearily.

Joan sighed as she finally nodded. "You remember your cousin Brady?"

Brian winced. "You mean that scrawny runt of Aunt Bridget and Uncle Phillip's you forced me to play with whenever they came to visit from Ireland? The one with the buck teeth that looked like a cross between a beaver and a garden gnome?"

"Brian, that was at least fifteen years ago," she reminded him sternly. "I'm sure he looks a lot different now."

Brian snorted. "Yeah, sure," he told her as he walked over to grab the coffee carafe and place it under the faucet to fill it with water. "Now he probably looks more like a telephone pole instead with pot holes on his face instead of acne."

"Brian, you don't have to be so tactless," Joan told him.

"Mom, either tell me what you want, or take your bribery offering and leave; I have an appointment with the trainer in an hour."

"I need you to keep Brady company."

"Excuse me?" Brian impatiently waited for the coffeemaker to finish part of its cycle - just long enough for a mugful to emerge - before he quickly grabbed the carafe and poured the strong contents into his cup, taking the sugar bowl and throwing an ungodly amount of sugar into it before hurriedly stirring it with a spoon out of the utensil drawer. He made his mother wait with barely controlled patience as he took a large sip before he finally asked, "What do you mean - "keep Brady company?"

"Brady is coming here to the States for a visit this week, and I promised Bridget and Phillip that you would keep an eye on him while he's here, that's all."

Brian's mouth gaped open. "That's all? Are you shitting me, Mother?"

"Brian - language..."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I have a JOB in case you haven't noticed. I can't be babysitting that runt while I'm working."

Joan affixed an icy stare on him as she replied, "He's the same age as you, Brian, and no doubt more mature." Her son gave her a pained look as she remarked, "He doesn't need 'babysitting.' I just thought it would be nice if you would show him around town and make him feel comfortable." She glanced around the open, large space as she commented, "You have plenty of room here to entertain your 'other' guests. So it shouldn't be a problem to let him stay here with you this week. He's not made of money like you are."

Brian looked at her aghast. "No way! He is NOT staying here with me! There're plenty of fleabag motels in town; speaking of which, dear mother, what about YOUR house? Since dear old Dad died, you should have plenty of room."

"Don't be ridiculous, Brian," was the scathing reply. "It would be unseemly for a grown man to be staying with a widow." Brian promptly snorted at that reply as she added, "I'm sure you can control your libido long enough to help out your family." She wrinkled up her nose. "Your...paramour - can stay with someone else for the week."

Brian laughed. "My paramour? What a quaint way of putting it, mother. Why in the fuck would I ever agree to let my beanpole cousin stay here with me? What possible motive would I have?"

"You owe me, Brian," his mother told him curtly. "You owe me for all the times I had to put up with your father's drunken sprees. Have you forgotten how many times I had to shield you from his violent temper?"

"Well, your aim wasn't too good, then," he told her as he took another gulp of the dark brew. "Try again."

"He's already on his way," she told him curtly as she hugged her coat tightly against her body, signaling her intention of leaving. "If you won't agree to help out, well, then, I guess I'll just have to expect YOU to take me to mass every week instead of Claire. And I know how much you would love that. Now I'm not going to argue with you about this further, Brian. It's just for a week."

"You cannot force me to play host for him!" Brian reiterated as she turned to head toward the door. He hurriedly slammed down his navy blue china mug as he hurried after her, almost colliding with her smaller frame as she whirled around by the door to face him.

"Quit acting like a little, petulant boy, Brian; you can surely give your cousin a place to stay for the week and help make his visit more enjoyable. I trust that you won't embarrass me with Bridget and Phillip. If you do, I will never forgive you."

She struggled to pull the heavy, metal door open as Brian retorted, "We can't have that, now can we?" Maybe that would be for the best, he couldn't help thinking. But why did he suddenly feel like that unsure, fragile little boy again? The one that so desperately wanted to earn his parents' love so maybe they would actually act like 'normal' parents did and be proud of him?

Before he could contemplate that dichotomy, however, his mother had somehow managed to pull the door open, tell him that his cousin had his phone number and 'would be in touch,' and rush away before he could object any further.

Later that Evening - Brian's Loft

Brian absentmindedly fiddled with Justin's hair by the side of his face in the aftermath of their passionate lovemaking, his partner lying on his side facing him as Justin's left hand slowly stroked his toned, slick skin in a lazy circle. He would never tell Justin this out loud, but he loved it whenever he let his hair grow longer. Of course, he had always enjoyed playing with his lover's hair and admired its softness. He quickly pushed that lesbionic-sounding thought aside as he lay there, feeling the warm, smaller body resting partly against his.

After a few moments, Justin lifted his head slightly to gaze up at the faraway look on Brian's face. "Brian?"

"Hmm?"

"You seem kind of distracted tonight."

Brian peered over at him to reply, "I'm fine, Justin. Was my fucking not up to par tonight or something? You've never complained before."

Justin huffed. "No, it's not that," he said, unable to keep from blushing as he thought about how intense their marathon round of sex had been a little earlier that night. They had started out in the shower as usual, and had progressed here to bed afterward. Now they were sticky and sweaty, which usually meant another round of fucking in the shower. Still...Brian's body may have given as good as he always did - maybe even more so - but he knew his partner well enough by now to know that something was on his mind; or someone. He had to know, as painful as it was.

"Do I need to leave?" he whispered at last as he averted his eyes downward. It wouldn't be the first time. It was not one of his favorite rules of Brian's. But he had decided when the two of them had reconciled that he would abide by his lover's wishes no matter what. Still...it hurt to think that he was merely a penciled-in appointment on Brian's hectic, crowded fucking calendar.

Brian frowned. "Why would you need to leave?"

"I...I just thought that maybe you might have someone coming over," he whispered. To his dismay, he heard Brian snort.

"Funny you would say that..."

Justin nodded glumly as he began to disentangle himself from Brian's embrace, only to have one strong arm clamp onto his waist.

"Where are you going?"

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not be here this time when your 11:00 shows up, okay?"

"Justin..."

"It's all right," he replied, trying hard not to let him know how much it really gnawed at him. It was his cross to bear, his penance to pay, since his fuck up with Ethan. That didn't mean he had to like it, however. "I get it. Just let me take a shower first."

"Justin, will you fucking wait a minute?" Brian groused, a little surprised by how much it bothered him that Justin automatically assumed he was having a trick over later tonight. Not that he didn't imbibe in them from time to time. Unbeknownst to his 'whatever he is,' though, he was finding the desire to do that less and less lately since the two of them had reconciled. In fact, most of the time he didn't even know why he felt the need to flaunt that fact in Justin's face. He supposed it was either the thrill of the hunt, or his usurping of power in their relationship. But still, he found himself perturbed by Justin's assumption.

"What, Brian?" Justin responded wearily, noting it was almost 10:30 now.

"I don't have anyone coming over here tonight."

Justin's eyes widened. "No?"

Brian shook his head silently as Justin paused for a moment to let that sink in. He finally turned to sit, Indian style, on the bed next to the other man as he commented, "Well, something's on your mind. What's going on?"

Brian, too, slid up to brace his upper body against the headboard as he informed him dryly, "I had an unexpected visitor today; someone bearing cookies."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, shit is right."

"What did she want?"

Brian rolled his eyes as he revealed his mother's request, although demand was probably more accurate. He frowned then as Justin promptly laughed in reaction to his disdainful expression. "It's not funny, Justin! I am NOT babysitting that walking advertisement for a loser billboard."

"Oh, come on, Brian! It's just for one week. Think how thrilled the guy will be with the opportunity to bask in your shadow. He can reel in all your rejects."

Brian harrumphed. "Reel in is the right term, all right; he has this tall, skinny body and lips that look more like a puffer fish." He shuddered. "If he stands anywhere near me in public and calls me 'Cousin Brian,' my reputation will be scarred for life."

Justin grinned. "Agreed; a fate worse than death."

Brian glared at him. "Go ahead, Justin! Make light of it. But you haven't seen him."

"He can't be THAT bad; after all, you share some of the same genes."

His lover bestowed a pained look on him. "Trust me; he makes Mick Jagger look like a stud. He had to have been adopted when no one else would take him."

Justin laughed. "Poor man. You, I mean."

"Keep going," Brian groused. "I'm glad YOU'RE getting such a kick out of it!" He sighed. "This is going to be an extremely long week." He paused as a gleam appeared in his eyes, and he curled his lips under. "Uh...Justin. Sunshine?"

Justin instantly narrowed his eyes in suspicion; he knew that tone of voice and it made him wary; very, VERY wary. "Yeah?"

"We're supposed to meet up tomorrow evening at Woody's, but I have a very important meeting with Jepson Aircraft in the afternoon."

"And?"

"...And I'm not sure how long it will take to wrap it all up. So, I was wondering..."

Justin sighed, knowing where their conversation was heading. "So you want ME to entertain him until you can get there," he correctly surmised as Brian pasted on his most engaging look, the one that always got him what he wanted. "What time is he supposed to meet you?"

Brian grinned triumphantly. "Eight o'clock. It would just be until I could get done...and maybe knock down a couple of Beams at Kinnetik so I can stomach the guy first."

Justin snorted. "You realize you are going to owe like me like a thousand blow jobs for this, right?"

"For this, it will be a small price to pay, trust me. So you'll do it?"

Justin sighed; did he really have any choice? "Okay...But just until you get there. And then YOU take over."

Brian smiled in satisfaction. "Deal."

Justin nodded with a smile. "Good...But one more thing..."

His lover groaned. "What?" he asked in trepidation.

Justin grinned smugly. "I require an initial down payment as proof of your sincerity that you will pay the loan back."

Brian smirked. "I think that can be arranged."