This is a gapefiller for Brian's cancer in season 4.

As always, I have to thank my wonderful Beta-reader, InconspicuousBunny. What would I do without you, girl? ;-)

I hope you guys like this! :-D

Justin closed the loft door and dropped the grocery bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter.

"Brian?" He called, knowing full well that his partner had to be home because the alarm hadn't been on when he had come in.

There wasn't any answer except for the sound of someone puking his guts out in the bathroom.

Justin was at Brian's side in an instant, rubbing the older man's shoulders and brushing his hair away from his forehead. He didn't say anything, knowing that Brian wouldn't appreciate his words of comfort when he was in such a vulnerable state. He just dropped onto the floor next to the brunet and held him from behind until the older man's stomach settled again. Justin hadn't expected to find him like this. He had been feeling better over these last few days. They had even started to have sex regularly again, which they hadn't been doing since "Ibiza" because of Brian's problems performing after the surgery.

When Brian was finished, he leaned back against Justin's chest, feeling miserable and shaky, and appreciating the younger man's silent support. He was exhausted, having spent the afternoon on the bathroom floor throwing up every ten fucking minutes. He felt Justin's lips on his hair and right temple, his hands lightly caressing his stomach, his chest and his arms, and the blonde's touch started to relax him little by little until he dozed off.

Justin didn't move. The fact that Brian had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor showed him exactly how exhausted he was, and he didn't want to wake him up unless it was completely necessary. Even if his leg was starting to feel numb from lack of blood circulation.

He didn't have to wait too long.

A few minutes later, Brian stirred, opened his eyes and threw himself over the toilet to throw up again. What he was still finding to throw up, he didn't know. He certainly didn't have anything left inside his stomach, but the nausea wouldn't subside. Justin's hands were on his shoulders again, half supporting his weight, half offering consolation. When he was finished again, he let his head fall onto Justin's shoulder.

"Fuck," he moaned, feeling helpless and hating how he was showing such weakness, even if there was just Justin there.

The younger man kissed his neck lovingly and nuzzled his forehead with his nose.

"You should get into bed," he mumbled against Brian's soft skin.

Brian shook his head, sighing tiredly.

"I'll be back here in a few minutes anyway," he answered, his voice hoarse and faint.

"How long have you been in here throwing up?"

"Since noon."

"God, you must be dehydrated!" Justin exclaimed. "Come on, let's get you to bed. I'll bring you a basin, there's no need to be lying down on the bathroom floor."

It was quite the accomplishment getting Brian into bed. By the time he was tucked between the sheets with a basin and a bottle of water on the bedside table, Justin was more than worried. The side effects of the radiotherapy had never been that severe before. Brian was absolutely exhausted. He hadn't even complained about Justin's help, nor had he resisted it. So, when Brian dozed off again, Justin called his oncologist and explained to him the state Brian was in.

"Okay… Today is Thursday…" the doctor started, in a thoughtful voice. "Tell him not to come tomorrow for his treatment. We will give him a day plus the normal treatment-free weekend to recover, and we will start on antiemetics next Monday."

"What can I do for him right now?" Justin asked. "I'm kind of worried about him."

"The nausea should subside soon," the doctor answered, his voice calm and very reassuring. "When it does, get him to eat some soup or something similar, nothing strong and not a lot of it. Infusions are okay too. And you can prepare some homemade saline solution to help him replace liquids and electrolytes."

"How do I do that?" Justin asked.

"It's easy," the doctor assured him. "Just boil a liter of water for five minutes and then let it cool. When it's lukewarm, add the juice of one lemon, two tablespoons of sugar, one teaspoon of bicarbonate and half a teaspoon of salt."

Justin wrote it down hurriedly, not wanting to forget anything. He heard the sound of Brian vomiting again in the bedroom, and he flinched.

"Okay, I got it," he said then. "Thank you, doctor."

"No problem, it's my job," the doctor answered in a kind voice. "It's good that he has you to take care of him, Mr. Taylor. I'm not one to talk about my patients' private lives, but I was worried when he didn't tell anyone about the surgery. I'm glad there's someone with him now, and I can tell he's feeling emotionally better just for having you around."

"Um… thanks…" Justin mumbled, surprised by the doctor's words.

"And by the way, tell Brian not to go to work tomorrow. He should rest," the doctor added.

"I will," Justin answered. "Thanks again."

As soon as he hung up, he walked into the bedroom. Brian was awake, and he was leaning over the basin. Justin sat down on the edge of the bed and handed him the bottle of water.

"Here. Drink as much as you can," he ordered. Brian grabbed the bottle and took a few sips before grimacing and handing it back. "I called your oncologist," Justin informed him then, taking his hand. "He said the nausea should be over soon."

"Thank God," Brian moaned faintly.

"He also said that you don't have to go to radiation until next Monday," Justin explained, smiling a bit when Brian's face lit up slightly. "And that you're NOT to go to work tomorrow."

"I have an important meeting with Remson tomorrow morning," Brian said, letting himself fall against the pillows again. "I have to go."

"Call Cynthia and tell her to reschedule it," Justin said firmly. "You're not going to Kinnetik tomorrow, Brian, and that's final."

The older man looked up at him in annoyance. But when he met Justin's eyes he saw that his mind was all set, so he nodded reluctantly. When Justin had his "stubborn face" on, he knew the fight was lost to him. And he didn't have the energy to try, anyway.

"I won't tell her to reschedule, though," he said as an afterthought, when Justin got up to bring him the phone. "She and Ted can manage without me."

"Whatever, as long as you aren't there," Justin answered.

While Brian talked to Cynthia, Justin took the recently used basin and emptied it on the toilet, scrunching his noise at the pungent odor of the vomit. He rinsed it in the sink and then dried it with a towel, and after that, he left it again on the bedroom's floor within Brian's reach. When he was done, he went into the kitchen and started boiling the water. He could hear part of the conversation from there.

"… Just tell him I'm sick…"

…

"… It's not your job to tell me what I can or cannot do. Something came up. I'm going to be out of town the whole weekend."

…

Brian laughed humorlessly at whatever answer Cynthia had just spurt out, and Justin flinched at the eerie sound.

"If I want to 'keep pulling Ibizas on you', I will. I'm your boss."

…

"… I seriously don't pay you to lecture me, so cut it out if you don't want me to… oh, fuck…"

Justin heard the sound of the phone dropping followed by the sound of Brian throwing up again. Sighing, he walked into the bedroom and took the discharged phone. When he put it on his ear, he could hear Cynthia's frantic voice.

"… Brian? Brian, I'm getting worried over here, answer me!"

"Hey, Cynthia," Justin greeted her.

"Justin? What the hell is going on?" the woman asked, worriedly.

"Listen, Brian really can't go in tomorrow," said Justin, bending over the bed to rub Brian's neck.

"Yeah, I figured, with the vomiting noises and all…" she answered, sounding both ashamed of having thought otherwise and worried as hell. "But why the hell didn't he say he was sick? Is that why he's been losing so much work? Has he been to a doctor?"

Justin paused for a few seconds, and then decided to answer the easiest question of the three.

"Um… Yeah, he's been to a doctor. He ordered him to stay home tomorrow, so… can you and Ted cover for him or do you prefer to reschedule the meeting?" Justin asked then.

"We'll cover for him, no problem," Cynthia answered. "But what's wrong with Brian? He's never lost this much work before…"

"Uh…" Justin didn't know what to say. It was Brian's place to tell her, not his. Brian sighed from the bed.

"Tell her to ask Theodore," he mumbled, curling into a fetal position tiredly. "He knows."

"Cynthia, Brian says that you can ask Ted," Justin repeated, relieved. "Ted knows."

"I will," Cynthia answered. "God, I hope it's nothing…"

"Hope again," Justin whispered to her, seeing that Brian had, yet again, fallen asleep and couldn't hear him. "I mean, he's going to be alright, but… Well, it's not something exactly small, you know."

"Uh… Well, I'm glad he has you there, Justin," Cynthia said, sounding even more worried.

"I am too," Justin answered, trying not to think that it was the second time in a few minutes that someone had told him that having him there was good for Brian. Justin would rather have a cancer-free Brian than have him needing his help to such extent. "Talk to you soon, Cynthia."

"Sure. Take care of him."

"I will."

After peering at Brian and checking that he was still asleep, Justin went back to the kitchen and took the saucepan out of the heat to let the water cool. By the time Brian awoke again, Justin had cleaned the basin again and had bottled the homemade serum. When he saw Brian sitting up on the bed, he poured a glass of the mix and brought it to him.

"What is this shit?" Brian asked, eyeing the glass doubtfully.

"Something your oncologist asked me to give you," Justin answered. "It will help you replace liquids and electrolytes."

"Thank you, PSA man," Brian mumbled teasingly, rolling his eyes. But he grabbed the glass and took a small sip. "It doesn't taste that bad," he said, sounding surprised.

"Good, 'cause you have to drink a lot of it," Justin smiled, sitting down again on the edge of the bed and playing with Brian's fingers. "You sound better."

"I feel better," Brian admitted. "The fucking nausea is almost gone."

"That's great," Justin said. Brian really looked better, but Justin could see that he was more than exhausted. If he was feeling better, he shouldn't have awoken yet. "Did I wake you up?"

Brian shook his head.

"I had a nightmare, I think," he said, sounding uncertain.

Justin pecked him lightly and stroked his hair softly.

"It's just as well, because you should eat something," he said. "Are you up for some chicken soup?"

Brian grimaced.

"Thai sounds better," he said, closing his eyes tiredly.

Justin laughed and squeezed Brian's hand lightly.

"Well, you sure are better if you can think about Thai food," he said. "But sorry, you can't eat anything strong. Doctor's orders."

"Fuck doctors," Brian mumbled, half asleep.

"Behave," Justin smiled, patting Brian's hand. "I'll wake you up when the soup is ready."

"Mmmhm…" was his only answer.

Brian threw up a few times during the night, and he threw up a few times on Friday too. But Friday night was the first night in a week that he was able to sleep soundly and without waking up with intense waves of nausea. He didn't even have nightmares.

Justin left early on Saturday morning because he had the morning shift at the diner. Brian was asleep, and Justin didn't wake him up. He figured that Brian needed to sleep as much as he could, and his sleep was deeper than ever that morning. He didn't even stir with the noises Justin was making while doing his daily routines.

But one hour after Justin's departure, a persistent but polite knock on the loft door woke Brian up. He grunted and got up slowly, trying to guess who the hell was at his door on a Saturday morning so fucking early. It couldn't be Justin; he knew the blond was at the diner, and he had a key of his own. Half way to the door, he remembered: he had arranged a meeting with Jennifer Taylor earlier in the week to sign a few more documents for Kinnetik's offices. He should have cancelled it… But since she was there, it was better if they got it over with.

As soon as Jennifer took a look at Brian, she couldn't help herself.

"Holy fuck, you look like shit! What the hell happened to you?"

Brian invited her in with a wave of his hand, amused. It was obvious that Jennifer had been spending too much time with Debbie lately. Whatever happened with her WASP-esque way of speaking?

"Why, thank you, Mother Taylor. And good morning to you too," he smirked tiredly.

Jennifer looked ashamed of herself for her sudden outburst, but she was more worried than ashamed, so she decided that she couldn't let it go. Brian looked horrible.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked, surprising Brian. She had never called him by a term of endearment before. Hell, she had never worried over him before.

But, of course, he couldn't hide that he had been feeling like hell lately. He was haggard and weak, he had lost enough weight for it to be noticeable, and he hadn't shaved in two days.

Fucking cancer.

"Yeah, of course," he answered, politely but curtly. He didn't need her smothering him too. Debbie and Michael had been doing a lot of that lately, and he was sick of it. It was bad enough that he had been forced to rely on Justin so much in the last few days. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Brian…" Jennifer sighed, walking up to him and pressing a hand to his forehead in a motherly gesture. "Are you sick? You should probably be in bed. Jesus, you're so skinny! Can I do something for you? Are you eating enough? Have you been to a doctor? Do you need anything? I can go buy you some medicine if you…"

"Jennifer," Brian interrupted, quite taken aback by her worry. "I don't need anything, and I've already been to enough doctors to last a lifetime. Can we get this business over with so I can go back to bed?"

"What do you mean, you've been to enough doctors?" she asked then, sounding even more worried. "Brian, is everything okay? And please, don't lie to me. I can tell you're doing it, you know. I'm a mother."

Brian rolled his lips inward, cursing to himself. She wasn't going to let it go. Well… he had told Debbie already, so it was just a matter of time until everyone knew about the cancer. It was probably better to go through her reaction before everyone else came knocking on his door to make him insane with their worry, their mothering and their scolding.

"I'm okay now, so please, don't go all mother hen on me," he advised, and then he took a deep breath. He needed to prepare himself to say it out loud, which was still difficult for him. "I was diagnosed with cancer a month ago."

All blood drained from Jennifer's face.

"W-what?" she whispered.

"I said I'm okay now," Brian said hurriedly, seeing how the woman was taking the news harder than he'd thought she would.

But Jennifer was freaking out. Her lips were as white as a ghost. She even teetered, and Brian had to take her arm fearing that she was going to fall and break her neck.

"You have… cancer?" she whispered again.

Brian led her to the sofa before answering.

"Yeah, but they already got it," he assured her while fixing her a shot of bourbon. She probably needed the warming of the alcohol to recover from the shock. "The doctors say I'm going to be just fine. It was in a very early stage."

She accepted in a haze the shot of golden liquid and drained it without even hesitating. A little of color went back to her cheeks and lips, and she coughed at the burning sensation of the alcohol descending through her throat.

"But… what kind of cancer?" she asked with a trembling voice, raising her glass towards Brian to get a refill.

"Testicular cancer," shrugged Brian, fixing her another small shot. "I had surgery, and now I'm…"

"You had surgery?" Jennifer asked, in a high pitched voice. "How come I didn't know that? When was it? Was it here in Pittsburgh? And who went with you, my son?"

"I didn't tell anyone, it was a few weeks ago, it was in Baltimore and no one went with me because no one knew," Brian answered calmly. Jennifer opened her mouth, and it was obvious that she was going to reprimand him, so he stopped her short. "I'm a big boy, Mother Taylor, and it was my decision," he reminded her.

"Well, you don't behave very grown up sometimes," she scolded him.

Brian lifted an eyebrow then, but he didn't say anything. Jennifer was looking at him with an expression that was making him uncomfortable, as if she was going to start crying or something.

"So, you are okay now?" she asked, and her voice almost broke, making Brian wince.

"Yeah. I'm undergoing radiotherapy," he answered. "That's why I look like shit. I've been throwing up non-stop these last few days. But I'm going to be okay… or that's what the doctors tell me, anyway."

"Who knows now?" Jennifer asked, draining her second shot as if it was water. "And please, don't tell me no one knows…"

"Justin knows," Brian answered, taking her glass away. Jennifer was a lightweight drinker, and she had to drive to go back home. "Mikey, Ted and Cynthia, my Personal Assistant, know too. And I told Debbie a few days ago."

"Oh, honey…" she said then, and Brian cursed when he saw her eyes watering. "Oh, sweetie…"

"Please, Jennifer…" he said, frowning tiredly. "I told you, I'm okay. Come on, you don't even like me that much. Don't start crying over this."

But she was sniffing quietly already, and she had started shaking her head even before Brian had finished speaking.

"I do like you, Brian," she said, her voice sweet and her eyes honest. "I may have not liked you at first, but I've grown to love you as my son's partner. I care about you."

In that moment, Justin opened the loft door, saving Brian the troublesome task of answering to that statement in a tactful way. He didn't do well with tears, and at that moment he just wanted to run and hide.

"Hey," Justin said. "Hi, mom."

Jennifer looked up at him and offered him a watery smile. Justin looked alarmed at his mother's appearance, so Brian started to explain before the blond left free reign to his imagination and started to queen out.

"I just told her about the…" Brian cleared his throat. Christ, it was really difficult saying it out loud. "… The cancer," he finally said.

"You…" Justin started, looking at Brian with incredulity. "What! You told her!"

"Didn't intend to, but she wouldn't take no for an answer," Brian explained. "Christ, like mother, like son," he added then. He was totally out of his comfort zone now, and he couldn't help being a bit rude. Jennifer and Justin knew him enough to let it slip, though.

"I just… It took me by surprise, I guess… I'm sorry," Jennifer said, wiping her tears and trying to regain her composure.

"Can I sign whatever papers you have for me now?" Brian asked, hoping to God that Jennifer would just stop her emotional reaction and behave normally.

"Of course," she sniffed, looking around for her briefcase. She had dropped it near the door, and Justin retrieved it for her. "Thanks, honey."

Justin sat next to his mother, knowing that Brian was still uncomfortable and would rudely and harshly avoid any physical interaction he could offer to him. Except sex, of course. And that couldn't happen until his mother left.

He wasn't mistaken. As soon as Jennifer was out of their sight (after hugging both Justin and Brian, much to the horror of the brunet), Brian pushed Justin against the loft's door and started kissing him hard. Justin fought the smile that threatened to appear on his face.

It was always nice to be right.

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