"You really pissed me off you know." Justin's fingers idly toyed with the edge of the duvet as he sat next to Brian on the bed. Both men very carefully not looking at each other.
"Obviously. I was the one on my ass." Brian fixed Justin with a look. Justin had the good grace to blush, but not because he was sorry. He would have preferred it if things had gone differently, but he was good with the result. Brian was not going to shut him out this time, come hell or high water.
"It really hurt that you'd hide something like that from me. Especially with our history." Justin passed him a bottle of water, more for something to do than anything. He didn't want Brian to bolt, but they really needed to have this conversation.
"I get it okay. I get it." Brian sank back further into the pillows. It had been a bitch of a day and that was before he got tossed on his ass.
"I don't think that you do, Brian. I don't think you have any idea how much you hurt me. I have to hear from your answering machine that you have cancer. Fucking cancer, Brian! Then I foolishly decide to go to Michael for advice and he decides we should play along with your stupid little game and pretend we don't know your whole world just got turned upside down. And then HE fucking falls apart in your arms, but I literally get thrown out the door without so much as a warning. You have no idea, Brian. You have no fucking idea." Justin's voice was oddly calm and quiet. Brian expected more yelling and flailing hands. No one would believe it, but he didn't generally enjoy being a dick to Justin. He was usually trying to protect one of them the best way he knew how.
"I'm so damn mad and scared and hurt, Brian, it makes it hard for me to think sometimes. But that is not what is important right now. Getting you healthy again is. So we're going to worry about that first and everything else later. I get that you don't want to tell everyone and deal with their reactions, their pity, and the inevitable mothering, especially from Deb, but you should tell Lindsay. She would want to know and she should hear it from you. Not from someone else. She'll be furious if she finds out from someone else."
"Lindsay will have my one good ball in a jar if she finds out from someone else." Brian knew Justin was right, he just didn't know if could tell her. He honestly tried to tell Justin the night he left for the hospital, but the words just wouldn't come. He thought about that moment all the way to Baltimore. "I'll think about it."
When he told Ted, it was so simple. But Justin? Lindsay? Michael? Definitely not simple.
There wasn't much more that could be said on the subject. Justin couldn't force him to tell anyone and he knew exactly how it felt to find out from someone else, so he wasn't going to run around spreading the news. If Brian didn't want to share this, then there was nothing he could do.
"I'll let you sleep." Justin smiled and fussed with the covers as Brian eye's slid shut.
He quietly closed the bathroom door behind him and stepped into the shower. He needed a few minutes to cry and get it out of his system where Brian wouldn't see or hear it. The day had taken a toll on him as well, but he didn't want to show any weakness or pity around Brian. That would be the worst thing possible right now. A quick, hard cry was just what he needed. It was an entirely different kind of release than this shower was used to seeing.
Composed again, Justin slid the bathroom door open and carefully looked at Brian sleeping. The way Brian curled up on his side, as if protecting his groin, was new and Justin once again chastised himself for not seeing the signs sooner. No one knew Brian's body better than he did, how the hell could he have missed a lump? Or not known something was seriously amiss with all of the strange behavior before and after "Ibiza". And since when did he need Michael to tell him what Brian needed? He thought he was on to Brian, but obviously not as much as he thought. That would have to change.
He'd brushed up on the "Kinney Operating Manual" and mentally started writing a new chapter about dealing with a sick Brian. He had been doing all kinds of research on testicular cancer and had even gone to the GLC and talked to one of the counselors there about what to expect. He was as ready as he could be and he didn't plan on being pushed out the door again.
Brian woke up nauseous and still tired. The little bit of soup he ate decided to make an encore appearance and he quickly headed for the bathroom. He had been dealing with this on his own, so far, and forgot Justin was still in the loft. As Brian slumped against the wall waiting to see if there would be a round two, Justin got a clean washcloth from the shelf and wet it and filled a glass of water. Brian looked surprised for second, but was too worn out to be an ass about having any kind of help.
"Thanks." Brian could tell by looking at Justin and around the bathroom that Justin had taken a shower while he napped. He had also been crying.
"Want to watch a movie? I'll get you something to drink while you clean up."
Brian took a quick shower and changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. Justin rounded up the movie, drinks, and some 'easy on the stomach' snacks in case Brian actually wanted eat. He'd read how important it was to keep up his nutritional intake. They settled on the big floor cushions and relaxed into each other. Brian couldn't escape the irony that it was the best he'd felt in days.
Between the radiation and trying to keep up at the office, there was little time or energy for anything else. The radiation left Brian sick and exhausted. Any energy he had left went to clients and employees. They were still bringing in new staff to Kinnetik and setting up the office. He was impressed with how well Ted and Cynthia were covering for him. He knew he could count on Cynthia, but Ted was proving to be a nice surprise. Not that he was going to tell Ted that. But clients didn't come to Kinnetik for Ted or Cynthia, they came for him. The accounts he had stolen away from VanGard were too new. His agency was too new. He needed to be there.
Most nights he fell into bed and was asleep within minutes. If he was lucky, he'd manage a couple of hours before he'd wake up in a cold sweat from the many nightmares that haunted him now. The doctors and nurses explained everything in vivid detail. What they hadn't, television shows had managed to show in Technicolor. He was never watching Discovery Channel again. Having been through this part himself, Justin understood and gave him space. He couldn't talk about the nightmares, but Justin understood that, too.
He hated how sitting on the floor waiting for the next round of vomiting gave you time to think about all sorts of things you'd rather not think about at all. He hated that Justin wanted to see his incision. He hated that he was suddenly self-conscious. He hated the way Justin swore there was no difference between the two. One was plastic and one was him, how could Justin possibly say they were the same? Could other people tell he had cancer? Could they look at him and see that he was different? He wasn't young and beautiful anymore, he was sick and diseased. Could they tell that, god help him, he couldn't get it up? That by all medical accounts, he should be able to by now, but he couldn't. He and Justin could manage a fair amount of foreplay, but when they got right down to the main event… It was humiliating. He could just imagine what the cunty queens on Liberty would do with that tasty morsel of gossip!
He hated that Justin would cry in the shower or at Daphne's, but Michael would weep in his arms. He hated himself for not setting either of them straight, but he just didn't have it in him. He hated himself for taking comfort in their presence but wanting them gone at them same time. He hated being sick, weak and vulnerable.
He spent a lot of time thinking about Vic. He knew Debbie's anger towards him was mostly her own regret over her fight with Vic. But what if it had been his funeral and Gus said the same thing about him? Would be okay with that? He didn't think so.
It was his way of dealing with things to minimize them. To make them seem less important than they really were so that he could have time to deal with them in his own space, in his own way, in his own time. He was good at mentally putting things into little boxes and putting the boxes away behind a big solid door until he could handle opening them again. Some boxes never got opened. It was the only was he knew how to cope. Debbie and Michael of all people should have known and seen it for what it was.
But in the end, all of this extra time to think led him to the conclusion that he'd like to have that moment back. He'd like to do that one over again. Not for himself, not for Debbie, but for Vic because he really did care about Vic and nothing is the same without his loud shirts and quiet wisdom.
The night he ran into Debbie at the diner, he was tired, overworked, and pissed. Debbie needed to get over herself. Brian knew she'd never make the first move. He'd been Brian The Asshole for too long. So he gave the closest thing to an apology he could manage and then told her he has cancer.
He didn't think much of it when Debbie mentioned his mother on the street. He hadn't told the mother of his child yet. Why would he tell Joan or Claire? He has thought of Jack though. Dear old Dad passing on another loving trait for him to overcome. As if all of the other crap he'd had to overcome in his life already wasn't enough. Jack was probably laughing his ass off from the bowels of hell. "The fairy has testicular cancer." He could hear it just as clearly as if they were back in the garage again. "Gonna put a crimp in your style, eh, Sonny Boy?"
If Debbie thought he was going to find comfort from Joan, surely her wig was on too tight.
He'd have no choice now but to tell Lindsay. Once Debbie Novotny knew something, everyone on Liberty Avenue knew it. He had a very small window of opportunity to get to Lindz before she heard it from someone else and roasted him worse than the radiation.
Chez Peterson-Marcus had never looked more intimidating. He had done a fine job of ignoring/resisting/obsessing over Justin's suggestion for days, but after seeing Deb on the street, things had changed. He had to tell her. He had to tell her now.
He'd told Justin about his encounter with Deb and his plans to see Lindz first thing in the morning. If Justin was surprised, he didn't show it. Before they left the loft, Justin called and asked Mel if she'd like to go with him to breakfast. And that suited Brian just fine. As much as he would have liked Justin to be there to run interference with Lindsay's tears, he also knew it would be worse to have Mel around for this conversation. He would never forget the conversation over the life insurance and the last thing he wanted to hear was how he deserved this because of his life style. Mel's condescension or worse, pity, was not something he was up to today…or ever. Let Justin or Lindsay tell Mel and deal with whatever she had to say.
"You sure you're okay. You don't look so good and you were sitting out in the car for ages." Lindsay had the door open before he could knock.
"And I could clearly see Justin's head, so I know 'nothing came up' while you were out there." Mel snarked as came up behind Lindsay with Gus. Brian's face went dangerously blank.
"Well, how about Mel and I take Gus for some breakfast or a walk in the park?" Justin plastered on his best fake smile and prayed Mel would just go with it.
The look that passed between Mel and Lindz clearly said they knew something was up, but they would go along with it. Mel began bundling Gus and Justin grabbed the diaper bag that was by the door. Brian headed for the couch while Lindsay watched them drive away.
"What's wrong?" Lindz must have learned a thing or two from Mel. No offers of coffee or breakfast, just right for the jugular. He wondered where those country club manners she was usually so proud of had gone.
Two could play at that game. "I have cancer." He realized that the words come out easily enough, but still had said them to Justin. There a pattern to his life that Freud would have a field day with.
Before either of them could say anything, Brian bolted for the bathroom. He wasn't sure which was worse being sick or Lindsay's decorating sense. How both of his closest friends ended up having no fashion sense still eluded him.
Lindsay heard him retching, but was too shocked to move. When he came back to the couch, pale and sweaty, Lindsay was still in the same spot. It took him calling her name to get her to sit down next to him.
"Okay, tell me."
"What do you want to know?"
"All of it. Everything. What kind? What are your chances? What needs to be done? When did you find out? What can I do?"
The only person he knew more tenacious than Justin was Lindz.
"In order, testicular, very good but only time will tell, I've already had surgery and radiation is underway, the night Vic died, nothing except maybe keep Mel away from me."
He mentally placed bets on what she was going to latch onto first. He put Kinnetik's bonus from Brown Athletics on the fact that he had the surgery already.
"Oh my God." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"You had surgery and didn't tell me!" She jumped up and yelled. Brian wondered why there was never a bookie around when you need one.
"The night Vic died? Did you know before you went there? Is that why you said what you did?" She didn't let him answer before she asked the next question. "And all the talk about Ibiza and just disappearing, you knew then, didn't you? You were telling us what you were going to do, weren't you? You shit! You were just going to run off and not tell anyone!" She paced back and forth in front of the couch, practically shouting. "You were going to go off and die and not even tell us you were sick. What the hell was I supposed to tell your son, huh? What explanation would have been good enough for Gus?"
He decided to stop her before she started shrieking. "Lindsay." She was still going on with her questions and didn't even register that he was speaking to her. "Lindsay!"
Her eyes narrowed on him. "You weren't going to tell me. What the hell was I supposed to tell your son, huh?"
Well, shit. He though. That was probably the one thing he hadn't thought of when he was making his plans for Ibiza.
"Lindsay, please." He sat up and motioned to spot on the couch next to him.
Brian Kinney doesn't often say please, so she settled in beside him. His voice was quiet and raspy from throwing up. "Gus is exactly why we are having this conversation." Justin, too, but she didn't need to know that. "I was all ready to leave, go to Ibiza, when you brought him over that day." He paused to let that sink in.
"I didn't want anyone to know…"
"Justin didn't know?"
He could only shake his head.
"How could he not know?" He didn't respond. There were too many conflicting thoughts there to deal with while he was trying to deal with Lindsay.
"I wasn't going to fight the cancer, but you brought Gus over. When you left I ended up changing my plans. I didn't want anyone to know because I can't deal with cancer and everyone else. I can't handle the pity or the smothering or the rumors or having to discuss my health with everyone. I can't have people changing the way they look at me or think of me or act around me because of this and I can't let my clients find out."
"Maybe it's just my ego, but I can't deal and all of my energy is expended on the treatments and keeping my business in business. There just isn't anything left for dealing with other people. I can't listen to people tell what they think or how they feel. I want to avoid as many of the comments about losing a ball as I can."
She looks shocked, like it hadn't even occurred to her.
"They took…" He silenced her with a look.
"I'm not responsible for what I do to the first person who tells me I deserve this for the way I live my life. You might want to mention that to Mel."
"Mel would never…" He gave her The Look again.
"Life insurance?" Her face said it all and she closed her mouth before saying anything else.
"So what do you have to do now?" She changed course.
"Finish the radiation treatments and then follow up testing with more follow up every three months for the first year."
"What can I do?"
"Nothing and I mean it. I don't need another mother. I don't need a nursemaid. I don't need a maid. All I need is for everyone to leave me alone and let me concentrate on what I need to do."
"Does your mother know?"
He wondered what the hell it was about women and mothers.
"No and I have no intention of telling her or Claire, so butt out." She threw her hands up in mock surrender and tried to lighten the tone a bit.
"Will you promise to tell me if there is something I can do?"
"If I must." He sighed dramatically, knowing it would make her happy and let them move on. He thanked gods he didn't even believe in that she hadn't cried. He knew she would, but she hadn't done it in front of him.
When Justin and Mel came back, he spent a few minutes playing with Gus before heading back to the office. He gave Justin the Cliff's Notes version of his talk with Lindsay and Justin gave him the highlights from the talk with Mel. If Mel had anything shitty to say, Justin wisely kept it to himself. Before they parted ways at the office, Brian asked Justin to stock up on snacks and juice for Gus the next time he was at the store. He knew Pit Bull Peterson would find a dozen reasons why she and Gus 'just had to see him' in the coming weeks. As he watched Justin leave, he wondered how he ended up with not one, but two tenacious blonds in his life.
The past couple of days had been more stressful than usual. Brian managed to get enough done at the office that he felt like he could take a short break for lunch. He couldn't work out, but the steam room was always a good place to relax and he thought it might help the other 'problem' he'd been having since the surgery. Being "Brian Fucking Kinney" may be an image he created, but it's was still a part of him. Having great sex on a very regular basis was a huge part of that image and the man behind it. It fucking scared the hell out of him to think he may not be able to get past this.
The steam room was as hot as ever, literally and figuratively. He was relaxed and turned on until he realized that the gorgeous stud behind him had got nothing but soft flesh in his hand. He chastised himself for doing this in public where people could see his failure. The rumors would start any second now.
His mood was anything but good back at the office, but work is an effective distraction. Home had no such distractions. Justin kept busy in the kitchen while he tried to relax. Lindsay's voice kept coming back to him though. 'How could he not know?'
Even he was not so fucked up as to blame Justin for cancer, but how did Justin miss that something was so incredibly wrong? How many times had Justin said "I'm on to you." Yet, he never questioned being turned down for sex – more than once. That should have been like a neon billboard that something was wrong. All of the tests and doctor's appointments and Justin never questioned it. Even when Brian came back from his so-called trip, exhausted and in pain, he looked right Brian and never put it all together. When did he stop pushing? When did Justin stop wanting more? And the mother of all questions; how was it that neither of them found the lump? They were both down there often enough! Why did it take a trick to find something so important?
He has worked himself into quite the mood already when Justin hands him a cup of tea that is supposed to be some magic potion from Master Nee. For as insightful as Justin can be sometimes, he can also be as clueless as Mikey. Then again, he can claim youthful ignorance, Mikey can't. He wonders what the fuck is wrong with those two sometimes.
Does Justin honestly think he doesn't want to fuck as much as he does? Does he really think this isn't making him crazy? That some cup of tea can make him feel less humiliated? Less scared? Can it erase the images in his head? Can it take away the nightmares and the endless worry? If it rekindles the fire in his life gate, will it take away the sickness in the rest of him? There is a fucking piece of plastic where a vital part of his anatomy used to be and Justin and Mikey think tea is going to make it all better? Then it hits him, Justin told Mikey he can't get it up. Fuck.
He should have known that after a completely fucked night that his day would be no better. He was going to kill Debbie. He wondered if Debbie sought Joan out or if this truly was a chance encounter. Of course his mother thought he should burn in hell for being gay and that God gave him cancer to punish him! How did he not know that? He heard the door slamming shut on any last hope he ever had at having a relationship with her. The tiny rein he had on his temper snapped and he finally managed to shut Saint Joan up for good. Had he known how relieved he'd feel telling her off like that, he'd have done it years ago.
Cynthia stormed in to rip into him about office protocol and how this was not the way to keep the cancer from the staff and clients, but he was too happy to be hard again to care. Maybe he wouldn't kill Debbie after all.