D/C: I have no rights to any recognised QAF characters. I'm not making any money, which is a shame because I could do with some….
A/N: I have NO idea what prompted me to try and take this on. I just decided I'd have a go at writing ALL their continuing stories post season 5, forgetting how difficult it is to follow the lives of 5 people in written story form. Obviously, Brian and Justin are going to centre but they do in the show too so I don't think that's TOO unrealistic. Apart from that, ideas, help, maybe even a co-writer would be GREATLY appreciated.
Unfortunately, I can't promise quick updates but I shall do my best!
'A Little Unhealthy Competition' Summary: While Brian and Justin are learning to cope with their long distance relationship, Brian must deal with a surprising new client at Kinnetik. Emmett begins to feel left behind as he watches his friends settle down and could Michael's comic book store be affected by a new store opening across the street?
The beat of Babylon was thumping tonight and as Emmett stood in the middle of a crowd of nameless, faceless, but beautifully sculptured, bodies, he couldn't help wish for the time before everyone had grown up and got hitched. Even Brian fucking Kinney had settled down … or at least he'd tried too. Emmett could see the man now. He was stood on one of the balconies, king of all he surveyed but not necessarily in the way he used to be. Okay, so he owned Babylon now but he wasn't its eligible, charming young Prince he'd once been. Emmett watched Brian down his drink and push off the advances of some tweeked out twinky before walking down the stairs and heading straight for him.
"You know Emmett, it's refreshing to see that at least two of us haven't fallen into the clutches of monogamous matrimony just yet."
"I'm only here because I'm looking for Mr Right," Emmett informed him haughtily as he caught sight of a possible Mr Right beckoning him to the backroom.
"No, you're here looking for a blowjob, just like everyone else. Especially," Brian nodded toward the man still beckoning for Emmett, "him. Are you gonna go over there or shall I take your place?"
"You know," Emmett said in disbelief, "I don't know how you do it. You're totally in love with someone and yet you can still go in the backroom and fuck about.""It's not fucking about, Em," Brian explained. "It's getting your needs met. Besides, I've got to have some way of filling the void in those long barren months between visits."
"You know, they wouldn't be so long if you went out to see him once in a while."
Brian scowled a little and he glared at Emmett. "Can you shut up about him now please?"
"Sure," Emmett agreed with an angry, dismissive shrug. "Just like always. But I shouldn't be surprised, you never let us talk him for very long."
"I said shut up," Brian snapped as a muscle queen came over and looked pointedly at Brian before making his way towards the backroom. "Oops," he smiled, moving to follow the man. "That's my cue. See you later, Em. Good luck with that search for Mr Right."
He followed the man into the back room and leant up against the wall. He looked ahead of him and smiled.
"Hey Todd, how's it going?"
"Fine."
::
Michael had been carefully watching the store opposite all week. It was undergoing some kind of massive renovation and the sign for Eddy's Gaming had been taken down. There were constantly van after van turning up and burly men unloading box after box of 'stuff' but despite Michael's best efforts he still couldn't work out what it was. He shifted the phone from one ear to the other and watched as yet another van pulled up outside.
"Michael. Michael!" The voice on the phone shouted, "are you listening to me?"
"Sure Em," he said, trying to get a better look at what was going on across the street. "Brian wouldn't let you talk about Justin. This isn't news. Justin's been gone nine months and Brian has barely mentioned him once without being provoked."
"Well, does he even keep in contact?"
"I don't know," Michael said. He wasn't really listening now because the boxes coming from this van weren't square at all they were all sorts of peculiar and somewhat familiar shapes.
"What do you mean you don't know? You're his best friend. You must know."
"Huh?" Michael asked. He was sort of hoping Emmett would have hung up by now but he was finding the newest Lady of Leisure to be a pain in the ass. "When are you going to get a job?" He asked suddenly.
"Excuse you," Emmett said haughtily. "I have a job!" Then resignedly, he had to admit, "it's just it's the rainy season and no one wants a party when it's raining. And no one will employ me for engagement parties anymore after what happened with Drewsie but I have something for tomorrow. Now, don't try and change the subject. You're supposed to be…."
"SHIT!" Michael suddenly shouted.
"Michael," Emmett frowned. "Honey, what is it?"
"Mother fuckers," Michael muttered, looking around quickly apologizing to the nearest customers who might have overheard him. "I've gotta go Em.""What's going on?""I've just found out what the shop opposite is. Talk to you later."
Michael hung up the phone and stared at the monstrosity of a new shop sign that had just been carried out of the back of the van. It was massive and tacky and Michael could see it was going to flash and written in huge letters it read 'Blue Cape Comics'. Double shit!
::
"Can you believe that!" Michael cried, slamming his bottle of beer down on the bar. "Blue Cape Comics. It's virtually the same name as my store and it's right across the fucking road!"
"We know, Mikey," Brian sighed, sounding incredibly bored. "You've told us about a million times." He lifted his empty beer bottle, indicating to the bartender that he wanted another one.
"What are you going to do about it Sweetie?" Emmett asked.
"I don't know," Michael sulked. "Burn their place down?"
"Michael," Ben warned. "Don't say that. Not even as a joke."
"Come on Professor," Brian said with mock sweetness. "Don't piss on the guy's dreams." Then he patted Michael patronizingly on the back and squeezed his shoulder, saying "you burn that place down, Mikey."
"Shut up asshole," Michael moaned, slapping Brian's hand away. The taller man pretended to be hurt but he quickly got distracted as the hot bartender serving him his drink slipped a phone number into his hand along with the new glass. Brian smirked. Brandon and the other hot young thangs could fuck off. He was still king of this domain.
"You know," Ted intervened, "maybe another comic book store in the area will be a good thing. It might end up bringing in more potential customers."
"That's what I've been trying to tell him," Ben agreed. "Anyway, there's nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. Isn't that right, Brian?"
Brian screwed his face up as though thinking really hard before concluding, "I think I preferred the arson idea." Earning himself disapproving looks of all of his friends. He sighed heavily as though it was them who were being unreasonable before saying casually, "though, maybe I'm not the best person to ask about healthy competition in the work place." He left the comment hanging in the air until all his friends looked suitably curious. "Vanguard went bust this morning," he explained smugly. "It seems they couldn't survive after all their biggest clients went to Kinnetik and now with their demise we're going to have to pick up all their remaining accounts too. We might even have to expand the company." He shook his head a little and took a sip of his beer. "It's such a hassle being brilliant."
"I'm sure," scorned Michael but he couldn't stop the smile on his face. "But how exactly is this helping me?"
"It's not," Brian said smugly. "I just wanted to gloat."
Michael shook his head fondly before taking another swig of his drink and sighing dejectedly.
"Christ," Brian frowned. "You haven't moped around this much since Captain Astro died."
"That was a hard time in my life," Michael protested.
Brian just shook his head. "Look," he said in the voice he always used when he was laying things on the line, "it doesn't matter if there's another comic book store opposite you Mikey. As long as you're the best, as long as you can offer something that they can't, people will still come to you."
"But what can I offer?" Michael sulked. "They've got light up signs and life-size Spiderman mannequins."
"Well you've got your enthusiasm," Ben answered immediately.
"And what about your friendly demeanour," Ted added.
"And your knowledge of every comic hero of all time," Emmett said. "I mean, it's a bit geeky but it's useful when selling them."
"All wonderful suggestions," Brian interrupted sarcastically, "but I was thinking something more along the lines of the kick-ass ad campaign your generous best friend is going to cook up for you." And before Michael had time to digest what the taller man had said, Brian had pressed his lips to Michael's cheek and said, "you're welcome Mikey."
Just then Brian's cell began to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the screen and couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. He looked up to the others and said, "gotta take this," before pushing himself to his feet and walking out of the bar to answer his call.
"Hey," Brian said into his cell.
"Hey," Justin's voice came down the receiver brightly.
"Soo," Brian said slowly. "How is it going?"
"Great, I've got my work in a show next Saturday."
"That's great," Brian said, angry at himself for how choked up his voice sounded on the phone.
"Mm," agreed Justin. "I've got a plus one ticket. I'm saving it for you … if you can come out here for it?"
"I'll be there," Brian promised.
Justin smiled a little. It was sometimes like this on the phone; difficult. Sometimes hearing each others voices wasn't enough. They could never have known how hard it would be to be apart but they knew this was the right thing to do for both of them … neither was prepared to sacrifice, or let the other one sacrifice, who they were for each other. So this was what they were reduced to. Talking everyday and willing away the time until they could be together again.
"So," Brian said eventually, "fucked any hot guys?"
Justin chuckled a little. "You have no idea," he grinned. "All the guys in New York are hot. There's a club here call 'Rush' it's got three floors.""Three?"
"And a backroom. New York is insane!"
"So you keep saying," Brian smiled.
"You'll fucking love it out here."
Brian smiled a little and sat down on the steps leading to Woody's. He didn't particularly care if he was in the way. Make them fucking move.
"Made any more friends?"
"A few. There's a guy called Fabien, he's a French exchange student studying art history at the University. And, of course Tina, that's Daphne's friend that I'm sharing the flat with."
"Anyone else?"
"Ryley. He's like a younger version of Emmett."
Brian snorted at that thought.
"I think I'm gonna move in with him soon. Tina's planning to travel the world with a group of friends and I can't afford even this shithole on my own."
"Hmm," Brian hummed, his brow furrowed as he was lost deep in serious thought. "How are you doing for money?"
"Okay," Justin sighed. "But I could do with a job to tide me over for a while."
"Well," Brian sighed, "why don't you try and get a job in the advertising agency? I'm sure you could find someone to give you a glowing recommendation."
"I dunno," Justin frowned. "New York was supposed to be a new start for me. A chance to get out from under your shadow and try and get along without your help."
"Which is why I'm not sending you any money," Brian replied through gritted teeth. "It's just a recommendation," he explained. "I won't say anything more than how good a job you did as an intern at Vanguard. I'll even get Nick from the Art Department to write it if you really want me to."
Justin considered this for a moment. "It's okay," he decided eventually. "I'll try somewhere else first."
"Well, as long as you don't become a go-go boy at, what was that club called … Thrush?"
"Rush," Justin giggled.
"Ah yeah, that's the one."
Justin chuckled again and then sighed heavily. "I miss you."
"Me too, Sunshine."
"Especially now," Justin said and Brian could almost hear the cheeky, smirk on his face. "In this big bed, all alone."
"Oh, I see," Brian smirked. "It's one of those calls."
"It's always one of those calls," Justin pointed out with a giggle.
"Good point."
"Mm," Justin let out a guttural groan that shot straight down Brian's spine to his cock. "Are you alone?"
"Yes, but I'm in the middle of a crowd."
"Where are you?"
"Outside Woody's."
"So find a stud," Justin said impatiently. "Find a place just … stay on the phone."
"Kinky," Brian said, looking around for a guy. He already knew a place, the alley just down the way was full of fags fucking. Then he spotted him; he wasn't quite a twink and wasn't quite a stud. He was tall but not as tall as Brian and he was staring at Brian in a way that told Brian he'd just have to give him the right look and he'd be putty in his hands. So he got up and dragged the guy to the alley, pushing the man to his knees and unzipping his pants.
"Okay Sunshine," Brian panted, "start talking."
Michael was virtually performing a full fledged stakeout when Emmett burst through the door to his store.
"What are you doing?" The taller man asked, noting the other man's binoculars and vantage point between the cardboard cut-out of Rage's legs. "Apart from taking a look at Rage's number one super power."
"What? Huh?" Michael asked, slowly pulling himself upright. His back ached from crouching over so long.
"What are you doing?" Emmett repeated.
"I'm just eyeing up the competition."
"I thought we already told you, fancy lights and impressive mannequins are nothing on your store, sweetie."
"What about people dressed up as Scorpionhead?" Michael asked dejectedly, as a burly man in a Scorpianhead costume flexed his muscles for a nerdy looking shorter man.
"Well," Emmett said peering over Michael's shoulders to admire the bodybuilder in lycra, "I'm not surprised you were eyeing up the opposition if it looks like that." Then he smiled at Michael, "If you ever need a big nelly queen to dress up as a superhero I'd be happy to oblige. It's not like I have any other jobs at the moment."
"What happened to your party you had to plan today?"
"The woman rang me up and told me she's decided to go with someone else," Emmett sighed, "that's happening more and more recently."
"Maybe you should get Brian to come up with some award winning ad campaign for you," Michael suggested, turning his back on the store across the road and going to sit behind his desk.
"Well, honey, I would but he certainly wouldn't do a ad campaign pro bono for me. And it would cost a fortune if I paid him. Kinnetik is the most expensive advertising agency in Pittsburgh."
"That's because it's the only advertising agency in Pittsburgh," Michael pointed out solemnly. "Brian's destroyed all the other agency's in two years."
"I know," Emmett said. "I should be impressed but I'm not even really surprised."
"I know what you mean. Everything always goes exactly right for Brian, just everything falls into place for him like he lives in this perfect world of good fortune that the rest of us can't even dream of."
"Puh-lease," Emmett scorned. "I wouldn't change places with Brian for all the money in the world."
"I know, what a drag to be the richest, hottest, most powerful fag in Pittsburgh," Michael mocked.
"I'm being serious," Emmett said honestly. "I'd rather be a comfortably off Comic book store owner with a hunky husband to return to every night than have more money than I know what to do with but go home alone every night knowing the man I loved was hundreds of miles away. But," he sighed heavily, "I suppose it would be better than mooching around all day looking for a job and then returning at night to find Debbie and Carl curled up on the sofa. With my only options being go to Babylon or go to my room alone … again."
Michael looked at his friend, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You'll find someone Em. Someone perfect, it's no more than you deserve."
"From your lips to the gay God's ears," Emmett sighed, squeezing his friend's hand. "But thanks, sweetie." Then looking around the store he said, "so, is there anything I can help you with here?"
"You could take the Rage display down from the window," Michael suggested. "We're not going to have any new editions for a while but every time I go near the windows I end up staring out at that place opposite."
"Okay," Emmett said, beginning to tug at the cardboard Rage and the cardboard JT. "You know," he said, placing the JT cut-out against the counter, "I never thought I'd miss Justin, Lindsey and Melanie as much as I do. It just doesn't seem right seeing Brian without Justin and every time I drive past Linds and Mel's old house I always have to remind myself not to just call in and say hey."
"It seems like everyone's grown up and moved on."
"Except me," Emmett replied wistfully. "I still live with my mom … well, your mom." He looked at the cardboard JT and Rage embracing each other and said, "so, what should I do with these two?"
"Just stick them in the storage cupboard. I don't have the heart to throw them away."
"New York," Ted repeated, looking up from his computer. "This weekend?"
"Yes," Brian confirmed for what felt like the millionth time.
"You can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because you said you'd go to GLC and hand over a big check backing the STOP PROP 14 campaign."
"No, I said I'd donate the money," Brian corrected, picking up a picture Ted had on his desk of himself and Blake. He pulled a disapproving face and continued, "you said I'd go and present them with a giant check and quite frankly, you're lucky I didn't fire your ass. So don't push it by trying to make me actually go."
"But we said there would be a representative from Kinnetik there."
"So send Cynthia," Brian said as though it was the most obvious solution in the world … and perhaps it was. He picked up some small soft toy with it's arms out holding a heart that said 'I love you this much' that was sat near Ted's coffee cup and promptly pretended to gag.
"Put that back," the older man complained, snatching the toy back. "And I believe the GLC would prefer it if the person was actually gay."
"Well, if you can't think of a gay employee in this company who could do that job then perhaps I really should fire you."
"Me?" Ted asked in shock.
"Who the hell else?" Brian asked. He had nothing left to fiddle with on the desk now so he just picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers.
"But I think they'd be expecting a big, successful, gay business man to be part of the final push in the campaign before it's voted on Sunday. They're not going to be happy if I turn up."
"Who gives a fuck what makes them happy? They've got the money and the backing. If they don't like it they can go fuck themselves," then he smirked a little, "though at least that would save someone else the trouble. Now will you please stop worrying."
"Fine," Ted surrendered. It was clear he wasn't going to win this argument. "Oh and don't forget I've booked next week off."
"I haven't forgotten," Brian reassured him but he had forgotten, completely. Not that he would let Ted know that.
"I'm taking Blake away for the week to Hawaii."
"Hawaii," Brian snorted. "It's like the breeders love nest. It's where everyone wants to go on their honeymoons or to get married or propose." Brian's head snapped up immediately. He was the slightly flushed look on Ted's face and the bright look in his eyes. "Shit," the taller man whispered under his breath. "You're going to propose!"
"Is it that obvious?" Ted asked somewhat concerned. Brian just shook his head slowly and went back to fiddling with his pen.
"Well, Theodore, you might have to get this wedding in quick before all your rights get taken away by Prop 14."
"Let's just hope the proposition gets overturned," Ted said slowly.
"Here's hoping," Brian muttered as he got to his feet. Then he put a hand on Ted's shoulder, "and, congratulations, Theodore."
And with that he walked out of Ted's office, leaving a very confused man sat at the desk.
Brian was on his way back to his office when Cynthia came virtually running over.
"Wait," she said, putting her hands on his chest to stop him. "There's a man in your office."
Brian just quirked an eyebrow and smirked.
"Not that kind of man," she said, smiling at her bosses incredible ability to have a somewhat large proportion of his mind on his dick at all times. "He's from some big electronics company. He had his advertising with Vanguard and now he's pissed.""Isn't everybody? All these extra accounts, soon I'll have so much money and so many people working for me Kinnetik will have to be officially declared as it's own country," Brian smirked, taking the information she'd dug up for him so he could have a few bits of background information on meeting his new account.
He was only vaguely aware of Cynthia saying, "but Brian, there's more," as he swung the door to his office open to find what was probably the last person he would EVER have expected to find in his office.
"Well, well, well," he smirked. "This is a day of surprises."
"So he's really coming here?" Ryley asked. "Really, really … the man you based Rage on. Your hero is finally coming to New York?"
"Yes," Justin smiled. "Why are you so interested to meet him?"
"Because you based Rage on him and Rage is the hottest thing in Lycra since," he got up out of the flea-bitten arm chair and twirled around, "me." He smiled, settling back down. "Ow," he moaned as his ass connected with what was left on the cushion. "You could really do with some new cushions on these chairs."
"They were the best I could afford," Justin shrugged.
"Maybe your rich boyfriend could buy you new ones, designer ones like the ones in his loft," he clapped his hands excitedly. Sometimes Justin wondered if Ryley was more excited about seeing Brian than he was. It wouldn't exactly surprise him if he was. Ryley had actually come over to Justin when he was sat painting in Central park one day and asked him if he was Justin Taylor. It turned out he recognised him from the Rage website where there was a picture of him and Michael stood next to the cardboard cut-out of Rage on the 'contact us' page. Ryley was a massive Rage enthusiast. Though Justin had a feeling Ryley was enthusiastic about anything involving two guys fucking even if they were in cartoon form.
"He'll probably try to buy me new ones," Justin admitted as though he should feel bad about that fact. "But I won't let him. He's done enough for me."
Ryley raised an eyebrow sceptically, "you have a big, rich boyfriend and you don't let him pay for things for you?"
"No," Justin shook his head proudly. "I'm still trying to pay him back for my aborted education at the Pittsburgh's I.F.A."
"I thought you said he was like this millionaire business owner at the age of thirty-five."
"He is," Justin confirmed.
"And yet, you owe him money?" Ryley almost recoiled in horror. "Honey, you're a fool."
"It's not about the money," Justin sighed. "It's about principles."
Ryley pulled his feet up onto his chair and rested his chin on his knees, his face scrunching up in confusion.
Justin sighed heavily.
"Brian has looked out for me, taken care of me ever since I was seventeen. I don't want to always feel like I owe him. This is a chance for me to make my own way in the world."
"Honey," Ryley said, "Justin, sweetie, if he loves you, I'm sure he doesn't feel like you owe him anything."
"He says that," Justin admitted.
"Well, there you are then," Ryley grinned. "So, instead of giving that money to someone who clearly doesn't need a dime more. Why not give it to your struggling actor friend who can't get a job or a man?" Ryley feigned tears as he indicated himself in that way actors have of using his entire hand to point.
"Fuck off," Justin chuckled, pulling the shitty so-called cushion of his own chair and hitting Ryley over the head with it. Of course that began a pillow fight that ended with feathers all over the disgusting shithole apartment and no cushions for the seats.
"You're home early," Blake said as the front door of his and Ted's flat opened. He was shoving some 'Stop Prop 14' pamphlets into his bag, ready to get out on the streets and help Debbie drum up some last ditch support.
"Brian's going away for the weekend so everything's been wrapped up, ready for him absence. Which means I'm finished early," he grinned, wrapping his arms around his partners waist. "So what do you say we celebrate my early release?"
"I can't," Blake groaned, reaching from Ted's grip to pick up a Stop Prop 14 flier off the glass table. "I'm delivering these," he said.
"Ahh, Debbie's roped you in as one of her minions."
"Yeah. Me, Ben and Hunter … and now," he patted Ted on the shoulders, "you. Don't you love being let home early from work?"
"It's certainly full of surprises," Ted sighed, as Blake wriggled from his grasp and put on a jacket. "Talking of which. Do you think you could take next week off?"
"Next week?" Blake frowned, looking up at his partner. "I don't think I can take a whole week off work with that little notice."
"Can't you just ask?"
"I guess," he shrugged. "But it's easy for you, you work for one of your best friends."
"Don't let him hear you say that," Ted muttered.
Blake just smiled. "What I mean is, you can take time off when you want it pretty much. I have people who rely on me personally. You know what it's like when your in rehab, you really rely on your councillor."
Ted looked at the younger man seriously and nodded sadly. "You're right," he kissed him gently on the lips. "Of course, you're right. Just … ask."
"Okay," Blake nodded. "I'll ask. Now," he lifted a bunch of leaflets and thrusting them into Ted's chest, "lets go and drum up support."
"God," Justin said, sitting up and looking at the mess of feathers, toppled plastic containers and all manner of other things they'd knock over in their pillow fight. "I could never have done anything like this when I lived with Brian. He'd have shit!"
Ryley eyed his friend with a sad but knowing smile. "You miss him a lot, don't you?"
"Is it that fucking obvious?" Justin groaned.
"'fraid so. Even when you're complaining about the things he never let you do you sound like you're missing him."
"God. I'm so pathetic."
"Yes you are," Ryley smiled fondly, scooting closer to the other man. "But love is pathetic. One day I hope I'll be as pathetic as you."
Justin grinned back. "You have no idea how hard it is."
"I have an idea," Ryley smirked, his eyes flicking to Justin's crotch.
"I meant being away from him," Justin laughed, thumping Ryley gently on the arm. "I spend my entire time counting down the minutes until he gets here. Wondering how many guys he's fucked, whether he thinks of me when he fucks them." He sighed heavily and added sorrowfully, "whether he even thinks of me at all."
"Honey, a long-distance relationship is a big commitment but I see it this way. You can do what you want, fuck who you want, be who you want and you'll always know that in Pittsburgh, someone loves you."
"Yeah," Justin sighed dejectedly, "in Pittsburgh."
"Justin?"
"It's just," the blonde stared off into the distance a little, his voice thick with emotion. He hadn't voiced these inner demons to anyone before but now just sort of felt like the right time. "It's just, sometimes I think it can never work between us. He's got his life in Pittsburgh and I'm just starting mine in New York."
"What are you getting at baby?"
"Sometimes, I wonder if Brian and I are clinging on to something that can never work. I mean, I love him. I'll always love him. I just can't see a way for us to be together properly."
"Maybe when he's a retired sugar daddy and you're an established artist you could get a stately home in the country and live out your days as a couple of old, bitchin' queens."
Justin couldn't help smile at his friends projected fantasy future. There was a time not so long ago where Justin had imagined just that but now his images of the future were fogged and unclear. "I guess," he agreed eventually. "After all, it's only time."
Brian just stood in the doorway feeling, and probably looking, incredibly smug as the other man looked up and saw him for the first time. Brian almost laughed at the expression on the other man's face; horror, disbelief, outrage. It was a beautiful thing.
"You?" The man seethed.
"Me," Brian confirmed unable to control the smile that was spreading across his face. He wasn't actually sure he'd been this happy to see a homophobic breeder in his life. "Now," he said smiled politely, going to his big chair behind his desk. "What can I do for you, Mr Taylor?"
"Forget it," Craig growled getting to his feet. "I don't need the help of some fag! Especially not you."
"Bullshit," Brian said in a bored tone. The older man stopped and glared at him. "I'm looking at your sales chart," he said, holding up one of the pieces of paper Cynthia had printed out. "Looks to me like you're bleeding customers faster than a haemophiliac in a knife factory." He pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand in front of the other man. "Your current campaign is boring, worn-out, old." He looked pointedly at Craig insinuating all sorts of things he wouldn't say aloud. Luckily though, Craig voiced Brian's opinion.
"Like me," he seethed.
"Hey, your words not mine," Brian said, lifting his hands as though dispelling all blame. Then he smiled, his best dog-eat-dog smile and stated factually, "you need a new campaign. It needs to be fresh, exciting and … sexy," he smirked again striking a bit of a pose that prompted Craig to say,
"Like you?"
Brian just laughed. "You know, usually I don't like it when people finish my sentences but this I'm quite enjoying."
"You don't have a campaign for me," Craig said angrily, storming towards the door. "I'm going somewhere else."
Brian waited until Craig had pulled the door open before asking, "Where?"
Craig stopped. Both men knew there was nowhere else. Craig either swallowed his pride and put his business, his life, in Brian's hands or he watched everything he'd worked so hard for fail in front of his eyes but at least he'd still have his pride in tact.
"Face facts Mr Taylor," Brian said casually. "Focus groups aren't responding to any of your adverts. Your sales are down and you're losing money. You need help. You need," he smirked, "me. Now, does Taylor Electronics have itself a new advertising agency?"
Craig's jaw locked into a line. He couldn't fucking believe that his life had brought him here, at the mercy of a fucking fag … and not just any fag. The fucking pervert who'd corrupted his son when he was still in high-school. He turned to look at the other man. He looked like a slick asshole, yet another mid-thirties millionaire who thought the world couldn't touch him. He had that arrogant expression that Craig couldn't stand on anyone but himself. He couldn't put into words how much he hated this man ahead of him. He probably wouldn't even be able to put it into actions. He began to wish he'd killed Brian Kinney in the car crash or that Justin hadn't stopped him in the alley. But Justin had stopped him. Justin had chosen this asshole over him, his own father. But that didn't stop him nodding his head mutedly. Deal.
"Excellent," Brian said, "why don't you take a seat," he indicated his sofa, "and we'll go through what you need from this new campaign." Craig, his teeth still welded together, found himself walking back over to the cream sofa. He sat down, looking like he'd lost everything in the world; pride, dignity. Brian looked like he'd never been happier.
Just then, Brian's phone rang in his pocket. He slipped it out and checked the name on the screen; Justin.
"Excuse me," he said to Craig, "this is important." Then he answered, "hey."
"Hiya," Justin practically shouted in excitement. "Where are you now?"
"Kinnetik."
"Oh," he sounded a little disappointed. "I thought you were coming to New York today."
"I am. I land in JFK at eleven. Just enough time to unpack, fuck," he put way too much emphasis on that word, enjoying the site of Craig Taylor wincing on the sofa, "and go to the clubs."
"Eleven," Justin repeated. "Okay. I can't wait to see you again."
"Mm, me too."
"So, what are you doing now?"
"I'm glad you asked," Brian said with a bit of a chuckle. "I'm just having a meeting with a new client."
"You shouldn't be answering your phone then."
"It's okay," Brian said, "this client's practically family … your family anyway."
Justin frowned. Brian was talking completely in riddles. "You're not making any sense. Are you high?"
"I'm not high, Sunshine," he said. "My new account is Taylor Electronics."
The younger man was stunned into silence. Brian was pretty sure it this was the longest he'd heard Justin go without talking … ever. And eventually he just let out a long low whistle.
"Shit."
"That's what I thought," Brian smiled. "Listen, I'd better go."
"Oh, okay," the still stunned younger man agreed. "I'll see you soon."
"Later."
"Later."
Brian hung up the phone and looked at Craig. "That was your son."
The older man just nodded. He looked a little sick and out of place but Brian hated him too much to have any kind of compassion for him.
"I didn't realise you two were still on good terms," Craig said.
"We're on very good terms."
"It's just Jen told me about the aborted marriage." Brian fixed his eyes on the older man and received a steely look in return before Craig snorted, "if you can call that kind of farce a marriage."
"So what makes a marriage, Taylor, a big wedding day, a couple of kids, a divorce and becoming estranged from your son."
"What you do is immoral and wrong and it should not be justified by allowing you to marry. Still, it's just as well you called it off. With Prop 14 it'll all be illegal soon anyway or at least it will if I have anything to say about it."
"You've had plenty to say about it," Brian said firmly. Both men were on their feet by now, they were barely inches apart just goading the other to throw the first punch. "Getting your own son arrested was a brilliant move by the way."
"He's no son of mine," Craig spat out.
Brian could almost feel his face pull into an ugly expression of hate. He wasn't sure he'd ever hated anyone so much in his life. This man had the most amazing, most fantastic son and yet he refused to even call him his own.
"You have no idea how lucky you are to have a son as wonderful and as talented as Justin is," Brian seethed.
"Talented?" Craig scoffed. "What those fucking doodles he does? He should have been a business major like his father."
Brian almost laughed in angered disbelief. "He was born to be an artist. He's in New York now following his dream, selling paintings along with some of the worlds best. But you wouldn't know anything about that."
"He's in New York?" Craig said, his anger bubbling up again. "For how long?"
Well wasn't that just the million dollar question. It was question Brian could hardly bear to answer but he took a deep breath and said, "he lives there now."
"He lives there!" Brian almost couldn't believe how little this man knew about or seemed interested in his son's life but how quickly he would fly off the handle if it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. "I suppose this was your doing was it."
"I didn't make him go," Brian replied calmly. "But I didn't stop him. It was his dream."
"He'll never make it as an artist," Craig said, throwing his arms around like a child having a tantrum.
"Then you've never seen his work."
The two men glared at each other, pure hatred sparking between them. "You," Craig seethed "are a pervert and paedophile. You used my son, you made him one of you and you destroyed his chances of ever becoming great. Now, thanks to you, he's wasting his time perusing an art career that you and I both know will never come to anything, living as a fucking fag. He's a fucking embarrassment to the family. Sometimes I wish that kid at his prom had killed him."
And that's how Craig Taylor found himself with his back to the wall, with his feet barely touching the floor.
"You listen to me you mother fucking piece of shit," Brian hissed, pressing his forearm across Craig's neck. "You can say what you like about me, I really don't care but don't you ever say anything like that about Justin again, you got it?"
"Who the fuck are you to tell me how I can talk about my own goddamn son?" Craig choked out in a way that sounded like he'd hoped it would come out menacing and threatening but had actually come out like the noise a tiny mouse might make if it were cornered by a cat.
"I'm the man who loves your son more than anything in the world," Brian said, giving Craig one final push against the wall before letting him fall to the floor. Brian marched angrilly away to the door. "He deserves so much better than you." Then he pushed open the door and called, "Cynthia. Can you come here a moment?"
"You're still going to do the campaign?" Craig asked in disbelief.
"I like to keep my relationships with the clients strictly professional," Brian said calmly. "The fact that I can hardly stand to see your face is no reason why I won't create you an ad campaign that will have your company back on top." He stuck his head back out the door, "Cynthi-." He stopped as his assistant appeared at his side. "Oh, there you are. Can you take the rest of this meeting? Find out what Mr Taylor would like from his campaign."
"Er, sure Bri," she smiled at Craig and held out her hand. Ever the professional. "Hello, Mr Taylor. Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure's all his," Brian drawled, shooting Craig dagger-glares with his eyes. Cynthia looked from one man to the other, she was almost suffocating the tension was so strong between them but this wasn't the usual tension Brian evoked in other men, this was a tension fuelled by pure hatred.
She coughed a little before asking her boss, "and where are you going?"
"I have a plane to catch," he smiled. "I'll see you on Monday."
Emmett came down to breakfast the next morning looking more than a little sheepish. He said goodbye to last nights trick and then turned to face Debbie and Carl. He knew they'd been loud last night and they'd stayed up for a lot of the night and when he saw the rings under the other's eyes, he felt more than a little guilty.
"Good night?" Debbie smirked knowingly.
"Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I should never have brought him back here."
"Don't be ridiculous," Debbie scolded, "this is your house too. You can bring back all the guys you want. We don't mind, do we Carl?"
Judging by the state of the police officer, he did mind … a lot. But he just shook his head and said he didn't mind either.
"I don't know," Emmett said warily. "I should have insisted we go back to his house but …"
"Emmett, honey, when Justin lived here he used to bring tricks back all the time."
"He was seventeen," Emmett gaped.
"He was also a disciple of Brian's," Debbie pointed out. Emmett's eyebrows shot up in surprise but he just shrugged.
"Still, things have changed now. This is supposed to your love nest, your retirement home. You don't want some silly fag cluttering up the place."
"Debbie wouldn't feel at home without at least one fag staying with us," Carl said with a loving smile at his at his would-be-wife.
"Exactly," Debbie agreed. "So, you eat up your cereal and then you can come and drum up some support for Stop Prop 14 and I don't want to hear another word about moving out."
"Don't be too disruptive today, please," Carl almost begged. "I don't want the guys on the force radioing in to tell me they've had to arrest you."
"I'm going to do what I can to make sure this piece of shit legislation is overturned," Debbie said ferociously.
"I know, honey," Carl smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, before going upstairs to get ready for work.
As soon as Carl had gone, Emmett sighed loudly.
"Jesus Emmett, if your sighs get any heavier they'll be putting holes in the floor."
"Sorry Deb," Emmett apologized dejectedly.
"Emmett, baby," Debbie said gently, touching the man's face with all the love of a mother, "what's wrong?"
"I dunno Deb," Emmett replied. "I just feel like everyone's settling down and growing up and I still can't find a decent man. I mean, am I so hideous?"
"You're not hideous, Emmett."
"Then maybe I'm not very lovable. But look at Brian, he's the least lovable person I've ever met but even he managed to find someone to love him."
"I love you, hon."
Emmett smiled sadly at the brazen, red-wigged lady. "Thanks Deb." He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and allowed his forehead to flop onto his forearms. "You know," Emmett continued slowly, "I think maybe I should find somewhere else to live. Maybe if I don't feel like I'm under someone else's roof, I'll feel less like a child. It'll be a chance for me to grow up."
"You tried living on your own. You didn't like it, remember," Debbie said sternly. "I know, but there's a shared apartment for rent not far from Liberty Avenue. I'd have a room mate and a chance to meet new people. It might just be perfect."
Debbie looked at the other man closely. "Well, Em. I'd be sad to see you leave but if you think it's for the best then … I wish you good luck."