Title: Just fine
Chapter two.
A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the first one, I'm trying to have each one get longer, hopefully that will last. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.
The music pounded inside of Babylon, like the club was fucking everyone inside of it. People crashed into each other, bodies swaying and rocking. The music was something sort of heavy, and hot—it made even Brian Kinney want to fuck to it. He looked over the crowd as he moved along the railing. Where his Sunshine was, he couldn't find him anywhere, not even in the back room getting a blow job. Then again, he knew Sunshine, didn't he? Justin was all about partnership and shit. Brian was too but a good blow job is a good blow job in the end. He could appreciate that, even now—
"Where the fuck is Justin?" He murmured mostly to himself, his eyes moving over everyone in another swoop. Eventually he managed to notice Justin Taylor sitting along at the bar. There was the little shit. He was about five seconds from throwing a tantrum most likely, that's what Mikey would've said. But Mikey wasn't getting fucked in back rooms, was he? When he moved back down the stairs, he might have seemed a bit too excited but fuck it. His artist was in a great need of the Kinney charm.
He held a faint smirk on his lips as he began approaching the bar, already ignoring the always talkative Honeycutt "Why hello, Sunshine." His arm went over the blonde's shoulder, bringing him back, closer to him. Justin's back was warm against Brian's chest, and lips went to his ear "Where you been? Hiding your talents from me again?"
Justin on the other hand seemed to stiffen right away at the touch "Hey, Brian."
Well, someone was in a mood; they had obviously not gotten their Vitamin C today. Brian chuckled right into his ear "And, what exactly, Mr. Taylor, crawled up your ass tonight?"
"Nothing, Brian. I'm just enjoying the view."
"Well, so am I, Mr. Taylor." He purred the words out, nipping at the ear. Honeycutt rolled his eyes, and took a sip of his drink as he watched the two. Brian really didn't give a fuck who saw their, as Debbie so lovingly and thoughtfully put, display of tongue wrestling, but he did give a fuck what was wrong with Justin. They had breakfast, and everything seemed just fine. Justin had gone off to paint, and he went to work. What had happened between then and now?
Brian really was enjoying the view though, as much as he could in this position. Justin had his hair longer ever since moving back from New York, and Jennifer just loved that. At least he had something to pull on, not like his Timberlake phase, or what he called that fucking asshole Cody phase, whatever the hell it was. Justin was wearing a loose blue shirt, and it looked a perfect fit. Nice and tight, just like his Sunshine was at home.
The music continued its merciless thumping, hitting the ears of everyone. It was sort of hard to hear, even as loud as Sunshine could be. Brian pulled back some that time, smile faint on his lips "And what a great view it is."
"Sure." Justin picked his glass up, sipping rather than gulping. Then the blond put it back down and stared at the counter instead of even glancing back at his partner. Partner…they were still partners right? Brian narrowed his eyebrows and pulled his arm away, practically shoving Honeycutt away by his chest than nudging.
"Hey, watch the jacket-!" Honeycutt whined, holding his drink in hand, frowning at Brian. Justin didn't even look at him; neither of them actually, immediately busied his hand with twirling the umbrella around in that drink on the counter. Speaking of jackets though, Brian realized he still had his own. The jacket was his favorite, a piece of fine, tight leather, and if Brian liked anything it was for the things he loved to be tight.
He took his jacket off, and let it hang at his hip, still holding onto it. It didn't drag on the floor though, he wasn't fucking going to let Babfucklyon's floor touch him during Saturday night when it looked like a rave was happening.
"Keep yourself busy by taking your shirt off, Honeycutt. Justin and I are talking." Brian sat down on the stool, still with his eyes locked onto his blond artists' face this time instead of his ass.
"Don't call me Honeycutt." Emmett muttered, but he walked away anyway, already swaying his hips to the music.
Brian saw Justin peek at him, taking a glance then pretending his drink is more fascinating. It was already half empty, how interesting could it get?
"I'm fine, Brian. Really." Justin finally looked at him fully, a faint smile like Brian's.
"I'm fine or I'm pissed?"
Justin laughed that time, but it was clear there was no real sincerity in it. Brian tried to rethink everything he had done this week, any possible action he could've done to have Mr. Painter cheerless, for fuck's sake Justin wouldn't even touch him. Brian tried to reach, to brush his hand over his but Justin recoiled.
"Justin…" Brian whispered, even when the music blared.
"Did you paint too long today—what is it?" A thousand ideas traveled around in Brian's brain, and they were all on loop so Brian was able to worry even more than he already was.
"Since when does Brian Kinney care what someone else is doing? Brian Kinney looks out for number one, right?" Justin asked, a slight scowl thinning out over those pouty lips of his.
Brian pulled his own hand back quickly, into his lap again, staring at him. He was more than fucking confused and he was about done with playing the guessing game.
"Oh, but, honey, you know I always care what you think." He replied sarcastically, but bit his tongue from saying anything else like that as long as he could "Justin, you're tense—" Brian glanced at Justin's stiff shoulders then back to his face.
"You're being a child." Justin looked back at his drink, taking another sip.
"I'm not being a child." Brian replied, but his tone was sharper than intended.
"Tell me, Mr. Kinney. When did you start thinking of how I feel?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Justin? I've done nothing but kiss you and fuck—"
"It's not just about fucking, Brian. Christ." Justin turned his head away, picking his drink up but didn't take a sip.
"Then what the fuck are you saying? You are the one being a child."
Justin's laugh entered his ears, that prissy laugh of his that wasn't at all cute "Oh, hear that, everyone? Brian Kinney is telling me what I am." Justin emphasized just enough words for Brian to know he definitely did something to fuck this up.
But before Brian could put much thought into how to apologize for something he had no idea he'd done, Justin turned his gaze back onto him with such intensity. Fuck—Was Justin really this pissed? Maybe Brian forgot their Babylon anniversary. That was Brian being hopeful, but he saw the way Justin looked at him. This was like Justin pre-Ian, or whatever the fuck his name was, but Brian didn't care. He didn't want to go back there.
Brian stared at him, smile gone already "What the hell is wrong with you?" He already knew by the time the last word came out he shouldn't have said that. Justin was already standing, grabbing his jacket and walking away. Brian shut his eyes tightly. FUCK.
He opened them a second later, looking off "Justin!" He shouted over the music but Taylor didn't stop to chit chat. Brian had to elbow, and dodge every exposed piece of ass while he moved through the crowd to get to Justin "Just—" He felt his shoulder get hit by some asshole who got to close.
"Hey, sorry, pal." He wasn't this fucker's pal.
Brian took a moment to glare at them before remembering his target of getting through the monstrosity of dancing bodies. Just a few moments before he'd admired each shaking set of hips, and great pairs of asses hitting each other but this wasn't time for admiring.
It took a few minutes, but he was able to get out the front door. He looked to the right, then to the left seeing Justin walking down the street. It was like twenty degrees out, and Justin had a flimsy as hell jacket on. He had to jog, shoving his hands momentarily into his own pockets. Maybe going thin long sleeve shirt wasn't the way to go tonight, especially in wintertime in Pittsburgh.
"Just—" He reached, grasping the younger male's arm. Justin rolled his eyes that time, and looked at him, his eyes were tired. Red…
"Justin…" Brian stared then sighed "Just tell me what I did wrong, okay? I'll fucking apologize or whatever—we can go to the art museum like you wanted." Was that Brian Kinney sounding desperate? Fuck it, he was. An upset Justin only meant nightmares coming back, and hand cramps, and silence. Brian didn't like it when Justin was quiet.
Justin looked away though, avoiding Brian's stare and that only worried Kinney more so. He placed his hand at Justin's shoulder, gently grasping a bit, comforting as much as Kinney knew how "Are you okay? Is it your hand-?"
"No, it's not my hand." Justin sighed, eyes on Brian's "I'm fine."
I'm fine, Brian. I'm okay, Brian. It's nothing, Brian. Hey, Bria-Hey Brian? When did Justin even say that? Hey? They didn't say hey to each other unless they were riding horses at Britin.
It was like Justin rehearsed the words in a mirror or something. He was internally sort of freaking out actually; because whenever Justin said I'm fine, Brian it usually meant some real shit was going on inside the blonde head of his. Justin didn't need to be stressed out, the man had gone through enough bullshit to last him a lifetime.
He knew Justin was far from fine by just looking at him, even Michael would know that.
"You sure?" Brian's eyelids stated to droop some, nevertheless continued to stare at him. He already knew Justin would probably say I'm fine for a second time—
"I'm fine." Justin whispered once more, there it was, but Justin was wrapping his arms around Brian that time. The blonde put his head against the older man's chest "I promise."
"Okay...if you promise." Brian's arms wrapped around the blonde, and he held him close, lips kissed his hair once or twice. Brian kept biting the inside of his cheek. He knew Justin was a liar. If Brian Kinney knew anything, it was lies.
