Brian's POV
Justin Griffith. Justin Taylor. Chris Hobbs. Justin Griffith. Justin Taylor. Chris Hobbs. Justin Griffith Justin Taylor Chris Hobbs Justin Griffith Justin Taylor Chris Hobbs. Justin Griffith Taylor Hobbs Justin Griffith Taylor Hobbs Justin Griffith Taylor Hobbs Justin Griffith Taylor Hobbs Justin Griffith Taylor Hobbs Justin Hobbs .
Brian stood at the window for a long time. Cynthia, he guessed, had made sure he was undisturbed because no one came in to see him, and there were no calls. He heard his cell phone vibrate several times, but Brian couldn't give a damn who it was or why. He knew that if something happened to Gus, Ted would be in here, and everyone else could wait.
Brian was desperate to talk to someone. There were too many emotions inside him, too many feelings, too much confusion, that he felt the need to unload on to somebody, anybody, else. Brian sighed. But who? Mikey was out of the question...and for some reason, he didn't want to tell Lindsay. According to Brian, the distance between Lindsay mouth and Melanie's ears was the shortest distance in the whole universe. Ted was perhaps the only person Brian could really talk to, but deep down, Brian felt that it was wrong to talk to anyone. This was Justin's life, and Brian really had no right to discuss it with anybody.
Which brought him back to Justin. Ok. Let's try and take this one confusing point at a time, he thought.
This was Justin Griffith. That's why he had looked so familiar. That smile...it hadto be him...right? Brian thought of Justin Griffith. The Justin Brian remembered had his hair long, like a hippie, usually coloured black. As far as Brian could remember, it had never been blonde. And he had worn glasses. Absolutely hideous looking contraptions. He had been almost painfully shy, and Brian didn't ever remember Justin being able to look anyone in the eyes while talking to them. He had been a bit like Mikey, but with far more innocence, and far less whiny petulance. And he had been young. Brian tried to remember...Justin had been what, 16? 15? Somewhere thereabouts. Brian didn't think he had ever really known Justin's age. The kid had been super bright, and he had been bumped up several grades, though again, Brian couldn't be sure exactly which grade. Did I ever even bother to find out? He remembered having come to Justin's rescue several times; Justin was a prime target for bullies, he was way too young, his parents way too rich, way too shy...jeez, Brian could come up with three dozen reasons. Then he had been roped in by some teacher to help Justin out in...Brian frowned...chemistry. That was it. But Brian was pretty sure that the hero worshipping had started earlier. Not that Justin had been too obvious about it, but Brian knew. The kid had worshipped the ground he walked on. And Brian had liked it. He had felt sorry for Justin, and he had been flattered by the attention. Brian had been amused by the carefully picked items that Justin had casually given him, pretending that he had no use for them, when Brian knew that they had been handpicked and purchased especially for him. But mostly, he had actually liked the quiet, shy boy's obvious intelligence.
But why Taylor? Why the change of name? And why the fuck was he acting as if didn't know Brian from Adam? Well, a little voice inside Brian's head said (why did his conscience always sound like Lindsay?), maybe it's because you screwed him and left him.
Fuck. Brian's head was throbbing. He hadn't meant to. In fact, he hadn't meant to sleep with Justin at all. Brian had always been careful; he had never slept around with anyone from school or the neighbourhood or essentially anyone who would know who he was. Brian had had a plan and was not about to let his sex drive get in the way.
There was no way Brian was going to suffer the same existence that his miserable parents had. He was getting a college education, come hell or high water, and he was going to become somebody. Except that there was no way Jack Kinney would be able to afford college for his son, and Brian was not keen on spending his first ten years out of college paying off student loans. That's when he had thought of getting a football scholarship. With careful engineering, Brian could almost guarantee to make it happen. He knew that if he got on the good side of bible thumping coach Walter Hobbs, he would be set. So what if he had to pretend to be straight? That had not been a problem at all for Brian.
Until Justin. But he hadn't been able to help himself with Justin. The kid so obviously adored him, and what Brian had never admitted to himself was that he had liked Justin as well. One night Brian had bumped into Justin after practice, and against his better judgment, he had let Justin talk him into walking up to the river, and Brian had never enjoyed himself more, and as the evening progressed, he had never been more attracted to any person as he was to Justin. Still, Brian couldn't quite excuse himself for the colossal lapse of judgment that had led to him sleeping with Justin that night. In public. The fact that his dick got hard just thinking about it? That just made everything worse.
Brian recalled having a fairly ugly scene with Justin the following day. Justin had come to him, lit up like the Fourth of July, quite possibly expecting a declaration of love from Brian. Justin was a problem that Brian had not been ready, or prepared, to deal with. He had told Justin that all the night before had been was a pity fuck and that he was not in the habit of taking ass from faggots. That he had just felt sorry for Justin, who was so clearly out of touch with the world around him. Had he said anything more? Brian really couldn't remember. That was when Brian had seen Chris Hobbs, Walter's son. Brian couldn't remember what he had told Chris as he walked away from Justin, but he knew it couldn't have been anything complimentary to poor Justin. Brian never knew whether Justin had heard, but he never ever seen Justin again.
Until three days ago. At the diner. Brian was almost certain that it was the same Justin. It just had to be. And it definitely was the same Chris fucking Hobbs. Brian felt surge of rage explode through him. If he could get his hands around Chris's throat, Brian had no doubt as to what the result would be. He was almost tempted to ask Cynthia to find out where Hobbs was, but then decided against it. Right now, Brian had far more important things to worry about.
Like how the hell he was going to deal with Justin. Brian desperately wanted to talk to him, but the more he thought about it, the more absurd it was. Justin clearly wanted the bashing to remain a secret, so how was Brian supposed to talk about it? And what the fuck would he say, anyway? Brian Kinney did not do emotion. Which must be why this truckload of shit got dumped at my doorstep, he thought. How do I tell Justin that I know who he is, when that is obviously notwhat he wants? Brian had far more questions than he had answers. Above all, he wanted to apologize to Justin to for being such a dick ten years ago, but that, out of all possible courses of action, was probably the stupidest thing he could do, Brian thought.
Brian took all the papers and magazines on his table and shoved them in his briefcase. As long as I'm having a migraine, I might as well have it at the loft, he thought. Vance will just have to manage on his own.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Day 4 (from the day of the bet)
Lindsay's POV
Lindsay had called Justin on a fluke and found him at his studio, as his class had apparently been cancelled. She told Justin that she would drop by, but kept the exact time vague, on purpose.
Both Emmett and Debbie had told her that Brian had been asking about Justin yesterday. Lindsay didn't know what it was, but she could sense something between Brian and Justin. She recalled her conversation with Melanie about it. Melanie had told her in no uncertain terms that she shouldn't interfere in other people's lives, especially when they had very little information to go on, but Lindsay couldn't help it. Mel doesn't get it, she thought. Sometimes, you don't go by tangible facts. You go by gut feel and emotions and looks and signs and inexplicable feelings that are too complex and deep to understand off the cuff.
I'm so sorry Mel, Lindsay thought, as she dialed a number.
"What is it now?"
"Be nice Brian, I'm about to help you. How would you like to drive me to Justin's studio? I assureyou, there are no one-way roads there. Don't ask me why I'm helping you instead of Mel, but I am. You drop me at Justin's place, go and park somewhere, and come on up once I call you, ok?" Lindsay was greeted by silence.
"Brian?"
"What?"
"Okay?"
A longer pause. "Okay."
Lindsay sighed. Brian could be so difficult.
Lindsay could tell that Brian was in a very strange mood. The drive to Justin's had been mostly silent, and Brian seemed clearly preoccupied. Brian finally broke the silence, though not at all in the way Lindsay had expected.
"Why are you doing this, Lindz? I think it's quite apparent that Justin can't stand me. What are you hoping to achieve?"
"Huh? I...I think he's just afraid of you, Brian. Look, it won't hurt to meet him casually, would it? And I'll be there to chaperone as well...or make an early exit if the scene so requires...Brian? What exactly is going on? What is it that you're not telling me?"
"And we're here. Buzz me when you need me."
Clearly, Brian was done talking. Ugh. If the man had been just a little less emotionally stunted, she thought.
Lindsay went upstairs, just as Justin was locking his door.
"Oh, hey Lindsay! I thought you weren't coming..."
Lindsay smiled apologetically. "I got held up at the gallery. Are you on your way out?"
"I was just going to run down to the deli and grab something to eat. Do you want to join me? Or you could wait inside...I shouldn't be more than ten or fifteen minutes."
Perfect, Lindsay thought. "I'll just wait here. I hope you don't mind, I had to get some papers from Brian, so I asked him to meet me here since I was running late."
Justin gave her an easy smile. "Sure, no problem."
And that's how it's done, Lindsay thought. As soon as Justin left, she called Brian and asked him to come upstairs.
When Brian finally came upstairs, they walked around looking at the paintings that Justin had unpacked. She let him look around for a while before she said anything. "Well? What do you think? Isn't his work incredible? Justin is definitely going to go places."
Lindsay noticed that Brian seemed mesmerized. "He's going to go lots of places, Lindz. Pratt must be out of their fucking mind to have said no."
What did he just say? "Huh? Pratt said no? What are you talking about?"
Brian sighed. "Nothing. Justin mentioned that Pratt had to withdraw their scholarship on some technicality. That's all."
Lindsay raised her eyebrows. Brian wasdefinitely keeping something from her.
"Right." That was when Lindsay noticed the open sketch pad. It looked like the same one Justin had been doodling on at her place. It lay open on a drawing of a young woman with frizzy hair, laughing. It was a pencil sketch. Lindsay flipped the page and stared.
"Brian? Take a look at this, will you?" She walked up to Brian, who was standing by the far window, and gave the sketch pad to him, watching his face go from blank to surprise to unreadable.
Neither Lindsay nor Brian noticed Justin quietly entering the room.
"That's a portrait of you, Brian. Justin obviously wants you...looks like you'll win the bet after all. Knowing you, you'll be sleeping with him before the sun sets today. Three days to spare. We should've known"
"You had a bet? To see if you could sleep with me?" Justin's face was devoid of any expression whatsoever, but his eyes were flashing.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Justin's POV
Unfuckingbelievable, Justin thought. They actually took a bet to see if he'd be able to sleep with me? He was disappointed in Lindsay and furious with Brian. And I was actually foolish enough to think that...no, don't even go there, Justin thought. Just play it cool. Brian doesn't need to know you care.
"You had a bet? To see if you could sleep with me?" He watched Lindsay's eyes widen in shock, and even Brian had trouble hiding his chagrin in seeing Justin there. Justin continued to speak before either of them could say anything. "Well, sorry to inform you Brian, but that's one bet you're going to be losing. I have absolutely no desire to have sex with you in any manner or form."
"Justin, I'm so sorry, we didn't mean -" Lindsay was cut off mid-sentence by Brian, who covered the distance between Justin and himself, sketch pad in hand.
"No desire to have sex with me? In any manner or form?" Brian's was low and throaty and Justin knew he was fucked.
Lindsay, making some quick predictions of her own, quickly and quietly walked out. Justin barely registered her exit - Brian hadn't stopped talking.
"Is that why you sketched me? Several pages worth? Because you have no desire for me?"
Justin was rooted to the spot and was finding it increasingly difficult to stop his body from responding to Brian.
"I'm an artist, Brian." Damn it! Why couldn't his goddamn voice be normal? "I draw beautiful things. Beautiful people. That's what artists do. You're a beautiful man. Doesn't mean I want to fuck you."
Brian let the sketch pad drop to the floor as he pressed his forehead against Justin's. "I'm a beautiful man. Is that what you think, Sunshine? Because I think you're the most beautiful man I ever met."
I am SO fucked.Justin tried to take a step back, and instead found Brian's arms encircle his waist, pressing him against Brian's body. It was impossible for Brian not to have noticed how hard Justin was, and when Justin felt Brian's parted lips on his, he thought he would explode there and then..Justin had no concept of time, or for how long they kissed, feeling every inch of the other's body. His t-shirt had come off, as had Brian's jacket and shirt, and Justin could feel Brian undoing the button on his jeans. This is even better than the first time with Brian, Justin thought vaguely.
First. Time. BRIAN KINNEY.What the fuck am I doing, Justin thought. JESUS.
Justin had to put both his hands on Brian's chest to push him off. He needed space between them. The more space the better.
"Justin -" Brian was growling, as he reached for Justin, his breathing laboured, and Justin stepped back at least three feet.
"Brian." Justin struggled with his voice. BREATHE. "Brian. I was wrong. You're beautiful and hot and I'm human and I do desire you. But I don't want you to fuck me. My body wants you. I don't."
"Justin -"
"Close the door on your way out." Justin grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and practically sprinted out of his own studio.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Brian's POV
The day had just gone from bad to worse. In fact, Brian still felt as if he was living a continuation of the previous day. Brian wasn't sure why he had agreed to accompany Lindsay to Justin's studio, but the last thing he had expected to find there were sketches of himself. And before Brian had even begun to comprehend what that could possibly mean, Justin himself had turned up. Fuck.
Every step he took closer to Justin was a step Brian knew he shouldn't take, but Brian was incapable of stopping himself. Seeing Justin, knowing who he really was...
And then one minute Justin was pulling his clothes off, clearly wanting him as much as Brian had needed Justin, and the next minute, he was ten feet away, walking out of his own studio.
Brian couldn't remember being that angry in his entire life. He was furious with Justin, with Lindsay, with Chris fucking Hobbs and most of all with himself, and he refused to think about why.
He had gone back to Vanguard ready to kill someone, but had settled for fucking Kip Thomas - some intern or coordinator or equally redundant piece of tripe - in the bathroom. Not that it helped. Brian had spent the rest of the day picking on everyone in sight before eventually heading back to the loft. Kip had turned up at the loft an hour later with some papers from the office, and the second fuck of the day proved to be as unsatisfactory as the first. Brian wasn't sure that he would have come if he hadn't imagined himself fucking a certain blonde.
Brian stared out the window, joint in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other. How the fuck did all this happen, he thought. And why do I feel so guilty?
The phone started ringing, and Brian cursed. It was either Lindsay or Mikey, but Brian welcomed the distraction. Please let it be Mikey. He glanced at the caller ID and noticed that the number was blocked. Just like last week. When it rains, it pours, Brian thought.
"Hello?"
"Brian."
"Justin."
"No one needs to know you're going to lose your silly bet. Make it worth my while and I'll tell Lindsay we fucked."
