Brian almost dropped his glass of Beam on the marble floor. "Excuse me?" he said, arching one eyebrow regally and looking at his father as if he had grown an extra head. "I couldn't have heard that right. I could have sworn you just asked me to be your campaign manager."

Fin sighed to himself; he had tried to tell Tony that would be his son's likely reaction, and apparently he had turned out to be right – Brian was looking at him as if he had lost his mind, and perhaps he had…

He plowed on nonetheless since it was already out in the open. "You heard right," he told his son from his position on the couch. "I'd like you to oversee the advertising for my campaign – after all, you excel at selling products and that's what I am – a product that needs to be sold to the voters. You would be perfect for the job." At least that's what my partner told me, anyway…. He wondered briefly if it was a good idea to have two personalities that were so much alike working so closely together, but just by being around his son in the short time they had known each other and doing a little research about his company, he knew Brian was the best at what he did, and he was a commodity that needed to be promoted; he couldn't think of a better PR person to do it, then, than his wildly-successful, think-out-of-the-box son.

Brian stared at him, incredulous. "You're shitting me, right?"

Fin shook his head. "No….in fact, I understand you've already had prior experience doing something quite similar."

Brian snorted as he took a gulp of his Beam. "You've been talking to my husband." He knew exactly what – or should he say whom - his father was referring to; Stockwell wasn't exactly the epitome of class and aplomb to hold a high standard to. If anything, he was the perfect poster boy for a homophobic, right-wing jerk. He winced inwardly as he thought about what he had almost accomplished; he certainly wasn't proud of the fact that he had almost got the asshole elected. If it hadn't been for Justin smacking some common sense into him, he probably would have succeeded, too.

Fin had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he admitted, "Not directly. But I have it on good authority that a couple of blonds talk to each other quite a bit when we're not around."

Brian shrugged as he leaned against the wet bar and stared at his father. "And here I thought they were just exchanging recipes," he quipped. He knew that Justin and Tony had become good friends since they had met a few months ago; he had seen the two with their little blond heads together several times since then, conspiring like a couple of happy little housewives – hell, the two even giggled alike when something struck their fancy, even though Tony had to be at least 20 years older than Justin.

Fin peered at his son, grinning slightly at his attempt at humor. "Well, there may have been an ingredient list pass hands for Tony's signature chicken lasagna dish, but they've been talking about a lot more than that. And I think my partner has persuaded your 'partner' that you would make a hell of a campaign manager for me." He had spoken to Tony last night and discovered that he had paid Justin a little social call at Britin to help enlist him into their camp. It had been hard to disguise Tony's excited voice as he told him that he had persuaded a certain talented artist to help them out as only he was able to do….

Brian silently vowed to have a little chat with a certain blond when he got home later, a little perturbed that Justin hadn't discussed this issue with him first; he didn't like being blindsided, especially when it came to something regarding his father. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he even had a different father, and he still wasn't quite sure what to make of Fin yet.

He eyed the other man from his place at the bar quietly for a few seconds before he responded, "If you know anything at all about Stockwell's campaign, then you also know what a fucking mess it all was." Even though everything had eventually turned out in the end, he still felt a strong twinge of regret over his part in the whole affair; not only had it cost him a great deal financially – at least temporarily – but it had also cost him a loss of respect in Justin's eyes. That had perhaps hurt most of all.

"Maybe it was for a while," Fin conceded. "But I understand you finally decided to work toward undermining Stockwell instead of endorsing him once you figured out what you and a lot of others had to lose. And you managed to turn a sure thing into a loss for him as a result. That had to have taken a lot of guts as well as expertise to accomplish that, Brian. And that's the kind of person I need to lead my campaign."

Brian shook his head, unconvinced. "I'm not a politician, Fin; frankly I don't give a shit about politics at all. Besides, no matter who gets elected, someone's always got you in your pocket that you're beholden to. Face it – you would be no different than any of the others."

Fin's gray eyes flashed as he placed his drink down on the glass coffee table in front of him. "That's not true, Brian! Yeah….I've got financial backers just like any other candidate would have. But I intentionally limit the amount that any supporter can give me specifically so I am not obligated to any one interest or lobby group. I am my own man – not someone else's flunky. And I intend to stay that way."

Brian raised his eyebrows as he studied this man who looked so much like him. He certainly sounded sincere enough in his convictions, but what did he really know about him yet? It wasn't like he had done any in-depth research about his father's political stand on any of the issues. He had intentionally tried to stay out of the whole fracas; now he wanted him to run his whole fucking campaign? "I'll accept that statement at face value," he finally told his father because he had no reason necessarily to doubt him. "But that still doesn't sell me on selling you."

Fin blew out a frustrated breath between his lips. "Okay, I'll accept that. But let's do an about face here, then; let me pitch an ad campaign to you."

Brian looked at him amusement. "You want to do my job?"

Fin curled his lips under. "If that's what it takes," he told his son.

Brian smiled, thinking this should be interesting; perhaps he could find out if he had inherited his persuasive skills from his biological father. "Okay," he agreed, walking over and sitting down on the other end of the couch. He placed his drink down next to his father's and crossed his hands over his chest as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. This should be interesting….. "Give it your best shot."

Fin swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Despite his nervousness, he wasn't going to back down; he firmly believed his son was the right man for the job. Now all he had to do was convince Brian of that.

He reached over to retrieve the hard, black leather briefcase he always took with him wherever he went and, propping it up on his knees, he unsnapped the two latches and sprung it open. Brian watched him curiously as he reached in and took out a medium-sized, soft-sided, spiral drawing book. Wordlessly, he held it out to his son expectantly as he closed the briefcase and placed it back beside him on the couch. He held his breath as Brian grasped the book and glanced at the illustrated front cover.

The cover of the book, which was a plain ivory color, had been emblazoned across the top with the words "Fin's Persuasion Campaign." It had a caricature of his father on the front, standing behind a podium, looking solemn and impassioned as he gestured with his hands. There was a cartoon balloon drawn coming out of his mouth which said, "Kinney, you're the man for the job."

Brian sighed and rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing the artist who had done the illustration. Little fucker…Apparently Justin had been doing more than just swapping recipes; the only question was when had he had time to do all this? He could have sworn he had kept Justin quite busy during their honeymoon – AND afterward. Evidently not 'busy' enough….. He peered over at his father who merely shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and smiled.

"Humph," Brian growled. "Remind me to take someone's crayons away from him the next time I see him." He thought he heard a slight chuckle coming from his father as he flipped open the book; on the first page in Justin's flowing script was a handwritten title sheet: Reasons why Brian Kinney would be a kick-ass campaign manager. His husband had even sketched a full-length caricature of him as well, complete with a pencil stuck behind his ear and his head adorned with one of those dorky, round-brimmed, white campaign hats with red, white, and blue trim around it. He was sitting on top of a desk, his legs hanging in front of him, as he looked at what appeared to be a clipboard of some sort in his hand. How quaint…..At least I seem to be wearing Gucci….

Fin pursed his lips together as he watched his son's reaction, trying hard not to laugh. It reminded him so much of the same type of facial expressions he would plaster on his own face sometimes when Tony did something sneaky, too, like trying to substitute his full-blown, caffeine-laden coffee with some half and half crap; even though he could smell and taste it a mile away, Tony was forever trying to mix leaded and unleaded together in hopes he wouldn't notice. This, however, was much more important than trying to change a morning coffee habit. His son's agreeing to go along with this might spell the difference between success and failure; it was quite possible that in all the excitement of finding out that he had a son he hadn't done a very good job of telling Brian just how important this campaign was to him. He still felt he could do so much more good as governor than as a state senator. He had a lot of policies he wanted to put in place – not just having to do with gay rights – but so many other things that he had a passion for. He truly felt his son was ideal for the role of his campaign manager. Could he convince Brian of that, though?

He continued to observe his son as Brian flipped to the next page. He noticed Brian twisting his mouth wryly as he stared at Justin's artwork, not sure if it was an amused expression or one of irritation. Tony had admitted to him yesterday that he had talked Justin into helping him put the sketchbook together in hopes it would help convince Brian to assist him with his campaign; at the time he had been quite irritated with Tony for doing that on the sly, but in retrospect he had to admit, if anyone could help convince his son to help him, it would be his husband.

Brian slowly flipped through the book, noting Justin had drawn a caricature of either him or Fin on every page, along with another reason why he would be the perfect campaign manager for his father: he didn't back down from controversy, he thought fast on his feet, he was creative and liked to think outside the box (he had to smile at Justin's depiction of him as 'The Thinker' with his back against a large, oversized cardboard box, a light bulb drawn over his head), he had the machinery for such a campaign already in place, and finally on a more personal note, it would help him and his father to 'bond.'

He detested the word 'bond;' it made him feel like he was a tube of Super Glue. He knew one of Justin's most fervent wishes was that he and Fin would become closer, maybe not as close as a typical father-son might be, but at least perhaps good friends. He wasn't sure that would ever happen – he still hardly knew the man – but he realized Justin really wanted that for him; it was literally written all over the pages of this sketchbook he held in his hands. As he came to the last page of it and flipped it shut, he stood there silently, his hands curled on either side of the volume as he contemplated what to do. Courtesy of Stockwell, he had gained at least a small glimpse into just how disruptive it would be to help run a political campaign; both his and Justin's lives would be turned upside down into a fucking circus if he agreed to do this. Was it worth the nightmare it might cause? Did he even want to get that involved? This wouldn't just be a one-time shot; he knew for the next several months, he would be eating, sleeping, and dreaming about this job 24/7. Was it worth all the trouble and headache it would no doubt cause just for the chance of getting to know his father better?

"Brian?" he turned his head at the sound of his father's voice, noticing what appeared to be a look of nervous anticipation on his face; it was a look he wasn't accustomed to seeing there. Normally, his father came across as confident and self-assured, at least in the presence of others and on camera; could his father be just as unsure of what to do as he was?

Fin stared into the hazel eyes of his son, wondering what was going on inside his head. He would never be an advertising whiz like Brian was, but it didn't take a genius to know this would not be an easy sell, trying to convince Brian to help him in his campaign, even with Justin's assistance. He took a calming breath before asking quietly, "So….what do you think?"

Brian smirked as he looked down at the 'advertising pitch' he was holding. "I think I'm vastly outnumbered here, that's what I think." He peered back over at his father as his expression sobered. "You're asking a lot of me, though, Fin. And I think Justin should have come to me first before he agreed to do this." He was definitely going to have a little chat with a certain blond when he got home…..

"Don't blame Justin," Fin hastily replied; he had been afraid that was precisely what Brian would do once he found out; the last thing he wanted was to cause a rift between his son and his new husband. "Tony can be quite persuasive when he wants to be; that's why he's one of the best attorneys in the state. He knows how talented an artist Justin is and naturally thought he would be ideal for helping to illustrate why, in my opinion, you're the best person for the job."

He noticed his son was remaining decidedly silent as he wondered what was going through his mind. "I wouldn't expect you to do this gratis," he clarified, surmising that perhaps that was one of his concerns. "I'm fully prepared to pay you a very competitive retainer for use of your services, just like any other client would."

Brian huffed out an insulted breath. "I'm not concerned about the money, Fin," he growled. "I'm concerned about the chaos and lack of privacy that will ensue if I agree to do this. Why should I put myself and Justin through all that shit? What's in it for me other than a lot of trouble and headache?"

Fin sighed, just a little irritated; he was trying hard to get to know his son better, but he needed to be met halfway. Yes, he was convinced that his son would be quite effective as his campaign manager – he certainly had the expertise and background needed to do the job – and he certainly wanted to come out victorious in the gubernatorial election, but didn't Brian understand the real reason why he wanted him to do it? He wanted a closer relationship with him, to get to know him, but sometimes he felt like he was banging his head against the wall. It wasn't his fault that he didn't even know he existed until a few months ago. Since he had discovered a son he didn't know he had, he had spent the time trying hard to make amends, but Brian was making it extremely difficult.

He placed his hands on his upper legs and squeezed them firmly in a sort of defensive posture as he softly admitted, "I was hoping you would do it in part so we could develop a deeper relationship." He eyed his son thoughtfully. "I was also hoping that was what you wanted, too. Was I wrong?"

Brian stood up and restlessly ran his hands through his hair as he turned his back on his father to consider that question. What did he want with his father? Did he even want a 'real' father? He certainly never thought of Jack Kinney that way. In fact, now that he had found out from Claire just why the man had gone along with his adoption, he despised his adoptive parents even more. There was a certain beauty and even poetic justice in knowing he had never really had any ties with those two cold-hearted people in the first place; but that didn't automatically mean that he wanted to pursue a deeper relationship with his true father. Just what did he want? The answer was much more complex than just a simple yes or no.

He turned to face Fin, noticing his father peering over at him intently. He raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment in contemplation before he returned his gaze to answer honestly, "I don't know what I want. I've never really had a father, Fin – or a mother for that matter. I was just a convenient way to proudly carry on the Kinney name." He snorted as he issued a small, derisive laugh. "Guess I really fucked that up for them, didn't I? They should have checked my DNA more thoroughly – maybe they could have found my queer gene somewhere in there and saved themselves a lot of trouble."

Fin looked at his son in sympathy, finding his heart going out to this wildly-successful man who was now happily married to his soulmate but apparently still damaged by the lack of love he had found growing up. If for no other reason, even if Brian didn't accept his offer, he had to try and ensure that his son knew he was valuable and respected as the person he was, not the person those two asshole adoptive 'parents' wanted him to be.

He rose from his seat and walked the few steps over to his son, not quite sure what to do or say; after all, this was as new to him as it was to Brian, but he felt he had to do something. He rather awkwardly placed his hand on Brian's sleeve as his son looked back at him curiously. "Your so-called adoptive parents were a couple of moronic idiots," Fin snarled in contempt. "They didn't deserve you, Brian, and they're not worth your time or your consideration. You should be fucking proud of yourself – despite what you apparently had to deal with growing up, you're happily married with an extremely successful business and a wonderful son. I can't think of a better fuck you than that."

Brian eyes widened at that statement; that was certainly unexpected. He wasn't used to someone actually giving him credit for what he did or who he was, except for maybe Justin and Michael. The vulnerable side of him wanted to think Fin was telling him this because he truly believed he was worthy, while the cynical, suspicious side of him wondered if there was an ulterior motive behind his support.

As if he could read his mind, Fin told him softly, "I mean it, Brian. You may not know it now, but ask Tony; I never say anything I don't mean. I'm not trying to use some political mumbo jumbo talk just to get you to take the job." He smiled wistfully as he curled his lips under. "Although, I certainly wouldn't object if it had a positive effect on the outcome."

He received a small smile from his son in response as he released his hold on Brian's sleeve; something told him he wasn't going to get an answer to his offer today, not that he had really expected to. This would be a long, drawn-out commitment, both time and labor extensive. Before Brian agreed to do it – hopefully he would agree – he wanted him to be sure. He somehow knew instinctively that if Brian DID accept, he would be in it for the long haul, because that's the type of person he was. He didn't seem to back down from any challenge once he had made up his mind to conquer it. He knew his son was perfect for the job, but he would have to wait and see if Brian concurred as well.

"Look," he told him. "Just think about it, okay? Obviously I need to get my campaign cranked into high gear soon, but I want you to be sure of your decision. Will you at least consider it and let me know?" He held his breath, hoping that Brian wouldn't dismiss the idea outright. He also hoped that his son wouldn't go home and give Justin a hard time for his part in his scheme; Tony had assured him, though, that Justin wanted to help, even though he had been adamant that he would abide by whatever decision his husband made.

Brian took a deep breath, undecided about what to do. Frankly, part of him was excited about the idea of running such a large, extensive campaign; it would be by far the most ambitious endeavor he had ever attempted, and it would be unlike anything he had ever done before, dwarfing the Stockwell campaign in comparison. It would be such a rush to have so much power in his hands and to wield such authority over literally thousands of people under him. And he had to grudgingly admit, it would be nice to get to know his father better; he was slowly gaining respect in his eyes as an honest, decent man who stood up for what he believed in and was passionate about his work – much like he was. He was intrigued by what he didn't know about Fin, and he longed to find out. He also wanted to know more about his mother, as well as his paternal grandparents. He realized nothing at all about them….

But another, more realistic side of him winced at the idea of being hounded constantly by the press, never having a moment's peace from the day he took the job until his father was hopefully elected. He and Justin would be subjected to enormous scrutiny, their lives dissected bit by bit with nothing left unsaid or unrevealed. Did he want to deal with that? Justin had already been through way too much in his relatively young life – an assault that almost cost him his life, rejection by his asshole of a father, and a bombing that could have killed him as well. His brave, courageous partner had finally put all that behind him and was finally coming into his own as a successful, respected artist; was it fair to drag him through the mud along with him? Even though he was pissed off presently at Justin for conspiring with his blond counterpart to try and persuade him to take this job, he still didn't want the man he loved being subjected to glaring, intrusive media coverage. He recalled clearly how spooked Justin had been for months after his bashing and how he had felt so terrified just to be in the midst of large crowds; would this cause some sort of relapse? There were so many variables involved in this decision it made his head almost spin.

He realized with a start that his father was still silently staring at him, wanting an answer. He sighed softly as he told him, "All right. I'll think about it and get back to you. But I'm NOT making any promises, Fin, you understand?"

Fin nodded his head, relieved that at least his son hadn't rejected the idea immediately. "Fair enough," he agreed as he walked over to the couch to retrieve his briefcase. He noticed Justin's 'persuasion sketchbook,' as he liked to refer to it, still lying on the other end of the couch. "Want me to leave that?" he asked Brian.

His son twisted his mouth in amusement. "Yeah," he told him. "Leave it. It'll come in handy as evidence."

Fin grinned at him as he snapped his briefcase closed and nodded. "Just remember what I said, okay? I'm sure he realizes you'll make up your own mind. Don't punish him for wanting to help out Tony; like I said, my partner can be a very persuasive little fucker."

Brian snorted. "Yeah….I know the type well. Don't worry, though…..he'll still get punished all right," Brian told him with a sort of sinister gleam in his eye. "But I think it might be the kind both of us will benefit from."

His father blushed, convinced he knew precisely what sort of 'punishment' his son had in mind; he was relieved that at least Brian really wasn't that upset with Justin evidently. Reassured, he picked up his briefcase and turned to go. "I'll be waiting to hear from you, Brian," he told his son. "You know what I hope you'll decide, but I'll respect whatever decision you make." He walked over to the door to leave, but just before he opened the door, he turned to add, "You wouldn't be my son if you were a pushover anyway."

Brian eyed his father thoughtfully as he watched him go. The man was still a mystery to him, but he had to admit; the two of them seemed more alike than different. Was it a good idea though, at least figuratively, to get in bed with his own father? Would working too closely together actually hinder any deeper relationship, rather than nurture it?

"Fuck," he muttered; his thoughts in a whirl of confusion. He had never had this much difficulty making up his mind before, at least unless you counted the day he finally told Justin just how he had felt about him. Of course the only bomb involved this time was a time bomb – he knew he couldn't leave his father out on a limb for long. What he would ultimately decide, however, was still very much up in the air.

Sighing, he walked over to turn his laptop off and place it in his briefcase. Closing it shut, he reached for his car keys. He knew he was going to need a second opinion; and besides, there was a certain 'sentence' he needed to hand out to someone for being impudent. He smirked. "I hope you take it like a man, Sunshine," he quipped with a soft chuckle as he left his office to tell Cynthia he was gone for the day.

Forty-Five Minutes Later

Brian pressed the remote on his car's visor to activate the wrought-iron security gate that had been installed yesterday; it had cost him a fucking fortune to have the entire perimeter of Britin wired for intruders and have cameras installed throughout the grounds, but it was worth it to him to make sure he – and especially Justin – were protected and provided the privacy they deserved while they were home.

As he drove up the long, curved driveway to their home, the irony of having the outrageously-expensive security in place now wasn't lost on him; if Fin did manage to talk him into running his campaign, he would be doubly relieved that all the intricate components of his security system were already firmly in place. First, though, he had to have a little chat with a certain co-conspirator before he made up his mind, not only to bounce the pros and cons off his talented little husband artiste, but to extract a little 'punishment' from him for not discussing the issue beforehand.

He pushed the remote once more to enter the garage and park the 'Vette inside. As the heavy aluminum door swung shut behind him, he emerged from the car to go in search of Justin. Once he was inside the house, the immediate kitchen area was noticeably quiet, but he wasn't surprised. Normally when he was gone, Justin would typically be upstairs in his studio or perhaps out back somewhere, either by the pool or near the stables, depending upon his mood for where and what he wanted to sketch, and also on whether he was preparing something for dinner as he frequently liked to do. Brian had never really understood his fascination for cooking homemade meals, but Justin seemed to derive a great deal of accomplishment and satisfaction from it and he was a surprisingly good cook, so Brian was more than willing to humor him.

Since he was a couple of hours earlier than he normally would be, he went in search of the blond, first sliding open the back door from the kitchen to the outside to see if Justin was there but finding no sign of him. Twisting his tie to loosen it, he returned to the kitchen to place his briefcase down on the planning desk nearby before walking down the hallway to the mahogany, curved staircase to search the rest of the house.

A few minutes later, he reached the uppermost floor and entered Justin's sun-drenched studio. He normally would call out for his husband, but he chose this time to get the upper hand and surprise him; he was still a bit peeved over his conspiratorial mission with a certain other blond and wanted to have a stern talk with him, although he knew deep down he could never stay angry with Justin for long. The little twat always did have a unique ability to mollify him, unlike everyone else, except perhaps his son.

Disappointed he wasn't over near the southern window where he always liked to paint the best, Brian walked over to it and peered down into the backyard where he had a view of the stables and nearby fields. He didn't see Justin there, either. "Where are you, Sunshine?" he asked softly, puzzled.

Descending the steps once more, he had reached the second-floor landing where their master bedroom and guest bedrooms were located and was about to call out for him as a last resort when he thought he heard a noise coming from down the hall. Quietly walking toward the source of the noise, he approached the nearest bedroom next to their master suite and poked his head in the door. Despite his irritation, he couldn't help smiling as he finally found his husband wearing a pensive look on his face as he often did when he was thinking about a project. Justin was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, maroon-colored shirt with the sleeves pushed up and had one of his ever-present sketchpads in his hand, much like the one he had so creatively used earlier today; in between his eyes darting from the room and then back to the paper, he was studiously drawing something on the pad. The room Justin was working in wasn't quite as grand or spacious as their suite, which had a large sitting area near the bay windows and a huge adjoining bathroom, but it was still bright and airy, courtesy of a trio of floor-to-ceiling windows which were able to let in the afternoon light. Being on the second floor, there was really no need for curtains to afford privacy, and, besides, except for a couple of overstuffed, antique Elizabethan chairs that had been left over from the previous tenants, there wasn't any need for isolation from prying eyes – there was really nothing to see except for a wide open, unfurnished space.

He and Justin had decided when they moved into Britin to take their time working on redecorating the house, choosing to concentrate on the areas they would really utilize, such as the kitchen, living room, study, master bedroom and a couple of guest bedrooms on the opposite side of the floor; this was one of the rooms that had been pushed aside until they had the time and inclination to finish it. It appeared that Justin was drawing some preliminary ideas for furnishing the room; it surprised Brian, however, because he had always been under the impression they would work on them together.

He quietly walked into the room unbeknownst to his husband, whose back was angled away from the door. Smirking a little, he was within a couple feet of the blond when he loudly stated, "THERE you are!"

He chuckled as Justin jumped at least a couple of feet in startled shock as he whirled around, his eyes flashing. "Shit, Brian! You scared the fucking daylights of me!" Brian noticed curiously that Justin quickly flipped his sketchbook closed as if he didn't want him to see what he was doing; that was highly unusual – normally Justin couldn't wait to show him what he was working on.

The blond glared at him in annoyance, trying hard to not project the nervousness he was feeling; he didn't want Brian to see what he had been sketching – at least not yet. He didn't know when the right time would be to broach the subject of what he was working on, but by the somewhat perturbed look on his husband's face he had a good idea that now wasn't it; he wasn't sure when the right time would be, anyway, not sure what his reaction would be. He chose instead to take the offensive. "What are you doing home so early?" he asked as he surreptitiously placed his sketchbook down on one of the overstuffed chairs. "It can't be later than 2."

Forgetting the sketchbook temporarily, Brian advised him, "1:45."

Justin rubbed his charcoal-covered hands over his jeans. "1:45, then. So what are you doing home?" Brian never did adhere to a regimented schedule, but more times than not, he ran late rather than early; this was highly unlike him.

"Have a seat, Mr. Taylor," Brian said almost formally as he took the empty chair opposite him.

Uh, oh. I know that tone….. Justin quietly placed his sketchpad down on the floor next to the nearby chair facing the one Brian was sitting in and sat down. "It's Taylor-Kinney," he couldn't help correcting his husband with an impertinent smile; he figured he would never tire of saying that name. In a way, he was still trying to get used to it, but he liked his new name – a lot. He noticed Brian trying unsuccessfully to stifle a small smile at his statement before he answered.

"Okay, then…Taylor-Kinney Twat." He eyed the mischievous blue eyes of his lover, who snorted back at him, before he advised him sternly, "I had an interesting visit this morning at work."

"You did?" Justin clasped his hands a little nervously, wondering why Brian was looking so serious. He soon found out when Brian told him who it was.

"Yeah…..It was Fin. Want to guess what he wanted to see me about?"

Justin averted his eyes downward. Busted…. "Uh….he wanted the name of your tailor?" he supplied helpfully as he finally raised his eyes to peer into the hazel ones.

Brian curled his lips under. "No….he already made good use of my Taylor," he replied as he eyed Justin intently; he noticed just the hint of a flushed pink appear on the beautiful face as he realized that Justin knew exactly what he had meant by Taylor. He sighed, not trying to keep up the pretense any longer as he said softly, "Justin, why didn't you talk to me about this first? I didn't appreciate being hit by a surprise with that. And by the way, just when did you have time to work on that interesting masterpiece?"

Justin blushed in embarrassment. "Tony came out to visit me yesterday while you were at work and asked me to help with the artwork."

"Uh, huh….." Brian shook his head. "Remind me not to let you two alone ever again – it must be a blond thing or something."

Justin smirked. "We can't help it if father and son have good taste."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't try to change the subject, Sunshine. You know I don't like being caught with my pants down - at least not like this."

Justin grinned as he licked his lips. "I'm glad you clarified that." He sobered, though, as he said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Brian. But he was very persuasive – he is an attorney, you know."

"Yeah….apparently a real good one." He sighed. "I know you were only trying to help, but this is something I need to decide for myself. Do you realize how much disruption we'll have in our own lives if I agree to do this? Are you sure you're willing to subject yourself to that? You do remember what happened right after the prom."

Justin flinched slightly at the mention of what should have been one of the happiest times of his life, at least that's what Daphne had always told him. For what must have been the thousandth time, he desperately wished he could remember, but all he could recall was the horrible aftermath and what Hobbes had done to him. It had taken him months to get over not only the assault but to undergo physical therapy to get back to a semblance of what he had been like before. Even now, his hand ached if he overused it too much; it wasn't nearly as bad as before, but it still happened. And the psychological trauma; if Brian hadn't been there to hold him up and support him, he's not sure he would have ever recovered from that. Even now, when he was out on a busy street or in the midst of a wall-to-wall crowd at an art showing, he could still feel the wisps of terror inside him, even though he knew it was unsubstantiated. Maybe, then, Brian had a point; could he handle what would no doubt be constant attention toward them as well as Fin? Was he prepared to do that? He considered that for a few moments before deciding that yes, if it was what Brian wanted and if it would bring him closer to his father, it would be worth it.

He let out a heavy breath as he gazed at the man he loved. "I remember very well, Brian," he said just a little stiffly. "But that was a long time ago. I told Tony yesterday that I would help him with the sketches, but the ultimate decision would be up to you. I'll abide by whatever you decide; that was my intention all along. I won't lie to you, though; if it would help you to learn more about Fin, I think it might be a good thing."

Brian rubbed his hand over his face in indecision; he had thought about the pros and cons of doing it ever since his father had first broached him with the idea earlier today; each time he tried to analyze it, though, he always wound up unable to make a firm choice. "I…..I don't know what to do, Justin," he finally told his husband as he stared into his familiar eyes. "I'm…..torn between wanting to stay the hell away as far as possible and being intrigued by the idea of overseeing the largest advertising campaign of my career. I've thought about nothing else since Fin brought it up, and I still don't know what to do."

Justin reached over to take Brian's hand; their fingers linked together as he whispered, "You have good instincts, Brian. I know you'll do the right thing."

Brian curled his fingers around the slender hand as he advised, "That's just it; this time I have no fucking idea what the right thing is." He sighed. "I told Fin I'd think it over and get back to him; I know he needs an answer right away; there's less than six months to go before the election, and he needs to get a move on if he's going to have any chance of winning."

Justin grinned. "Spoken like a true campaign manager." He had meant what he said – he would support Brian no matter what he chose – but he had a feeling his husband was leaning one particular way already, despite his protestations that he hadn't decided. He knew what a lure it was for Brian to take on a challenge, and he had a good feeling this one was going to be a doozy.

Brian gave him a look that said don't go there as he stood up and pulled Justin to his feet, sliding his hands around the slim waist to imprison his captive as Justin gazed at him innocently. "Well, I'm not going to make any decision hastily," he told him, his lips curled under in that little-boy-way that drove Justin crazy. A type of evil glint appeared in his eyes as he stated solemnly, "Besides, I know someone who deserves to be punished for going behind my back."

To his consternation – but not his surprise – Justin didn't appear nervous or apprehensive at all regarding his statement; in fact, he seemed quite amused as he smirked back at him. "Is that a promise?" he asked, licking his lips in anticipation as he wound his own arms around Brian's back and pulled him closer. "I'm scared." he whispered, his eyes twinkling.

Brian rolled his eyes; he knew his attempt to be firm with his husband was going to last probably all of a few seconds; he wasn't sure if it had been even that long before he had promptly caved in once more, just like usual. "Yes," he told him huskily. "I think we'll start out with a good spanking – or shall I say whipping? And then we'll follow it up with some good, old-fashioned hard labor until I have you screaming for mercy."

Justin's grin spread wider as his hands crept lower to settle on Brian's ass cheeks. He gave them a possessive squeeze before he murmured, "Ooh….I'm a slut for punishment. I can't wait; let's go."

Brian chuckled as he shook his head at Justin's enthusiasm, wondering how this man had managed to get him so securely wrapped around his little finger. But there was no turning back – he knew this man would have possession of his heart for the rest of his life. He leaned down to ravage the willing, soft lips as their mouths instinctively opened up to taste each other. He heard a soft sigh as they pulled back several seconds later. He quickly flipped Justin around to give him a sharp smack on his butt to get a move on as Justin squeaked in response. "There's your first round, you little shit," he told him huskily as he gave him a little shove, holding onto one hand possessively so he wouldn't run off. "Now get going – you've got a lot of sucking up to do."

"Ooh…I like it when you talk dirty," Justin answered as he laughed softly. "I'd love to do some sucking up to you – all afternoon."

Brian pulled him hard against his chest; he knew Justin could feel his own response to that sexy tone of voice as he leaned down and nipped at the fleshy part of Justin's earlobe, feeling the lithe body shiver under his grasp. "Don't worry," he told him seductively. "You'll be doing a lot of 'sucking up' before I get done with YOU, little boy."

"I'll be counting on it," Justin managed to sputter out breathlessly as Brian proceeded to walk the two of them out of the room together, the mysterious scrapbook still lying on the floor where it had been discarded, now long forgotten by both men for much more pleasurable pursuits…..