This was certainly an eventful weekend, Brian thought. First Babylon, then Lindsay, then Justin, then…Justin. A clearly tipsy Justin. What exactly he was supposed to do with Justin was anybody's guess. Oh right. He remembered. Justin wanted toast. How fucking ironic – the person he had been salivating after for the last umpteen weeks was right here, in Brian's own house, and his job was to make fucking toast.
Brian locked the door, and stretched. He knew that Justin could be tempted to sample goods on display, but past experience had taught him that that was all Justin was going to indulge in.
Sighing, Brian turned around, and almost collided with Justin, who had crept up on him.
Justin had kicked off his shoes at some point, and was barefoot. The sight of him was so tempting, and there were a million things Brian wanted to do, but self-control he didn't know he had came to the fore. He put an arm on Justin's shoulder, intending to guide him back to the kitchen.
"Justin, you sure you're ok? Did you need something?"
Justin did not budge. "Yes," he said. Justin ran the back of his fingers across Brian's face. "God, you're beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse. "I thought I could put you out of my mind…ridiculous. You've been haunting me since the day I met you. Kiss me, Brian."
Brian was so surprised by Justin's word that it was his turn to remain motionless. Was this the same guy who turned on his heel and disappeared every time Brian so much as touched him? Was Justin actually…?
Justin snaked his arms around his back, binding his body against Brian's. On his tiptoes, he kissed Brian.
Justin tasted of wine. He tasted of wine and lightness and pleasure and the promise of a lot more to come. Brian bent into him, kissing him back, guiding Justin backwards into the heart of the loft. There were a million things Brian wanted to say, but for now, the only thing that mattered was feeling the warmth of Justin's body against his. In one fluid motion, Brian pulled off the t-shirt Justin was wearing.
Justin pulled away slightly, giggling throatily – whether it was from the alcohol or the lust, it was hard to say. "Take off your clothes, Mr. Kinney. The show works both ways."
Brian raised an eyebrow, but didn't have to be asked twice. He threw off his half-buttoned shirt over his head. Justin's hands were on his jeans in a trice, undoing the button. Brian stopped him. Briefly.
"We'll be more comfortable on the bed," he stated, going back to the frenzied kissing and simultaneously moving towards the bedroom.
It was hard to believe that this was actually happening. That Justin had finally given in because…because he was drunk?
Brian gently pushed Justin back, staring into his eyes, looking for something he was afraid he wouldn't find.
But Justin was a man possessed. He shimmied out of his pants in no time, and since Brian had stopped kissing him, Justin clearly thought that it was ok for his hands to travel south, inside Brian's jeans, doing what his lips had been doing moments ago. He started kissing Brian's stomach, moving upward. "What's the matter?"
"Justin, are you sure you want to be doing this? You're going to have to deal with what happens here and Ian and…"
"Ethan and I broke up…you and I don't have to wait a single moment longer." Justin reached up to kiss Brian again. His cheeks were flushed. "I'm all yours."
Hearing Justin's words, something clicked…their conversation earlier at Woody's, Justin's drunken state, his coming on to Brian…now it all made sense. He had broken up with the fiddler.
And this was nothing but a drunken, rebound fling.
In that moment, Brian's heart dropped to his stomach.
He didn't want this to be a drunken, rebound fling.
It was as simple as that.
"Justin, stop. Wait. We can't do this."
"Brian, come on." Justin reached up again, but Brian gently pushed him away, and tried to move himself away from Justin.
"Justin, we're not doing this. Not tonight. I don't want you like this." As much as Brian wanted Justin, he didn't want Justin like this. Not under these circumstances. Not as some mindless, drunken fuck to get the fiddler out of his system. When he and Justin finally had sex, it was going to have a lot more meaning that just some romp.
Brian saw realization begin to dawn in Justin's eyes that he was serious.
"You're saying no. You are saying no. You don't…I…" Justin looked crestfallen, and in spite of himself, Brian began to feel awful.
"C'mon, how about I make you that toast?"
Justin stared at him blankly, before shaking his head. He walked about aimlessly, before sitting on the arm of the sofa.
"I want to go home."
"Where's home?" Brian wanted Justin to look less like someone whose puppy had been shot.
"I don't know. What does it matter? Even…I thought…fuck it. I'll go to the diner. Maybe Kiki…maybe Debbie…you don't want me here. I should go." Justin rose to his feet unsteadily.
"Maybe, you should go lie down, and get some sleep. We'll figure out where home is in the morning, ok?" There was no way Brian could take Justin to Debbie and feel ok about it. Justin was clearly upset, and Brian, against his better judgement, just wanted to make Justin feel better.
Ugh, I'm turning into a lesbian, he thought.
Brian walked over to him, and Justin leaned into him tiredly.
"Come on, the bed is this way." He guided Justin onto his bed, cursing himself because he would now have to sleep on the couch.
Justin slipped under the covers, and Brian turned to leave. Before he could, Justin held onto his hand.
"Could you sleep next to me? Just…lie down next to me?"
Brian smiled. He wasn't going to reject Justin anymore for the evening.
"Sure. Just let me go switch off the lights, and I'll be with you."
"Thank you."
It had been a long time since Brian had had anyone sleep in his bed, in the literal sense of the word. He was always adamant about having any hookups gone by the time he closed his eyes each night –or early morning, as it were, and the few times someone had spent the night had not been for a lack of trying on Brian's part.
It was easier that way. Most amount of pleasure with the least amount of bullshit for all parties involved and all that.
It felt novel, then, to have Justin, breathing deeply and steadily next to him in the dark, with the blue neon light of the bedframe illuminating his body. It felt significant somehow, in a way that falling asleep on the side of a pavement, cuddling for warmth, hadn't. Justin's body heat was pulling him closer, but he denied himself that indulgence. He was not going to start cuddling men he wasn't even having sex with.
Justin, in his sleep, didn't seem like he had any such considerations. He kept turning toward Brian, stretching out an arm or a leg occasionally, until Brian's backing up had him almost half way off the bed. Sleeping with someone, in the literal sense of the word, when you're not even drunk or exhausted out of your mind, on a real bed and not half sitting on the side of some pavement, was hard work, turns out. There was all this space to be allocated, not even taking into account how the hell duvets were supposed to be shared.
He decided to just go with it at some point, and let Justin hug the side of his body as he saw fit. Justin, for his part, mumbled something in his sleep that sounded suspiciously like Brian's name followed by some kind of combination of the words 'shut up', and 'breakfast' and either 'kitten' or 'mitten', which Brian was in no state to try and decipher, wrapped whatever limbs he could around Brian's (very weirded out) body, put his head on Brian's chest like he owned it, and promptly went back to a mostly quiet sleep.
Brian felt his body unfreeze by inches, until he could actually relax, his hyperactive mind giving way to drowsiness and warmth and finally, at some ungodly hour, sleep.
His last though was that at least he did still find the occasional snoring annoying rather than endearing, and for that he was grateful.
The erection rubbing against the side of his thigh, on the other hand, was a much more familiar situation, Brian realized, come morning. Every rational part of him was screaming that, hey, this would be a good time to wake Justin up and make the most of that half hour they still had before they had to leave for the office.
His pride though, would not stand for being Ethan's last minute replacement, no thank you. Plus, that new found part, the one he didn't really have a name for yet, decided that there was no way in hell his first time having sex with Justin would be a quickie before work, especially while the guy still smelled like booze from the night before.
He untangled himself from Justin, who stirred and finally blinked awake just as Brian was about to make his way to the shower. Justin's embarrassed look confirmed that he had quickly realized he was hard, but he made no comment on it.
"Did you want to take a shower?" Brian asked, unable to pass up the opportunity to see Justin squirm uncomfortably.
"No.. um… I'll just go after you… it's fine." Justin resolutely wrapped the duvet around him tightly, angling his hips away from Brian's view, probably trying for subtle but more or less failing.
The warm shower spray hit Brian's body, loosening his muscles as he worked a soapy lather over his skin. There was the day ahead at work to be considered, but his thoughts kept wandering back to his guest. If things had turned out differently last night, Justin might have been here with him right now. Then again, Justin might have left, embarrassed with himself, and thinking he'd made a mistake, never to be seen again. Brian wondered, if Justin had taken him up on his offer of the first turn showering, would he be in here by himself jacking off now? Would it be to thoughts of Brian, or of the fiddler? As it was, there was no one stopping him, from doing it now either, while Brian was showering. In the middle of Brian's loft, on his bed. He wouldn't. But he could be. Brian found that he didn't mind the thought one bit.
He turned the water to cold.
Whatever means Justin had employed to get rid of his little problem, Brian wouldn't know. He found the man snooping through Brian's cupboards for breakfast.
"So listen…" Justin started. Brian made some vague sound of acknowledgement as he picked out his suit for the day. "Last night, you were very generous… and um…"
"Yes?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea of what happened. But um… I was a bit drunk and I might be not quite remembering things, so…"
Brian waited for him to finish that train of thought.
"I didn't, by any chance, hit on you, right?"
"You did."
"Shit."
"Just be ready to leave in ten."
"We're going to turn up at the office together?"
Brian put the suit down and looked at Justin with a sigh. "Do you have any other way of getting there on time that I'm not aware of?"
"I thought you might be embarrassed to turn up there with me. You sure you don't care if people talk?"
"Have you met me?"
Justin smiled. "Fine, let me take a quick shower first."
"Don't be late, your boss will be pissed," Brian told Justin as he passed Brian, on his way to the bathroom.
"I'm famished, because you have no real food, but hey, at least we made it to work on time."
To Brian's mild surprise, they actually had made it to the office on time. Mainly because he had insisted that they didn't stop at the diner to pick up breakfast; now, his stomach seemed to be agreeing with Justin's.
"Food is sold at more than one location in this city, for your information." Brian replied. And he would soon have to go in search of said locations. They walked into the office, and Brian ignored everyone he saw, looking for Cynthia.
Justin rolled his eyes. "I bet you're hungry too."
"I have a ten o'clock meeting. I have no time to be hungry." Brian made his way to Cynthia's desk, and Justin was following him, it seemed. Cynthia was nowhere to be found, so Brian started riffling through her papers on her table, looking for what he wanted. "Wait there, I want to brief you on something I need this afternoon. If I can just find it in this mess."
"I'm going to go get myself a croissant. Maybe a sandwich. And coffee or something. I can grab something for you, if you like."
Brian was about to shush Justin, when he realized that it might make more sense to have him actually go and get them breakfast first.
"Well, if you go to the place around the corner –"
"Brian. I need to talk to you." Cynthia had materialized, seemingly out of thin air.
"Then feel free to do so, preferably quickly."
Cynthia, like some demure schoolgirl, looked at Justin, making signs with her eyes.
Brian rolled his. "For fuck's sake, what is it? Who cares if Justin hears?"
Cynthia sighed in her patented world-weary fashion. "Betsy called, was incredibly difficult, and then cancelled your ten o'clock."
"Why the fuck did she do that? Doesn't she have a campaign to brief us on?"
"She…um…" Cynthia glanced at Justin again.
"I should leave." Justin said.
"STAY. What in the fuck, Cynthia?"
She gave that damn annoying sigh again. "Betsy said that she didn't want to have a creative meeting if Justin wasn't going to be there. She thinks…well…she insists that the new creative person we've 'hired just for Eyeconics'," Cynthia made air quotes, "should be at all creative meetings and presentations because 'he is the only one who truly understands the account'." She gave Brian a look. A look that said serves-you-right-for-having-this-discussion-in-front-of-him.
Fucking Cynthia. Fucking Betsy, Brian thought.
"I want a black coffee and a plain croissant. I'll brief you when you come back."
Justin waved his hands as Brian tried to give him money, and bolted out of the office, clearly more embarrassed for Cynthia than either Brian or Cynthia herself.
Brian turned to Cynthia, motioning her to follow him as he walked into his office. "Did you explain to Betsy Justin's role in this office? Does she understand that he is not god's gift to Eyeconic Optics? Did she want the orange changed to some other colour now?"
"I tried to explain to her that Justin was just an intern. She still loves the orange, and wants us to do the final artworks for it. She wants the meeting rescheduled to include him. I rescheduled for Wednesday, and I told Steve to make sure that Justin will attend. I'm not talking to her again."
Brian could not fathom how Justin had managed to wrap Betsy around his little finger. She was a raving lunatic. "Just make sure Justin sits in a corner. Quietly. Christ. Betsy needs to have her head examined."
Cynthia just stood there, looking at him.
"What? I don't have time to waste. Whatever your judgy little look is trying to say, spit it out."
"I was just wondering if Betsy was the only person who needs to have her head examined. You walked in to the office with Justin today!"
"So?"
"So, people are already talking. You walk into the office on a Monday morning with one of the youngest, hottest intern that – well, people are going to assume that you spent the night, or the weekend, together. You know, two people in the same office sleeping together. Having sex. Inter-office romance. Things Hugh Grant movies are made of."
"Like I give a flying fuck what people think. In any event, Justin did spend the night at my place."
Cynthia's eyes suddenly became the size of two large dinner plates. "WHAT?"
"Oh relax. He was drunk and broke up with Ian and had nowhere else to sleep. Nothing happened." Brian thought for a moment. "And even if something did, it's nobody's business who I sleep with."
"But it might be HR's business who the new intern sleeps with, especially if it is one of the partners. And the way this crowd gossips, someone is going to tell HR."
"Like I said, we're not having sex. If HR has a problem with the new intern getting some shut eye, they're the ones who need to have their heads examined."
The coffees he bought from across the street kept Justin's hands warm and he tried to supress the extra spring in his step. The Eyeconics client had specifically asked for him. The look on Brian's face had been priceless. Newbie Justin, with one foot barely in the advertising world, and clients were asking for him. Ha!
He did notice the looks, going back into Brian's office. There were a few too many lingering stares. Some whispers. A couple of people he didn't remember ever talking to before wished him good morning, or smirked. Justin figured it was inevitable. News travelled fast. He gripped the coffees and bag of croissants a smidge tighter, and asked Cynthia to be let into Brian's office anyway. It wasn't like Brian and he were dating. Brian was just… being a very good friend. Surprisingly good.
Everyone would get over it.
Brian was on the phone, but glanced up and motioned for Justin to put the coffee and pastry on his desk, as he finished his call.
He reached for his blazer, presumably for his wallet, but Justin was having none of it.
"Can you really afford to be buying me anything?" Brian asked teasingly, though he had stopped trying to locate his wallet.
"Oh shut up." He said it instinctively, and there was a tiny second of panic because they were at Vanguard and Brian was still his boss, but Brian just raised an eyebrow and gave him an easy going smile in return.
"You were telling me to shut up in your sleep, too."
"That's… not entirely surprising."
"Yeah, guess I bring it out in you, huh?"
Justin got a text just as he was about to answer, since apparently his phone was kindly back to working today. It was from Daphne, and the message depleted his good mood dramatically. She was asking about Ethan, which wasn't the bad part, but also informing him that her roommate Chad had decided, sometime between when Justin had been getting dumped by Ethan and rejected by Brian, to have a party tonight. He was more than welcome to come apparently, because Chad quote unquote "digged his general vibe" (he could feel Daphne's eyes rolling as she wrote this) but Daph herself would much rather spend the night at some other friend's house and get drunk there instead.
The thought of having to stay up with Chad's buddies chugging beer and watching him fail to hit on girls, with no Daphne in sight, after a shift at the diner, was honestly the last thing he wanted to be doing tonight. Or any other night. He cursed under his breath.
"I'll probably have to ask Debbie if I can stay with her tonight," he explained at Brian's questioning look. "There's going to be a party at Daphne's house tonight, hosted by her knuckle-dragger roommate."
"God forbid you go to a party, Taylor."
"I'm not really into the whole horny-hetero-bro thing these days. Besides. I have very important work in the morning."
Brian made a sceptical sound, as he sipped his coffee. "You could stay at the loft again tonight. I'm not doing anything. Your stuff's still there anyway."
Justin took a moment to make sure he hadn't misheard. "You want me to spend the night?"
Brian shrugged. "I'm going to the diner. You're going to the diner. I'll pop in at Woody's and go back to the loft, your shift'll be over and you'll need a place to sleep. Suits us both just fine."
If Brian was going to be infuriatingly casual about this, Justin wasn't going to make it weird. Besides, he could freak out about it in his own time. "Fine. Ok."
"Ok. Now shoo. I've got a meeting in half an hour. Actually, wait. This is the brief for Cliptic; get the files from Janice and rework the changes marked. I need it by three."
Justin walked out of the office and to his desk even more confused than he'd been when he had entered it. Which seemed to be his general MO nowadays. Still, he felt a secret thrill at the thought of spending the night at Brian's again.
And not because someone dragged him there, but because he was actually invited.
"I've had a terrible day and it's not even ten," said Kathy, as she unceremoniously plopped herself on to his desk, interrupting his thoughts. "Well, well. Someone looks like the cat that got the cream."
"I do?"
"You definitely do. Boyfriend trouble gone?" she asked. "Oooh, croissants. Can I have one?"
"Help yourself." She kept waiting for an answer to her first question until he told her. "We actually broke it off for good."
"Awww, poor boy. Are you ok?"
"I'm fine. More than fine."
"Mmm…I bet you are."
"Sorry?" He questioned her, when no other explanation seemed forthcoming.
"Nothing. Just. Lots of talk today."
"About?" He coughed lightly and took a sip of his coffee. He was not liking where this conversation was going.
"You and Brian. Honestly, people are already making bets on whether or not you're sleeping together."
"We're not." His throat was feeling a little constricted all of a sudden, and he coughed again.
"If you say so."
"We're not sleeping together." He repeated, more insistently.
"Ok, ok, relax! I'm just repeating what I heard people say. You have to be careful, Jus. If people at this office get a sniff of you trying to sleep your way to the top, you're going to be in big trouble."
"That's ridiculous. Kinney doesn't do those kinds of favours for anyone." He wouldn't, Justin thought, right? Even when Brian had made it more than apparent that he wanted to have sex, even when they'd kissed outside Ethan's apartment, work was work. Brian had been riding his ass harder than any other intern in this agency since the start.
She smiled genuinely, and Justin felt relief wash over him instantly.
"Just be careful." And barely skipping a beat, she moved onto the next, much less stress-inducing topic of conversation. "Anyway, you won't believe the morning I've had."
Justin elected to let Kathy tell the animated story of her awful morning, and not pay much thought to her warnings.
For the rest of the day, when others looked at him funny, he smiled politely and suppressed any growing sense of panic.
It didn't help much though, when Brian sauntered over to his desk at two thirty, demanding the Cliptic visuals. Mercifully, Justin had finished them before the three o'clock deadline. Brian reminded him, with Kathy right there, that Brian expected him to be ready to leave by six.
From the corner of his eye, Justin could see her looking at them suspiciously, but he just smiled mutely, and when six o'clock came round, he just said his goodbyes and left without any further comments.
Justin stirred the chicken and cream sauce, deep in thought. He hadn't necessarily meant to go grocery shopping with Brian, but he thought it absurd that Brian was starting the week with not a gram of real food in his home. Brian was all 'I'll order Thai', but Justin thought that the better option was for him to actually cook dinner, especially since he had three hours to spare before his shift at the diner started, and his multiple bosses had not piled work on him to take home.
Besides, Justin had no idea how long this arrangement with Brian was going to last, if it would even last more than tonight, and he certainly couldn't have Brian paying for all his meals. Speaking of which, Justin wondered exactly what this arrangement was going to be. There was only one bed and…
And Brian had made it patently clear the night before that the horizontal mambo would not be happening. Justin sighed. He was so utterly confused. Yes, he had been drunk, but not blackout drunk that he lost his memories. Plus, Brian had confirmed what happened in their very brief conversation in the morning.
Brian had distinctly refused sex. The same Brian Kinney that had been hitting on him since the day they met. When Justin had been available, willing…for fuck's sake, he had even initiated it!
Justin sighed again. Brian gave new meaning to the notion of wanting what you couldn't have and not wanting what you could. Or…or Justin was stumped as to why Brian had suddenly lost interest. It couldn't be that the man had suddenly sprung a dislike of Justin; he wouldn't have told Justin to stay with him if he had. Which brought Justin back to his original thought: exactly what this arrangement was going to be. He also wondered about what Kathy had said. How badly sleeping at Brian's place affect his reputation at work? Would it be worse if he spent more than two nights here, or would it be worse if it was just last night and tonight? And…it could be that Brian was picking Justin up from some mid-way meeting location. Justin sensed being stared at.
Brian was eyeing him from the sofa he was sprawled on.
"What?"
"What are you making?"
"Chicken penne pasta...unless you wanted something else?"
"That's fine. Are you moonlighting tonight?"
"If you mean the diner, yeah. I always have the evening shift."
"We pay you a decent salary. You shouldn't have to work like a crazy person to save PIFA tuition."
"Actually, I do. I have three more years left; diner money allows me to eat, Vanguard money will go for tuition."
"You could get a loan."
"Right. I could get a loan, pay sky-rocketing interest rates, and be an impoverished artist for the rest of my life. And I'd probably still be working at the diner, just to pay the interest fee. No thanks. Dinner's ready!"
Brian nodded thoughtfully, and stood up, walking towards the bedroom.
Justin frowned. "Brian, dinner's ready."
"I'm not deaf; I heard you the first time." Brian called out from…somewhere in his bedroom. He promptly walked out with what looked suspiciously like a blanket and a pillow, placing it on the sofa. "You're taking the couch. You can use these, when you come back at some godforsaken hour after your shift."
"Uh-huh. Thanks." Justin needed no further confirmation; sex with him was apparently something Brian had suddenly lost all interest in. Against his wishes, Justin's shoulders slumped. "Umm…won't I need a key to get in?"
Brian had already sat down to eat.
"Damn it. Yes. There's a spare…in the drawer next to my bed. You can grab that before you leave."
"I'll grab it now, before I forget."
"Aaah, yes. I remember you have a tendency to forget your keys."
Justin rolled his eyes as he went to look for the spare key.
"ONCE. I forgot my keys ONCE."
He could hear Brian laughing, while clanking cutlery as he served himself dinner.
Justin stared at the bedside table, complete with three drawers, and decided to start with the top one.
He started rummaging: condoms – of course, lube – of course, Advil – naturally, spare key – ah-ha!
As he turned to go back and eat, something on top of the drawer caught his eye.
It was his long-lost sketchbook. The one Brian had taken and never returned. Justin stared at it in surprise. Brian had brought it home, and actually kept it…in such a personal space. His hand went out instinctively to take it, but he stopped himself. He kept the sketchbook exactly where it was.
Justin took a deep breath, composing himself before he joined Brian for dinner.
