A/N: Brian finds out he's got quite a challenge on his hands; Justin and his mom meet for the first time since the honeymoon. Justin and Tony both receive an unusual request.

The first thing Brian noticed upon opening the door to his father's campaign headquarters was the constant hum of voices that assaulted him; voices on the phone, voices from huddled conversations, voices speaking over Skype. As he glanced around the large, open space filled to capacity, he scrutinized what constituted the layout and he didn't like what he saw. There was far too much chaos and disorganization clearly in evidence: papers strewn all over desks lined up face to face with each other to take the greatest advantage of the cramped space, laptops, campaign brochures and folders strewn seemingly random patterns everywhere. How could anyone possibly know what they had on their desks, much less find it? If there was one thing he insisted upon at Kinnetik, despite their sometimes frenetic brainstorming sessions at times, it was that everyone kept their shit in order; otherwise, way too much time was spent on simply finding things and not getting anything actually accomplished. He shook his head in disgust as he looked around, realizing he was going to have an even bigger challenge on his hands than he had initially thought. This wasn't a 'well-oiled machine' by any stretch of the imagination; it was more like a fucking train wreck waiting to happen.

The second thing he noticed after he got over his initial dismay about the lack of organization was the monstrously large, white vinyl campaign poster with blue and red trim hanging directly across from the entrance door above what he assumed was a reception desk. It showed a shot of his father from the shoulders up wearing a smart, tailored black suit with thin, light-gray pinstripes running through it, a crisp white shirt, gray silk tie, matching gray handkerchief in the jacket pocket, and for politically-correct, good measure, a small American flag pin on his left lapel. He had to admit that his father looked assertive and confident in his designer apparel, just the image he should be projecting as the state's next governor; unfortunately, though, his attempt at looking in charge and ready to take on the responsibilities of the office was totally negated by the cheesy slogan in large red letters with blue trim prominently written above his photo: WIN WITH FIN.

Brian squinted his eyes at the poster and cringed; was that the best they could come up with for his father's campaign slogan? Holy shit. A third-grader could have done better. He sighed softly; what was he getting himself into?

He was spared further feelings of hesitancy as he saw a side door open and his father emerging; he was casually dressed in an open-necked, collarless light-gray dress shirt and a pair of navy linen pants. He noticed Fin's face light up as he recognized him; for some odd reason, he found himself momentarily pleased by that but didn't stop to wonder why. It was certainly a different response than what Jack Kinney would give him, though, whenever they were reunited; normally his reaction would be either one of disdain and indifference, or occasionally relief when Brian became an adult, because he knew his 'money train' had showed up once more to replenish his drinking account and pay off his gambling debts.

"Brian!" Fin rushed up to his son as several pairs of eyes suddenly snapped up to stare at the man they had heard so much about lately in the news; it seemed Fin had been spending a great deal of time regaling his campaign workers with his son's great acumen as an advertising genius and now according to the rumor mill, he was going to revitalize their campaign as its manager. Everyone, understandably then, was quite curious by this time to see the great Brian Kinney in action to see if he indeed lived up to his reputation, although more than a few questioned the man's qualifications for what would be an extremely critical part of their endeavor.

The two men shook hands as everyone tried to steal surreptitious glances at the handsome pair. Even a complete stranger would have had no trouble discerning that the two were related: both tall and lean, same body type, with chiseled, angular features. Same type of nose and generous mouth with a strong jaw. Except for the difference in the eye color and the slight graying around Fin's temples displaying the first vestiges of being older, the two could have been a younger and older twin of each other.

Fin firmly took hold of Brian's sleeve to steer him over toward the room from which he had just emerged. "Let's talk for a few minutes privately," he requested as Brian nodded and followed his father over to the door, feeling the heated gazes of several pairs of eyes on them as Fin opened it to reveal a surprisingly spacious separate office. As his father ushered him inside and closed the door, Brian noted with satisfaction that unlike the chaotic environment in the other room, this space was neatly furnished and Fin's desk – a large, golden-oak, wooden one – was devoid of mess and clutter; a simple metal in-and-out box stood vigil in the upper left-hand corner with only a heavy, clear, vinyl protective pad draped on the surface and a sleek, black landline phone on the opposite corner. As Fin led him closer to his desk, he could see some papers neatly tucked underneath the protective pad as his father motioned for him to sit down in one of the two black leather chairs facing him.

"Coffee?"

Brian shook his head. "Already had my fill, thanks." He glanced around his father's 'home away from home.' The room, except for the desk and chairs, was fairly sparse, especially compared to his father's lavish office suite at the capitol office building. There were no pictures on the walls, no bookshelves, no 'homey' touches, except for a small photo frame behind Fin's desk where a narrow credenza lay in front of a couple of medium-sized, bare, dusty-looking windows; Brian noticed with grudging respect that the photo was one of his father and Tony taken at Britin when he and Justin had gotten married. At least his father wasn't apparently trying to hide his relationship with his partner anymore. A typical, nondescript black coffeemaker sat on the other end of the credenza with a couple of plain-looking, Kelly-green ceramic coffee mugs. As if reading his thoughts, Fin replied, "It's not much as far as decorating goes. I don't really spend a lot of time here – I'm mainly at my other office."

Brian nodded as he returned his attention back to his father. "Understandable," he responded simply, still feeling a little awkward around this man who he had no idea even existed until a few months ago.

Fin took a sip of coffee from the mug on his desk as he leaned back in his chair and eyed his son thoughtfully. He still hadn't been around Brian enough to be able to accurately read his thoughts by the expression on his face, but he thought he detected a hint of reticence there. "You seem concerned about something."

"Damn right I am," Brian told him curtly, staring unflinchingly into his father's face from across the desk.

Fin started; well, his son was direct if nothing else. He actually respected that; if he was going to successfully be elected Governor, the last thing he wanted or needed was a campaign manager who was a brown-nosing suck up and beat around the bush. "Okay," he responded calmly. "What about?"

"From what I've seen so far the entire room out there is in fucking chaos," Brian growled. "You barely have enough room to walk around; and there's shit all over the desks. And who came up with that sophomoric campaign slogan? Win with Fin?"

Fin grimaced; that had been his thoughts exactly the first time he had seen it, but he had been assured it was short, to the point, 'catchy' and effective. "You don't mince words, do you?"

"Isn't that what you're looking for? Because if you aren't, then let's end this fucking parade down the primrose garden right now."

Fin shook his head as he placed his coffee mug down on the desk. "Hell, no," he assured his son. "I want an unvarnished opinion from you… No matter how painful," he added dryly.

Brian turned one side of his mouth up in the hint of a smile and nodded, satisfied at least for the time being. "Okay. First we're going to get some sort of organization out of all that chaos out there – at the very least we need some filing system in place. You're going to look a little foolish when you're unable to compose a statement for an issue you're being asked to comment on because you can't find the reference material to study first. Second, we're going to redirect the flow of all those desks out in the main area so there's actually room to navigate around in. And third, I'm going to come up with a kick-ass campaign pitch for your election that will sound a hell of a lot better than Win with Fin. I'm going to tell your campaign staff exactly what I expect out of them; if they fail to deliver, they will be out of here quicker than you can say 'Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.' Going forward, I will be available on a daily basis, either in person or through my cell phone; I have temporarily distanced myself from my company while two of my more trusted employees control the day-to-day operations of Kinnetik, so I expect any problems or suggestions to go through me before any action plans are implemented."

Fin smiled as he curled his lips under, secretly proud of this take-charge man who was his son. His son… He was still trying to wrap his head around that concept. He was slowly getting more and more used to it, but he knew it would take some time before it truly sunk in and he – and his son – felt comfortable in their family roles. As always, Tony had been right, though; Brian was going to be the perfect man for the role of campaign manager – he could feel it. If they needed to discharge some useless ballast in the process, then so be it. "Agreed – you're in charge here."

Brian nodded cryptically as he stood up. "Then where do you want to meet? I'm assuming you only have the first floor leased?" Fin nodded in confirmation; just as Brian feared. "Any chance you could get more space upstairs or is it occupied?" Once his father's campaign got going in full swing, he couldn't imagine being able to properly run his campaign from this relatively tiny space on the first floor.

Fin frowned. "To be honest, I'm not sure; Adam's always handled those sorts of things."

"Adam?"

"Adam Stewart. He's the son of my executive assistant, Regina. He worked as an intern for one of my colleagues a few years ago after he got a master's degree in political science with a minor in business administration from the University of Chicago, and came highly recommended from Representative Gadson. And of course, Regina's been with me for ten years now and has always done an excellent job for me, so I took that into consideration as well. I hired him a few months ago to help handle the logistical aspects of the campaign. We can ask him what he knows about it."

Brian nodded, wondering how much political nepotism had played a part in hiring this Stewart person. From what he had seen of the first-floor layout, this guy didn't seem very savvy about logistics at all to him, and he didn't like the fact that he apparently wasn't reporting much information back to his boss. No matter, though – he would definitely make sure going forward that all such information was relayed to him on a regular basis. "Point him out to me after the meeting and I'll ask him; from now on, he'll be expected to provide me updates on a regular basis, and any logistical decisions will need to go through me; I don't want any surprises along the way. If there's one thing I despise, it's being hit broadside." He stared into his father's face. "In fact, I want to meet with all your key advisors after the meeting to tell them what I expect of them and to go over some strategy. I'll also need a full financial report on your campaign's balance sheet; I need to know what we're dealing with." Fin nodded his agreement as Brian straightened up his suit jacket and said, "Okay, then, let's get this show on the road."

"One more thing before we meet with my staff, Brian." His son arched his eyebrows in a silent question as he asked, "How do you think we should handle our relationship?"

Brian shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"How open should we be about us being father and son?"

Brian snorted. "It's really no one's fucking business what are relationship is, Fin, but do you really think it's a big surprise by now? It's pretty much been splashed all over the web and the papers anyway, so it's not like a secret any longer; I'm sure it's even less of a secret among your own staff." He raked his teeth across his upper lip thoughtfully before deciding, "I don't see where it has any bearing on my doing the job; I'm not going to go around denying it if it's brought up, but our relationship has nothing to do with my overseeing your campaign, so I say we leave it out of the conversation for now."

Fin mulled over his son's opinion for a moment before he responded; he was no longer going to deny his sexuality, nor was he going to keep his and Brian's relationship a secret, but there was a difference between secrecy and flaunting his new-found openness regarding his sexual orientation. "I agree," he said finally as he nodded; he stood up and stretched out his hand toward the door. "Let's get started then."

Dee Jay's Barbecue Ribs & Grill – Weirton, West Virginia – Same Time

Justin smiled and waved as his mother walked into the restaurant; he couldn't believe he hadn't seen his mom since the wedding. But between his mother being away in Philadelphia for a few days for a realtors' seminar and Brian's crazy schedule lately surrounding Fin's campaign, time had flown by since they had gotten back and before he knew it two weeks had gone by. With Brian firmly entrenched in his new role as campaign manager as well as owner of Kinnetik, Justin decided to make a point of finally meeting his mother for breakfast.

"Hey, Mom," Justin stood up and greeted her warmly as the two hugged. His mother smiled tenderly back at him as she placed a quick peck on his cheek before taking a seat opposite him in the booth.

"You got a little bit of a tan, Justin," she observed as she stared over at her son. "With your skin, you have to be careful about that…"

"Mom," Justin huffed, miffed that she still thought of him as a child in some ways.

Jennifer grinned. "Sorry, Honey, once a son, always a son." Justin grinned in understanding as she reached over to give his hand a squeeze and study him. "The little bit of color looks good on you, though," she admitted. "I never thought Ireland had a lot of sun. And even if it did, I never thought the two of you would be spending much time outdoors."

Justin colored even more at that remark but not for the same reason. "M-o-m… We did a lot of things outdoors on our honeymoon… In addition to that." He reached under the table to pluck a thick, navy-blue, leather photo album from the seat next to him and lay it on top of the table. "I have proof," he explained as he slid the album over toward her.

"Are you sure you took enough pictures, Sweetheart?" she kidded him as she opened up the book to begin leafing through it as Justin grinned.

He shrugged. "I figured this was the only honeymoon to Ireland I would ever get – I wanted to make sure I had plenty of photos as proof. Besides, you know me; I never miss an opportunity for new sketch ideas." In addition to the unbelievable locales Brian had found for them to stay in, along with all the adventures they had had, he figured he would wind up with a multitude of ideas for paintings, and he had been right. He had already begun a couple of abstract paintings based on the incredible sunset they had enjoyed during their dinner on the beach, as well as the wonderful design elements from the Q Hotel. Naturally, the best shots of all he planned on using from their trip involved a certain dangerously sexy man posing nude in front of a roaring waterfall; God, just the thought of that day was making him hard right now. Of course, being the sentimental person that he was, the photos were also a wonderful way to commemorate the fabulous time he and the man he loved had had on their honeymoon, just the two of them. Something told him with Brian's new job as Fin's campaign manager, their opportunities to truly be alone in absolute privacy would be sorely lacking in the next few months. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he would even see Brian for long spurts of time.

As they nursed their coffee and juice, Jennifer spent several minutes glancing through her son's honeymoon travelogue, in awe of all that Brian had planned for her son. She shouldn't have really been surprised, though, by now; she knew without a doubt how deeply Brian loved Justin. It was nice, though, to see proof of it and to see how happy her son appeared to be as he excitedly talked about everything they had done during their trip.

At last, she flipped the album closed and glanced across at her only son. "Well," she exclaimed with a smile. "That was quite a trip, if I do say so myself."

Justin's eyes sparkled as he smiled back at her, recalling all the glorious things they had done. He sighed. "Yeah, it was great," he agreed. "But you know the best part of it all? Having Brian all to myself, with no distractions, including Kinnetik or political complications."

Their conversation was placed on hold for a minute as their waitress appeared for their order. As she left, Jennifer arched her brow at her son. "Political complications? I assume you're talking about your father-in-law's campaign."

Justin nodded. "You know, it's still kind of strange to even think about having a father-in-law." He grimaced. "At least Brian's father is turning out to be supportive of him. In fact, he's asked him to be his campaign manager; that's why I have a feeling our private time is about to be almost nonexistent, at least for the next several months."

"Wow, I wasn't aware of that," Jennifer told him. "When did this happen?"

"Brian's in Harrisburg this morning, in fact, to conduct his first official meeting with Fin's staff. He just agreed to do it the other day."

Jennifer eyed her son across the table. "How do you feel about Brian doing that?"

Justin shrugged as he admitted, "I actually encouraged him." He smiled. "Well, Tony and I talked about it and we both thought Brian would be perfect for the job with his advertising experience. After all, he almost managed to get that asshole Stockwell elected." He winced slightly at the awful possibility of that actually coming to fruition before continuing. "Brian doesn't let anyone make up his mind for him, though, you know that, Mom. His father asked him to do it, and after weighing all the pros and cons, he finally decided it was too big an opportunity to pass up. You know Brian – he sees it as the ultimate challenge – getting the first openly gay candidate for governor elected." He paused for a few seconds before adding, "You know who's running against him, don't you?"

She shook her head sheepishly. "Actually, no. Between the seminar and all the house showings I've had lately I haven't been keeping up too much with the news. Who is it?"

"Richard Turner." He noticed his mother's blank look before he added, "Dick Turner? Turner Transportation? Ring a bell now?" He stared at his mother as she went through a mental checklist; he could tell the exact moment that it all clicked as her brown eyes widened slightly in recognition. "That's the guy whose company used to deliver electronics to Craig's store. Tall, burly, garrulous type; too garrulous for my taste, almost like he was working too hard at being TOO friendly. He's Fin's opponent?" She had met Turner personally on a few occasions when she was helping Craig with his books several years ago; his normal bookkeeper had quit unexpectedly when the woman's husband had been transferred out of town for his job and had left him in the lurch. Fortunately, she had taken some accounting courses in high school and had proven to have an affinity with numbers; that, in addition to her knowledge regarding Craig's books, had enabled her to help out for a weeks until Justin's father was able to find a replacement. The times in which she had met the man, however, left her feeling like he was trying just a little too hard to insinuate himself into your lives. While she was surprised that the man was running for Governor, in a way she shouldn't have been; from what she had gleaned about him on social occasions, Turner was quite active in the Republican Party and was never shy about making his opinions known. In fact, he and her ex-husband Craig seemed to hit it off quite well when they were together, sharing a lot of the same values and political views while they told each other ribald jokes and slapped each other on the backs as they drunk like a fish. It was ironic they held beliefs she could never share with them, however; God knows she had undergone quite a bit of ribbing from Craig's friends regarding her more liberal values when they had first met in college. It was a wonder that the two of them had ever fallen in love and gotten married, in fact; perhaps it was proof that in some cases opposites do attract. In their case, however, that had proven to be temporary, especially once his true colors came out regarding their beautiful, brave son who was thankfully alive, well, and happy and presently sitting across from her.

Justin nodded at her in confirmation. "That's the guy. How fucking ironic is that?"

She shook her head. "Well, I admit that's kind of a surprise; he never really came across to me as having any big political ambitions. But he was never hesitant about voicing his opinion to others, and from what your father used to tell me, he had pretty big pockets, so I suspect he won't have any problems getting his campaign financed. Knowing Brian, I'm sure he'll check the guy's background out thoroughly at any rate. Personally, I think Brian's a fabulous choice to be Fin's campaign manager; he's creative, assertive, unorthodox, and doesn't take any bullshit from anyone – just the right type for that job."

Justin smiled. "Yeah, I know," he replied as Jennifer laughed. "I just hope he doesn't scare everyone away. They don't know what's about to hit them."

"Hurricane Brian," she replied with a conspiratorial tone. "But at least hurricanes are good at clearing out the debris."

As the waitress came back with their entrees, Justin nodded. "I can't wait to get a full report on the collateral damage when he gets home."

Mother and son shared a congenial silence as they started in on their meals for a few minutes; as Justin lifted his glass to take a sip of his iced tea, he couldn't help the question that emerged. Truthfully it had been on his mind for some time now, but all this talk about Turner had merely churned it back up to the surface. "Mom?"

"Yeah, Honey?"

Justin stirred his teaspoon in his glass for several seconds and stared down at the red-and-white checked tablecloth before asking softly, "Does he ever ask about me?" He knew he sounded like a wimpy, needy little kid, but for some reason he had to know. He knew she and his father engaged in stilted but polite conversation whenever he came over to pick up Molly for his visits with her, which only served to make the hurt even more acute knowing that he kept in regular touch with his sister but had nothing whatsoever to do with him. Why the fuck should I even care? Justin thought to himself silently as he waited for his mom to reply. But truthfully, despite everything his father had done to him – and to Brian, which he considered practically unforgivable – the man was still his father for good or for bad. He wasn't sure if his chaotic, contradictory feelings were bubbling up to the surface lately because of Brian's strengthening relationship with his real father, or Fin's fervent attempts to become closer to his son, but for some reason he found himself thinking more and more about his own father lately. A lot of it was still so fresh, so raw and painful even now, but some of it – those memories of long ago – they were still fond ones. What had happened to make everything go so terribly wrong? How could his father have just turned off his feelings for him just because he found out he was gay? Was it that black and white? Could his father really turn his back on him and break things off that cleanly without ever looking back? Even now, even after everything that had happened to him, even with him and Brian being so happy together, those questions still haunted him. He slowly lifted his eyes to stare over at his mother, noticing with a sinking heart that her face already betrayed what she was about to say.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," she told him. "I won't lie to you. I try to bring your name up – to let him know how you are and how proud I am of everything you've accomplished – but he always brushes me off and tells me he doesn't want to hear it."

Justin swallowed the painful lump in his throat and nodded. "I didn't expect anything else," he told her in a whisper as he took a deep breath. And he hadn't; he hadn't expected anything more, but he secretly hoped that perhaps somewhere his father had somehow had a change of heart and realized that who someone loved didn't make them a different person, didn't change who they were inside. Well, perhaps in his father's case, that wasn't true; his father seemed to have changed into a totally different person once he had found out he was gay. His father had always been an intense, driven man – he had to be to succeed so well in his business, which was constantly battling big-box competitors – but before Justin had admitted to being gay, at least he had appeared to be a loving, interested father; busy at times but never too busy to listen to what he had to say, to find out what he was doing in his life. Of course, that had been before he had realized that Justin had serious dreams of trying to make it as an artist rather than striving for a more lucrative, 'realistic' job in business. Until that time, he had actually praised his artwork, had encouraged him to explore his creativity, as long as it was just a 'hobby.' Once he had found out that Justin was not only seriously contemplating an art career, but he was also gay, it was as if a totally different father had emerged. Gone was the man who liked to take him fishing, camping, boating. Gone was the father he used to work on cars with and play scratch basketball with. Gone was the man who had been so proud of him when he come home with a first prize ribbon in the school's art show or a report card with A's and B's in his junior high classes. In his place was a man he didn't recognize anymore; an inflexible, bigoted man. Perhaps, then, it was time to mourn briefly for the father he had lost and move on with his life. He was happy with Brian, happier than he had even thought possible, and he had a mother and sister who accepted and loved him for who and what he was. That should be enough.

"Justin…" She wanted to reassure her son that his father still loved him; deep down she felt that was true, but he had buried those feelings so deeply by now that it was impossible to verify if she was right or not.

He shook his head. "It's okay, Mom," he said, averting his gaze lest it betray his true feelings. "Let's just forget it. I have." He only wished that was the truth, though. He lifted has gaze to smile slightly in reassurance at her as he deliberately skirted around the subject. "Tell me how your job's going."

Jennifer studied her son quietly for several seconds, knowing he was telling her a lie; there had been too many good times Craig and her son had shared as he was growing up to simply dismiss all of it over what had happened. You didn't just erase a lifetime of memories overnight, especially with someone as tenderhearted as her son. Damn you, Craig, she thought scornfully as she proceeded to answer her son's question, knowing his query was just a way to deflect the conversation. Our son deserves better.

Same Time – Fin's Campaign Headquarters

Several pairs of eyes were on the two lookalike, handsome men as Fin and Brian emerged from behind the closed door of his private office. Brian glanced around the cramped confines of the room, hurriedly deciding on the reception desk as his temporary soundboard as he walked over and eyed the skinny blond beanpole of a man sitting in a chair behind it, the "Win with Fin" campaign banner above him. Brian winced at the slogan again, deciding that was one of the first things he was going to change; just the notion of actually saying those words in a television ad made him want to puke.

"I need this," Brian told the young man, who appeared to be in his early twenties. "Up."

The man eyed him warily through his pair of round, wire-rimmed granny glasses as Fin walked up behind him, splitting his gaze between his boss and this other man who was practically the spitting image of the senator.

"Uh, Steve," Fin stated, "I'd like you to meet Brian Kinney, my new campaign manager." Bowing to Brian's advice, he didn't introduce him as his son, although it certainly couldn't be a secret anymore – after all, their photos, family connection, and even their sexual orientation had been splattered all over the newspapers and the web by now. But it wasn't really relevant at the moment, either – what was important was that Brian be established as the authority for his campaign and they get everything in motion immediately. "Brian… This is Steve Jacobs – he's one of my campaign aides."

Brian scrutinized the young man who barely looked old enough to vote as he nodded curtly. "Jacobs. If you'll park yourself somewhere else, I need that chair."

Jacobs bit back a retort, wondering just who this man thought he was, as he slowly rose from his chair and moved aside. He watched as the chair he just vacated was promptly used as a makeshift ladder, as Brian stood up on the chair and then climbed up on top of the sturdy desk.

Fin watched in amusement as his son deftly stepped up on top of the desk and reached his hand down to him. "Come on," Brian prodded him. "Time for a little tough love among the masses."

Fin smirked as he reached to grab his son's hand and stepped up to join him. Yes, he had no doubt that if anyone could put this ragtag group of followers together into a sense of cohesiveness, it would be his son. He watched as Brian put his fingers up to his lips and blew; the sound of his whistling pierced through the room like a knife cutting through butter and the room immediately quieted down as everyone turned to stare at the two bookends standing together on the desk; the large, vinyl campaign banner directly behind their candidate almost made it look like they were viewing triplets.

Nonplussed, Brian studied the sea of faces staring up at them; it never bothered him to be the center of attention. In fact, just the opposite – he relished in it, whether he was at an awards banquet, at Kinnetik, at Babylon, or merely walking down the street getting ogled by admirers. He was at the point now, though, where he didn't crave it as much; he didn't feel like he had anything to prove anymore. As his father began to speak, though, to introduce him, he took the opportunity to scour the workers gathered below. Did this haphazard group have the wherewithal to get his father elected Governor? He had no idea yet what their capabilities were, but he intended to quickly find out. He had meant what he had said to his father; if he didn't think they were carrying their weight they had no fucking business being here. Fin couldn't afford to coddle campaign workers who weren't at the top of their game; they were getting started later than they should have in the first place. The election was only a few months away; it was time to either put up or shut up. He nodded over to his father silently, indicating he should start – after all, he was the candidate. He was more like the engineer; Fin was the train.

All eyes were now on the pair as Fin addressed his workers. "Good Morning, everyone," he called out to his followers. "I appreciate you all coming out early this morning to meet with me on such short notice. This is an important day in the campaign; maybe the most important day, because I'd like to introduce all of you to the man who is going to re-energize our mission and help realize our goal, my new campaign manager, Brian Kinney. To streamline procedure, Brian will be the point man to go to with any questions you may have regarding how the campaign is being run; if you have any concerns, you are to go to him first. Brian, in turn, will discuss any important issues with me. After our general meeting here is over, Brian and I will be meeting with my key staff members for a strategy session." You could have heard the proverbial pin drop, bathed in an almost eerie silence as Fin said, "Brian?"

Dressed impeccably as usual in a tailor-made, dark-gray suit with a matching navy-blue silk shirt and tie, Brian gazed unflinchingly into the sea of faces staring curiously at the 'upstart' about to address them. "To answer the question some of you are no doubt asking, no, I am not your typical campaign manager. I have not had extensive political experience running a campaign and truthfully, I don't give a flying fuck whether or not we all become best buds or not. I haven't had years of experience wiping the asses of politicians and sucking up to them in hopes of being able to cash in on it later, and I don't have a bunch of lobbyists in my back pocket ready to throw unlimited wads of cash our way. What I have had is years of experience in advertising, which is precisely what is needed here, because I'm being entrusted with selling a product – Fin O'Connor, your candidate for Governor. I can market a product in my fucking sleep, and from what I've seen so far, this campaign is in dire need of a complete makeover."

Fin gazed out into his workers' faces, noting a mixture of resentment, curiosity and doubt. He figured his decision to choose Brian as his campaign manager wouldn't sit too well with some of his staff; while many of his crew were young – in their twenties – and were more open to radical ideas and new ways of doing things, a large number of his other workers were more his age and more set in their ways; they had been brought up in the standard method of promoting a candidate – establish their platform, milk the lists of devoted party voters, schmooze with the movers and shakers in the business world in hopes of prying some hard-worn cash out of their soft, non-calloused hands. That was the way politics always worked in their eyes; to them, comparing their candidate to a product that needed to be marketed like so much toothpaste, therefore, would tend not to be met with the same degree of receptiveness that his younger staff might likely embrace. Fin could almost look at each face and, based on their age range, tell whether they were going to like Brian's style of management or were going to resent it. But he had made his decision – he felt his campaign needed a shot in the arm and his son was just the right person to do it. If he happened to lose some of his staff along the way, then, so be it. He turned his attention back to his son, who was working the crowd like a three-ringed circus master.

"The first thing we're going to do is rebrand our product." Brian rolled his eyes as he glanced back at the large campaign banner behind him. "And Number One on the list is getting rid of this god-awful campaign slogan, Win with Fin. That might have worked back in the fifties when your grandparents were voting, but it's not going to cut it here. Does it rhyme? Yes. Does it suck as an effective indication of what Fin will do for the state if he's elected? Yes. It's got to go. We need something edgy, succinct, and unique, not the same old tripe. And second, I'm going to run a transparent campaign – no beating around the bush, no political doubletalk where you talk out of both sides of your mouth and it takes an hour to say something but it doesn't mean a damn thing. Third, we are going to make Fin O'Connor a household name, which means he will be travelling throughout the state to get his platform across to every registered voter. The more exposure to him and his ideas and goals, the better chance we have of getting the majority of voters to cast a yes vote for him come November. And we will be using every available method of communication out there, especially all the internet socialization sites and phone apps." Brian gazed around the room, noting once again with disdain how the desks were almost stacked on top of each other, papers, folders, phones and laptops covering practically every inch of the available work space. "Finally, I'll be working with the staff member in charge of logistics to see if we can't get some fucking breathing space in this room; not only is the present arrangement ill-conceived but totally non-conducive to getting anything productive done in here. God help us if we should have to answer any inquiries regarding Fin's position on key issues."

He didn't notice the man in charge of room dynamics, Adam Stewart, glaring at him from the back of the room, not at all pleased that his choices and decisions were being questioned as well as ridiculed by a relative, arrogant upstart. He seethed silently as Brian stared down at the hushed group, almost daring them to refute what he had just said. "As soon as this meeting is adjourned, I want to meet with all the key staff members in the Senator's private office. Are there any questions?"

It was just as he figured; the room remained strangely silent, even though not more than ten minutes ago it had sounded like a hive of bees buzzing. It shouldn't have surprised him, though; having worked in offices for several years now, he was well aware of how people normally didn't complain or express concerns until meetings broke up and they could complain in private. "Very well, then; I'd like to meet with the Senator's key staff members in his office in five minutes."

"Thank you, everybody," Fin told his workers. "Adam, Wanda, Kirk, Sara, Don, and Mark… Five minutes in my office, okay?" He stepped down from the desk onto the chair, jumping down onto the floor as Brian shortly joined him. As the two of them stood side-by-side, and the room slowly resumed its previous volume of activity, Fin bestowed a lopsided grin on his son, stating softly as he leaned in while they walked toward his private office, "I'm getting the distinct impression that they feel like an eighteen-wheeler just ran over them."

Brian followed his father inside the other room, shutting the door behind them as he watched Fin walk over and pick up a bottle of Beam this time. Brian shook his head as he held the bottle out toward him. Pouring a shot into a stout, round glass, Fin walked over and sat down opposite his son behind his desk.

"I actually went easy on them," Brian reported to his father. "But the gloves are off; I don't have time to worry about whether I'm bruising their egos; I'm not concerned about whether I'm following standard rules of campaign etiquette here, Fin. I'm going to do what it takes to win this thing; I'm not used to losing and I'm not going to start now."

Fin twisted his mouth up into a grin. "I would expect nothing less from the best advertising executive in Pittsburgh." He couldn't help the swell of pride that rose up inside him; God knows he had followed typical, standard operating procedure before in winning his previous re-election campaigns to the Senate, and he had been quite successful at it. But that had been a different time and a different place; it hadn't taken a lot of work or convincing to win over constituents who had become accustomed to him going to bat for them as their state senator, and voters typically were for the most part complacent when it came to voting – they normally just went with the flow and voted back in the person they were the most familiar with. This time, though, it was different; he wasn't running for re-election to a position he had held for a decade. He wasn't just running for office in a district that knew his platform and his record inside out. No, this was a statewide campaign, an effort to convince voters who really knew nothing about him that he was capable of and best qualified to represent them as their next governor. The only problem was, they did know 'something' about him – they knew he was gay. It would be up to both him and his son to convince the mainly conservative element in the state that his sexual orientation was totally irrelevant to his ability to effectively serve as their governor. He was confident that if anyone could do that, it would be his think-outside-the-box son.

"Pittsburgh, my ass," he heard his son respond smugly. "Kinnetik had the best sales figures of any agency in the state last quarter," he verified. It had been sweet revenge, too, when Ted had divulged that self-satisfying fact to him; for the past year, he and his old agency, Vanguard, has been running neck and neck in total sales. For the first time, though, he had finally surpassed his old employer by almost a million dollars in the past quarter and he had gotten an indescribable amount of pleasure out of that fact. He wasn't going to tell his father, but he did have some doubts that Kinnetik would be able to maintain that pace for the coming quarter with him taking over this campaign. He had enormous faith in both Cynthia and Ted to keep things running smoothly, and had no intention of totally giving up the reins to his company while he was embroiled in his new role, but he was still somewhat doubtful with him stepping back from day-to-day operations that they would be able to keep up their current volume and continue to best his biggest rival. It wouldn't be the first time that Brian faced a financial challenge, though, and came out victorious; ironically if it hadn't been for that asshole Stockwell, he would have never had the balls to strike out on his own and create Kinnetik in the first place. He had emerged bigger and badder eventually from that fiasco, and he would this time, too.

Fin smiled at him in surprise. "That's fantastic, Brian! I didn't know." Brian felt himself warming under his approval; it felt good to actually be complimented by his father, his real father; fuck knows he had never had that happen with his adoptive father before. Not quite sure just yet how to properly respond to his father when he was praised about something, he was about to issue a simple thank you when he heard someone knocking on the office door.

"Come in," Fin called out as the door opened and the members of his core staff began to filter in. Now they could finally get down to some serious business.

Brian studied the six men and women who represented the key players in his father's campaign; he could tell they were sizing him up as well as he looked at them from his leather chair. He motioned over to the couch and two overstuffed chairs nearby. "Have a seat, ladies and gentlemen; now the real work begins."

Late Afternoon – Britin

Justin was in one of those moods where he liked to listen to music as he painted; depending upon what sort of piece he was working on, sometimes he liked complete silence, feeling the need for introspection and contemplation as he applied slow, thoughtful, deliberate strokes to a somber, dramatic piece. Other times, like today, he craved music that evoked the emotion he was trying to portray in his art. Today, he was listening to a slow tune by Maroon 5 as he carefully brushed some amber brown onto his canvas. Eventually, the piece, commissioned for display at a charity event being held to benefit AIDS research, would hopefully create in the viewer a sense of cautionary optimism that eventually the dreaded disease that had inflicted Ben and Vic, as well as other friends of his, would be cured in their lifetime.

Standing there with his back to his studio door, one hand on his hip and the other hand holding the horsehair brush, he jumped slightly as the music abruptly ended. He whirled around in surprise to see Brian standing there; he had been so absorbed in his painting, his concentration and the music playing that it had effectively disguised his husband's return. He smiled in pleasure as Brian gazed tenderly back at him, the relief at being home apparent in his face.

"Brian." The blond hurriedly walked over and plopped the wet paintbrush down in a partially-filled sink of water in the metal utility tub nearby before he rushed over to his husband and wound his hands around his neck. "I'm glad you're home," he told him, smiling as he studied the handsome, tired-looking face; he watched as his husband's expression softened just a bit as he looked into his eyes. "You look beat," he observed, noticing the wrinkled creases around Brian's eyes and his haggard countenance. "How did it go?"

Brian slid his arms around Justin's waist and laid his head on the top of his husband's shoulder for a few seconds, inhaling the sweet scent of the blond and the slightly woodsy, familiar scent of Justin's shampoo as he briefly closed his eyes in relief; God, it felt so good to be back home and in this man's arms again! It was almost as if a two-ton weight had just been lifted from him as the stress of the day slowly ebbed away. He lifted his head to gaze into the concerned, soft blue eyes peering up at him and couldn't help leaning in for a brief kiss; well, at least brief compared to what their normal greeting was. He smiled dryly as he raised one hand to cradle it against the pale, slightly fuzzed skin of Justin's cheek and lightly stroked it. "Well, I don't think any of his staff is going to volunteer to be president of my fan club anytime soon," he joked. "But I think they definitely have a clear idea of what I expect from them now."

Justin laughed softly. "I can only imagine," he deadpanned. "How many were left alive when you got done chewing their asses out?"

Brian grinned. "Well, at least they had enough balls not to up and quit while I was still there. I'll have to check with Fin tomorrow to see how many dropouts he had afterward. Besides," he added huskily, "I reserve ass-chewing for only one man now."

Justin blushed before he asked, "Was it that bad?"

The brunet sighed. "Fuck, Justin, you have no idea. His headquarters is stuck on the main floor of this narrow, old, brick building on the outskirts of Harrisburg; I could barely get inside it before I started bumping up against everything. There are desks around every available space, papers all over the place, no filing system for retrieving anything – it's a fucking organizational nightmare! I had a talk with the logistics manager while I was there and found out the space right above them is actually available for lease – I'm having the guy contact the landlord today to see how much it would cost to rent out the second floor, also, for Fin's headquarters. There's no fucking way I can run an organized campaign with the chaos in there! And my God – could I use your artistic skills! You want to hear what the profound, thought-provoking slogan was that they came up with for my father's gubernatorial campaign?" As Justin silently nodded his head and raised his eyebrows in question, Brian grimaced as he repeated the schmaltzy slogan: "Win…With…Fin." As he said the disdainful words, he raised his right hand in the air and pretended to write the words out invisibly, cringing as he did so; the tacky phrase sounded even worse when he said it out loud.

Justin snorted at the disgusted look on Brian's face; it definitely left no room for misinterpretation. "It does sound kind of juvenile," he commented as he slowly ruffled the soft auburn hair at the back of Brian's neck in an attempt to relieve his husband of some of his stress.

Brian shook his head in disgust as he replaced his hands at the back of Justin's waist. "That's an understatement," he said. "They have a big vinyl banner right where you see it as you go in – the thing must be at least six feet by six feet square; the photo they used for my father is okay, I guess, but you don't pay any attention to it because you're too busy looking at the ridiculous slogan right above his head! I made them take it down before I left – I figure we can always use it as a tarp later after the election's over."

Justin laughed. "Well, it would come in handy if we ever decide to enclose the back patio here. Or I can always use it as a drop cloth."

Brian grinned at him as he pulled him closer. "Well, either use would serve a better purpose for it. I've got it rolled up out in the garage if you need an extra one. Feel free to use it for whatever you see fit, but it's not going to see the light of day anymore at his campaign headquarters."

Justin playfully rubbed his nose against Brian's as he whispered, "What's the next step then?" He pulled back to gaze into Brian's eyes.

Brian let out a breath. "Well, I'm flying back out to Harrisburg tomorrow to meet up with some RV dealer that Fin told me about; I want to see about renting a couple of full-sized models for use as a sort of traveling campaign headquarters. I think it's important that Fin start canvassing the state to get his platform out there for everyone to see. The more exposure he has, the better his chances of getting his voice heard and getting elected in November." Brian's eyes twinkled as he curled his lips under. "You know that if anyone would know how to use exposure to its best advantage, I would." The smile of appreciation for his tongue-in-cheek joke, however, failed to get much of a response from Justin, at least the one he had been looking for. He heard his husband sigh before he asked softly, "What? I thought you liked seeing me exposed."

Justin's mouth twisted up slightly in acknowledgment. "Always."

"Then what?"

Justin shook his head. "It's nothing." And it really wasn't, except it still bothered him. He knew he had encouraged Brian to help his father out, but they had just gotten back from their honeymoon, their wondrously idyllic, private honeymoon – just the two of them.

Brian slowly stroked Justin's back through his cotton t-shirt; his husband was wearing the dark red, long-sleeved shirt with the dark-gray around the shirt's round collar and shoulder pads that was one of his favorites. Of course, his personal favorite of Justin's was when he was wearing nothing at all, but that wasn't practical, at least all the time…. "Justin, I thought we weren't keeping secrets from each other anymore." Both of them already knew what happened when they kept things from each other; it tended to meet with absolutely disastrous results each time.

Justin bit his lower lip in thought for a few seconds before he sighed softly, watching what little time they would have alone quickly going down the drain. Well, the honeymoon's officially over... "You're planning on traveling around the entire state in an RV WITH him, aren't you?"

"Well, it doesn't do much good to be in charge of a campaign if I'm not aware of everything's that going on, and with that ragtag group he had in charge before, there's going to be a shit load of changes that need to be made. I figure with the right setup, I can be there to provide important suggestions on what Fin should and shouldn't do, at least until I'm confident he won't fuck up everything I put in place. We won't exactly be living out of a tent, by the way; hell, after I did some research online earlier today, I found out you can get an RV with a pullout living room containing a sofa bed and as many as three bedrooms; they're more like houses on wheels now. The model I'm talking about has two master bedrooms and a full-sized bathroom." Brian remembered back when he and Mikey would on occasion get to take some camping trips with Vic, who in his early days was quite the outdoor enthusiast; in the 'good old days,' a luxury camper was a popup Nimrod with netting to keep the mosquitoes out. Things had obviously come a long way since then.

Justin stuck his lower lip out; he had an idea he looked like some sulking child but he couldn't help it. "Well, with arrangements like that you won't need to come home until after the election's over; maybe you can relieve some of the sexual tension by having a few tricks blow you here and there along the way; I understand Wal-Mart lets you park in their parking lots overnight," he offered sarcastically.

Brian tried to hide the smile from appearing on his lips, knowing that his husband would just get even more upset if he thought he was making fun of him. "Well, that's a thought," he said solemnly as Justin glared up at him. "But I actually had some other way of relieving my sexual tension in mind, more like a floater position."

Brian watched as the eureka moment appeared on Justin's beautiful face; he was rewarded with an almost blinding smile as Justin scrunched up his nose in realization and it made his heart flutter. "A floater, huh; how flattering. You want me to come with you?" He realized as soon as the question came out of his mouth that he had phrased that wrong and waited for the predictable response; he didn't have to wait long.

Brian smiled as he leaned down and gave his lower earlobe a playful nip. "I always want you to come with me," he whispered in his ear as Justin rolled his eyes and smiled at the double entendre, despite himself. He smacked his husband's chest lightly before he spoke.

"Bri-an… I'm trying to be serious here. You want me to ride around the state in an RV with hordes of media following us around? You know how much of an intrusion that's going to be? If you think our privacy's going to be invaded during your father's campaign around our home, just wait until we're along for the ride with him." Make up your mind, Taylor – first you don't want him gone and now you don't want to accompany him? He twisted his mouth and announced as if to a curious crowd gathered nearby, "Ladies and Gentlemen – Coming Soon to Your Homophobic Neighborhood: The Homo Hotel on Wheels! The Fag Fairymobile! The Pennsylvania Gay Grand Prix!"

Brian laughed in spite of himself. "That's very good, Justin – I think maybe I SHOULD hire you to come up with Fin's new campaign slogan! You're not fooling me, though, you know – I know you much too well; you're no more afraid of that happening than you are of turning straight!" He cupped Justin's cheeks tenderly and turned his husband's head slightly upward to stare into his eyes. "I stopped at Kinnetik earlier this afternoon to double check on how everything's going there and as much as I fucking hate to admit it, everything seemed to be going fine, at least for now, with Theodore and Cynthia in temporary charge; I'll be checking in with them frequently while I'm gone because I'll be needing their help in implementing a new television and print campaign, but if I'm really going to do this thing right I need to be involved with it 100%, at least for the next few months until I'm convinced Fin's campaign is heading in the right direction. Then I can maybe back off a little and control operations a little more from afar and let some of his subordinates do more of the behinds-the-scene footwork. Until then, though, I need to be where Fin is and his key staff members, and Fin needs to get his face, goals and platform out there for the voters to become familiar with him; he also needs to reassure the conservative voters that his sexual orientation isn't what they need to worry about – it's whether they want the state to go to hell in a hand basket, which will happen if someone doesn't get the fucking budget back on track. Fin's going to ask Tony if he's willing to take a temporary leave of absence from his law firm in order to travel with him; you at least have the advantage of being able to keep up your painting away from home. I know it will be an inconvenience for you to have to bring all your art supplies along," Brian continued softly as Justin quietly gazed into his eyes, "but I don't want us to be apart for such a long time; at best I'd be able to fly home maybe once a week for the next few months if you decide to stay here. Isn't that better, then, than the alternative?" He didn't stop to think about how that plea had rolled off his lips so readily; before, he would have had a hard time getting his true feelings out, but now, he felt it was important for Justin to realize just how much he would miss him if they were separated for such a long length of time. He was committed now to helping his father – there was no backing out now – but not at the expense of being apart from his husband for so long. He slowly stroked Justin's pale skin with his thumbs as he waited a little anxiously for Justin's answer, hoping Justin would see that this was the best solution for them. It wasn't the ideal solution – they would still be sharing living space with his father and Tony while the other key members of his staff shared the other RV – but at least at night (and when the mood struck them during the day), they would be afforded relative privacy in their own home-away-from-home, portable bedroom. "You know I'd bust if we didn't get to fuck at least once a night – and day," he threw in for good measure, pasting his most adorable little-boy look on his face that normally got him whatever he wanted.

Justin's hand crept upward to the middle of Brian's back; their two bodies were so close together as Brian held him that he could feel their heartbeats thumping together in their chests; was it a good idea for him and Brian to travel together in a rolling version of a campaign bus? Although, he had to admit, the RV idea sounded a lot better than trolling around the state in a smoky, fume-filled motor coach with a small, cramped bathroom at the rear – not a very pleasant vision in his mind. Yes, it would be an inconvenience, and he had no doubt they would be met quite often with skepticism and outright hatred for their lifestyles; anyone who followed the news either in print or online would readily know not only who Tony was but also about his and Brian's relationship as well; in his role as his father's campaign manager, Brian would no doubt be in the spotlight frequently, and he had no intention of shrinking back into the shadows so as not to create any additional controversy, nor would either Brian or Fin ask him to. All that was out in the open now for better or worse. Besides, he wouldn't want to be part of a campaign that wasn't honest and transparent; the shadowy, evasive world of what he normally thought of when politics was involved had no place in his father-in-law's gubernatorial campaign, nor would Brian allow it, either. And he did enjoy spending time with Tony; when Brian and Fin were busy strategizing or attending political rallies or planning debates between Fin and Turner, which Brian had indicated was going to be a critical part of reaching out to constituents, at least he would have someone pleasant and interesting around to keep him company. And when it was all said and done, he would much rather be with Brian than without him for the next few months. He had long ago gotten to the point that when Brian wasn't in their bed at night, he simply didn't sleep very well. He tossed and turned restlessly, constantly reaching his arms out at night in hopes of wrapping them around his husband's warm, familiar body. When Brian was out of town on business for a few days, he never felt right until he was back in his arms again. That was normally only for a few days; what would it be like to have Brian gone for days on end? It would be fucking hell, that's what it would be. Did he really have a choice, then?

He gazed into Brian's eyes as the brunet raised his brows in silent question before he nodded. "As long as I have a decent stove to cook on and we have a big enough shower to fuck in, you can deal me in, Mr. Kinney."

"Twin bed okay with you, then?" Brian asked tongue in cheek. His answer came in the form of a sharp sting to his ass. "Ow! I take it that's a no?"

"You bet your bony little ass it's a no!" Justin retorted as Brian grinned. "It has to be at least queen size."

Brian chuckled. "Queen size – figures. Got it. Now what do you say we go downstairs and reacquaint ourselves with our king-sized bed here before we're forced to downsize?"

Justin nodded with a smile as the two kissed deeply for several seconds before, hand in hand, they walked out of Justin's studio.

Same Time – Fin and Tony's residence - Harrisburg

"Did I ever tell you that I love that apron on you? It's so light and airy." Tony twisted his body to grin back at his partner as Fin walked up from behind from the garage access door, admiring the view of the blond attorney standing there in their kitchen in front of the stove wearing nothing but a navy-blue apron tied around his slim waist and neck; the dark fabric of the apron contrasted dramatically with Tony's light skin and was sexy as hell. Of course, the way Tony was so saucily wearing his apparel might have also had something to do with Fin's body temperature rising; his perky little butt was peeking out from between the folds of the fabric like some fresh peach just waiting to be plucked. If the other attorneys could see their opponent right now, he thought with amusement as he enjoyed the view. He gave the air an appreciative sniff as he approached his partner, smelling the unmistakable aroma of steak cooking. "Are we having open-faced roast beef sandwiches tonight in honor of your apparel?"

Tony laughed softly as Fin reached his arms around his waist and pulled him back up against his chest to give him a quick kiss on his neck. "Well you're half right," he said as Fin peered around him to study what he was cooking on the stove. "It's beef, but it's Salisbury steak in gravy." He turned around in Fin's arms to add, "And the only open-faced part around here is me. No point in wasting time later with clumsy clothing removal."

Fin grinned. "You attorneys always get right to the point, don't you? I like that; I guess opposites really do attract then, because politicians always get accused of being vague and circuitous."

Tony chuckled as he reached up on his tiptoes to kiss his partner on the lips. "Maybe most politicians, but I would never accuse you of that." Fin gazed into his eyes as he asked, "How did the meeting between your newly-installed campaign manager and the rest of your staff go?"

"Well, speaking of not beating around the bush, no one would accuse my son of ever doing that," Fin reported. "I think by the time he got done with them, they all had a very clear idea of his philosophy and that he doesn't take any bullshit from anyone. By the way, you want to guess what he thought of that campaign slogan that my press secretary came up with a few weeks ago?"

"That it was weak, predictable and full of shit?"

Fin snorted in amusement. "That about covers it, I'd say. You were right with your initial assessment." At the time Fin had shown it to him, Tony had thought it was boring as hell, but bowing to what he thought was expert opinion, he had opted to keep it; turns out his partner had been right about it all along… "It does help to have an advertising genius, though, in the family," Fin responded. "He's going to put some of his own people to work to come up with a new promotional spin, plus I happen to know he's very familiar with a brilliant graphic artist who might be able to help out as well."

Tony looked up at him smugly. "He's not the only genius. Didn't I tell you?"

Fin smiled as he reached his hands down to the two soft, fleshy mounds of Tony's ass and gave them an appreciative squeeze; he was rewarded with an audible groan in return. "You're a pretty self-satisfied little shit, aren't you?" he growled.

Tony beamed up at him. "That's me, a highly intelligent and adorable little shit."

Fin laughed as he smacked his partner's ass with one hand as he brought his other one up under Tony's chin. "Yes," he admitted with a tender smile. "You are adorable… And you're all mine… Every delectable meaty little portion of you."

Tony huffed. "Hey, I'm not so little," he corrected in mock reproach as he turned back around to stir the steak smothered in gravy. He gasped as he felt Fin reach under his apron and squeeze his cock firmly before releasing it.

"You're right," he heard Fin whisper huskily in his ear. "Definitely NOT so little."

"Fin… You're going to make me burn our dinner." He smiled to himself, though, as he heard his partner's frustrated groan. "Poor baby," he cooed softly. "I promise I'll make it up to you afterward."

Fin sighed as he reluctantly let his partner go and walked over to open the top cupboard to the right of their sink that held their casual dinner dishes; for as long as he could remember, this was their 'normal' routine whenever Tony had time to cook for them – he would finish preparing the meal while Fin set the dinner table. As he reached up to take down two solid, off-white dinner plates and two matching bowls for their salad, he placed them down momentarily, leaned back against the counter and eyed his partner quietly. He decided he needed to find out Tony's reaction to his and Brian's plan to keep their partners nearby as the two of them were gallivanting across the state. He knew it was selfish in a way – wanting Tony with him while he began his campaign in earnest. After all, his partner's business was just as important as his work was. But their previous separation had taught him not to take Tony or their love for granted anymore; and truthfully, the thought of not having his partner by his side at night, pushing aside his doubts and his fears, was quite an unpleasant thought and totally unacceptable.

Tony sensed his partner's gaze on him and twisted his upper body to the right, discovering he had been correct; Fin was looking at him as if he were about to open his mouth to say something, but nothing was coming out. That was so atypical of his normally glib partner that it made him a little uneasy. "Fin?" he said teasingly. "It normally works out better to bring the dinner dishes over to the stove, rather than vice versa."

"Huh?"

Tony sighed as he slid the frying pan onto another, turned off burner and wiped his hands on his apron before turning and walking the few feet over to his partner. "What's on your mind, Senator?" he asked softly as he placed his hands on Fin's shoulders. "It sounded like everything went well with you and Brian today; what's wrong?" He noticed with some concern the serious look on his handsome partner's face. "If your staff members can't take some criticism…"

Fin shook his head as he slid his hands down to Tony's waist; he could feel his partner's warm skin under his touch as he grasped the slender frame. "It's not that, Tony." He stared into his partner's eyes, so blue and open, so loving. "What's on your docket for the next few months?"

Tony frowned; why were they talking about that? "My schedule? Why do you want to know?"

Fin licked his lips; why was he so nervous about this? He was being fucking ridiculous. "I… Brian suggested today that we rent a couple extra-large RVs to traverse the state for the next few months in an attempt to get my goals and platform out to as many voters as possible. He thinks not enough people know me well enough outside my particular constituent territory and this would be a good way to accomplish that."

Tony smiled, actually relieved that the topic Fin wanted to discuss wasn't serious after all; but what did a couple of RVs have to do with his courthouse schedule? He had to laugh softly; just the idea of Fin being driven around in an RV seemed comical. Fin detested anything that remotely had to do with the idea of camping. His partner wasn't an ostentatious snob by any means, but he did enjoy relaxing in comfort. He really didn't know much about camping or using an RV, but it didn't sound like the sort of vehicle Fin would be at home in. "You?" he whispered back in amusement. "In an RV? Should I go out and buy an airbed for you and get you a hunting license?"

Fin's eyes flashed in aggravation. "Tony, will you just answer the fucking question?"

"Yes, sir!" Tony responded formally as he saluted his partner. "Just let me check my schedule, Sir!"

"Shit," Fin muttered in annoyance as he released Tony so his partner could walk over to the small, oval-shaped table near the back door heading out to the garage and pick up his Blackberry. He crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the kitchen sink as he waited a little impatiently for his partner to scan the screen for his schedule. "Well?"

Tony rolled his eyes, wondering what the big hurry was. "You're a bossy brute, aren't you? And I thought the District Attorney was demanding." He and the county's defense attorney had tangled numerous times over the years, typically coming down on opposite sides of the fence, but at least he had the advantage of normally being victorious in their battles. When it came to his headstrong partner, however, that was a different matter, although a lot of times he just let Fin think he had won… "Well, I have a couple of preliminary hearings next week for pre-trials… Two depos that have to be given to a couple of clients on the 21st… A couple of court filings that I need to prepare some paperwork for before the statute of limitations runs out…"

"Tony."

The blond glanced up at his partner; Fin was leaning his long-legged body against the back of the sink, tapping his right foot softly.

"What is the problem, Fin?" he asked, just a little annoyed now at the other man's obtuseness. "Just tell me what the fuck you want from me. I'm telling you what my schedule is – isn't that what you wanted me to do?" He sighed; sometimes Fin could be downright aggravating; it wasn't as if they hadn't been together for years now, but sometimes he felt like he and his partner were still trying to navigate their way around each other at times. He watched as Fin untangled his long legs and arms and slowly walked up to him. "What?" he asked softly, his face drawn in bewilderment.

Fin let out a weighted breath between his lips; why was this such a big deal? Was it because he wasn't that comfortable asking Tony to put his career on hold just to travel around with him? He really needed his partner by his side, though; it was going to be great having his son around so they could hopefully get to know each other better, but it still wasn't the same as having the man he loved with him, supporting and encouraging him when things got rough or contentious. God knows that was definitely going to happen; an overtly gay man running for governor in a state that was traditionally founded on conservative, traditional values? It was a foregone conclusion that not everyone was going to take kindly to his campaign, no matter how much he tried to distance his personal life from his solid record of civic achievement.

Fin bit his lip, looking oddly vulnerable to Tony as he replied, "I'd like you to come with me."

Tony narrowed his eyebrows. "Come with you where?"

Fin shook his head at his partner's denseness as he quipped, "On my road trip to the heartland of America."

"Whoa… Wait a minute," Tony interrupted him, feeling getting the picture. "You want me to travel around with you in an RV? Rough it? Go to sleep at night with the roaring sounds of rubber beneath our feet? Kiss babies and duck my head as rotten tomatoes are thrown at us?"

Fin huffed out a breath in barely-controlled restraint. "Don't be so melodramatic, Counselor! First of all, I don't think "roughing it" properly describes it. Have you ever been inside a luxury RV before?"

Tony pursed his lips together to keep from laughing. "Is there such a thing?"

"Damn straight there is! And this particular model has two master bedrooms and a bathroom – with a Jacuzzi, I might add." He reached his arms around Tony's waist and pulled him close. "And a full-size kitchen with a gourmet stove – that way you and Justin can fight over who gets to cook me and Brian our meals."

Tony stared at his partner as if he had grown a second head. "You're actually serious about this." The additional information Fin had mentioned began to resonate as he added, "Wait a minute – Justin's agreed to come along, too?" He placed his hands on the top of Fin's shoulders as he stared into his eyes, knowing by the expression on his partner's face that he was really, truly serious about his request.

Fin shrugged. "I know Brian was going to ask him; it was my suggestion. I figured a happy son is a happy campaign manager and I can't think of a better way to keep him happy than to have Justin come along for the ride. I think he would actually enjoy seeing more of the state and I figured it might give him some new ideas for future paintings." He raked his teeth across his lower lip thoughtfully. "Of course, I imagine it's a lot easier for an artist to pick up and go than an attorney, especially a highfaluting, prominent attorney."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to bullshit me or flatter me?"

Fin curled his lips under. "Depends on which one is the most effective."

Tony shook his head but he had to laugh softly. "You are so full of it, Fintan O'Connor."

"I am," his partner agreed. "Definitely. And it's just dying to get out." He leaned in to bestow a soft but probing kiss on the blond's lips, his tongue gently washing across his mouth for permission to deepen it.

Tony could feel his lover's hardness pressing against him and his pulse began to pound; how did this man manage to do this to him, even after all these years? "Fin… Our dinner…" he sputtered out breathlessly in half-protest.

"Fuck the dinner," was the husky response against his lips. "On second thought, I'd rather fuck you."

Tony pulled back to stare into his partner's eyes and grinned. "You are so cheesy," he scolded him as he reached up to cup the bronzed cheeks. "And SO predictable."

"Predictable? I'll show you predictable." He unexpectedly tightened his hold on his partner and lifted him up, causing Tony's feet to leave the ground; the blond instinctively raised his legs to wrap them around Fin's waist as Fin smirked. "I'm not the only predictable one."

Tony grinned. "Not predictable – horny as hell and needing to do something about it," he disclosed as he began to unbutton Fin's shirt, sliding his hands up the smooth skin toward his partner's neck. "Now practice being a good little politician and follow through on your promises."

Fin began to nibble on his partner's earlobe before taking a leisurely lick right behind Tony's ear where he was so responsive; he received a soft sigh of pleasure in response. Gotcha. He licked his lips playfully as he began to back up toward the living room, heading toward their oversized, leather couch. "My pleasure, Counselor. But answer my question first," he commanded forcefully with a growl. "Does the prosecution rest or are you going to appeal?"

Tony laughed as they came to the side of the couch and Fin promptly turned around and dropped him, ass first, down onto the sofa. "Hey!" He glared up at his partner. "Well, I think I'll need an aside with the judge first to discuss it…" He squeaked as Fin pounced on him and pressed him, full-length, onto the soft as he began to relentlessly tickle him this time.

"Okay, okay!" the blond cried out. "I surrender; I drop my objections, Senator. No appeal! I'll rearrange my schedule!" Was there ever any question, anyway? The choices were to plod on monotonously alone for weeks on end, working on his legal cases and surrounded by a mound of paperwork while his partner was traipsing around the state, orating so eloquently in front of thousands of hot, horny men who would no doubt be lusting after him, or go WITH him, watching his passionate, confident partner working up a sweat, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he presented his platform to his constituents while the two of them worked up a sweat at night in their luxury-on-wheels, master bedroom?

Fin ceased his taunting at last, draping his body over his partner's as he braced himself to either side of the slender body with his arms as if he were doing a pushup. He smiled. "You're such a smart man, Cassinelli. I think that's why I love you." He twisted onto his side to brace himself on one elbow as he slide his free arm around his partner's body to curve his other hand around the blond's ass; he felt Tony lurch as he poked one finger inside briefly. "That and your tight little ass," he added huskily as he pulled on the thin straps of his partner's apron and pulled it up over his head, exposing the pale, slender body. "Now let's practice for our road trip, Counselor."