Set the morning after Brian meets Rikert in the Hustler bar! =D

oOoOo

]Brian looked over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. The purple-blue mark that was running across the bottom of his back stood out and looked disgusting against his otherwise perfect skin. He reached a hand back and prodded it gently, wincing as the pain shot out from the bruise and all through his body.. Fucking asshole cop, he thought, giving the bruise another prod and hissing with pain.

"What the hell are you doing?" Justin asked suddenly appearing at the bathroom door. "It sounds like you're having a fight with an anaconda." Then he spotted the bruise and he just stared, dumbstruck. "Where did you get that?" He demanded.

"I paid a visit to an old ex-cop friend of mine," Brian answered, his face scrunching up in pain as he leant down to pick up his shirt from the tiled floor.

"You went to see him alone?" The younger man asked incredulously, his voice mixed with anger and fear. He couldn't believe Brian had been so stupid. They both knew Rikert was dangerous, he'd fucking killed a guy for fucks sake.

Brian just shrugged. He wasn't the kind of person to answer questions when the answer was so obvious a two year old could work it out .

"You could have gotten hurt," Justin protested.

Brian just shot him a look as if to say, 'I did'.

"I mean really hurt," the younger man clarified. "Why didn't you let me come with you?"

"You think I want you anywhere near that fucking psycho-cop?"

"What, and you'd have been able to fight him off if he'd tried to murder you? You're not that clever Brian!"

"I met him in a public place," the older man said, pushing past Justin semi-angrily and walking towards the kitchen to begin his self-medicating. He really didn't want to fight with Justin at the moment. His back ached, he was pissed that he'd got no answers and there was no way in hell any member of gay Pittsburgh now he looked like he'd lost a cage fight. No member of gay Pittsburgh except just, of course, but that was different because that wasn't really just mindless, meaningless fucking anymore.

"What that grungy hustler bar?" Justin asked, following Brian over to the kitchen counter like an annoying puppy that's slightly too pathetic to kick. "No one would have batted an eyelid if he'd strangled you to death in the centre of the room, they'd probably think it was some kinky sex game."

Brian considered this for a moment. It was true not one person in the pub had even glanced in his direction when Rikert had lost it with him and shoved him backwards. He'd cracked his back pretty hard on the nearest barstool but he hadn't let the pain show on his face. He'd stayed in control because he was sure that would piss the murdering former-cop off more than anything else but his heart had been pounding in his chest. Not that he'd ever admit that to Justin or anyone else for that matter. He just adopted a cocky expression and said,

"well, luckily, I'm fine."

Justin didn't smile. His face was wrinkled with concern and there was a pure kind of terror in his eyes. Brian didn't like it. It was clear the younger man was really scared, so Brian left his drink and walked around the counter top so that he was directly in front of the twink. He placed his hand on the younger man's cheek and whispered, softly and more seriously,

"I'm fine."

"Just," Justin took a deep breath, "don't go there again, please. At least not alone."

"Worried I'll pick up a tight assed hustler?" Brian smirked, taking his hand away from the twink's cheek, killing any moment of tenderness so fast, Justin wondered if perhaps he'd made it up.

"Brian," he warned.

"Fine," the older man answered sulkily before pulling the boy scouts salute and saying childishly, "I promise."

Justin nodded a little, knowing that was probably as good as it was going to get before smirking a little and saying, "so we agree, the next time you go back to that bar is when you're too old to get it without paying."

"There will never be a time when I'd use a hustler, if anything, they'd be paying me," Brian promised, returning to his drink and ignoring the fact he had once paid for a hustler who'd looked similar to Justin. Justin didn't need to know that, no one needed to know that and no one ever did.

"Well," Justin said bitterly, "I know one hustler that would give it away for free."

"Ah, Hunter."

"Uh-huh," Justin nodded. "I bet he hates me."

"Him and half of gay Pittsburgh," Brian confirmed, taking a long swig of his beer.

"Ha. Ha," Justin scorned.

"I'm serious."

Justin narrowed his eyes at the older man, until Brian chuckled at how funny the blonde looked when he was trying to fake being angry.

"Actually," Brian said eventually, "I think he still thinks you're a hustler."

"What!" Justin cried, "you didn't tell him!" Brian really did laugh then, which earned him a scowl, before Justin pressed his bruise very hard.

"Ahhhhh!" Brian cried out, pushing the younger man away angrily. "You little shit."

Justin didn't say anything, he just went to sit on the sofa to sulk for a while. Brian decided that he would not be the one to break to silence first. They'd sat for hours not talking when they used to live together permanently and both knew how to act unbothered by it. Now that Justin's official address was at Daphne's, not that anyone would fucking know that the amount of time he spent at the loft, Brian could technically just throw the twink out when he felt like it; not that he ever had or ever would. The truth was, Brian like having Justin around, even when the blonde was having a massive queen out on the sofa, he'd rather him sulk here than somewhere else. Christ, he was turning into such a fucking lesbian.

They were silent for a long time. It must have been nearly forty-five minutes before Brian checked the clock and realised he had to leave for his meeting. He got up wordlessly and went to get his jacket. He was aware that Justin kept glancing up to see what he was doing but the younger man still refused to say anything. He just went to get some shoes and put them on. He was half way out the door when Justin finally spoke up.

"Where are you going?" was all he said.

"A former client of mine rang me up and asked to meet," Brian said offhandedly.

Justin frowned, "who?"

"Stockwell."

"Stockwell," Justin repeated in shock. "Jim Stockwell?"

"The very same. I think my brawling buddy might have had a little word."

"So what? Now he's going to bribe you to keep you quiet?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Brian shrugged.

"You're not gonna agree to anything are you?"

"Sunshine," he answered easily, "I'd rather have my tongue superglued to a lesbian's twot."

Justin smiled. "Well, just be careful."

The older man rolled his eyes and muttered, "yes dear," under his breath. But Brian could do all the muttering and eye rolling he wanted, Justin's words had still left him feeling much happier.