CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

It was still too early for Babylon, so that was how I ended up propped against the bar at Woody's, a cigarette clutched in one hand and my fourth Jack Daniels in the other, while Mikey sat beside me listening to my woes.

"Brian," he said at last, "what are you doing here?"

I blinked at him. "I thought I explained. My Loft is full of dirty diapers and screaming children. Where else am I supposed to go?"

"One child, Brian."

"Semantics." I waved my empty glass and then gestured for the barman to refill it. "He makes enough noise for a whole herd of 'em"

"Kids don't come in herds." Michael pointed out, sipping his beer. "And even if they did, I don't really think they could actually fill the Loft with diapers."

I stubbed out my cigarette and glared at him. "I thought you were supposed to be sympathizing. What else is a best friend for?"

"I don't know what you want me to sympathize about. Why didn't you just tell him no, if you didn't want Abe there?"

I stared morosely into my drink. "I told him to treat the Loft like home."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Then you can't complain if he does!"

"What the fuck?" I frowned. "Since when do you stand up for him? I didn't think you were a fan, Mikey."

He shrugged off-handedly. "Why should I be? I hardly know anything about him, except that he's an annoying little shit. You're the one who thinks the sun shines out of his ass, quip intended. I just don't see what he's done that's so bad."

"Apart from setting up a fucking crèche in the Loft?"

"Brian, do you know how crazy you are sometimes? It's not like he wants the kid move in. Linds will probably have picked him up by the time you get home, and I'm sure Justin will have sanitized the Loft for you. And you've got a reason to go out for the night. Since when was that a hardship?"

I threw back half of my JD and scowled at him. "Since never."

"Oh, really. So how come you're not grabbing that hottie down the bar who's been giving you the eye for the past ten minutes and dragging him out back for a blow job? Why are you moping here chewing my ear off?"

"I am not fucking moping!" To prove it I looked over his shoulder at the guy a few stools down, who was blatantly cruising me. He was black-haired, olive-skinned, ripped, kind of hot … but really not hot enough, even given my current state of inebriation. "Not interested," I growled at him.

Mikey laughed. "Oh, you are so moping!" he smirked.

I stuck my finger in a puddle of spilt beer on the bar and began doodling a picture of two hairy balls and an erect penis. "Fucking Lindsay," I muttered. "Who gave her the right to come poking her nose in?"

"Ah," he nodded sagely. "Did she interrupt something?"

I felt my jaw clenching. "You could say so."

"So what's really pissing you off is that your little songbird did Lindsay a favour instead of doing you one?"

"No, I'm pissed that he did her a favour at all! Why should he? She's not his fucking friend! She was talking to him like he was a piece of shit!"

Michael propped his hand on his cheek. "Maybe he thought he was helping you out. You know? Being friendly? After all, he must know how much he owes you."

I swirled the JD in the glass, watching the way the rich colour of the liquor changed as the bar lights caught it. "He doesn't owe me anything, Mikey."

His eyes widened. "Excuse me … wasn't it you who galloped to his rescue, or was that some other knight in shining armour? And whose roof is he living under? Who's feeding him, and buying him shit? Of course he owes you!"

Yeah, and who knew better than I how punctilious the little twat was about repaying his debts. "Well, I don't want him to!" I finished my drink and banged the glass down on the bar. "You don't get it, Mikey."

He threw his hands in the air. "Then explain it to me! Jeeze, Brian, you're so frustrating!"

"He told her we were fuck-buddies," I said as the bartender replenished my glass again. "No … wait. Not true. She asked if we were fuck-buddies … he said we were friends with benefits."

Mikey's expression would have been priceless, if I'd been able to force the double-image of him my eyes were producing into a single one long enough to appreciate it. "Wow, that was brave of him." He drained his beer and gestured for another. "I tried to tell him that you don't do shit like that, but he obviously hasn't listened. Want me to speak to him again?"

I blinked as my alcohol-dulled brain tried to process his words. "Why the fuck would I want that?"

"Well … you don't do talking, right? We all know that. That's why you're here now, drowning your sorrows. And then you'll go back to the Loft, and you'll have a big fucking fight because you'll act like an asshole just to prove how wrong he was, and he'll think you don't give a fuck about him because he hasn't been around long enough to know otherwise. And since you already kind of implied to me that you actually do give a fuck about him, I'm thinking that may not be such a good plan. Whereas I can explain that just because you can't admit shit to him or anybody else doesn't mean you don't feel it, so I'm thinking that would be a much better plan." He gazed at me hopefully.

See, this was why I'd always loved Michael. I knew that he didn't particularly like Justin, was jealous of him, didn't in any way understand my attraction. I knew how much I'd hurt him when he'd finally realised that a kid had managed to stir emotions in me that he himself had never - would never – arouse. And yet he was still willing to throw himself into the breach for me, just like always.

Even if he had got it completely ass-about-face, as usual.

I draped my arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Love you, Mikey," I whispered. "But you're an idiot."

"I am, huh? How do you work that out?"

"Firstly." I started to tick my points off on my fingers. "It's a stupid plan. Secondly … he wouldn't believe you. Thirdly. Yeah, thirdly … he wouldn't care. And fourthly … did I say it was a stupid plan?"

"What do you mean, he wouldn't care?" He took a swallow of beer and frowned. Then realisation dawned and his eyes and his mouth went round with surprise. "Ohhhh! You mean … you're not mad because he told Lindsay that, you're mad because you think that's how he sees you? You think he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him!"

"Give the man a cigar," I cried, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well, that's nuts, Brian. I've seen the way that kid watches you, when he thinks you're not looking. He's into you, alright."

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," I sighed, shaking my head. "Of course he wants me … he loooves me fucking him, just like the rest of gay Pittsburgh. But that's all it is, believe me. He doesn't do love, doesn't do relationships … yadda, yadda, yadda." I pulled out another Marlboro and stuck it in my mouth. "Could have written his fucking script myself," I mumbled around the butt as I struggled to get my Zippo to light. Fucking thing must be drying out again.

Michael watched for a moment and then took the Zippo off me, lighting it first time. He held the flame to the tip of my cigarette, his lips twitching as if he were having a hard time keeping them under control. "Would it be incredibly cruel to point out that there's probably some kind of divine justice about you finally falling for a guy who turns out to be another you, only younger and shorter?"

I blew cigarette smoke at him. "Yes, it fucking would! And he's not…" I leaned my forearms on the bar and rested my chin on them, trying to think of all the things Justin was. And wasn't. "He's talented, and brave, and funny, and friendly when he wants to be, and he loves his family … and he doesn't fuck around. At least, I don't think he does. So, nothing like me at all, really."

Michael grinned. "Oh, you've got it sooo bad. You love him sooo much." He swiped my cigarette and took a long drag.

"Shut the fuck up, Novotny. And buy your own smokes." I swiped it back as he coughed reflexively.

"Ben won't let me. God, I miss these things so much sometimes … until I taste one again." He took a mouthful of beer and swilled his mouth before swallowing, and then looked at me earnestly. "Brian, you have to talk to him."

I exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Nope. Not gonna happen."

"You're such a dickwad. What? You think he's a mind-reader or something? Just tell him how you feel."

"I think I've shown him in enough ways already."

Michael scrunched his face up. "Yeah, but remember what he's been through. I don't know all of it, but I've heard enough … that'd be a lot for a grown man to deal with, let alone a kid like him. Don't you think it's a little unreasonable to expect him to translate the Kinney Operating Manual on top of everything else?"

I laughed, and it sounded bitter even to me. "Oh, I think he understands it very well. He's just not interested in buying."

Michael snorted. "That's typical of you! For a guy with an ego the size of the fucking state you sure do like putting yourself down! Justin doesn't act like your boyfriend – don't roll your eyes, just fucking listen to me - well, it must be because you're not worth having, not worth loving … it couldn't possibly be that he simply can't understand your fucked-up ways of communicating! Sometimes actions aren't enough, Brian! Sometimes you actually have to say the words!"

I suddenly felt much more sober than I had a few minutes ago. "That boat has already sailed," I replied.

"And say it to him, not me!" He was still ranting. "How hard can it be, you're sitting here doing a pretty good job of … of…" He stopped abruptly. "What did you say?"

"I said, that boat has already sailed," I enunciated clearly.

"Oh, my God." His eyes were wide and wondering. "You told him…?"

"That I loved him," I finished. "Yes."

"Wow." He grabbed my JD and swallowed half of it. "When? Tonight? Before Linds turned up? Is that why…"

I shook my head. "Nope. A couple of nights ago. On the way to the hospital to see Molly … before he went to the penthouse and the Sap attacked him."

His eyes hadn't left mine. "What did he say?"

"He said that it was the biggest crock of shit he'd ever heard. His exact words, Michael."

"Wow," he repeated, and drained the rest of my drink. "That's bad, isn't it?"

"I think, on a scale of one to ten, it probably rates as eleven," I agreed. "And I'm sure you can understand why I wouldn't be eager to repeat the experience. So you see, I figured – stupidly, as it turns out – that I'd just have to prove it to him. I thought once he realised how I felt then he might take me seriously… but he already had, of course. He's very polite, very WASPY … and you're right, he knows he owes me. Fuck, maybe he even likes me enough not to want to hurt my feelings. So he gives me an out … he makes it very clear that I'm not what he wants, without ever having to say it. He's happy to be my friend with benefits, but never anything more, and I've only been fooling myself thinking otherwise."

"Jesus, Brian…" He swallowed hard a couple of times. "Fuck … now I feel like a total dick. I'm so sorry…"

"Why, Mikey?" I managed a smile. "It's no more than I did to you, is it? Divine justice, didn't you say?"

"That wasn't the same!" he protested, grabbing my arm. "We've been part of each other for so fucking long, Brian, through so fucking much! Nobody can take that away, not Ben, not Justin! I can see that now. And yeah, I admit there's always been a part of me that wondered what if?, even though I knew deep down you never felt the same way. If I carried that fantasy with me for all these years then I have nobody to blame but myself. But I have Ben now, and I love Ben, I really do! Maybe not in the way I love you … but Ben's real, and you made me see that reality is what I'm looking for – what I need. But for you to have finally found someone you could say that to, and then to have him turn round and flip you off…" His expression hardened. "Why, who does that little shit think he is? I'm gonna go and give him a piece of my fucking mind right now…"

"Whoa, tiger," I said, grabbing his jacket and hauling him back as he slid off the stool. "That's the liquor talking. You're very illogical when you're drunk. Weren't you on his side a minute ago?"

"That was before I found out what he did to you!" Michael's face was flushed and angry, and I kept a tight hold on him. I wasn't sure my legs were steady enough to catch him if he got away.

"Justin hasn't done anything, and you're not going to give him shit about it. There's no law that says he has to love me, just because I … fuck, look at me. I'm twelve years older than him, I'm emotionally retarded, I've shagged half of Pittsburgh and my liver must already be shot to hell. I'm not the catch you think I am, Mikey. Not for somebody that young, not with the baggage he's already carrying."

"You're Brian Fucking Kinney!" he yelled, making the bartender shoot us a surprised glance. "You'll always be young, and you'll always be beautiful! You're every gay man's wet dream!"

"And yet not his, alas." I tried to speak lightly: I was already regretting having allowed alcohol to lower my guard and loosen my tongue and I didn't want to fan the fires of Michael's wrath any more than I already had. I could only imagine what Justin's reaction would be if my best friend took it upon himself to read him the riot act. I'd be spending the next month picking up the pieces.

"Then all the more reason I should talk to him!" Michael insisted, setting his jaw stubbornly. "Brian, I'm the one who told him how many guys you fuck, how you'd never change, how you'd never have a boyfriend, so it's up to me to put him straight! I knew you cared about him, and I should have kept my mouth shut! I'll never forgive myself if I've fucked things up for you, just because I was acting like a jealous little shit!"

I gave him a hug. "Relax, Mikey. I never lied to him. You didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, trust me. It's not your fault, or his, so stop beating yourself up."

"But, Brian…"

"Listen. I'm going to spell this out: do NOT interfere. No good ever comes of it. Remember Doctor Dave? You should have trusted your gut and ditched him. But your Ma decided to poke her nose in, and then guilted me into poking my nose in, and the next thing you know you're playing housewife in fucking Lumberjack Land."

"But…"

"No buts. Leave it alone, Michael."

"No, I won't!" He pulled away from me and I almost expected him to stamp his foot in frustration. "And neither should you! The only guy you've ever met that you want to be with, and you're just going to let him walk away?"

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. "If that's what he wants. It's his call where he wants to be. I remember being his age … he should be out there, having fun, making friends, fucking whoever the hell he likes. He's going to be a star one day, Mikey, and he doesn't want some ageing club boy hanging round his neck. He knows that … he's just too diplomatic to say so." I hiked my eyebrows as high as they would go. "What? You think I'm going to fall to pieces because my widdle heart is broken? I'm Brian Kinney, remember? I don't have a heart. I'll live."

"I think you're full of shit," he said quietly, and for a horrible moment I thought he was going to burst into tears. "Since when do you give up on anything?"

"Since I know I won't win."

He looked up at me, all creased brows and disappointed eyes. "So you're not going to let me even try to help."

"You already have, Mikey. You've helped me work out what I'm going to do."

"Which is?"

"I'm going to carry out the court's requirements, and give him a safe place to live until they decide otherwise. And I'll keep pretending that I don't know that he knows, and he'll keep pretending that he doesn't know that I know, and neither of us will have to lose face. And when he's cleared, as he will be, I'll watch him walk away into the brilliant future I'm sure is waiting for him."

He shook his head dolefully. "Then maybe you don't love him that much after all."

If he'd left out the negative, he'd have had it dead right.

TBC