Michael was annoyed. He'd called Brian several times, but his calls had all been sent to voicemail. He'd done something so noble and heroic, but it meant nothing if Brian weren't here (the police station) to give him his due praise. Maybe Brian would reward him with a French kiss. His best friend usually gave him chaste, though tender, pecks, but, every once in a while, when Brian was particularly happy or proud, he'd kiss him for real. Michael lived for those moments.

Michael paced the station, wondering whether he should go looking for Brian but then decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to see Brian fucking some guy. Nothing hurt him worse. He tried Brian's cell phone again. Straight to voicemail. Michael was starting to worry. Maybe that blond squatter had hurt him. He didn't look like he was big enough or strong enough to hurt anyone, but he may have had a gun or a knife. The thought that Brian might be lying somewhere bleeding to death frightened Michael into action. He demanded to see the blond who'd been arrested at the loft. Eventually, the desk clerk summoned someone to take him down.

Michael was nervous. He was never very comfortable confronting people, and he feared he wouldn't be up to the task of prying information about Brian's whereabouts out of the boy. He was never very good at subtle manipulations. Brian had always done that for him when necessary. But this was especially true when Michael was worried. The boy would probably perceive the desperation in his eyes, his body language, and his voice immediately.

Finally, the officer opened the room with the cell in it. Michael wanted to appear confident and strong, so he marched in a second after the door was opened. However, all his bravado drained from his body, as did the color from his face, a moment later. He stopped dead in his tracks, horrified by what he saw. The blond was straddling Brian, and Brian's cock was quite obviously inside him. Worse yet, Brian was smiling, his head resting on the boy's chest. This was bad. Very bad. Brian never spent a moment inside a trick after he'd come. He discarded them as quickly and as casually as the condoms he'd used with them.

Justin caught sight of Michael and the officer, his eyes widening and his entire body turning red in embarrassment. He immediately stood up and turned toward the wall. Justin cursed his luck. His clothes were all the way on the other side of the cell. He'd have to walk toward the strange men (and very close) to fetch them.

Justin's departure, of course, surprised Brian, since his cock was still firmly planted in the blond's ass, and his head was lying on his chest. He looked up to see the source of Justin's alarm, and, once he had, he stood so that Justin was no longer directly in their line of sight and walked up to the pile of clothes, kicking them back toward the blond. He smiled when he heard Justin's soft sigh of relief and rustling, which indicated that he was dressing. Once Brian was sure Justin was covered, he grabbed his own clothes and dressed.

Michael exclaimed, "Brian, what are you doing here?"

The officer interjected, "Wait, Brian as in Brian Kinney?"

Michael, not yet realizing the implication of what the officer was asking, replied firmly, "Yes."

The officer stated in an annoyed voice, "Mr. Novotny, you had Mr. Taylor arrested for breaking and entering, but, clearly, the men know each other."

Michael scoffed, "Not likely. Brian probably met him here for the first time and fucked him out of boredom."

Justin, who was still standing behind Brian, though now fully clothed, glared at Michael, but said nothing.

Brian turned to face the interlopers and said in a calm, but dangerous tone, "Watch what you say about him, Mikey. He's my boyfriend."

The officer stated curtly, "I thought you said he was your best friend."

Michael answered weakly, "He is."

The officer scoffed, "But you don't know his boyfriend?"

Michael replied defensively, "This has to be a joke. Brian doesn't do boyfriends. He…"

Brian cut him off, snapping, "Why don't you let me decide what I do. Justin Taylor is my boyfriend, and, in fact, he just moved in with me."

Michael, aghast, was struck dumb.

The officer apologized, "I'm sorry for the mix-up, Mr. Taylor. If you'll come with me, I'll authorize your release."

For the first time, Justin spoke. He protested, though softly, "Wait, what about Brian? Has his bail been set?"

The officer answered, "Yes. $20,000."

Justin repeated in shock, "$20,000?"

The officer added, "Well, he only needs to pay $2000 today, but it needs to be in cash."

Justin turned to face Brian. Confused, he inquired, "Why didn't you just use the money you had?"

Brian chuckled. "It's not mine, Sunshine. It's yours."

Justin shook his head in consternation. He asked, "Have you forgotten the bed? I spent about that much on it."

He turned back to the officer and stated matter-of-factly, "You should bring Brian up, too. He can make bail."

Brian sighed, but said nothing.

********

Brian and Justin were being processed for release when another officer approached. He seemed familiar, but, for the life of him, Justin couldn't figure out why. He didn't think he'd seen him when he was arrested and processed earlier.

Brian noticed Justin staring at the officer and asked, "You okay, Sunshine?"

Justin smiled and nodded, but Brian still reached for his hand.

Brian knew that this entire experience must have been frightening for Justin, given his 'people problem,' as Brian was wont to call it. He was glad that he'd been there for part of it, but he was furious at Mikey for daring to have someone arrested in his home without talking to him first. With anyone else, he could laugh it off, but Justin was special, in part, because he'd been hurt considerably and by those who were supposed to care about him the most. Brian didn't know all the details yet, but he could see by Justin's behavior and the expression in his eyes and his body language just how much he'd suffered. But that wasn't the only reason. Justin was also special to Brian because he was Justin. Brian couldn't think of one thing he disliked about the blond; everything about Justin struck a chord with him.

Suddenly, Brian's contemplation was interrupted by that officer Justin had been observing strangely. He stared right at Justin and yelled, taunting him, "I remember you! You were that fag the Hobbs boy set straight. How's the brain injury? That'll teach you to try to warp the minds of good God-fearing young people."

Now Justin remembered him. This was the cop who had 'lost' damning evidence against Hobbs, which led to a mistrial. This was the cop who had helped to free Hobbs and to imprison Justin.