After getting busy on the couch, Justin felt sleepy. Brian encouraged him to take a nap. Then he called Ted.

"Please tell me you've found the rest of the buyers."

"Not yet."

Brian sighed heavily. "I need those names like yesterday. I'm not even kidding. We have maybe 24 hours, maybe, to take care of this or … something unimaginably bad happens."

"What?"

Brian groaned helplessly. "I can't say …"

"Maybe I could ask Emmett to come over …"

"No, no. Don't ask anyone for help." Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just keep at it. And text me the list you already have."

Brian had a plan. First he went to JC Penny and bought a suit and dress shoes. He was planning to impersonate a detective, and he doubted they had the money for Armani or Prada. Then he went to a special costume store and bought a fake badge. He'd seen enough episodes of CSI to know all he needed to do was hook it onto his belt and open his jacket. No one would look close enough to see that it was made of plastic. Next he went to a toy store and bought a Glock 9. It was pink. But Justin had paint, so as soon as he got back to the loft he laid out some newspaper and painted it charcoal. He hung it by a string from a lamp so he didn't have to do one side at a time. He also set up a fan and turned it to the lowest setting. He didn't want to wake Justin. Once it dried, he would be good to go.

Luckily all the names on the list Ted texted him were for people who lived in the Pitts. Who knew Pittsburgh was home to so many gay porn websites? Daphne had told Justin there were ten buyers. Brian had already found one, and Ted's list contained seven names. That left two. Brian hoped Ted would get lucky. He froze. Then he called Ted back.

"We're idiots!"

Ted laughed. "Well, hello to you, too, Brian."

"Don't waste your time on websites not headquartered here."

"What?"

"I think Justin's ex got a list of porn sites in the area and visited them at their physical locations. That should eliminate some, right? Maybe save you time."

"We ARE idiots. I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"I gotta go. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Brian actually relaxed a bit then. Suddenly he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

All Brian needed now was a holster for the gun. While still waiting for the paint to dry, Brian went to a sporting goods store. They didn't sell handguns, but they did sell leather holsters. He bought two. He decided repurposing these items would be fun later (i.e., doing a little role play with Justin). Then he returned to the loft.

Brian took a deep breath and started changing into the cheap suit. It was ill-fitting and the fabric scratchy. Brian grimaced. He tried to comfort himself, remembering he'd only need to wear it for a few hours. Then he slipped the holster on, slid the Glock in, clipped the badge to his pants, and pulled on the jacket. He took a look in a full-length mirror and smiled. He looked just like all the detectives he'd ever seen on TV, well, except that he was hot. Perfect. He buttoned up and headed for the door.

That's when he heard creaking. Fuck. Brian wheeled around and smiled softly. Justin rubbed his eyes and asked sleepily, "Brian, where are you going?"

Brian sighed and walked over to Justin. He kissed him on the forehead and replied, "I can't say. That could make you an accessory."

Justin eyes widened. "You're going to commit a crime?"

Brian laughed. "Not a violent one."

Justin was frantic. He grabbed Brian's arm. "Whatever it is, don't do it. You JUST faced an assault charge that could have meant 30 days in jail. It's not worth the risk. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't have a choice. I'll only be gone a few hours. Just wish me luck." Brian turned to go. But then he stopped. "Actually, you could do something that would help. Did Daphne leave her number?"

Justin nodded.

"Call her and tell her you're going to sign the papers, but that you want to negotiate what you get in exchange. Tell her you need a day or two to think about that."

Justin was horrified. "What? Why?"

"I need a little time to get back the sex tapes. If Daphne thinks you're going to give her what she wants, she probably won't send the private investigator to buy them."

Justin scrunched his nose and frowned. "Oh … But Brian I SUCK at lying."

Brian shook his head. "Isn't fiction just half-truths and lies?"

Justin furrowed his brow. Then hesitantly, he replied, "Well … I guess … you could look at it that way … if you were kind of jaded …"

"So, just write it. Imagine a version of yourself who would sign the papers, imagine what Daphne might think and say, and write dialogue. Then just role play it while you're on the phone."

Justin made a thinking face. "Huhn. That might actually work."

Brian scoffed, "Might actually? I'm brilliant. Of course it will work." That elicited the desired response. Justin smiled. Brian squeezed Justin's shoulder and said, "Later."

"Later."

Brian's impersonation proceeded much better than he'd hoped. Porn website owners were a pretty twitchy lot. They all went a little something like this.

Detective Kinney: Excuse me, are you INSERT NAME?

Sketchy porn site owner: Who wants to know?

Detective Kinney: (Unbuttons his jacket and flashes the badge.)

Sketchy porn site owner: (Looks around frantically, pondering escape routes.)

Detective Kinney: I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'd have to confiscate all of your 'materials' here. (looks around.) Then you'd be looking at hard time when we caught up to you.

Sketchy porn site owner: (clenches fists and sighs.) What do you want?

Detective Kinney: (Slides two pictures across the sketchy porn site owner's desk. He points to a picture of Ethan – one Ted had blown up and printed from one of the videos.) Did you purchase videos from this man?

Sketchy porn site owner: (Looks at the picture – a flash of recognition.) Uh …

Detective Kinney: (Points to the other picture, one of Justin that Ted had also blown up and printed from one of the videos.) Do those videos include this man?

Sketchy porn site owner: (He looks at the picture – another flash of recognition.) Uh …

Detective Kinney: (Nods.) Okay, you're looking at a profiting off the commission of a crime charge. Depending on how many videos you've converted and posted on your site, that could get you anywhere from five to fifteen years and a 250,000 dollar fine.

Sketchy porn site owner: (Eyes widen.) Commission of a crime?

Detective Kinney: Yup. Not only were these videos shot without this man's (points at Justin) knowledge or consent, but he was also drugged and raped. (Fucking Justin while he was sleeping was definitely rape, and a little exaggeration goes a long way.)

Sketchy porn site owner: (Eyes widen to the size of saucers.) I … I didn't know. I swear!

Detective Kinney: (Brian shoots him a compassionate look.) I believe you. And I really want to get THIS guy (points to Ethan's picture), so I'd be willing to leave you out of this mess if you give me all the videos he sold you and delete the video files in my presence.

Sketchy porn site owner: But … I paid good money for them.

Detective Kinney: Was it more than 250 large?

Sketchy porn site owner: (scoffs) Hell no.

Detective Kinney: Then you got a bargain because that's what you'll be paying if I have to get a warrant and come back. Even worse, Pittsburgh's finest aren't exactly ballerinas. Sometimes while they're searching for one thing, other things get broken or destroyed. You got a lot of valuable stuff here. I'd hate to see you lose it all. AND that's assuming all these other tapes are legit. You may end up with much more than one charge. For example … is every person in the videos you've posted 18 or older?

Sketchy porn site owner: (closes eyes and curses 'fuck' under his breath) Fine. I'll get the tapes.

Detective Kinney: (before leaving.) You're skating on this, but now you're on my radar. So I'd double check that you have consent from ALL participants and that they're ALL of age. Don't make me come back.

Sketchy porn site owner: (deep sigh, strained smile) Of course.

Justin didn't have to try too hard to imagine a version of himself who would sign the papers. Truth be told, if not for Brian, he would have done so already. He wanted to be a father to Kayla and to save her from her step-father, who sounded every bit as much of a douche as his own father had been. But Daphne could make Justin appear seriously unfit (with one arm tied behind her back). She could do it without the full force of Ken's money behind her, but, of course, she had access to all of his resources. Justin breathed in and out slowly and then said firmly, "Stop." His brain had started sucking him into a negativity loop, reminding him of all the black marks against him. He distracted himself by thinking about Aidan and James. He thought back to what Daphne had said. One item in her litany against him had made him feel especially desolate – "You're not married." He had replied, somewhat breathlessly, "That's not possible for me." But … it could be possible for Aidan and James. They were already in the Adirondacks, in up up up upstate New York. That wasn't far from Canada. They could move to Toronto. But who should ask? Either would please the readers. If James asked, that would show his growth as a character, his newfound bravery and desire to re-enter the world. If Aidan asked, that would show HIS growth as a character, his newfound trust in love and his willingness to set aside his tired player ways and devote himself completely to the love of his life. Justin supposed he could have both plan proposals – that would be sweet and funny. Hijinks could ensue if they were both trying to get the other to wherever it was they'd chosen to pop the question. He'd have to think more about it, maybe test out some possibilities. For the moment, he typed simply, "James proposes to Aidan? Or Aidan proposes to James? They decide to move to Toronto." He knew he'd have to try preparing to call Daphne. His heart rate and breathing had slowed.

He took a deep breath and focused. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. Suddenly, an idea came to him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. One moment he felt calm and normal (as normal as he ever felt), and the next his chest constricted. He felt like something massive were lying on his torso. He took another deep breath and tried to remember what he'd said to Brian about the bashing, about not wanting Daphne to see him this way. Then he started typing.

"I got to thinking about how things were before I came out, how I was before I came out. I could draw anything and make it look real. And my hand never got tired. I had a family who said they loved me and friends who wanted to spend time with me. I could be in a room with anyone and feel comfortable. I was even witty and charming. I was all potential. I had my whole life ahead of me, and nothing seemed impossible. I was planning to go to college. I even thought I'd get to marry and have a family of my own. Now none of that is true. Everyone I ever knew before the prom abandoned me. A former friend put me in a coma and got to walk away scot free. And my first boyfriend exploited me. All those things, the crimes people committed against me – most people would blame me. I never hurt anyone, but people would look at me like I'm a criminal. Like what happened to me was what I deserved for being filthy, an abomination. The only person who truly loves me is Brian, and my being with him also counts as a black mark against me. As much as I want to be a father to Kayla, to give her all the love I have in my heart and make her smile, I have almost no chance of being granted the right to do that, and I can't live without Brian. He's the only person in the entire world who makes me feel hopeful. Before I met him, I thought all I would ever know is pain and loneliness. So, I guess I have no choice. I'll sign the papers. But … I just … I need a couple of days to wrap my head around this. And I was thinking, maybe I could get some things together to give you for her. You wouldn't have to give them to her if you didn't want to, but you'd have the option. Like drawings of you … one of her. Maybe I could even make a tape telling her about me and how much I wanted to be in her life."

Justin knew that this wasn't for real, but just writing the words made him grieve. By the time he stopped typing, his chest was heaving, and tears were streaming down his face. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Brian was on his way back to the loft when Ted texted him the location of the ninth buyer. Brian grinned. They were finally getting somewhere and much more quickly than he had anticipated. He made a U-turn.

Justin let himself cry for a while. A LONG while. It felt horrible, but he knew that after, he might feel a little better, like he'd released some of the tension that had been building up for weeks. But he needed to make the call. He had to pull himself together. So he tried to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Unfortunately, getting his sobbing under control was proving impossible. Every time he'd gotten his breathing regulated, he'd picture Kayla and start sobbing again. He needed to distract himself.

Chores. He could do chores. He walked into the bedroom and started making the bed. He also started humming the melody for Macklemore's Thrift Shop. As he straightened and smoothed, he sang (or tried to sing – what actually came out was a bit choked and halting), "I'm gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket, I - I - I'm hunting, looking for a come-up, this is fucking awesome." No one had ever uttered "this is fucking awesome" in a more forlorn voice.

Then he padded back into the living room and looked around. His eyes lighted on the couch, which now wore a patch of white (his cum). That actually made Justin smile a little (he was remembering). Justin had only ever felt THAT much love from Brian (during their last 'encounter') one other time. That was after their acting out of the scene from Innocence, when Brian had told Justin he loved him for the first time. His face was still wet, and his eyes still swollen, but he was no longer sobbing. He grabbed a can of leather cleaner and a soft cloth and began washing his cum off the couch.

Unbeknownst to Justin, Brian had entered the loft.

As he swiped the cloth over the couch cushions, he rapped (now with more energy), "Nah, walk up to the club like, "What up? I got a big cock!" I'm so pumped about some shit from the thrift shop. Ice on the fringe, it's so damn frosty that people are like, "Damn! That's a cold ass honkey." Rollin' in, hella deep, headin' to the mezzanine, dressed in all pink, 'cept my gator shoes, those are green, draped in a leopard mink, girls standin' next to me, probably shoulda washed this, smells like R. Kelly's sheets. "Piiisssssss."

Justin smiled and nodded. The couch was back to its shiny perfection, and he was much more relaxed. He turned to put the leather cleaner back in the cabinet and saw Brian. Brian's eyes were dancing. Justin's eyes widened, and he blushed a pretty pink. He tried to ask Brian how long he'd been standing there, but he barely got out one word ("How …").

Brian could see Justin's pink puffy eyes even from the partial profile he'd glimpsed while Justin was cleaning the couch. But Brian knew that he needed to get Justin to 'normal' before he asked about that. So when Justin saw him, Brian licked his lips and approached Justin slowly. When he was an inch away, he drawled, "You DO have a big cock." He added some intensity to that statement – a serious note. Then while still looking into Justin's eyes, he unbuttoned and unzipped Justin's jeans. Brian swallowed hard after sliding his hand over Justin's dick. Brian nudged Justin's nose and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Then he leaned his forehead on Justin's and asked, in a husky voice, while squeezing Justin's dick, "Any chance you're in the mood to fuck me with it?"

Justin trembled and flushed head to toe. He breathed, "God, Brian …"