This was the beginning of Justin's normal life. Or so he told himself. Over and over on the ride back to the loft. He was terrified, but he knew that that terror would not just disappear. He needed to push it to the margins and keep it there. He would probably always be afraid, but maybe less. And maybe be more experienced at keeping the fear at bay. So starting today he was going to do all the things he'd wanted to do since meeting Brian. He had the most beautiful boyfriend in the whole world, one who loved him (really loved him) and seemed to even admire him. It was time to begin relishing in that. Even more important, it was time to start giving back. Brian deserved a regular life with a regular boyfriend, one he could take places and introduce to people.

Justin didn't need to stay out all night. He just needed to walk in, have a drink, say hello to Brian's friends, and maybe dance with Brian once or twice. That would take an hour tops. That would suffice for a first foray onto Liberty Avenue (he didn't count the night he met Brian). He'd made it through the assault hearing. Daphne's visit. Getting the last sex tape. His first spoken word performance. He could make it through this.

Justin just had to remember two things (according to the warm baritone on the tapes that counseled him). One: He wouldn't die. No matter what happened he would survive. Two, he had the power to stave off panic attacks. He had a number of strategies for that: Pressure points, singing, performing mundane tasks, losing himself in a fantasy or a good memory … and … of course Brian. He'd also been working on his affirmations.

"I deserve to be loved and happy simply because I'm me."

"I'm not broken. My suffering made me stronger and more compassionate."

"People are generally kind or apathetic. Very few are truly hostile."

"I can do anything I set my mind to."

"I didn't fail my family. They failed me."

"People will value my true self if I embody it with confidence."

"I have all the time in the world to achieve my potential."

"Given the chance, I will be an excellent father."

He was as ready as he ever would be. All that was left was venturing out into the world as often and for as long as he could manage.

Once they'd returned to the loft, Justin sat down and started drawing a picture of Kayla from memory. He thought that she would add some incentive to succeed. Give him a talisman to focus on should shit get crazy (room spinning, dizziness, cold sweat, nausea, and so on). He had to do more of a general impression than a finished sketch and he needed to stop a couple of times to massage his gimp hand, but he got the job done.

Next Justin changed into a black jeans and a blue V-neck T-shirt. He didn't want to get too hot … blue made his eyes 'pop' … and blue was said to be calming. He'd take any advantage he could get.

Brian had been pretending to work the whole time (minus the fiveish minutes he spent picking out his outfit). Justin smiled to himself at the thought. Every time Justin looked up, Brian's eyes were on him, and his eyes held concern. And every time he got 'caught,' he glanced away quickly and donned his best nonchalant expression. Brian really DID love him. That was clear. Justin felt a little giddy at the thought.

Now that Justin was dressed, Brian took Justin's hand and pulled him into the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of something and started spraying Justin's hair (all over…tons and tons of whatever it was). Justin laughed. "What the hell? Smells like the beach."

Brian shrugged. His face remained impassive. "Your costume isn't complete without product. The freshly fucked look." He started running his hands through Justin's hair. Justin moaned softly in pleasure. Brian grinned. "Don't you want to be an urban fisherman?"

Justin wrinkled his nose. "What?"

"That's what 'salty dog' promises. A windblown urban fisherman look."

Justin giggled. "Hot."

"Mmm." Then Brian was getting his hands all goopy (with something white from a different container), running his hands through Justin's hair again but now also arranging, lifting, and separating strands of Justin's still longish hair … all the while staring (from different vantage points) with narrowed eyes. He indicated that perfection had been achieved with a solemn nod.

Justin peered into the mirror nervously. "Huhn." He had to admit he looked good. Hot even. He smiled. In his peripheral vision, he saw a smile creep across Brian's lips before disappearing back into Brian's at rest half-scowl. Justin turned to face Brian. "What about you?"

Brian shrugged. Ran his still slightly goopy fingers through his hair twice, looked himself over (in the mirror), and nodded. He grinned. "I'd fuck me." A quick hand wash later and they were out the door.

Brian was hiding his anxiety well, but Justin could still see it (in the rhythmic drumming of Brian's thumbs on the steering wheel, the hard set to his jaw, and the semi-uncomfortable silence). That actually served as the perfect distraction. So perfect that Justin was surprised when they arrived. He hadn't really felt the passage of time.

From the Jeep, Justin could see the club: The bass was thumpa thumpa-ing so loudly from inside the building that they could hear it, blue and white spotlights traced the alley crosswise where the stairs and the door sat, and there was a line 50 people long. They were all very shiny. And very colorful.

Justin took a deep breath, opened the passenger side door, and stepped out. He must have taken a while (or Brian had moved really fast) because as soon as Justin shut his door, Brian was beside him, his right hand on Justin's right hip, Brian's arm circling Justin's waist. Justin flushed in pleasure and bit back a shy smile. Then Brian was leading them toward the line.

Justin heard "them" before he saw them. Well, he heard Mikey … he had a sort of nasally drawl that was unmistakable, especially when projected across an alley with good acoustics. Ethan would have liked to play in this space (Justin shook his head at the ridiculousness of the observation. He needed to unlearn and unremember). Mikey yelled excitedly, "BRIAN!" Justin felt himself yanked to the left as Mikey half-tackled Brian. Brian shrugged his best friend off effortlessly, but stopped walking. Then Emmett was in front of Justin. Smiling. Justin found himself smiling back. Something about Emmett's manner (a gentleness maybe) always put him at ease. Emmett laughed merrily and then made a whooping noise. "Ooo … baby, you are looking H-O-T hot!"

Brian raised an eyebrow at Emmett. Justin noticed with some pleasure that Brian's eyes were dark. Was he jealous?

Emmett shrugged defensively, but then winked at Justin and touched Justin's cheek gently. "Compared to you, he is a baby … " Emmett took Justin's right arm in his (linking their arms), apparently intending to walk WITH Justin to the end of the line, but Brian disincentivized Emmett with a pinch (must have been a serious one, too, because Emmett actually yelped and starting rubbing his wrist) and pulled Justin closer to him. Then he smiled smugly. "Get your own man."

Emmett waggled his eyebrows. "You have a man? My oh my…."

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed. Justin tried but failed to hide the bright smile that burst forth then. Brian was acting so possessive. And Justin was enjoying every single second. So much that he didn't realize that the alley had been filling up with people, forming an unruly crowd more than an orderly line, until he was dead center…