Chapter Three

Brian was having a shitty day. It had thus far consisted of: a mountain of paperwork, spilling his soy latte on his new Armani shirt, having to run through the pouring, freezing rain, stepping in puddle and having to deal with the useless bit of fluff who was standing in for Cynthia because the bitch had chosen Brian's Bad Day to get sick.

So, he had been looking forward to a nice dinner at Kalzaar's, a new Lebanese restaurant, or perhaps Lana Thai, get some takeaway , call Justin to come over for a nice hard …

And then the phone rang, and he knew his day was well and truly fucked. Mikey – a call he couldn't ignore, whether he wanted to or not. Turned out Mikey was worried about his Ma because there was a brawl at the diner. A brawl. At a diner on Liberty street. Brian had to stop laughing before he could try and reassure him, but it was no use. So. There they sat, at a table in Liberty Diner eating greasy food that would probably give him indigestion later (though he'd die before admitting it), with Mikey's mother sitting opposite him, wig slightly askew. Brian's Bad Day did not show signs of looking up.

"So, nothing was damaged? Are you sure you're alright?" Mikey was asking.

"Queers brawling in public? I'm sure the squealing and bitch-slapping was terrifying," Brian muttered, rolling his eyes. The Novotneys glared.

"I'm fine, sweetie, thank you for asking," she said to Michael, pointedly ignoring Brian completely. It didn't seem to affect him, so she smacked him upside the head and felt much better.

"What was it that happened?" Michael asked.

"The old debate still causing riots? Cher vs. Judy Garland? Or was it Lana Turner vs. … " Brian ducked his head this time, though to no avail.

"Some new guys came in this morning – from England. Spike and Alex, really sweet couple, nice as fucking pie,"

"Spike?" Brian interjected, looking disdainful as images of overweight sweaty men into S&M danced in his head. Debbie pursed her lips and started wiping over the tables as she talked.

"Then this asshole waltzes in, starts shouting abuse at Alex, apparently it's the poor guy's brother, calling him a sicko, a pervert, eternal damnation, blah blah blah, the works," she continued, her eyes narrowing at the memory of the swaggering drunk. Brian's expression darkened – homophobes should be deep fried and fed to rabid squirrels. He blinked, wondered where that little platitude had emerged from and decided he didn't want to know.

"… and Alex just sat there, took it for a good minute or two until the little shithead said something about Spike - his boyfriend - called him a whore, I think. So, Alex stood up but before he could say a word the shit punches him in the gut, no warning! Alex went crashing to the ground, split his forehead on the corner of the table – I was terrified, there was blood running down his face …" Brian thought of Justin's face, his smile before the bat crashed down and the blood poured down his face. With this mental image came the realisation that he had underestimated the fates fury. He had apparently pissed them off, because today? Today was shaping up to be a Really Really Shitty Day.

"… Spike went apeshit, kicked the seven fucking bells out of the prick and tossed him out."

Whilst Brian systematically shredded his napkin, the image of Justin seared into his brain, Debbie was taking out her aggression on the an unfortunate table top, which she had scrubbed with renewed venom.

"Christ. Did you call the police?"

"Alex asked me not to – poor kid was torn up. Said he'd deal with it later," Debbie replied, moving on the next table when she was in danger of wearing down the enamel on the one she had been cleaning.

In the ensuing silence, she poured Brian coffee and Michael a lemon soda - she was worried he was getting too much caffeine, he was worried about going insane and murdering his mother, Brian was worried that the soy latte stain may not come out even if he took it to the dry cleaners. "I introduced them to Sunshine," the dry cleaners? "Alex and Spike. Thought they could use a friendly guide," she added suddenly, causing Brian to tense. His eyes flashed and he looked up furiously.

"You introduced Justin to people who have psychos chasing them? Nice one, Deb," … Brian was going for scathing, but ended up sounding scared. Shit. He sneered for good measure.

"Quit being such a drama queen, I'm sure …"

"Drama Queen? Who dares usurp my crown?" Emmett interrupted, a cute latino man hot on his heels. Emmett turned to him and began the lengthy process of trying to convey 'please fuck off now' to a person who didn't speak English. Brian briefly considered helping Emmett by putting his Spanish to good use – but only considered it very, very briefly. That was when Brian's day got a little bit better.

Facing the door, he could see an attractive man through the windows, walking straight towards the diner – cheekbones to die for, bleach blonde curls, a hugging shirt that showed of an amazing body …

"Spike!" Debbie exclaimed, grabbing the man into a hug as though she'd know him for years. Spike, boyfriend and defender of Alex. Brian grit his teeth and sipped his lukewarm coffee.

"… said he'd show me around tonight. Thought I'd come and tell you Alex is fine, seeing as you worked yourself into such a tizzy 'bout the whole thing," Spike was saying, his cockney drawl near hypnotic as he shrugged off his leather duster to reveal a black vest, and sat on a chair at the counter.

"Tizzy? Ma? What tizzy?" Mikey was asking, brow furrowed at his mother who was now taking away dishes.

"Debbie was a tad worried, s'all. Alex had to go to work, else he'd be here himself. Your mum's a lovely lady," Spike explained smoothly.

"Hear that, Debbie? Ole' English charmer here reckons you're a lovely lady!" Emmett called not looking up from his trained stare at Spike's ass. Spike's eyes flashed to Brian for a moment, cold and grey, making Brian feel every muscle in his body tense up with … what? Fear? Arousal? He didn't know. Spike's gaze shifted across the diner, to Justin who was emerging from the kitchens in clubbing gear. Tight black trousers and a hugging striped t shirt. Something flared in the pit of Brian's stomach, and he shifted in his seat.

"Spike! Hey. How's Alex?" Justin asked as he moved in front of Brian and kissed him briefly, like he did every time Brian came to the diner, almost like a marri … and Brian decided to let that thought end there.

"Was just telling Debbie. He's fine, just a little cut. Gone off to start his new job - lad's tougher than he looks," Spike replied, a small smile on his lips and a fondness and affection in his voice that was sweet.

"Where does he work?" Emmett asked, though he seemed far more intent on Spike's bare arm, the one with the word 'Alex's' emblazoned upon it. Brian hadn't noticed this at first, as he was staring at … other things. A tattoo meant permanence. It may also mean, exclusive. Brian's day went back to being a Really Really Shitty Day.

"Tending bar at a club … Babylon? Been there?"

Brian smiled wryly.

"Once or twice,"

TBC