Author's Note: Whew! I'm getting slow nowadays! I do apologize. On the up-note, we're almost there. Just a couple more chapters to go.
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Arthur suspected he would be suspended again once he finished with the assignment still waiting on his desk. Lou didn't like people to play fast and lose with his paper. So Arthur sidled into the office with a fervent prayer that his boss didn't know he was five minutes late.
Shelley was sitting on a tiny section of his cluttered desk, thoughtfully nibbling on her nails and reading a photocopied load of papers. She caught sight of him and waved, smiling nervously in the way she did.
Arthur squinted but proceeded on. "Morning," he said enquiringly.
"This is for you," she said brightly, giving him the papers, "They came through an hour ago. Nick's waiting for a call back."
"Thanks. I'll read 'em in a sec. Any coffee around here, Shelley?"
"I wouldn't drink it. It's been there for a few days."
Arthur made a face and shook his head. "Right, then. No coffee."
Shelley got off his desk and wandered off, trotting back to her own space without a backward glance.
Arthur snuck a look at Lou's office door. Telling his boss wouldn't be fun, but getting it over with would be preferable. After all, Lou would let him finish his piece first, and there were a couple of days left to beg and plead. Besides, it wasn't his fault Brian hadn't meant an interview when he called up about him. How could he be blamed?
"Hey, Art. Lou's looking for you. Better go see him right away."
Arthur obeyed docilely, holding his breath all the way.
He managed to get himself in the door without capitulating to the childish urge to run away. He considered logically that there was nothing to feel so scared about, since he was an adult and adults were supposed to be able to handle these things. Kids and Teenagers ran away from their problems; adults were supposed to face them with dignity.
Arthur didn't consider he had much dignity left.
But Lou only shrugged and told him to get out. "Get the other thing."
Arthur was glad to escape with just that.
The sun was brilliant that day. Central Park was freckled with yellow and red. The New York air was just cool enough to bite without hurting. Good weather, in fact, that hadn't been around for a while.
Arthur was glad for that too. He was glad for a lot of things that day. He was glad to get about his own business. As a disgraced reporter, he didn't get to work on important assignments. So he ambled along, glad that Nick was still in his office when he called up about the blueprints.
Nick was helpful- for a City employee- but then Arthur wasn't exactly asking for anything much. No one else was interested in the sewage system of New York. No one else wanted to even think about it, let alone investigate what exactly went into it.
"I'm happy to come down tomorrow," Arthur offered, "Five minutes. Just show me where things are and I'll take it from there. You won't even know I'm there."
"Yeah, okay. Come in at two. I'll let one of my people know you're coming."
"Thanks, Nick."
"No problem."
The phone rang off and Arthur heaved a sigh of relief.
Home beckoned at the appropriate time and he picked up his jacket, ready to go answer its call. A good night in, a beer, maybe some old shows on TV. Or maybe he could go to a movie? Nah, there wasn't anything he wanted to see. He shrugged on the jacket, saying goodnight to someone as they passed him with a smile.
Lou was still in his office. The light was still on.
Arthur considered his options. Lou wasn't his responsibility. Nor would his boss thank him for barging into his office when he was busy with something else. Arthur didn't intrude.
"Hello, Arthur. Thought you finished at five."
"Brian?"
"So this is what a den of vipers looks like," Brian laughed, glancing up at the building, "Eaten any babies today?"
Arthur wanted to glower at him. He tried to, he really did. But there was just something infectious about the way Brian's mouth curled up at the corners. He settled for a little snort and proceeding down the street.
Brian didn't follow him. Arthur was sure of that. It was somewhat of a wrenching disappointment, but then Arthur hadn't even expected to see Brian again after… well, after.
Surely that one night had dissipated whatever hold he had on Brian? It was unthinkable for someone like Brian to keep coming back. Except that Arthur had an inkling of what was so attractive to the man and if playing hard to get was going to get him someone to spend the night with, he wasn't averse to it.
He smiled grimly to himself.
No, he wasn't averse at all. He was surprisingly enthusiastic about the thought. Brian was a fantasy, a dream. And only fools could fight a dream for too long.
Arthur didn't expect to see Brian again that night. But the rock star turned up at his front door a little later in the night, smelling of women's perfume and stale smoke. There was smudged lipstick on his lips and his hair was messy.
He looked thoroughly debauched and he leaned casually against the wall opposite Arthur's door as though Arthur couldn't possibly find anything offensive about his appearance.
Arthur did. He let the man in with a barely concealed snarl of disgust. And then threw a wad of tissues at him.
"You've got 'er lipstick all over your face," Arthur grunted. He settled back into his couch and picked up the remote.
"It's not hers," Brian said easily. Then he sat down in the armchair and settled in too. "Want to talk?"
"I'm watching telly."
Brian stifled a grin. He didn't think Arthur had seen it, so he didn't bother too much. He laid his head back against stuffed fabric and only reacted when Arthur tossed him a beer.
"How can you drink this shite?" he grimaced.
"There's scotch somewhere, if you like."
"No. No, this'll be good, ta."
Camp and depraved, but sitting in a dinghy apartment and watching the news on TV with perfect composure. Arthur didn't watch TV so much as watch Brian watch TV. He didn't make a pretense of it. He didn't see why he should. If Brian had invited himself over, the man would have to put up with whatever happened to him.
"I got a call yesterday," Brian said suddenly, "From Curt."
Ah, Curt. Arthur waited for it.
"Jack's up in the rafters about something in the club," Brian continued, "He wants Curt. Jack called me, I called Curt. He said yes yesterday. Want to come?"
"I don't sing."
"You don't have to. No work, just hang around backstage."
"Why'd I do that, eh?"
"It's just an offer. We're flying down on Friday."
Brian didn't say any more. Arthur didn't say any more. When the news was over, Brian got out of the armchair and got down on his knees.
"Relax, man," he whispered, "I don't bite."
Arthur fervently hoped he wouldn't. He held that head, guided it down because he couldn't do anything else, wriggled on the couch to get his pants down.
Brian was all business, really. No tricks and teases. Until he looked up with one of his mischievous smiled and began to hum 'The Ballad of Maxwell Demon' with his mouth full.
Arthur couldn't help it- he burst out laughing. The very idea was so sacrilegious, so childish. It was like being back in London with his friends, occasionally ending up naked in a bed with one of them, half-joking around and half-in love.
He fully admitted he was more than already half-in love with Brian Slade. Always had been.
He pulled the man off him and tried to catch his breath, to calm himself down before something stupid happened.
But Brian wouldn't let him stop. Got up and undressed and got them both scrunched up any old how on the couch. Turned his back and leaned on the arm while Arthur didn't wait too long for niceties.
It was rough, quick, harsh, but ultimately satisfying.
Arthur was never sure whether or not he had said anything important while he bit on the rock star's neck and ear, but he had a vague memory of promising the earth and the universe, of wanting 'more' and 'deeper' and 'yes' and 'love'.
He rolled off onto the floor and Brian simply lay still on the couch, face hidden in his hands and his ribcage heaving.
And then those grey eyes were looking into his, Brian's face flushed and his mouth red with spit and kisses.
Arthur looked up at the ceiling. "Why'd you do it?" he asked bluntly.
"Have sex? I like sex. You're a good fuck, love."
Arthur chuckled because the laughter was still in his blood and Brian had somehow torn something fundamentally controlled in his tongue that wouldn't mend for a few hours. "Not so bad yourself."
"Then what's the problem?" Brian demanded. He was shrewd enough to know how Arthur's mind worked. And this was more than just a post-sex chat. The very fact that Arthur hadn't just drifted off to sleep meant something in Brian's book. "You're not married or dating, no?"
"I'm not married. You?"
Brian raised an eyebrow. "Not for a while now. How was Mandy?"
"Tired," Arthur supplied. To see whether Brian could be shamed.
Apparently not. Brian looked regretful but not particularly guilty.
Arthur shook his head and turned over on his side, pillowing his head on his folded arms so he could go to sleep. It was cold, it was a hard floor, but sleep seemed much more important for the moment.
Brian watched him interestedly and slipped down the line of pale skin, so exotic from the sun-tanned, fake-tanned skin of Los Angeles darlings. Dark hair on a pale chest and arms and legs, at the groin and under the arms. Again so different. Dark eyes hidden under closed lids with decent dark lashes.
Brian could feel a change coming on. He could taste it, and it tasted of hairspray and garage dust.