Staring out at the pulsating crowd, Brian stood on the catwalk above the subjects of Babylon, trying to decide who to fuck next. A dark haired trick sidled up to him and not so subtly stuck a warm hand down the front of Brian's jeans. Ah. That's who.

"Thought I'd find you here." Ah, the familiar, albeit unwelcome, voice of Mikey. Brian rolled his eyes.

"Why aren't you at Ben's, taking care of the invalid?" Can you let me get on with my handjob?

"He's doing great!" Apparently, Michael was not going to.

"Everybody can use a hand." He pulled the trick's out of his pants. The guy walked away.

"Where's Justin?" Not here. I don't know, but I'd like to.

A few hours ago, Brian had left, asking Justin if he would like to come along. Justin brushed him off, mumbling some half-hearted explanation about having a project to finish. Brian had raised a brow. Usually, Justin was gushing about his art. "Alright." He had left with a shrug.

"He's at home, doing a project."

"That's weird, cause I called your and there was no answer."

"Well, I guess he's not picking up. Or, maybe he went out."

"Don't you guys tell each other where you're going, what you're doing?" Where are you going with this? What is the point of the stupid conversation? Why are you asking me all these questions?

"It's not a psych ward. We don't have to sign out, and call in and report our whereabouts. We've even stopped wearing those homing devices."

"Alright, alright. I j- You're free to come and go as you please, it's just, don't you ever wonder, though, what he's doing when you're not around?"

"I know what he's doing." At least, I think I do. Maybe.

"And it doesn't bother you."

"He's nineteen, for chrissakes! When I was his age, I was out fucking everything that moved, too."

"You still are." Yup. Stud of Liberty Avenue. That's me! He nodded and grinned at Mikey.

"So, why should I have a problem if the lad wants to have a little fun?" Mikey gave him a disparaging look, seemingly torn about something.

"Well, what if it was more than that? What if…

"What if what?" He stared at his friend, growing increasingly nervous. He schooled his features into the partially interested mask. Come on, Mikey, spit it out.

"What if….there was…someone else? Someone that he was seeing that you didn't know about?" So that's why he's been acting weird. Shit. Why didn't I see that?

"What if there was?"

"You'd be okay with that, too?" No, but what the fuck choice do I have?

"He doesn't owe me anything."

"What about the truth?" Brian stopped. Shut up, Michael. Go away. I don't really care. Michael seemed to get the message and rolled his eyes, turning to go back down the stairs. Brian stared out at the dance floor. Yeah. Yeah, he owes that to me. The thought of Justin touching, kissing, fucking someone else who wasn't a trick, pissed him off more than he expected. When did he become so possessive of the blonde? He didn't know what the fuck to do about it.

**********

Brian didn't bother going back to the loft. Somehow, he knew Justin wasn't there. Instead, he drove straight to the bowling all where that ridiculous competition was being held. Cops versus fags. He snorted. Like anyone had any doubts as to who would win.

He spent most of the time drinking beer and shaking his head. This game was not going well and would not end well. He himself was a good bowler, but that didn't mean shit when everyone else sucked. He sat and thought about what Mikey had told him.

Justin was seeing someone else. He had noticed that Justin had been more insistent on the romance, as if needing to compare his actions to something. And he had seemed distant, easily put off. But Brian hadnt guessed anything like that. Fuck. I thought he was mine. I thought I had him to myself. At least, where matters besides fucking were concerned. The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. Brian Kinney, caring about someone besides himself or Michael, now that was a first. Feeling this fucking possessive about someone, that was a first, too. He downed another beer.

They lost, no surprise there. After Michael started bugging him at Woody's about the subject he had thought too much about, he went home to think and to drink, kicking off his shoes as soon as he got inside, not even bothering to turn on any lights besides the front entryway ones before he started in on his first glass.