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A/N: I just feel like saying a few words about the last chapter. I'm a very sarcastic and cynical person (probably why I adore Brian so) and I can't help but make fun of certain things I tend to roll my eyes at. Without realizing it, I've pretty much made fun of every single Brian/Michael story ever with Brian saying 'Shut up, Michael. It's time for my big dramatic speech.' Have you noticed that's always how it works? Brian gives some newly impassioned speech and then there's sexing all around? I couldn't resist. Ah, Brian easily resisting Mikey's sexual advance in the shower was another and their sex scene in general. I tried to convey the want was just as simple as that. Not some strange 'true love' force. Lol Also, last one I promise, the slight banter at the end in the shower where Michael asks if Brian will screw with his life by 'following him, romantic gestures and foiling plots Ben might may come up with'. I actually loved that line. I'm no romance writer, folks. This is angst tinged with many things, but romance is not one of them. Sorry, no terms of 'coming home' or 'soul searing' here. Thought I should let you know.

Enjoy!

~SL

Chapter Two

"Not going to the diner today?" Ben asked as he was dressing for work while Michael kept himself curled under the thick covers, facing away from him. It was already nine and the gang usually met up around ten before going about their day on the weekends. Ben would've been joining everyone himself if had hadn't agreed to add on a Saturday morning class and attend a faculty meeting after that.

Michael rolled over and Ben smiled as he had the covers pulled up so high that he could only see his dark eyes and wild bed head peering at him. From what Ben could see, his husband looked wide awake and temping him back into bed for the entire weekend. If only. Michael had been excessive in his attention to Ben since last week. Not that Ben minded one bit, he felt like things were finally getting back to normal around here. Ben and Michael spending time together like they used to.

Waking up with Michael wrapped around him, showering together, reading and movies, dinner and spending nights home rather than feeding a constant itch Michael used to have to go out. It all just stopped. Finally, he thought, things had calmed down.

Michael shook his head under the covers a muffled voice saying, "Nah, wanna stay in today."

Ben walked over to the bed, shirt open and unbuttoned as he sat on the edge close to Michael. "Mm, wish I could stay in with you, baby." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the other man's temple before finishing his routine of dressing and saying goodbye, he'd be home around five if he was lucky. Michael let out a sigh of relief when Ben left. He knew that they needed to talk eventually. Well, he thought they did. Really, was this so bad to ruin by admitting his infidelity?

Rolling onto his back and pulling the covers over his head he tried to weigh the options he had spent the whole night thinking about, getting little sleep. He already had a set life with Ben, right here and now. They had two wonderful kids, great friends and compatibility that Michael had never found with anyone else except Brian. It wasn't as intimate as his… whatever it was at this point with Brian. There were little moments here and there, watching Ben write or curled up together as Michael flipped channels and Ben read a book, those were nice, but they didn't compare to late night movie marathons with Brian. Getting high and pigging out on every form of take out known to man and laughing as they flipped through old yearbooks and wracked their minds for the most hilarious stories yet to be told.

But that's what years of friendship did, wasn't it? Forged a bond stronger than almost anything. At least that's what Hallmark had you believe. Michael sighed, stirring uncomfortably. He still didn't know what to do. Brian hadn't called him, pressured him or tried to see him since he left the loft a week ago and Michael had done the same. There was a respectable truce between them to keep things as they had been. Almost never being seen in public, but no longer seeing each other in private. On rare occasions where they would share a booth at the diner together happened, they played it up like they were both just too busy to see each other and cuddled together like they always did. No one was the wiser. Still, Michael knew there was a faint ticking that surrounded them. There had been no set deadline, but he knew that if he didn't do something soon there would be an end. To what extent, he didn't know, but it would happen.

The thought scared him. To lose everything seemed impossible. What happened to Palm Springs in their distant and wrinkly future? They would lose it. They would lose what made them, them; Brian and Michael, because as much as they would lie to themselves, things would never go back to normal. They hadn't been normal since the day they first shared a bed… or wall, to be more precise.

"Hey, Mikey," Brian's voice came over the phone. "What are you wearing?"

Michael rolled his eyes as he shut the door of the comic store behind him, locking it. "Captain Astro shirt and jeans, Brian. Why? Gonna start taking fashion advice from me?"

He heard a snort on the other line. "Yeah, you wish. Me and the fall collection have too good a thing going to end it all for silkscreened tees and jeans that… well, Mikey, when the hell was the last time you bought new jeans?"

"I dunno… a few years ago, I guess." By now, Michael was at the corner of the street, about to cross the intersection to head to the diner. Just stop in to say hi to his mom. Maybe snag a lemon bar. His stomach agreed with the idea.

"And that's the problem," Brian stated. "If you can't remember the last time you bought something, you should go buy it."

"If the rest of us had money to burn like you," Michael sighed into the phone. "Besides, I don't wanna have to break in new jeans. Mine fit me perfectly."

"Until they fall off when you wear them out."

"Is there a purpose to this call, or are you just going to berate my fashion sense all night?"

Brian chuckled low into the phone. "No, no. Far be it from me to tear you away from your precious threadbare jeans. Actually, I wanted to know if you wanted to go to Woody's tonight, hit up the clubs afterward?"

Michael stood outside the diner, not wanting to interrupt his phone call with the noise he would be slammed with inside. "Sure. The guys coming?"

"Nah. Theodore is too busy with the Tweaked Out Twinkie tonight," he said. "And Emmett is going to some play or something with whatshisface."

"Ah, the flavor of the night, I see," Michael snickered.

"Yeah, it'll be just you and me, like old times."

"You always know what to say to make sure I'll go with you, don't you?"

"Well… you haven't called me in a week, Mikey," Brian muttered.

A silence fell between the two as Michael realized that Brian really had left him alone for the entire week, leaving it up to Michael to call. To call him if he had wanted to find out what all that… nonsense Brian had talked about with him last was about. Michael still wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Michael cleared his throat.

"Yeah, sorry… busy-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Are we going tonight or what?"

Michael worked his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to come up with a way out of it. He had gotten the week off after all.

"I guess so…"

"Do you want to know?" Brian asked, voice lowered to a deep pitch.

"What?"

"Do you want to know, Mikey?"

"I don't know, Brian… are you planning something?"

"Paranoid. Don't you trust me?"

"Again, you always find the right way to force my hand in your favor."

There was another long pause. "Well?"

Taking a deep breath, briefly thinking about the whole week he had spent with Ben and the not quite satisfying week they had together Michael spoke, nearly whispering, "Yeah, I wanna know."

"Good. Get your black jeans and a clean shirt that doesn't have superhero on it and I'll be there at eight. Sure you can get away?"

"Of course," Michael answered, too quickly. Why did he feel so guilty? Ben flashed through his mind, but that was crazy. Nothing was going to happen that he didn't want to. It was drinks and dancing, the usual. After a week without Brian, he would be allowed this one night out. He tried not to think of why he had to be allowed to do anything as they ended their conversation. Michael looked into the diner window, watching his mother busy herself from table to table and lost his appetite. She would know right away. She always did. With that, he turned to head home, trying to figure out a decent sounding explanation for going out tonight to Ben.

Michael groaned, kicking the covers off himself fitfully, laying bare in a tangle of sheets and pillows trying to distract himself from thinking about his current predicament. He wanted to bring his thoughts as far away from Brian or Ben as possible. But there were no other people as important in his life and most, if not all, the best time he'd been having recently were with either one or the other.

"So fucked," Michael muttered, rolling onto his stomach, burying his head under the pillows, as if trying to block out the thoughts.

"We're really going to go through this again?" Ben asked, crossing his arms as he stared Michael down.

Michael sighed as he shut the door to the fridge, leaning on it as if it were holding him up. This was not happening. Was this really happening? He looked over at Ben who was looking at him over the rims of his glasses, a frown on that face he loved. But he had seen that look before.

"Do not speak to me as if I'm Hunter," Michael warned, standing up straight.

"Well, if you're going to act like a child, why shouldn't I treat you like one?"

Shell-shocked, Michael couldn't do anything but stare up at his husband before anger boiled to the surface. "I've been here ALL week, Ben! Every morning, noon and night I've been here."

"And now you're going to go right back to him!"

"Brian," Michael clarified as he breezed past Ben and into the living room with a glass of juice in his hand. Ben stared after, glancing up towards the ceiling as if looking for the strength to continue on before following his husband.

"Baby, please," he pleaded, sitting on the couch across from Michael. "I just got so used to having you home… with me."

"It's a night!"

"You really believe that?"

"I stayed home all week like I promised, didn't I?"

"So what's one more night?" Ben asked.

Michael set his glass down on the table in front of them, rubbing his hands together. "I haven't called him all week, I've only seen him at the diner some mornings and all he's asked for is a night out with me. His best friend."

"Can you at least be home by midnight?"

"I have a curfew now?"

"Michael, it's not like that-"

"Then what is it like, Ben? Tell me, because you never seem to get down to that part of the conversation. You just tell me how much you don't like me spending time with him, I'm out too late and when I finally give in and my best friend needs me, you tell me no!"

"Michael, calm down," Ben shushed, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning towards Michael. God, this was not how he planned the night going at all. "I just want you home more often, is that a crime?"

"Considering you've barely been here the entire week I decided to be home? Yeah, I'll say it is," Michael snapped, throwing himself into the back of the couch, arms crossed as he glared at his husband across the way. Trying to put as much distance as possible between them.

"Is it my fault there were staff meetings this week? Papers to grade?"

"No! But you didn't have to spend the extra two hours in your office writing or whatever the fuck you do there."

"That's not fair, Mi-"

"So you can put my life on hold, but I can't expect the same of you?"

Ben took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Michael was right. He really shouldn't have spent those extra hours at work to work on his next book, even if he liked the peace and quiet much better. Still, it was not his fault that he had other things to attend to.

"Well, I don't have those things now. I was going to make dinner, Hunter is at a friend's house for the night…"

Michael rolled his eyes. "So now that it's convenient for you to spend time with me, you expect me at your beck and call."

"That is not it and you know it."

"I'm going to tell you what it is, Ben," Michael said, standing up and staring down at his husband who looked up expectantly. "What it is? Is me getting ready to go out. Brian is going to be here at eight to pick me up. We're going to Woody's and then Babylon. When we're done, I'll be coming home. If you want to join me in the shower, though… feel free."

Michael went upstairs hoping he might have worked Ben into a rage. Nothing violent, but a rage to make Ben want Michael. So bad that he would do anything to keep him home. Just that feeling of being wanted so strongly that they would never notice Brian knocking on the door to pick Michael up. Something to quell this urge he had within him. Anything.

"Christ!" Michael groaned, shooting up, knocking pillows off the bed as he crawled off it. He couldn't stop thinking about any of this. Working at the store couldn't distract him, or the school kids with their excitable chatter of the coolest or newest caped crusaders that captured their imaginations. Hunter was too caught up in his new girlfriend, taking things much slower this time around. She was a nice girl, pretty Michael guessed, he wasn't one to comment on women.

He checked his phone, wishing there was a missed called. Hoping for one, but there wasn't. The little background picture of Jenny Rebecca's scrunched face was all that greeted him. Michael couldn't help but smile as he snapped the phone shut and slipped into a pair of sweatpants before heading to the bathroom. He just needed a good hot shower, clear his head and go to work. He'd be back to normal in no time flat.

Although, that's what he'd been telling himself the entire week. Thankfully, Saturdays were extra busy with kids free from school the entire day and the extra foot traffic on the street from passersby. Maybe today would be the day he could forget about everything. Just for a little while. He turned on the shower and stepped out of the loose sweatpants. Letting his hand pass over the running water to test the temperature and turned on the spray, stepping in a moment after. Michael shut his eyes against it, taking his time and enjoying it before starting to get ready for his day.

The shower had been disappointing, as it went without any guest appearance. It only drove Michael's annoyance with his husband into full on anger as he found the faded black jeans Brian had instructed him to wear, tossing them on the bed to find a matching black shirt. He usually avoided the dark color because he thought it made him look a little washed out. Brian had always told him otherwise, so tonight he'd decided to listen to his friend. Yanking the jeans on, he took a look in the mirror in the bedroom. Maybe Brian was right, he thought, turning sideways to get a better view. Maybe he should do a little updating to his wardrobe. He smiled briefly, thinking he looked like Brian did almost half the time in his Loft. Jeans unbuttoned, no shirt… He gave himself a once over with a critical eye. Michael decided that black wasn't half bad. If anything, it made him feel… kind of badass. Especially with the mood he was in. He pulled on the black shirt, something he hadn't worn in years and worried that maybe it was just a little too tight, pulling up to show a pale strip of flesh above the waistband on the jeans when he raised his arms a little. He'd be tugging at it all night.

It didn't matter. Michael liked it. He took a little bit of gel, running his hands haphazardly though his hair and looked at the result in the mirror. A little wild, a little less tame than normal. Maybe even bordering into that 'I've just been fucked' style. He grinned at his reflection and it duplicated the action. Yeah, it worked.

He found his pair of beat up old boots that he liked and put those on. Maybe he'd even turn a few heads. It would make his night if he did. Give him that little boost and bounce in his step to make him go to sleep with a smile, maybe be able to smooth things over with Ben come the morning. Sometimes all you needed was a change of attitude. Maybe they both just needed a little space, let Michael blow off his steam and Ben rethink the last week. It would be good.

Michael glanced at the clock on the bedside table. About half an hour until Brian showed up. While Brian was usually counted on to show up fashionably late, this wasn't just a night out. Somehow Michael knew that Brian would show up right on the dot… but what to do until then? Going back downstairs might be a bad idea. Holing himself up here wouldn't do him any good and bore him to death in the short amount of time he had to wait. His stomach gurgled, which didn't make his decision any easier. They were going to Woody's, he should probably eat something…

A knock sounded at the bedroom door and Michael raised an eyebrow at it before glancing at the clock again. Not Brian. "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Ben's tall frame leaned into the room, eyes downcast. "Hey."

"Hey," Michael said, crossing his arms as he turned to look at the mirror again.

"I brought you a sandwich… some soup, too. If you want it."

Michael looked over at Ben, letting out a harsh sigh and motioned for him to come in. Ben did, a plate with the sandwich and a bowl with steam coming off the top with a spoon rattling around in it. He placed them carefully on a nightstand and looked at his husband as if trying to figure out what to say.

"Thanks," Michael said watching Ben carefully as blue eyes looked him up and then down. As if really seeing him for the first time.

"I'm sorry for the conversation… earlier," Ben said softly. "I shouldn't have… said those things the way I did and I'm sorry for that."

"I didn't mean to blow up like that."

Ben sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Things have just been… really tense between us."

"Believe me, I know," Michael agreed, daring to cross over to the corner of the room that Ben occupied. He picked up the bowl of soup carefully, the ceramic still hot in his hands. "Maybe we're just… going through a rough patch. I mean, you're working more because of your book and now they're suggesting weekend classes for you soon and…"

He really had nothing to go on. Ben's work wasn't that demanding of him and Michael knew it. There was just building tension between them that neither could explain. Michael was thankful that he had the soup to occupy him and decided to take a seat on the bed next to Ben as he ate quietly, mulling things over.

"I just wish we had more time together," Ben confessed.

Michael rested the bowl in his lap and looked into it as he quietly reminded his husband that he had been home all week.

"I know, Michael, I know. I just… sometimes I feel like you're never going to come back."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know! I just… don't know."

"Ben… I love you. I married you, for whatever that's worth and means to you."

"The world. I can't explain what it means to me, baby. I don't have the words… but I wonder what it means to you, especially these days."

Michael looked up from the murky soup and into Ben's eyes, spotting that small gleam of moisture. "Oh, Ben. Ben, don't. You should know it means everything to me. We have a life together that I wouldn't give up for anything. I married the man I love. I get to spend the rest of my life with you, go to bed with you every night and see your face every morning."

"Those are all the right things to say," Ben murmured with a tiny smile.

Michael rested a hand on his husband's cheek, smiling wider. "Good. It's the truth."

"But is it enough, Michael?" Ben's hand covered Michael's on his face. "Is it really enough for you, or do you only love it when you're in the mood for it?"

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Why do you still go out with Brian?"

"Because he's my best friend and we like to drink and dance? It's not like I come home trashed."

"Michael… maybe if you went out a few times a month, or had lunch instead of hitting the clubs I'd feel better. But-"

"But what, Ben? What are you trying to say?"

"I think you're still in love with him."

Michael tore away from Ben and stood up, nearly toppling the cool soup on the floor. "And you've just decided this? So, you're not taking my word, you're not listening me and obviously you have no faith in the fact that I decided to spend the rest of my life with you and vowed it in front of friends, family and God! And do you want to know the worst part, Ben? Do you?"

Ben stared bleakly at his enraged partner, waiting to be hit full force.

"This marriage? These rings? They don't mean a fucking thing in this state! I don't have to have any of this with you! I could walk out the fucking door right now with no legal repercussions or needs, but do I? NO! I'm not tied to any arrangement but the one I want to be… and you just can't seem to… believe me. I don't know how-"

A loud car horn sounded outside, stopping Michael mid rant, index finger in the middle of gesturing. He set the bowl back down on the table and visibly shook the residual anger out of himself.

"I don't know if I'll be coming home tonight," Michael stated honestly, looking towards the bedroom door. "I'll be at Brian's if I don't. On the couch, if you need to know, and I'll have my phone with me. Good night."

Without another word, Michael left the room and Ben sat, dumbfounded and chilled to the bone. God, had he completely fucked everything up?

"Motherfucking bullshit," Michael spat under his breath, rubbing a towel aggressively over his body, draping it over his wet hair and shoulders as he slipped the sweatpants back on and went to wake up Hunter for breakfast, only to find his room empty. Considering it wasn't that late in the afternoon, he was confused. Hunter was a lazy little shit on the weekends, and Michael wouldn't have it any other way.

He went downstairs to find him sitting at the table, reading the paper as he absentmindedly shoveled Captain Crunch into his mouth. Michael rubbed the towel against his hair as he grabbed everything needed to fix a bowl of the same for himself. Hunter glanced over the paper at Michael, eyes following the older man as he took a seat across from him.

"You're up early," Michael commented, enjoying a too big spoonful of cereal.

Hunter rustled the paper to have it lower halfway and looked at Michael. "Yep."

Swallowing with difficulty, Michael gave Hunter a questioning look. "Okay… any plans today?"

"Yep."

"Care to share?"

"Nope."

"Katie, again?"

"Nope."

"Could we at least make this fun? Like Twenty Questions or Charades or something?"

"Snippy, aren't we?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk."

"Hey, man, I'm just sitting here minding my own business and you've got all these questions," Hunter tossed back, setting the paper down on the table.

"Forgive me for wanting to know what my son is up to."

"Aw, pa, you don't have to go an' worry 'bout lil ole me." Hunter fluttered his eyelashes with a grin.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"And you're nosy."

"Please, just tell me where you're going today."

Hunter sighed as if he had to talk down to a small child. "I was going to go open the store today."

"Why?" Michael raised a curious eyebrow.

"We talked about this last week! You and Ben started griping about how I'm older now and needed a job instead of asking you guys for money all the time and some more responsibility. Y'know, parent shit."

"Oh." Why the fuck couldn't he remember saying any of this?

"Yeah, you called me and told me about it. You were out with Brian or something and said we'd go in together and then you'd leave me there for a few hours to handle things."

Oh, that's why. He was busy focusing on Brian to remember what was going on. Oh, Christ. And those freed up hours on the weekend were going to be used to go see Brian. Now what was he going to do? Christ, lies everywhere. How to untangle them? Then again… a day off and having the store open at the same time? It could be just what he needed.

"Okay, yeah. You get ready when you're done and we'll head in," Michael said, snagging the comics section out of the scattered remnants of the paper. Hunter rolled his eyes as he cleared his side of the table, clattering about in the kitchen.

"Any hot water left?"

Michael looked up from the brightly colored paged. "Should be. Make it quick though, it's almost ten."

"Don't take so damn long getting out of bed!"

"Watch your fucking mouth, young man!"

Hunter leaned out the kitchen grinning at Michael, Michael smiled back, mirth hiding in the depths of his eyes. What could he say? The kid really grew on him over the years and he couldn't imagine life without him at this point.

"Go on," Michael said, waving his hand. Hunter laughed and made his way upstairs to his room, taking the steps two at a time. Michael sat back in his chair and sighed heavily, cleaning up the rest of the table, folding the paper back up and leaving it on the table for when Ben came home during lunch. He had been in a rush this morning. He decided the dishes could wait until later, because he'd be doing nothing the entire afternoon.

When he had nothing left to do but face the music, he went back upstairs to dress for work, taking the damp towel from around his shoulders and tossing it to the bed. Digging around in his dresser, he came across a torn black shirt. Stumbling back to the bed, he sat down staring at the ruined material in his hands. God, was he really such a sucker for sentimentality that he had kept this?

"Mikey," Brian drawled, fingers tapping on the wheel in time to a song on the radio as he drove. Michael had been sitting in his seat, a huddled ball of seething anger since getting into the car. If Michael was going to be difficult on purpose, more fun for Brian, but he'd like to talk to his best friend now. "Mikey, c'mon. Lighten up! I won't make you do anything you haven't done before."

"It's not you."

Brian raised an eyebrow. When wasn't it him? "Oh? Then I take back what I said."

Michael smiled briefly. "Asshole. No, it's just… It's Ben and-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Brian chastised primly as the pulled up to a red light. "We're going out. You are not even going to say Big Ben's name, let alone think it. It'll make the night that much more fun for you."

"You're up to something."

"Are you going to sit there and tell me none of this is because of Ben?" Brian asked with a knowing look as he glanced at the light to gas the car when it turned green.

"No… it is."

"Then why bring up something unpleasant throughout the night?"

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. Why don't we go back to the Loft? Order in, watch a few movies…"

"No."

Michael crossed his arms over his chest and sighed heavily. "Why not?"

"Don't whine."

"I'm not!"

"Why can't you just relax and have fun tonight?"

"Because Ben is really pissing me off lately," Michael snapped.

Brian nodded. "Isn't that more of a reason to forget him, even for one night?"

Why couldn't Brian just… understand? Why is it that his best friend wouldn't even let him vent? What the fuck did Michael get himself into tonight? Brian was keeping his eyes trained on the road, casting flickering side glances at Michael. If nothing else, he was dressed to kill. This would be easier than he thought, really. Brian had planned on Michael putting up more of a fight against this, but with his friend walking into it blind, Brian realized he had more of the upper hand.

"I'm not having a one night stand," Michael stated clearly, looking out his window.

"Did I say you were going to?"

"No, but…"

"Mikey, you gotta learn to trust me. I know you and your 'upstanding morals'. Would I, your best friend, even think about letting you go off with some other man?"

Michael rolled his eyes, hearing the tone of laughter in Brian's words. "Oh, of course not. Not you, Brian."

"Asshole."

"Jackass."

"Prude."

"Now wait a minute!" Michael turned in his seat to look at Brian as he made the turn down Liberty Ave slowing down slightly to avoid hitting any wandering pedestrians in his way. "I have never been a prude."

"Then why don't you want to know?"

"I'm here, aren't I? Obviously I want to know!"

"Yeah, after trying to back out of it and bringing up things that would only try and make me feel bad for you so we won't do this tonight," Brian countered, pulling into a spot along the curb. "Now get out, get shitfaced and have a good fucking time. I promise it's not that hard."

"I don't need pain management," Michael muttered, unbuckling the seatbelt.

Brian sighed, climbing out of the car, leaning his head in before shutting the door. "You're really starting to piss me the fuck off."

"Okay, so register, computer the comics are all marked for prices," Michael explained, pointing at the scan bar on the back of the comics. "If you need to leave or close up, any sort of emergency… not meaning 'my girlfriend just called and I have to go', put all the money in the bag under the counter and put that in the safe."

They had made it to the comic shop after Hunter interrupted Michael's moment in a time long ago. He had panicked, stuffing the torn shirt under the pillows of the bed as he jumped to attention, brushing off the memory as he ushered Hunter out of the house and to the store for the day. Leaving Michael wondering if he should call Brian today after all.

Hunter looked up from a bin of comics. "Can Katie come here?"

"I dunno, are you two going to mess up the backroom?" Michael asked, crossing his arms, snapping back to pay attention as Hunter flipped through comics.

"We haven't even done that yet! Fuck," the younger man exclaimed, thrown his arms up in exasperation. "I don't know why you two don't believe me when I tell you that."

"Well… you're a teenager. Poz or not, it is hard to believe," Michael admitted as he straightened out the few papers on the counter. "Did you tell her yet?"

"Yeah. That's why we haven't done anything yet. She knows it's a risk and even a smaller one with protection, but she wants to wait," Hunter explained with a shrug. "I dunno. Women."

"Hey, don't look at me. I don't know a damn thing about them. Ask Lindsey."

Hunter rolled his eyes, walking behind the counter and going on the computer, clicking away with the mouse. Michael wondered what he was going to do with the rest of his day now that he didn't have to work and everyone probably had their days planned out. Hunter seemed curious about the same thing.

"What are you gonna be doing today?" Hunter asked, looking up from the computer.

Michael shrugged. "I don't have a clue. I guess I could hit the gym a little early today."

"Gonna call Brian?"

"What? Why?"

Hunter looked at Michael as though he'd grown another head. "Because you two always go to the gym together. Christ, what is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing," he assured his son. "It's just… one of those days, y'know?"

"Not really, dude."

"Smartass. Anyways, I'll have my cell so call if you need anything and I'll-"

The bells above the door jingled merrily as they both looked towards the door and found Brian nonchalantly entering, eyes hidden behind aviators as he worked a piece of gum in his mouth absently. Michael was beyond confused by the appearance. Brian hadn't shown up all week to the shop and missing breakfast wasn't a big deal. Why was he here?

"Hey, dude, just in time," Hunter greeted with a self-serving smile. "Michael was just thinking about hitting the gym. You up for it?"

Brian raised an eyebrow over the shades and a smile eased its way onto his lips. "Ah, the gym. How could I forget? We just haven't been there in… oh, how long, Mikey?"

Michael gave Brian a 'shut the hell up or I'll smack you upside the head worse than Ma' look as Hunter's confusion spread across his features.

"What do you mean? Michael still-"

"He's just being an asshole, Hunter. Ignore him," Michael interjected.

Brian shrugged. "We found a better way to work out, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, for the love of- Go! Outside, now!" Michael barked, shoving Brian out the door as he waved at Hunter. Brian let himself be manhandled out the door, laughing as he turned around on the sidewalk, trying to calm Michael down, struggling to grab at the smaller hands shoving him roughly occasionally landing a good smack against the side of his head.

"Hey, hey," Brian tittered, finally latching onto Michael's wrists, pulling the shorted man close to him. "Calm down. I was just having a little fun."

Michael was red in the face and frustrated. "At the expense of my family, Brian?"

Brian frowned and let Michael's wrists go. "So, I take it that means I've been put to the side then. Best friends forever, right?"

"Oh, Christ, Brian," Michael reached out and Brian took a half step back. He didn't want to be touched by anyone, let alone Michael. They were heading down to that 'bad place' Brian would usually find himself in. There would be a reckless night ahead. "Brian, listen… I just haven't had time to think about it. I mean, Ben's working on another book and Hunter with his new girlfriend and you! I haven't seen you in a week."

"My phone receives calls just as well as it makes them."

"Okay, alright, I know that's on me… but I warned you. I told you I didn't want to choose. I begged you not to make me," he told Brian pointedly. "Someone's going to get hurt and I don't know who it's going to be or if I want to hurt anyone. You know me better than that."

Brian busied himself with pulling out a cigarette and lighter, spitting his gum into the street and looking off down the road, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses as he waited out the rest of Michael's words. He didn't want to hear this, this was going to be the end, he was sure of it. He just didn't expect it. When Michael had to choose, it was never against Brian. Michael always ran to Brian for… just about everything, why not this?

"Why don't we take this somewhere else?" Michael asked, glancing at the nearly covered window of the comic shop. He could see Hunter's face peeking around some posters taped to the glass.

"Whatever."

Brian sunk the eight ball and stood up with a flourish, grinning as he called game. Michael sneered at his friend and made his way to the bar getting a jack and coke for himself and some of good old Jim Beam for Brian. That was the second game in a row Brian had won and it was starting to piss Michael off to no end. That cocky fucking smirk when he sunk the last shot, the snicker from behind Michael's back as Brian walk around him after he had missed his shot. It was enough to drive a sane man to drink. Michael brought the drink over to Brian, who had taken up residence on a stool at a small table near the pool table and accepted the drink with a nod.

Brian noticed that Michael was getting cruised left and right tonight. Not that he didn't any other night they went out, but more so tonight. Michael was dressed to kill and everyone knew it. Brian loved Michael in black, the way it seemed to make his pale skin stand out in the dim lighting and it always matched in that odd way Brian liked because of his hair. Watching Michael tilt back as he finished the last of his drink (rather quickly), Brian's eyes roamed over that strip of skin that showed when Michael's shirt road up and part of him mourned the loss of it as Michael set his glass down and absently tugged the shirt back down over the skin.

"What do you say we do a few shots and then stumble our way to the clubs?" Brian asked, setting his empty glass down next to Michael's.

"Are we doing Babylon?"

Brian shook his head. "Pistols has a bit of a floor show going on tonight, figure it's something we should check out before hitting the floor."

"Which really means that you're checking out the competition to one up them," Michael translated with a smile eased with alcohol.

"Sure, why not?"

Pistols had changed hands over the years and was looking better and better each time it was bought up. What used to be the main twink bar had become something a little classier and exploring all tastes of life. Party boy twinks were left with Babylon and Popperz these days, and that was fine with Brian. He'd had his fill of twinks over the years, but now that Pistols was becoming real competition, he had made it a point to check it out. Rumor had it that it was actually going on the market again. Kinnetic was doing well enough along with Babylon that Brian was thinking about acquiring the place if he thought he could do something with it. It certainly wouldn't be any Babylon, but he was sure he could do something equally fantastic with it.

"Alright, let's do it then," Michael said, motioning Brian to the bar with him. Leaning up against the bar, Brian rapped his knuckles against the bar top absently as he waited for the bartender, who was chatting up some guy Brian had last month. If he remembered right, the guy was a screamer and not worth all the noise complaints from his neighbors the morning after. Michael was bouncing gently to the music in the place as he watched the football game on the TV overhead without understanding what the hell was going on in the game.

"Going straight on me, Mikey?" Brian asked, bumping into his friend's shoulder with his own gently.

Michael snorted. "Completely, Brian. I've found that a woman can give me so much more."

"Oh god," Brian groan, clutching his chest in false pain. "Et tu, Mikey? Another muncher in our midst!"

"You're almost embarrassing to go out with."

"Ah, but you still love me best."

Michael shifted uncomfortably, muttering an agreement of sorts. "Where the fuck is the bartender?"

"Hey!" Brian called out over the noise. "Hey! Unless you want the cops to show up for a noise violation, ditch that fuck and you might get a tip over here!"

The bartender snapped his head towards Brian and Michael. Brian gave him a quick once over. Not worth it. His contempt for the lack of service outweighed his libido at the moment. The bartender looked back at the guy at the bar he'd been hitting on who looked completely shattered at his chances with the hot hunk serving drinks as it had dropped down to zero.

Brian dug into his wallet and pulled out a fifty. "Fifty going once! Going twice!"

Michael cradled his head in a hand and groaned in embarrassment. Brian was just too demanding sometimes. In this world, it was all about him and there was nothing to change that idea. Money talks and Brian knew it. That's how he made the world all about him and it was easy with two large incomes flowing right into his wallet. Brian was not impressed at the speed which the bartender made his way over to them, obviously annoyed with Brian's antics.

"Yeah?" the bartender asked rudely.

Brian slapped the bill down. "I wasn't kidding. Guy's a screamer like you've never heard before. Almost got kicked out of my building the next day and with what he's got? It's not worth the trouble. Now set us up with three shots each, vodka, top shelf and you get the rest all to yourself. If you really want him that bad, buy some earplugs with it."

Michael couldn't help but snicker as the bartender took the bill and slammed down six shot glasses in front of them, a look of pure contempt on his face as he turned over a bottle and ran it expertly over the six glasses. Putting that away, he gave them a nod and closed in on a new target, the previous apple of the bartender's eye running off somewhere to avoid further embarrassment.

"You are a complete fucking asshole," Michael said, exasperated with his best friend.

"That likes to completely fuck an asshole," Brian quipped, raising a shot glass in mock toast towards Michael before downing it fluidly and setting it back down on the bar with a light click. "But on to new business. What should we toast to?"

Michael looked at his shot thoughtfully. "A happy life?"

"Pussy."

"Ew."

"Let's toast to a great night out, without consequences!" Brian enthusiastically supplied.

Michael rolled his eyes. "There's never any consequences for you." But he raised his shot glass dutifully and they clicked together and drank in sync, Michael's eyes stinging from the solid burn down his throat to his chest.

"Mikey, I didn't know you still got red in the face when you drank."

"Well how often do I down straight vodka?"

"Suck it up; you've got two more to go. Pick a better toast this time," Brian added dryly.

"Alright, fine. Here's to… finally figuring it all out," Michael said and Brian's approval was by tapping their glasses together again and drinking. "Any chance of you just… telling me what it is?" he asked nonchalantly as he set the empty glass on the bar top upside down.

"Not on your life. Now finish all your alcohol or you can't go dancing," Brian said in a 'mommy' voice as he pinched Michael's cheek. Michael batted the hand away with a scowl and finished the last shot without any pomp and ceremony, slamming the little glass down harder than before. "We good here?"

Brian rolled his eyes and nodded. "Such a little drama queen."

"Where are we going?" Brian asked, his tone dry as he climbed behind the wheel of his car, gunning the engine once Michael strapped himself in. He had to think about it. The Loft was not the place for talking and Ma was at the diner, no doubt. Too early to drink and too late for breakfast, what was left?

"My place," Michael said, wringing his hands together. He and Brian had never spent any time together sober at his place. Late night drop-ins and stopping by to pick Michael up and drop him off was the extent of it. It was just another way Michael kept the two lives separate. His domestic life stayed untainted from his infidelity, and he kept his little ideal of Brian and 'forever young' at the Loft. The two worlds never met and Michael liked the clean cut division that way. Now the rules were changing and they had little choice for neutral ground.

Brian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, almost seeming lighthearted, just another drive with his best friend. But by how tightly his palms were pressed against the leather and the solid stiffness in how he held his arms, you knew he was anything but relaxed. Tension barely described the thick silence as they drove out of the busy area of Liberty Ave and into the quiet surroundings of the suburban area Michael lived in. The whole place pissed Brian off. Every time he had to come here, he wish he still had his Jeep. He wanted the engine to roar and wake the little children being carted in fashionable carriages with brand name diaper bags and scare the homo mommies and daddies that something wicked this was comes.

Brian liked to think of himself as the only true gay man left by standing in defiance of marriage and children (even though he seemed to have slipped up on that one). By keeping the party alive and that thumpa-thumpa going all fucking night, Brian thought of himself as a most upstanding, righteous (to use the term loosely) gay man. A poster boy for the truth of this 'culture', as any PC activist would put it. Brian would prefer to burn this area to the ground. Flame the flamers.

He snorted as he guided the car to the curb in front of Michael's place. A testament to what Brian stood in defiance against. They got out of the car and into the house with the silence following them close behind, each unsure of what was to come. Brian doubted Michael would drag him all the way here to get rid of him. Then again, Michael was the sort who liked things done privately, he probably thought this was a more 'proper' setting for it than the sidewalk in front of Red Cape.

"So," Brian started, shutting the door behind them as Michael wandered into the kitchen. "What are we doing here?"

There was shuffling and doors opening and closing. Brian rolled his eyes. Leave it to the Italian to make food in emotion crisis. "We just… I don't know! Apparently I told Hunter I'd let him run the store on weekends and I remembered I was doing it to get more time with you, but we're not doing that-"

Brian leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, blocking Michael's way as he carried beers and armloads of junk food. Michael looked up at him questioningly and Brian couldn't help but smile just a little. He always liked that height difference.

"It's better to talk to you when I can see you," he told his friend, resting a heavy hand on the junction between neck and shoulder, fingers curling around the back of Michael's neck. How long had it been since they'd even allowed themselves a friendly touch that wasn't just for show? Brian leaned in and put their foreheads together, wrestling with a slew of unnamable thoughts. "Mikey, we haven't really talked in forever. Even if this is going to be bad… don't rush it. The house is empty, right?"

Michael nodded, eyes closed. He wanted to cry. He wasn't sure why he wanted to cry, but he did and this was anything but the time or place to do it. Brian was right. The house was empty and they last time they had any sort of friendly comforting gestures towards each other outside of the Loft had been far and few.

"I think I saw an old B horror movie marathon was gonna be on this afternoon," Brian said, straightening up. "What do you think?"

Michael swallowed hard, shifting on his feet, bags crinkling in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah, we should do that."

It didn't leave much room to talk about the things Michael desperately wanted to, but it was enough for now. Settling on the couch, it was awkward at first, sitting side by side without touching, both stiff as a board as they tried to focus on the movies. The silence was unbearable between them and then they started fumble over themselves, reaching for the same bag of chips or knocking beer bottles together on the table and awkwardly excusing each other. Things came to a head an hour into the movies when Brian gave up his rigid position on the couch and spread out, reclining into the corner of the armrest and cushions, one foot on the coffee table. He wanted to be closer to Michael, but the tension would drive him insane.

"Think we should order a pizza? I'm kinda sick of junk food," Michael complained, flattening an empty bag with a sharp crinkle.

"If you want, I'm kind of disgustingly full," Brian commented.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Just after that? That's sad."

"Not all of us have indestructible metabolisms, Mikey. I work out twice as hard to keep this glorious figure."

"Yeah, in between how many pit stops to the steam room?"

"Shut up," Brian said, shoving his friend. "You should be three hundred pounds."

"And you probably are without your precious work outs!" Michael countered, shoving Brian back.

"Take that back. I'm fucking perfect!"

"Perfectly plump."

Eventually the shoving match turned into a tickle fight with Michael winning, sitting astride a writhing and bucking Brian who was trying his hardest to fight off his friend, gasping for air. He couldn't evade the barrage of fingers at his sides and neck and under his arms as he tried to buck Michael off, but he held on fast with his legs until he noticed the tears leaking out of the corners of Brian's eyes.

"I win," Michael announced arms over his head, hands rolled into fists. Brian was trying to catch his breath, wiping at his eyes as his laughter trickled off into snuffles and his cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

"You're pathetic," he said, still giggling.

"Yeah… I know."

"Don't… this was gonna be a fun afternoon."

Michael laid down on top of Brian, who wrapped his arms around the smaller frame automatically. "You know I love you. Always."

"That's why I can't let you go, Mikey."

"But I have a family now, Brian. You don't want that and I still do."

"So you're going to settle for this family because you think I wouldn't give you one?"

Michael lifted himself up enough to look down at Brian questioningly. "What are you saying?"

"Listen, I'm not promising marriage, that shit isn't even legal here, and we obviously can't just have kids on our own… but we already have kids together," Brian reasoned. "Or are you going to tell me you don't love Gus as much as I do? And you know, if I can get a chance to know JR, I'm sure I could fall in love with her. She's got your eyes."

"Ben, Hunter and I were thinking about making a trip to visit them over the summer," Michael said, trying to change topics. "You should come with us and see Gus. I wanted to talk to the girls about visitation soon anyway. JR's getting older and I don't want to miss her growing up. I was thinking she could stay with me during the summers when she's old enough."

"Lindsey said the same thing about Gus," Brian agreed. "But I don't have room for a little brat at the Loft."

"Oh, glad to see how you think about your son."

"Hey, now, c'mon. He's, what, six going on seven now? They're all brats at that age."

"You've got a point there, but don't let the girls know you call your own son a brat," Michael advised seriously.

"Why not? I call them munchers," Brian shrugged.

"And they love that just so much, don't they?"

"Should I give a fuck?"

"You're impossible," Michael smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Brian's lips. "And yet, I still love you."

"Always?"

"Always have, always will."

Brian pulled Michael back down for another kiss, Michael forgetting where they were losing track of what they should've been doing. This was not how the conversation was supposed to go, but it was certainly a better alternative by far. He felt as though he was seeing something completely different than he usually expected from Brian and Michael wasn't sure what to think about it. Was it ruining his ideal of his best friend? He was too caught up in hands roaming under his shirt to worry about it too much.

"God, look at this place!" Michael said to Brian, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He hadn't been to Pistols in a few years, so he was clueless to the changes that had gone on. He just had a feeling Brian wanted to check out the competition, not that Babylon was suffering any.

"I know, what a difference, right?" Brian replied, pulling Michael over to the bar. It was slightly quieter, but not by much. They ordered and turned their back to the bar, leaning against it. The layout was one floor instead of two, but it was huge and didn't need the extra floor to allow people to move freely and give some relief to the dance floor.

The layout was simple and that's what made it work. There was a bar on one side of the building, near the door where Brian and Michael stood, illuminated with florescent red lighting and across the way, tucked in a corner was another. Alongside that, taking the focus away from the bar was a stage, the floor lit up with orange lights that held such a fine assortment of men that Brian was tempted to buy the place on the spot… if it came with the dancers. The rest was open space to dance, although the place was sadly without a backroom, that didn't stop people from using the couches hidden in darkened corners or just outright on the floor. With a few remodeling ideas in mind, Brian thought he could make this place even better than it was now. Plans, of course, including a backroom.

Michael finished his drink, setting it on the bar behind him. "Wanna dance?"

Brian set his glass down and nodded in agreement, taking Michael out to the middle of the floor. No matter where you went, once you hit the floor in a club, it was all the same. Pulsing lights, heat, sweat and a sea of bodies from all sides. Hands, bare chests even a twinkle of glitter as a light passes by. It was all the same. To Brian, familiarity did not breed contempt. It was comforting that when you were somewhere you didn't know, lost or feeling lost, you could always find something to make it feel all right.

Pistols was taking music in a new direction tonight. Oh sure, the seemingly never ending loop of techno thumped with some high pitched female voice repeating some word over and over again still played (and Brian still couldn't figure out the difference between songs as they slid seamlessly into the next song and the next), but they had a special DJ in tonight, someone famous. Brian wasn't a scene whore and didn't keep up on those things, and Michael's taste in music still had 'Dancing Queen' as his favorite, so they were pleasantly surprised with a collage of 'oldies' (what Brian still considered the best of the best) remixed with a techno beat, words scratched and skipping, but for the most part intact. But the DJ was good enough to know when not to mess too much with something great.

The beat's change was subtle, but still that right flow to dance to and Brian paused when he heard the new song intermingle with the dominant beat. Oh, shit, if it didn't take him back.

Here we stand or here we fall

History won't care at all

Make the bed light the light

Lady Mercy won't be home tonight

Yeah!

"Oh, God!" Michael exclaimed, looking up at Brian. "Do you remember this song?"

Brian smiled. "By one of the best of his time, Mikey"

You don't waste no time at all

Don't hear the bell but you answer the call

It comes to you as to us all

We're just waiting

For the hammer to fall

Michael let himself get pulled closer into Brian. It was just something that wasn't really significant to their childhood in any way, but it reminded them of it in subtle ways. Uncle Vic loved Queen (no pun intended), all the drama and flair of Freddie Mercury wasn't to go unnoticed throughout the years. How could any self respecting gay man or party boy not have been in love with this band at one time or another? They were addicting. Never the same sound twice with any song, and by far, Michael had to admit, some of the best love songs he'd ever heard. They were real, not everything had a happy ending, not everyone was perfect and not everything was meant to be, but it was nice when it happened. God, if that wasn't the story of Michael's life…

Oh every night and every day

A little piece of you is falling away

But lift your face the Western Way

Build your muscles as your body decays

Yeah!

"You wanna know what I used to think he sung for this part?" Brian asked, leaning in close to Michael's ear so he didn't have to yell too loud. He felt a nod. "I used to think it went 'Every night and every day… a little piece of you is far and away' and then it was all jumbled and it ended with 'Feel your muscles as your body caves in'."

Michael laughed. "How is that you can make it sound like sex?"

"Because I'm amazing," he replied, grinning. "But the first part wasn't about sex now, was it?"

"Nah, almost sounded… romantic," Michael admitted. "But, coming from you that's impossible."

Brian dug around in his pocket, ignoring the little remark at his expense and pulled out two pills in a little baggie. Special occasion, wasn't it? Brian had the look he always gave Michael when he was about to push their fragile boundaries. Michael didn't care, tonight was a night to forget and have fun, right? He let Brian close the distance and felt that warm heat when their lips touched. Michael fought back a smile as he let Brian slip a little tablet into his mouth.

Toe your line and play their game

Let the anesthetic cover it all

Till one day they call your name

You know it's time for the hammer to fall

There was that moment between them. Awkward bordering on absolute confusion. That small burst of sparks firing as they lingered a bit too long, covering it up quickly with a well placed laugh or smile. Maybe check out the guy that was just enough to the right that Brian would have to turn his head to make Michael notice. Things always ended that way, an elated rush before that crash back down into a draining reality. Something to kill time before the high hit them full on.

Michael stayed close, pressed up against Brian fairly confident that he wasn't going to leave him in the middle of the floor for a trick. Even if he was, Michael didn't want him to. There were too many thoughts, too much… everything right now to handle on his own.

"Bed," Michael murmured, still trying to get the top button to Brian's pants undone. He had to stop if they wanted to get anything done, but he couldn't help himself from wanting more right this instant. Brian was too long to fit this comfortably on the couch and everything they needed was in the bedroom.

Brian sat up, getting off the couch with difficulty as Michael continued to paw at him, not willing to let him go for a second. It was an awkward walk up the stairs, Brian's lean form hunched over Michael's smaller frame, stumbling on one or two attempts and almost giving in right there as they panted, still tugging to reach for each other, pull closer than they could possibly get.

They lost their shirts along the way, Brian's belt disappeared in the hallway, stumbling out of shoes and tugging at pants, a flurry of hands against skin and denim. Bed springs protested softly as they landed on the mattress, gasping for air and already sweating in anticipation.

Rich or poor or famous

For your truth it's all the same

Lock your door the rain is pouring

Through your window pane

"Brian?" Michael asked and then smiled. It sounded like he was underwater. Oh shit, he was fucked up. Good thing he told Ben he was staying at Brian's. He didn't need another lecture about having a minor and illegal substances at the same time… or was it in the same place? He couldn't remember. He didn't care, Ben wasn't important. Right now, Brian pressing him into the wall, a thigh between his legs… that was important. Sending shockwaves of such mind blowing pleasure, he could barely make a coherent thought.

Michael moaned, arching off the wall and into Brian, clinging to his shoulders. "Oh, fuck, Brian."

"Yeah, Mikey. 'Sactly," Brian slurred, voice low in his throat.

Baby now your struggle's all in vain

Brian had an easy time working Michael farther and farther out of the crowd on the dance floor, eventually cornering him up against a wall. Michael, too out of it to notice much of anything that wasn't sensory (God bless the A, B, Cs… with a little extra E, Brian thought with a tiny smile), hadn't complained or questioned it. Brian would be lying if he said he had planned this moment. He never had intentions to cross the narrow lines they had drawn years ago, but watching Michael dance with someone else on the floor, know that man knew exactly what Michael was looking for… Brian couldn't have that.

Michael was missing passion, simple as that. His life was content in all areas, but he was restless and Brian knew it. Such was the predictable monotony of relationships. He would roll his eyes if not so intent on the way Michael bit down on his bottom lip, trying to fight this urge with what little consciousness of sobriety he had left. And it wasn't much. Brian was so glad Michael had listened to him and worn the black jeans, they hid wet spots so much better, and with the way Michael's body tensed up… there was probably a large one hidden there now.

"Drawer," Michael muttered, scrambling across the bed to a nightstand. "Condoms, condoms… Fuck! Condoms."

He was close to turning the drawer over onto the floor. Brian slid to the other side of the bed and looked through the other drawer, finding two connected together in the foil packaging. Curious about who kept to which side of the bed, he nudged a few things around. A spare glasses repair kit (Obviously, this was Ben's side of the bed), old bookmarks, a few pens and pencils, a small scribbled on pad of paper. Good old Prof. Always so interesting. Only the necessities, right? Ben was a stupid fuck that way, in Brian's opinion.

"Mikey," Brian said, reaching out to grab hold of Michael's arm to get his attention. "Look at what I found." He held up the foil packages and waved them back and forth, as if tempting the other man, who looked more than relieved.

"Thank you," Michael muttered, glancing upwards as he pulled Brian back towards him. There was still the matter of putting those condoms to use. Fuck it, Michael would replace them later.

For we who grew up tall and proud

In the shadow of the mushroom cloud

Brian was more demanding than Michael could have ever imagined. Not even in his darkest fantasies had Michael thought they would find himself pushed face first into the hard, cold concrete in the stairwell up to the Loft, both of them in too much of a rush to take the elevator. Face first and knowing there would be a reddened scrape right across his cheek as his hands tried to find some place to grab hold of something, anything solid. There wasn't much and Michael couldn't help but be turned on even more by the lack of it.

He wanted to say something. Some last minute witty, cute, loving… something to say. That final ending moment you always read about or saw in a movie. Christ, it never happens in real life, does it? There's no such thing as the perfect moment, he realized as hands roughly tugged the sticky jeans, yanking them down enough to get down to business. A hand wrapped around his hip and he felt the contrast of Brian's jeans rubbing up against his exposed backside. His head was swimming and just feeling that hard bulge pressing insistently against him had him panting.

How many times had he turned this down? Michael couldn't remember all the excuses he gave. Brian was drunk, Brian was high, he was high and laughed it off. Or maybe it just wasn't the time or place but…

"Fuck," Michael groaned, pushing back against his friend. "Brian…"

"Shut up, Mikey," Brian responded, free hand already working to get himself free from the jeans.

Convinced our voices can't be heard

"Don't Brian," Michael warned, voice strained. "Don't."

Brian had sunk himself entirely into Michael and stopped. Michael was shaking, straining against the usual impulses they had to just tear at each other. Brian was on top of Michael, not letting him move and just… enjoying it. Not that Brian didn't enjoy every time they had been together, but he'd never just shown Michael how much. He just smiled down at best friend knowing that what had only changed in slight ways before, ways they could brush off as getting a little distant as time went on, a little too busy with their lives and work… that was all out the window. After a year of playing around this, pretending it wasn't really happening, things could never even be close to the same again.

Brian rocked his hips almost contemplatively back and forth just slightly, enough to have Michael sweating, stuttering as he tried to grasp at a word. It was more fun to play with your food before you ate it, was Brian's opinion, but there was still something malicious lurking in him. And while Michael was worried that Brian was going to go off on proclamations of love (after twenty-one years?), Brian was intent on watching the reactions he evoked from Michael. Picking up the pace with his hips, pushing himself up and holding himself over the other man, palms flat near Michael's head as he tossed it back and forth, clawing at Brian's arms in frustration. Bordering on tears.

Perfect. Brian pulled out, nearly all the way, still smiling. Michael was starting to seethe, glaring back with a stubborn resolve as he tried to push his hips up towards Brian, who kept away at a tantalizing distance.

"Brian-"

"Shut up, Mikey," Brian murmured, slamming back into Michael hard enough for a look of pure confusion to cloud his face before a jagged cry of relief was released. Brian leaned down so their foreheads touched and Michael's look became guarded again, opening his mouth as if to warn Brian like he had earlier.

"I said, 'shut up'," Brian repeated, aching to keep going. "Because this isn't going to be nice, Mikey. So stop worrying about it." He those wide set brown eye glaze over. Tears just under the surface. "I want you to think about this."

He pulled out again, like he had before and pushed back in hard. This time Michael struggled not to scream. Brian let his head slip to the side, lowering himself back down on top of his best friend. Lips brushing against the curve of Michael's ear, Brian couldn't stop himself as he continued to thrust in and out at a steady pace.

"Because right now, you're in your house," Brian said hoarsely, swallowing with an audible click. "You're in your fucking house, on the bed you share with your husband every night."

Michael closed his eyes and turned his head away from Brian, he didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to fucking hear this. Not now. God, please, not now. He was still matching Brian thrust for thrust.

"With another man, Mikey," Brian gasped, one hand wrapped around Michael tightly, the other threading fingers through the dark hair to pull lightly. Test responses, find the limits and push them. "And you fucking love it, don't you?"

Michael tried to tune out Brian's voice. He couldn't. It cut right through him. Through the haze of drugs and alcohol, past the futile thoughts he was dragging up to try and rationalize this. The drugs, the dancing, the drinks, pissed off at Ben… none of it mattered with Brian buried deep inside him. None of it meant anything in comparison to finally feeling satisfied. To feel wanted this strongly, they couldn't make it to the Loft and that it meant more to be doing this right now than worrying about prying eyes, soft caresses and someone overhearing them.

Brian's fingers curled tighter into the stiff unruly locks, pulling Michael's head back making him bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out. "You. Fucking. Love it."

"Yes," Michael whispered, trying to hold back tears. Another sharp tug broke his resolve and they ran down over his cheeks quietly, shoulders shaking.

"What?"

"Yes," Michael repeated, louder, voice unsteady. Finally, finally there was a gratifying movement of hips and Brian moved in and out of him, as if waiting for the right answers. Another pull. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, Brian! YES!"

We just wanna scream it louder and louder louder

"Stop it," Michael sobbed, pressing his face into a pillow. "Shut the fuck up, Brian!"

Brian hummed absently, grinning. "You want me to stop reminding you that what you're doing is so fucking wrong, but you don't want me to stop this" he thrust in forcefully, making Michael arch off the bed "and it's because you just don't want to stop."

"No," Michael rasped, shaking his head violently. "I can… I can if I want to."

"Why didn't you make a choice, Michael?"

"I can stop!"

"Don't. Fucking. Lie," Brian growled, punctuating each word with a stiff thrust. "No one's making you. Don't lie."

Michael was shaking under him, frustratingly close to finishing, stubbornly trying to fight it off and still crying. Brian could read his own best friend well enough to know when it was over. The war might still rage on for awhile, but for now the battle was decided.

Wrapping a hand around Michael, who moaned at the touch, breath hitching from the tears Brian kissed a wet trail at his cheek. "C'mon, Mikey. Come with me."

What the hell we fighting for?

Brian inhaled sharply, resting his head on Michael's shoulder groaning when his release came. Still heavily influenced, it lasted a lifetime, giving him that brief illusion that he was closer to Michael than he had ever been with anyone in his entire life. It was a euphoric high, one that brought meaning to Brian. He finally understood why some people had that moment when they felt something more with the person in their bed. It was the drugs, he reminded himself, coming back down to the cold reality that he had Michael pressed up against a wall in the open with a mess.

"Brian?" Michael's voice was tentative, hoarse. What happened? Where the hell did this come from? He wanted answers even while he was feeling almost numb from the inside out, aware of every little thing. How fast his heated body was cooling against the cement, the flexing iron grip around his softening cock and Brian still in him, ready to go again. Oh god, again? He couldn't do this again. Never again.

Michael tried to push back against Brian, wondering if he was okay. "Brian? We… can I-"

"Mikey."

"Yeah?"

"Mikey…"

"Brian, what-"

"Oh fuck, Mikey," Brian said, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist, holding him tightly. Michael heard the tiny sniffles and felt the small hint of wetness on his shoulder.

"Brian," Michael murmured, putting his arms over Brian's. The best he could do for a hug. "Brian, it's okay. We're okay. Nothing changes. I'll go home tonight, we'll see each other in the morning. At the diner, just like always. I'll get you to bed and you'll wake up and we'll be fine."

That rocked Brian's world more than the sex did, and probably more than it ever could. Fine? Normal? How could things… how could they after this? Didn't Michael feel it? Were they not just having the same sex? Drugs, it was the drugs…

"Fuck that," Brian said, clearing out his throat, sniffling loudly. He pulled out, leaving the used condom with the mess on the wall. Out in the stairwell. He tucked himself away and yanked Michael's pants back up and pulled him by the arm up the rest of the stairs.

"Brian! Brian, stop," Michael commanded, worried about what was going through his best friend's head. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

They reached the door to Brian's loft and Brian had to let go of Michael to unlock the metal door, yanking it open with one hand as he reached out for Michael with the other. He caught the neck of the t-shirt and pulled forward as Michael stepped away reflexively. There was a loud rip that had them both stop and stare at each other.

Just surrender and it won't hurt at all

Michael moaned, body arched and head thrown back as Brian pushed into him one last time, hard as his hand helped Michael milk out his climax until his own claimed him, muscles tightening and jaw clenched as his body gave up. Shaking, trembling and exhausted he let himself rest on Michael in a slick heap of skin and sweat.

Brian could feel Michael's heart racing and his own pounding through his head, making it hard to breathe. Oh Christ, they could not keep this shit up. Even when Brian wanted things to be 'nice' between them, it got completely fucked up. He used sex as a weapon, a release and a way to get what he wanted. Apparently it would never change.

"Oh god," Michael groaned, body aching. "I can't believe you."

"What?" Brian asked, taking a deep breath to try and control his heartbeat.

Michael chuckled, wiping at his sweating forehead. "You're still hard."

"Hm, so are you, Mikey."

"You're insanely intense, you know that?"

Brian eased himself out and laid back down on Michael. He wasn't willing to let go just yet. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're just… passionate when you want to be," Michael told him, trying to find the words to elaborate.

Brian hummed absently, letting a hand intertwine with one of Michael's. "Really? I thought I was being a dick. I thought, maybe, with you I could…"

"What?"

"Give you what you keep Ben around for."

"Brian, I don't 'keep Ben around'," Michael explained patiently. "I do love him. I want him around. What do you think I 'keep him around' for?"

"It stupid, forget it. We should get dressed."

"C'mon, Brian. You've been pushing me to pick between you two and shutting me out isn't a way to seem more appealing."

"Been working for years now," Brian smiled, sliding over to the side so Michael could breath. The heat was subsiding, finally.

"Asshole, you know what I mean," Michael said, rolling to his side to face Brian. "I'm not going into a pseudo-relationship with you. And if this is how it's going to be, how I'm convinced it would be, then…"

Brian shut his eyes. "Making love."

"What?"

"I thought," Brian started, hesitating as he looked at Michael. "That maybe you're still with Ben, in bed, because you two… make love."

"And we don't?" Michael looked confused.

"Well, I don't mean in that generic nice sense of using it because people can't stand the word 'fuck'," Brian explained, pushing his weight on one arm as he looked down at Michael. "I know there's a difference between fucking, sex and making love."

Michael laughed. "You're right, there is. I assume you have this vision of something nice and slow and sweet, right?"

Brian let himself fall back onto the bed and roll onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Michael saw this as his friend going into something like indifference. Another way to keep himself safe from a million things the world could throw at him.

"It can be, if that what the people involved want," Michael told Brian gently, putting a hand on his arm. "But it doesn't have to be. I just like to know the person I'm with loves me and they don't have to be nice in bed to show it. I don't need candles and rose petals and crap like that. Christ, I don't think I could feel much like a man if it did happen to me. Bad enough I like being on the bottom."

"Mikey, you know-"

"Being on the bottom doesn't make me a woman, I know. You've drilled it in to me since I found out that what I prefer," Michael smiled knowingly. "You call me 'wife' and things like that, but I know it doesn't relate to sex. I know you, Brian. You don't need to keep reassuring me that I don't understand you."

"We're getting off topic," Brian said, trying to get the direction off of him. "So, you don't like the gentle fuss made for… what, the stereotypical version of making love?"

"No, it can be nice sometimes, but like I said, if that's what both people want," Michael explained. "I'm not giving up some romantic hope by never experiencing that with you, Brian. Because we already do that."

"No, I just fucked you into the bed," Brian countered, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Michael sat up and sidled over to Brian, running a hand through his mussed hair. "Is that what you really think?"

"Yeah. What else could it have been?"

"Brian, for someone so well… travelled on the road of sex," Michael snickered. "There are some things you apparently need to learn. Yes, it probably looked like you fucked me sideways, but it didn't feel that way. You're passionate, and despite the things you said, I know why you said them and it adds to it. I know what you feel for me and that's what making love is. Sex is just the need, mechanical almost and fucking is that… well." Michael blushed lightly. "It's that overpowering urge where we don't care, throw caution out the window, almost hurt each other but it just feels so fucking good. It's selfish almost, because it's not that we don't care about the other person, but our needs being fulfilled… is slightly more important."

Brian looked up at Michael. "You could be a better writer than Ben ever will be, you know that?"

"Sure. But right now I think we should clean up." Michael rolled his eyes, making to get off the bed. Brian caught his wrist in a tight grip and looked up at Michael, lips rolled in to a tight line.

You just got time to say your prayers

"Oh Christ," Brian moan, rolling his hips towards Michael's mouth. Somewhere between ripping the shirt at the doorway and fighting each other towards the bedroom, Brian wound up pushed against the kitchen counter, the small of his back was going to have a thin stripe colored black and blue for a week after from the force.

Brian's hands flexed around Michael's head, having the restraint not to pull him to go faster. The pace was an exquisite pleasure that he was not willing to give up. Fuck, when did Michael get so talented?

"God, shit, Mikey," he panted. "Almost… please, Jesus, please…"

Michael finished strong with a twist of his tongue, smiling as he pulled back and licked his lips habitually. Brian was trying to catch his breath above him while the fairly impressive appendage in front of him deflated slightly, but not completely satisfied yet.

"For someone so against religion," Michael said as he got to his feet. "You really like to go through the list of names."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," said Brian absently, letting his head fall back to catch his breath. "God, Christ on a cracker so on and so forth."

"You're insane," Michael laughed.

Brian shook his head. "No, I'm just coming down from, probably, the best fucking blowjob I've had."

"Since Justin, at least."

"Did I say that?"

"No, but I figured-"

"Well, stop 'figuring'," Brian commanded, snapping his head forward. "I don't say what I don't mean. So stop figuring and get on the fucking bed, say your prayers for the night and take off your fucking pants."

Michael lifted an eyebrow, backing away from Brian and pulling his arms behind him to let the shredded shirt fall to the floor. He stepped over it and paused to teasingly hook his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, pushing them down just slightly as they were still open from the hasty put together they had in the stairwell.

Brian was staring openly, pushing off the counter to advance on the smaller man who preceded to cross himself as though getting ready to pray, only he did it by dragging a finger slowly from the top of his chest down to the unruly patch of dark hair peeking out of his jeans and then back up from nipple to nipple, smiling invitingly as he did so. Brian closed in and grabbed the hand in his own, sucking on the first finger slowly. Michael's breath hitched.

"Now I lay me down to sleep," Michael murmured, grinning.

Brian released the finger briefly. "Fuck sleep."

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

"I already have it."

"If I should die before I wake."

"Never when I'm here."

"I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Brian pulled Michael in for a hard kiss. They all knew that prayer, as a child, Brian's mother made him recite it until he was only enough to stop being watched from the doorway by her cold eyes, glass in hand. Still, some night… some night he would get on his knees wishing he wouldn't wake, that something, Lord or otherwise, would take him in his sleep. Until Michael came.

"Get in bed," Brian muttered.

While you're waiting for the hammer to hammer to fall

"I'll say it, if you want," Brian said quietly, tight grip still on Michael's wrist.

Michael smiled. "You don't have to. You never did. I always knew."

"I just… I can't keep this up. Not without getting more in return."

"We could start doing the diner again in the mornings. We haven't done that in awhile-"

"Half a year," Brian elaborated.

"Okay, we haven't done that in half a year. Still think Ted and Emmett would remember us, let alone go?"

"Well, the three of us are usually always there. You disappeared."

Michael sighed. "It's hard, y'know? I don't expect you to understand, but there's just so much legal bullshit to slog through with Hunter that… it might be easier to-" the look on Brian's face changed subtly, but it was caught. "That's not my choice, Brian. Don't do that."

"What?"

"That look."

"Which one?" he asked, releasing Michael's wrist.

"Mm, that one you get where you try to look as empty as possible. It doesn't work."

"Maybe not on you, but everyone else-"

"Everyone else is fucking retarded. And they won't be me. Ever."

"Don't I know it," Brian muttered, rolling to sit up on the edge of his side of the bed, back facing Michael. Michael sat on the opposite end, back facing Brian. Where could they go from here? Michael selfishly kept thinking about Ben and Hunter staying together, letting him start his own new life with Brian, clean slate. Not that he didn't love Hunter, but that would mean a house, Brian getting rid of his Loft… there were so many variables that he was sure Brian wasn't really prepared for. How could the man who acted like a childish teenager more often than not be expected to help take care of one? And with Hunter's status, there was even more worry to go with it. To be a parent, to worry, to set rules, to know that you couldn't go out whenever you wanted to, that you needed to hound him to get up in the mornings and do his school work and talk about colleges to come… Brian wasn't ready for it, he couldn't be. A small child was different. It was an on the job experience, this was almost an adult. Another personality to clash with.

It's gonna fall

While Michael slept, Brian smoked. He thanked whatever it was that Michael was still a heavy sleeper, because his pacing around the Loft, ruffling papers loudly, slamming some books for work research open and shut in frustration. There was a lot to think about… wasn't there? He thought, maybe, if this ever happened between them that the floor under his feet might open up and swallow him whole. The world ending, something equally dramatic and loud. God, he was a drama queen, wasn't he?

But nothing happened. Nothing happened except that last five hours of hard, fast almost nonstop fucking that had started out in the stairwell and continued on into his kitchen and to the bedroom, the shower, back to the bed and, God help him, again in the kitchen we they decided something to drink would be wise. He didn't know what it was, but they tore at each other like men dying of thirst in the desert would at water. For Michael, he rationalized as he stared out the large window into the breaking dawn, it was what he had wanted since they were kids. Finally getting to have what everyone else did. Brian didn't want Michael to just be another number, he deserved so much better.

Brian was there to keep Michael from getting hurt and tonight all he had done was walk him right into a world of pain.

Hammer, you know, hammer to fall

While you're waiting for the hammer to fall

A/N: I want to thank the few reviewers I've had since chapter one, they really are a boost while you're trying to work your way through the next chapter. Now, before you get mad at me because this took forever I just want you to know that I am not lucky with technology. Between the last posting and this my computer got infected and died twice (and I live with two computer dorks that check it out all the time, go figure), luckily, I learned to use a Flash Drive (I'm not retarded, but some of this new fangled techie stuff just goes over my head) so that helped save this nearly 40 pages of work. And let me sneak it into classes to work on!

Stay in school and pay attention kids… don't be like me. Lol

I decided to break more rules here. Their first time being under the influence (which Michael always seemed against), no earth shattering world changing-ness, ect. I decided on the stairwell (in math class) because I've done elevator scenes often enough and a backroom wasn't flying, but I didn't want Babylon either. I wanted them to start somewhere new. I was tempted to take a BDsM direction and decided not to (maybe another time, kids) because I started to wonder why seemingly happily married couples cheat. Not just because they're assholes, but… what if they're missing something? Something so very vital to any relationship? That seemed a little more fun to try and play with.

I was scared that the present time sexing was going to turn into mushy, lovey, smoochie-ness and decided to counter it with their first time and found a way to work both and not have the lovey, smoochie-ness. I think, anyways. If not, you all just got an assload of fucking smut. YAY!

As for the song choice, it's called Hammer To Fall words and music credit go to Brian May and the powerful voice goes to Freddie Mercury, both of Queen. If you don't know them, Christ, I'm old and go pick up a CD. Jebus. Lol Freddie was a party boy for the ages and I think of him fondly. While this song is probably more political than sexual, I was listening to it and misheard the same lyrics that Brian says he used to misinterpret (those are the words I thought they were, which I thought made it perfect lol) and then when I read them… I thought it stilled worked. The anticipation of things to change, the floor opening up to swallow Brian… waiting for that hammer to fall, so to speak. I liked it, I kept it. There might be more Queen in this, I'm not sure yet. But there are so many songs that you can easily relate to these characters as the songs, even about love, are just real. They don't all have happy endings, so to speak. And there's LOADS of innuendo. Lol

Also, I just made prayer sexy.

Feel free to leave a review!

~SL