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A/N: Thank you guys so much for understanding about my worst day ever. Lol I'd get into fun detail, but I'm a moving on kind of person. It happened, it's over, next chapter! I doubt this'll be up soon, but my friend has gone off to the next state over to visit his ex (please don't ask me why) and will be back in a day or two. So, until then, I'm here and writing for you! It's a great distracter for me anyways. Lol Enjoy!
~SL
Chapter Five
The next morning left Brian without a pounding head in time to an unknown beat, thankful the curtains in the room were thick enough to keep it dark. He rolled over, expecting a known weight, for a moment reminded of the morning after Justin's first night at the Loft. Almost expecting to come face to face with the blond. The other side of the bed was empty, save for a note.
Brian-
You didn't trash the room this time. Must've been the real shit. I'm at the gallery, come around whenever, or don't.
-Justin
Brian groaned, letting the paper flutter back to the bed. At least there wasn't an after school special speech about drugs and how bad they are for you. The room was in place, aside from skewed sheet and a glass of water on Brian's side of the bed. Little shit always thought of everything, didn't he? He wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful as the drained the glass. Last night was… he didn't want to think of it.
Instead, he prepared himself to get out of bed. It was a process at this point. Movement hurt his head, his body felt like it had been filled with lead and mouth was gritty and sour. Thinking hurt, blinking hurt… all he wanted to do was lay back down and sleep until it all went away. Unfortunately, he really had to take a leak. That's that had woken him up from his drug induced blackout into sleep. His bladder was so full, it hurt and it was screaming for relief. Brian knew he couldn't ignore it. Even though the room had been comfortably warm before, it felt freezing now, his skin pinching into goosebumps as he threw off the covers. He stood up and his insides lurched weightily as he broke out into a cold sweat.
The morning after always made him feel like he was hit by an eighteen wheeler. Brian shuffled into the bathroom, finding it turned completely upside down. The products he set neatly aside the sink for his morning regime were toppled to the floor or in the sink, his toiletry bag was dumped across the bathroom floor and his cell phone, still flipped open, was sitting on the edge of the vanity counter, just teetering on the edge.
"Really?" Ben asked, looking up from his book in bed.
Michael slipped off his boxers, leaving them in a pile with the rest of his clothes as he climbed into bed. Seeing Justin had been a shock, but talking with him had reminded him of all the good times they eventually had together. He may be an adult now, and it was hard to see him that way, but it wasn't cause to throw out advice from a friend.
"Yeah," Michael nodded, smiling. "You're right, you have to work on your book sometime, and it's never interrupted us before, right?"
Ben grinned, pulling Michael into his arms. "Baby, you have no idea how happy I am."
"Because of the book or me?" Michael teased.
"You," Ben answered, kissing Michael. "You. Always you."
"It'll be good," the smaller man agreed, settling against his husband. "When did you want to go?"
"As soon as we plan it," Ben told Michael earnestly. "I'll start looking between my classes tomorrow."
Michael laughed. "I guess I can search the web at the shop while I wait for customers."
"I love you," Ben sighed, happy about the events.
"Mm, love you too," Michael replied.
Didn't call. Get there okay? Love you was left on the small screen of his phone, Michael's name under it. Fuck, he didn't call Michael when he landed. He always called Michael when he was doing an out of town trip that his best friend knew about. It was just what they did.
Sorry, tired. Late night. Me, too Brian sent back and snapped the phone shut, tossing it back on the counter and stared at it, waiting for it to start ringing. It was later in the… oh, shit, it was the fucking afternoon! Michael would be awake and he would probably call out of need to just make sure Brian was okay… but it sat there, quiet. Brian let out the breath he'd been holding and grabbed a towel off the rack in the bathroom and turned on the shower. It was just weird to think about.
Last night wasn't worth thinking about, he had decided that back in bed. The hot water came on in the shower and Brian tested it with an outstretched hand. Too hot. He turned the nob and took his morning piss in quiet peace. Running water was a great way to get drug blocked kidneys going. He let his head lean back and wondered why his phone hadn't gone off. Did Michael know why he was really here? Probably. Was he going to be angry? Maybe. Thinking about it, and all those stupid rules society liked to enforce on relationships of any kind, Michael had no reason to. Not a leg to stand on to give him shit over this.
Except when Brian thought about the look he would give when he would show up at Woody's next week. Disappointment? Hurt. Definitely hurt. Then he would smile, blow it off because he wasn't supposed to know. Forgiveness and love, booze. There would be a dance later that night at Babylon, maybe they would even-
You can't always get what you want
"Fuck," Brian spat, glad he finished in time. His phone was ringing. Justin. He had been too wrapped up in planning his return and the ringtone scared the crap out of him. Michael had suggested it jokingly after the kid had left for good. They were high, they laughed… Brian still hadn't changed it. He could wait, Brian decided, collecting the travel items he'd packed for shower use. He really needed a fucking shower.
Michael was bored the next day at work. It seemed like so much had happened so fast, being here in the late morning haze of a Monday morning seemed pointless. He tried cleaning and got bored, then he moved on to organizing the comics and then stopped. Eventually, he had nothing left to do but sit behind the counter and click aimlessly for places to go for a weekend. He wasn't really into it since he didn't know when they were going, so he couldn't check availability, where they wanted to go, so he couldn't pick an area, or how much they wanted to spend, so he couldn't pick a type of room. It was more of an annoyance than anything.
He figured Brian would be at work, powering his way through projects and meetings, so he was out. What about Justin? After all, he was visiting and Brian was still working. What the hell else could he be doing right now? He was pretty sure it was the same for Ted and Emmett. Michael highly doubted the blond had gone back out to pick someone up. Weight the options in his head, he closed out the multiple screens between webcomics, new movies and hotels and fished his phone out.
Maybe he could close up for an early lunch? Play it by ear, he decided, dialing the last number he'd had in his phone for Justin. He was fairly positive that the blond hadn't changed the number, otherwise it would've been in an email or something, he was sure.
"Yeah, what?" Brian asked, clearing his throat as he rubbed the towel over his body absently. His ear was pressed into his phone that was resting in the crook of his shoulder. After showering, he'd decided to get back to Justin when he got out.
"Are you coming today, or not?" Justin's voice demanded to know. He sounded a little frantic, but trying to hide it.
"I said I was going to, wasn't I? Shit, can't I even take a fucking shower?" Brian sighed, wandering back into the bedroom to pull clothes out from the small closet. He liked being organized and ready and that meant not leaving all of his clothes in the suitcase to come out wrinkled.
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "I don't know why I put up with you, Kinney."
"You'd be nothing without me, Sunshine," Brian reminded. "That's why."
"Asshole."
"Twat."
"I don't know why you like that word so much," Justin laughed, Brian smiled, pulling out a pair of loose black slacks.
"How formal is this bullshit?" Brian asked, contemplating the wardrobe he had packed.
"You could come in with jeans on, it doesn't matter."
Brian sniffed. "I don't know how you present yourself, but I've got better things to wear than jeans to a gallery."
"Brian," Justin said flatly. "You were wearing jeans to my first exhibit."
"Shut up."
"And the very first time my work was shown? At the Gay and Lesbian Center? You looked like you had just walked in from clubbing."
"Sunshine?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut the fuck up."
Michael left the shop, having called Justin and agreeing to something to eat at the diner. The blond had sounded relieved to have something to do with someone else as it was, which made Michael question why he was even here. It wasn't a holiday it wasn't any special sort of week, was it? Obviously the blond had to know everyone would still be working, especially since both Justin and Brian decided to have the drop in be a surprise.
He had almost walked by the diner, too lost in thought. He backtracked a few steps and opened the door, the crowd inside starting to settle into the afternoon routine. It wasn't hard to notice his mom was working before he even saw her, because a table erupted with a slew of laughter that made Michael turn to them to watch his mother walk away and on to the next table. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. When she noticed him, she waved him over.
"Hey, honey!" Debbie called out, waving at Michael with her order pad. "Got a booth for you right here."
"Hi, Ma," Michael said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek before sitting down.
Debbie cracked her gum before realizing her son was alone. "What's up? You're missing… everyone!"
"Oh, I'm meeting someone here," he said, remembering that Brian had mentioned that Justin was going to surprise Debbie and coax her into a dinner for something.
Debbie laughed. "Y'ain't cheatin' on Ben, are ya?"
Michael felt his stomach pitch, but knew his mother didn't know a goddamn thing. He smiled up at her, shaking his head. "C'mon, Ma. Cut it out."
"Yeah, yeah. You want something, or should I wait?"
"Soda."
Eventually, Brian decided to keep the soft, loose black slacks and paired with matching shoes and a dark blue silk button up with a black casual suit jacket. He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusting his hair just slightly and flashed his reflection a smile.
The gallery was within walking distance, if you lived in New York your whole life, but Brian was feeling much better in comparison to last night. The walk didn't feel like it took that long at all, and it was more fun this way, being able to pick people out from the herds. Gay, queen, ugh diva, straight, straight… Ah, but how many repressed? It was actually a great way to kill time, seeing the looks he got back in return. The hilarious commentary had to be kept to himself though, only turning to the side just once, expecting Michael to be there to talk with. He really needed to stop doing that.
It made for a mental note to call Michael when he was done with Justin for the day. He was seriously considering to cut his losses with this failed attempted (at what, he really wasn't sure) and going home earlier than planned.
When he came to the steps of the gallery, he debated on leaving now, just briefly. The screaming calls from Justin wouldn't help his problems any. More than likely, make them worse. He walked up the steps with a graceful boredom in his step. The inside was cool and overwhelmingly crowded for a late afternoon weekday. Looks like the kid could bring in a crowd, go figure. Brian was making his way to the counter (ticket prices were going up, Christ! That much to look at shit?) when Justin blindsided him from wherever the people were going after they got their tickets.
"Brian, what are you doing?" Justin asked.
Brian rolled his eyes. "I was about to contribute to the arts and go see your exhibit."
"You think I didn't put you on the list once you called me?"
"I figured that was an opening night deal," Brian shrugged.
It was Justin's turn to roll his eyes. "Shut up and come look at it already."
"Sunshine, how long is this going to take? I can't spend my time here until closing," the taller man warned, not wanting to be here all day. He hadn't eaten yet, figuring he could sneak in and out and grab a late lunch or an early dinner.
"Hey, you wanted to go, and I don't have to stay until closing. Just take a look and we can leave," the blond assured him.
Brian tried not to wince. He really wasn't looking for a 'we' when he had wanted to leave. Honestly, he was thinking of heading home tonight, by car if need be. He'd probably given Justin the wrong idea the other night and he wasn't going to humor the blond again, he was resolved in that. Ignoring the fact that he pretty much asked the blond into bed.
"Michael call?" Justin asked.
Every time the bells over the diner door jingle, Michael waited for it. His mother's overexcited shriek that would surely come once she recognized Justin. He debated on calling Justin again, he was about ten minutes later than they said they would. Probably spending too much time in front of the mirror if Brian had rubbed off as much as they all thought.
Michael missed the next person coming into the diner. "Oh, shit! Sunshine!" Debbie cawed, Michael's head snapping up to see Justin smothered by his mother.
"Hey, Debbie!" Justin laughed, trying to pry himself away.
"My little artist came home," she announced, letting go and looking around the diner.
A man at another table snorted. "Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic! Get we get some fucking service?"
Debbie smiled politely. "Of course, honey. You'll have the 'shut the hell up' with a side of 'mind your goddamn manners' cause my baby is home!"
"Deb, c'mon, enough," the blond said, nudging her away from the table. "Is Michael here yet?"
"You're the one he's meeting? That little shit," Debbie snapped. "Michael, why didn't you say something?"
"Ma, last night he said that-"
"Last night?!" She turned on Justin. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"
"I was trying to surprise you?" the blond shrugged, smiling.
Debbie smiled, pulling him into a hug. "Asshole. You surprised me alright. Go! Sit, I'll get you a sundae."
"No, Debbie, seriously," Justin said sitting across from Michael. "I'd like some real food."
Debbie rolled her eyes. "Well, la-de-dah. Can't even get my baby fucking ice cream! Alright, fine. What'll ya have?"
"Waffles, bacon, two scrambled eggs," Justin listed off. "Whole wheat toast with butter and a milkshake. There, that's like ice cream."
"Well, good enough," Debbie scribbled. "You could stand to put on a few, Sunshine. You need to get some protein off a plate, y'know."
"Oh, Christ, Ma," Michael groaned. "Give it a rest. He just got here."
"No he didn't," Debbie said stubbornly. "Because my son didn't even tell me he was here."
Michael rested his head in a hand perched on the table. "Can I just get pancakes, please?"
Debbie gave an annoyed noise in response to her pen scribbling across the pad. "Fine." She leaned over and patted Justin on the cheek. "Baby, your order'll be right out."
"No rush," Justin said, shifting uncomfortably. "Really, it's a full house."
By the time Debbie left, Michael had crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down on top of them. She was ridiculous and it was pointless to get angry at her pouring favor on the 'Prodigal Son' as it were. Chalk it up to lowered expectations, but Michael hadn't expected anything less.
"Didn't think she'd be working today when you suggested here," Justin told Michael, clearing his throat.
"Does it matter?" Michael's muffled voice asked. "You needed to talk to her anyways."
"Well, yeah, but Brian and I were going to-"
Michael looked up. "What the fuck are you two planning?"
Justin looked taken aback. "Nothing. Wow, calm down. We were just going to ask her about a dinner. Shit."
"And then you magically convince me that I should go away with Ben for a weekend."
"You said yes?" Justin asked, smiling. "Michael, that's great!"
"Why?" Michael sighed. "He's bringing his book."
"Because maybe you two just need the time to work things out," the blond offered gently.
Michael looked him over carefully. "And where does that leave you?"
"Um, in New York? You guys wouldn't be leaving this weekend, would you?"
Goddamnit, his mouth got the better of him. Again. Was he really expecting Justin to move back to the Pitts after making a huge name for himself in New York? That was just grasping at straws and even he knew it. He was making something out of nothing.
"No. Why do you care so much about Ben and I?" Michael asked. He had to.
"I haven't known a gay couple that really stuck together… no one that I knew personally," Justin explained. "Long term, sure. People make it a few years… but you two are married. That means something and if you can't make it…"
"Justin, you know you'll find someone," Michael consoled after seeing the look on the young man's face. "It takes time."
"But if you can't make it work, how can I?" Justin blurted out. "I mean, that's marriage. That's forever, not just a year and call it quits. You love Ben, don't you?"
Michael looked shocked. "Well, yeah, but sometimes things just…" He made a falling flat motion with his hands. No real words to describe what he was feeling about Ben, but enough Italian gestures to make up for it.
"But you have to try," Justin said, almost pleading. "Counseling, therapy. There are so many things to help."
"Justin, I know, believe me. I've thought about them all, but that means-"
"Brian."
"I think the main point of getting through a 'relationship crisis' like this is to break if off completely with… the other person," Michael explained.
The blond crossed his arms. "And you can't let him go?"
"What? No! I can stop that any time I want, I know I can," the shorter man said stubbornly. "But he's still my best friend and when I say 'completely' it means completely. Everything. Ben didn't have anything real to keep us apart before… but this? He has every right."
"Lose a friend or save your marriage?" Justin said it like it was the most obvious choice in the world.
"He's not 'just a friend'!" Michael snapped. "I love-"
"Order's up, boys," Debbie interrupted, placing plates in front of them.
"Why are you so interested?" Brian asked, letting his eyes roam over the various works Justin had created. Brian didn't know how to make heads or tails of art to begin with if it wasn't straightforward, like in his line of work. It was a pretty… green color?
"Seems like it should've been something on the front page," Justin said casually.
Brian snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure everyone in the Pitts wanted to know Mikey made it into my bed."
"You'd be surprised," the blond retorted, wandering off to the next large painting on the wall.
Damn the kid, Brian thought. He really picked up all the tricks, didn't he? Brian followed after at a leisure pace. "Wanna tell me what that means?" he asked when he stood next to the blond.
"What what means?"
"Don't be an asshole, what did you mean when you said I'd be surprised."
"Oh, there's been an ongoing… bet, I guess you'd call it," Justin said smoothly, as if commenting on the painting in passing.
Brian rolled his eyes. "A running bet on Liberty Ave that I didn't know about? C'mon, Sunshine, you're leading me on."
"Why would anyone tell you about a bet that was about you?"
"I would've heard something."
"The rest of the world on Liberty Ave can keep their mouths shut," Justin said in his defense.
The taller man chuckled deeply. "Sonny Boy, you've got a lot to learn. No queer can keep their mouth shut, whether for cock or gossip. It's what they live for."
"It's a small place, when people get bored enough, they're willing to stick with it," the blond shrugged.
"Why, though?"
"Everybody's slept with everybody else. It's a chain reaction. Y'know, like six degrees of whatever," Justin said, waving a hand absently. He moved on to the next piece, Brian followed.
"So, what? Six Degrees of Brian Kinney?" the older man asked, unable to help the smile that crossed his face.
The younger man sighed. "More like Six Degrees of Michael. He's actually gotten around more than you know, but it's not even that."
Brian was irked that Justin was talking about Michael like… well, like he was Brian. Michael wasn't like that. Sure, a few people here and there, but did the blond have to make it sound like he'd slept with the entirety of Pittsburg?
"See, that thing you're doing right now?" Justin interrupted. "Stop it. I'm not talking shit about Michael."
"You don't have to make him sound like-"
"Like, what? A human being? We fuck, Brian. We live, we work, we fuck. Michael's no different. He's gotten around. We all have."
"Whatever, can we finish this game?" Brian said, almost petulant at this point.
"I'm saying that a lot of people are curious about that connection to Michael, not you," the blond finished. "He's great to look at, but selective in bed. He's had his share, but not like you. You'd be Liberty Ave's connection to Michael if you two ever slept together."
"So… I'm old news, is what you're saying," Brian sniffed, determined to find something horrible about the artwork now. But he really couldn't. It was nice, but he didn't know enough to snub it.
"Not old news, but even the ones you won't fuck can piece together a fantasy night with you based on talk, no one can do that with Michael. It makes him more interesting."
Brian pondered this in silence. It made sense. There was really no mystery left to Brian except what it would be like in real life to get an invitation into his bed. He used everything to his advantage. Dirty laundry? Didn't exist. But Michael? Michael who almost never went into the backroom, Michael who was rare to bring someone home or be taken home… that could be tempting though. He had to agree with Justin, Michael wasn't bad to look at… not at fucking all. How many people had he ignored watching Michael dance? Or staring at his ass when he left for the bar? How many people went home and wished Michael was with them for the night?
Actually, it was getting Brian a little riled up.
"Have you guys picked somewhere?" Justin asked after a long silence, sure Debbie was busy with other customers.
"No. I have the feeling he's planning it all on his own," Michael said around a mouthful of pancakes. "He didn't let me in on any requirements or dates, so I don't know what to look for."
"You could surprise him by picking something," the blond offered, cutting into the waffles.
"Or I could forget this nonsense and get on with my life!" Michael snapped. "Either way, he wants to do it, he gets to bring his fucking book, he can pick the damn place."
"See, that's what bothers me," Justin said casually.
Michael rolled his eyes. "What now?"
"You're not putting any effort in."
"I said yes, didn't I?"
"And now you're just sitting back for the ride. It's a team effort, Michael."
"I'm letting him bring his fucking book, I think it's more than enough."
"Why don't you just give up?" Justin asked, laying down the fork and knife. He wasn't very hungry anymore.
"And lose everything?" Michael questioned. "With Hunter, the house… everything. We're tied together as it is, do you know how long it would take to untangle it all?"
"Paperwork and years, maybe. Not that long a wait," the blond rationalized.
Michael knotted his hands together after setting his silverware to the side and spoke softly after a pregnant pause. "The adoption papers haven't gone through yet."
"So? You're still foster parents."
"No, Justin, they haven't gone through yet and they probably won't go through if we separate," the smaller man explained, heartbreak clear in his voice. "The odds they'd let two gay men foster a teenager bordering on being a legal adult was slim to begin with. But to fully adopt? It's almost crazy. Now, if the 'parents' are 'divorced'… who would he live with?"
"Well, both of you! It's like… y'know, you each get him…" Justin stopped, thinking about it. Really, the adoption papers had been taking a long time. Was it their sexuality? And single parents had such a hard time to adopt as it was, but a gay single parent?
Michael shook his head. "Ben has no substantial support system. I've got Ma, but that's it. We wouldn't even be considered under normal circumstances."
"You really love Hunter," the blond sympathized. "What about Brian? What does he say?"
"You really think I want to bother him with that? Hunter isn't his," Michael sighed. "He barely wanted Gus, what would he do with a teenager on his way to college? I mean… he'd have to give up the Loft, everything. I couldn't…"
"What if he wants to, Michael?" Justin asked. "Maybe all he's waiting for is for you to ask."
"Privy information?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.
Justin shook his head. "All I'm saying. You're stuck. You don't want to work with Ben and you don't want to work with Brian. Just remember who you made the commitment to."
"When the fuck did you grow up?"
Justin wandered the gallery with Brian trailing behind him, occasionally commenting on one of his paintings or another. He didn't have much to say about them that wasn't complete art bullshit, but Brian has lapsed into thoughtful silence and the blond needed to fill the void in with something. When Brian had turned down going to see the rest of what the gallery had to see, he suggested something to eat.
"Read my mind," Brian replied.
"Rushed out the door?"
"Don't flatter yourself. With you nagging me on the phone, I figured it was best to-" Brian stopped mid sarcastic coated comment to pat down his pockets, then his jacket. He swore loudly, heads turning and quiet murmurs of appreciation went silence.
"You okay?" Justin asked, wondering what Brian was looking for. He bit his tongue as the next thing to come out was him offering to help find it, whatever it was, as long as it meant joining in on the pat down.
"Left my fucking phone at the room. Shit!"
"Expecting a call?" Justin asked, unable to hide a smile.
"Sonny Boy, don't push me," Brian snapped.
Justin shrugged. "Just asking. Wanna head back to the room then?"
"Yeah," Brian said, pulling out his wallet and pushing a few bills into Justin's hand. "Get a pizza on your way."
"Are you kidding me? Brian-"
"Sunshine, don't start," the older man grumbled. "Get the fucking pizza and meet me back at the hotel, alright? I'm starving and I need my fucking phone."
Justin stared at Brian for a minute, who proceed to pull out a cigarette and light it. After tucking the pack and lighter away, he nudged the blond in the opposite direction he was going and walked away. After turning the corner, he grabbed a cab back to the hotel. The cabbie tried yelling at him to put the cigarette out, but he did that in his own time. Fuck him, he needed a smoke. Brian tipped the guy extra for it before going into the hotel and waiting impatiently in the elevator. It didn't hit the floor soon enough and he cursed at the door until it opened, scaring the living shit out of the young woman looking to board the lift as Brian dashed off it and down the hall to his room.
The phone lay on his bed, the little light at the top blinking red. New voicemail.
"Fuck me," Brian groaned.
"Oh, Sunshine, that sounds like a wonderful idea!" Debbie exclaimed, throwing her arms over her head. "Oh, you and Brian, Teddy and Em, Michael and Ben… oh, shit. Carl better be ready to move some shit around this weekend."
Justin laughed. "Don't work too hard at it. Just us, y'know?"
"What did you want everyone together for, anyways?" Debbie asked, snapping her gum on one side of her mouth.
"He won't tell anyone," Michael said flatly. "I think Brian knows."
Debbie's eyes lit up at the mention of Brian. Justin and Brian were planning this? That would explain the blond here out of the blue. She couldn't contain the grin she had and was congratulating Justin before she knew.
"Kid, I knew you could break him with enough time," she said. "After that whole wedding thing… well, I knew you two had to be made for each other. No one goes through that without a reason."
Justin shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Michael. "Yeah, Deb. Sure. So, Saturday then?"
"Sunshine, I'd do it tomorrow if you wanted!"
"Tomorrow," Brian snapped into the phone.
Cynthia's voice rang back irritated. "Brian, that's a rush! I don't think I could-"
"Then get me a fucking car, Cynthia. Now!"
"I take it things didn't go so well with Justin, then," she threw back, annoyed.
"Who signs your checks?"
"Brian, don't pull the boss routine on me."
"Then do what I'm telling you to!"
"I'm telling you it's near impossible! The only thing I'm finding is-"
"Book it," Brian demanded. "I don't care, just book the fucking flight and email me the info."
"It's for the day after tomorrow, can you handle that?"
"Fuck! Cynthia, didn't I just say tomorrow?"
"Too late, you had me book it," Cynthia said snidely. "I'm emailing it now. So, gonna tell me what happened with Justin?"
"Absolutely nothing," Brian told her firmly.
"Sorry to hear."
"Don't be. I'm not."
"Then why did you-"
"Are you my mother?"
"No, but I-"
"Would you happen to be anyone I associate with outside of work?"
"Alright, Brian. Enough. I was just asking," Cynthia snapped. "I always liked Justin."
"You can have him," Brian said, rubbing his temple. "I just want to get home. Any messages or impending doom of projects?"
"No impending doom, but Michael called," she drawled. Brian could hear the flutter of paper in the background. "Said he didn't want to bother you and let you have the message when you got back."
"What did he say?"
"You're not back yet."
"Don't make me put a want ad in the paper, Cynthia."
"You couldn't find anyone else to put up with your shit, Kinney."
Brian thought about this. True. "What did Michael say?"
Cynthia hummed on the other end of the line, more papers ruffled. "Just wanted to let you know that he and Ben were taking Hunter to go see a few schools in state. He wouldn't be here when you got back and didn't want you to worry, so you don't have to call him."
"Shit," Brian muttered. "Isn't it early for the homo that was to be looking at schools?"
"He's in his junior year, Brian," Cynthia reminded him. How did she know this shit? "It's the best time to look at places."
Brian sighed. That explained the voicemail anyways. Michael just, not wanting to interrupt anything of course (he knew. Brian was sure that he knew), let him know he left a message with Cynthia, for when he got back. Hoped everything was going great! (oh, god, he knew everything, even last night) And try not to be an ass to the client, had to treat him like he was special if Brian wanted him to stick around… with the company, of course.
"Alright, you emailed me the flight info, right?" he asked, pacing the room.
"Unless the internet broke the minute I clicked, it should be in your inbox."
"You're a smartass."
"You wouldn't have me any other way, Brian," Cynthia informed him firmly. A knock sounded at the door.
"Mother fucker," Brian groaned. "I gotta go. Thanks."
"Tell Justin I said hi!" Cynthia voiced before the line went dead.
Michael and Justin left the diner, Justin with a baggie of lemon bars and Michael with a headache. Saturday was the dinner, between then and now, he had to work out a weekend with Ben. Between planning the weekend with Ben and the dinner on Saturday, he had to spend time with everyone and play nice and act like he and Brian weren't sleeping together. That's why he stopped going out, really. It was hard and so much effort to keep so many lies in place. Things to explain the difference he knew some of their closest friends might pick up on, planning ahead with Brian and keeping all the stories straight.
"I noticed you didn't tell Ma you weren't planning anything with Brian," Michael sighed as they walked down the street.
Justin shrugged. "Why bother?"
"Cause it's a lie. To my mom."
"Don't be a hypocrite, Michael."
"Don't talk to me like I'm younger than you, Boy Wonder."
They plodded down the street in silence, the bag in Justin's hand crinkling as he opened it, pulling out a lemon bar. He offered the bag silently to Michael, who raised a hand in a 'no thanks' gesture. When they got to Red Cape, Michael looked back, inviting Justin in.
"It's weird to be back here," the blond commented, finally breaking the silence.
Michael shrugged. "Still nothing special."
"Are you kidding me?" Justin asked, setting the bag on the counter. "This is where Rage happened, Michael."
"And where it ended."
"What crawled up your ass and died?"
Michael rifled through some comics in a bin. "It's just been a hard week or two, okay? Not all of us get to waltz in and out of here on a fucking whim."
"You're taking a vacation, too," Justin retorted.
"That fixes nothing!"
"Because you won't let it," the blond snapped. "You're already assuming it's going to be shit. Why? Because Ben's bringing his book? Well, you know what? Make him forget the fucking book, Michael."
Michael was tired of unasked for advice from Justin. Why should he take romantic advice from the kid who freakin' stalked Brian? Then again, hadn't he done the same thing only with Brian in the position Michael had put Ben in?
"Justin?" Michael asked, looking up from the bins of comics.
"Yeah?" Justin had wandered over to the figurines.
"When you were with that kid behind Brian's back-"
"Ethan."
"Yeah. Ethan. When you were with him… well, what made you pick him over Brian?"
"Michael, I want to help you, but the situations are different," the blond said stoically, not wanting to dwell on past mistakes.
Michael went to sit behind the counter, opening up the internet on the computer, annoyed. "I don't see how. I'm cheating, you cheated. I'm in a relationship, you were at the time, too. What's different?"
"Brian."
"Boy Wonder, I doubt Brian is any different."
"You haven't been paying any attention at all, have you?" Justin asked, facing Michael who was peering into the bag of lemon bars.
"Everyone keeps fucking telling me that!" Michael sat up, irritated as he pulled a lemon bar from the bag.
"I really didn't know you could be that selfish, Michael," the younger man said in earnest disbelief.
"Prick," Michael muttered, trailing behind Hunter and Ben as they walked the grounds of another campus. This was boring and all he could think about was Brian. Brian ditching out on the comic convention and going to New York to see Justin.
It was pretty obvious where Michael stood. He had to wonder if the trips were an ongoing thing, if this wasn't the first time. Of course, Brian had the habit of disappearing, but Michael never pestered. It never seemed to… matter before. Shit, it shouldn't even matter now.
Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he tried not to be annoyed as Ben explained where they were, what the school was best for and on and on. Michael hated school. Even stepping foot on a campus had him breaking out in goosebumps from memories past. The stress, the social fear, being lost in a crowd…
How had Brian enjoy- Oh fuck, not him again. His phone hadn't even rung in the last two days. Why is it that, no matter what, Michael would call Brian even if he said not to, but Brian would always do what Michael said and not call… even when he wanted him to?
"Baby?" Ben called, Michael looked up and smiled. "Keep up, babe. We're gonna go meet up with my friend now, he'll take Hunter around from there."
Michael picked up the pace and came to Ben's side. An arm wrapped around the shorter man's shoulder, holding him close. "So, Joe's gonna take Hunter for awhile and I figure we could head back to the room," Ben murmured.
Oh, shit. Not this again. Michael was too irritated to be in the mood, but… he hadn't slept with Ben in a week. So many excuses. Early days, late night, sporadic deliveries… it was a never ending cycle of lies. But now they had taken some random time off, a culmination of days they decided they could work out. Michael had known about the trip before hand, the comic convention was going to be a weekend out with Brian before it. But he was too busy.
"Yo, are we going or do I have to wait for you two to finish back there?" Hunter called out, startling them both.
"Keep your pants on!" Michael called out, rolling his eyes.
"I can't wait to get yours off," Ben said, voice low.
Michael sulked in the comic shop after Justin left (it was better than he did), but he'd left the lemon bars by mistake. Michael didn't really want them and they weren't his to give away, so he tucked them under the counter. Justin had given him the name of the hotel he was staying at and it really was only a few blocks from Liberty Ave, so it wouldn't be a long walk at night when he closed up. Anything to prolong going home.
He moped around the shop, ringing up the few customers that bustled in on late Monday afternoons. Mostly school kids that did a few extra chores on the weekends for a little extra cash for their comics. The busiest days were Friday's though. That seemed to be allowance day, and from the occasional long time customers like Michael had been and the avid collector, this business was sort of a dying trade. Michael flipped through some order catalogues, debating on bringing some of that Japanese shit into the store. They weren't really comics if you asked him, but they did have a large collection of gay stuff… 'yaoi' they called it. Might be interesting.
When five rolled around, Michael cleaned up, cleared up the register and locked everything up for the night, taking the bag of lemon bars with him. There were a few missing (he was an eater for all occasions. Worry, anger, annoyance… It was an Italian thing) but enough to drop off to Justin. They hadn't left on bad terms, per se, but both men had done worse to each other. Arguing over their infidelities and the effects of them wasn't the worst.
Michael just didn't understand how Brian could find Justin so useful for talking to. It felt like talking to a brick wall most of the time. No one seemed to be able to understand his frustrations. Was he being selfish? Leaving himself in this state of in between where both sides worked in his favor just to keep it? Was a choice really so hard to make? Sure, he could put it on Hunter, but was that really the case?
His thoughts kept him occupied until he came across the hotel. Nothing fancy, more like borderline motel when he assumed Justin's tastes. But the blond had probably sacrificed comfort for location. He wanted to be close to the action of Liberty Ave-
Oh. What was stopping Justin from having a 'guest' over right now? Actually, how did Michael even know he was here? It was still early in the evening, and a weekday, but still… the bars were open.
Well, take a shot and leave the bag at the desk, Michael decided. He walked in, things were remotely clean and extremely dead in the place. The guy behind the desk seemed intent on staring off into space. Michael was actually tempted to snap his fingers in front of the guy's face to get his attention, but he looked up. And just stared.
Well, the people who worked here could use an attitude adjustment, Michael thought. "Yeah, I was wonder if you could tell me what room Justin Taylor is in?"
"What for?" The guy asked, as if Michael was intruding on his time.
Michael held up the bag. "Old friend. Brought him a snack."
"He expecting you?"
"Yeah." Christ, this is what they considered security?
"Room 212. Elevator is around the corner," the guy said, pointing obscurely around the corner. Michael waved a hand at him and pushed the button to the elevator to get up to the second floor. It smelled a little musty, but that was easy to ignore, the slow grind of gears in the lift made him nervous, though. There was a whoosh of air that escaped him when the lift locked when it hit the second floor and the doors opened.
He instantly felt the need to be quiet, the muffled sounds of the carpeted hallway making him feel like an intruder in the place. There was no reason for him to feel that way, but he did. Michael's steps were muffled on the thick carpeting as he counted the numbers on down the hall until he found 212.
"That's it?!" Justin's voice came through the thin door as Michael approached it. He paused, wrestling with himself to listen in. But… what would he do? Go wait downstairs? Justin was probably on the phone or something.
"Can we not do this now?" A second voice asked, loud and clear. Justin did have company over.
"You're just ending this now? Giving up, the end! What about Saturday?" the blond's voice rang out, accusing.
"Why the fuck did you go and make the plans? I fucking told you we would do it together!" the other man snapped.
"Fuck you, I was there with Michael and Deb just happened to be there!"
"Oh, I'm sure he felt great about himself after that run in."
"Don't you put this on me. It's not my fault that she-"
"Sunshine, she worships the fucking ground you come on and you know it."
"It's nice to know someone else can fucking see it," Michael announced to the door loudly. The voices and rustling noises stopped immediately. Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's me."
Justin swung the door open, looking shocked. "Mike, what are you-"
The bag of lemon bars were shoved against the younger man's chest. "You left these at the store and I was looking to kill time before going home." He peered around Justin's body. Brian was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like he came straight from work, tie loosened around his neck, hair mussed and shirt almost unbuttoned. "Figured."
"Well, don't just stand there, Sonny Boy," Brian said loudly, shaking Justin out of his shock with his condescending manner. "Be polite and ask him in. Sorry, Mikey, you know he needs work on his manners."
"I'm not staying," Michael said stubbornly, shaking his head.
Brian got off the bed, leaning in the doorframe next to Justin, smiling down at Michael. "C'mon, Mikey, we were just talking about you."
"And how pathetic I am, I'm sure," the shorter man said gruffly, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. "Anyways, I just wanted to drop those off. You two… have fun."
Michael turned and started to walk away. "Wait!"
Justin had pushed the half empty bag into Brian, who held it automatically. The blond was coming down the hall to meet him. Michael stopped him with a raised hand, taking an obvious breath to keep his mouth and temper in check as Justin deflated, keeping his distance.
"Justin, whatever. Okay? You two… just whatever," Michael fumbled, lowering his hand. "I'll tell Ma you two are calling the dinner off, but it's up to you to tell her why. I don't even want to know what's been going on."
"Mikey-"
"No, Brian," Michael cut off. "Fuck it, right? I've got Ben."
Justin looked back at Brian hanging in the doorway and then back at Michael. "You're going away for the weekend, aren't you?" Brian asked, but he already knew the answer. The Weekend.
"Yeah," Michael laughed. "Boy Wonder really wants me to make a go of my marriage. Who would've thought?"
Justin cringed. It sounded as bad as he thought it would, especially in this position they had all found themselves in.
Brian snorted. "Ah, we all knew deep down, no matter how he acted, Justin would always keep us apart, wouldn't he?"
Michael and Justin stared at Brian in complete shock. Brian had set the bag down somewhere in the room nearby, buttoned up his shirt slowly, leaving the two other men gaping and straightened his tie securely around his neck. He tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket, combed a hand through his hair and stepped into the hallway. He looked at Justin and then Michael.
"Brian, what the fuck are you talking about?" Justin demanded when he found his voice.
The taller man wrapped an arm around Justin's shoulders, pulling him close. "Come now, Sunshine, why keep Mikey out of the loop? He's going with Ben, we don't need the dinner to tell everyone now."
"Are you shitting me?" Michael asked, incredulous, eyes on Brian alone, missing the complete look of confused horror on Justin's face. "I… I thought, but…"
Brian released Justin from his grip, smile falling. "No, Michael. It's not what you've been thinking and fuck you." The taller man breeze by and Michael thought his exit would be stalled by waiting for the elevator, but as usually Brian had disappeared down the short extension of the hallway that led to the ice machine… and the stairs.
"Michael," Ben sighed, and paused, realizing he wasn't going to make headway with this line. "Baby. Is something wrong?"
Michael sat on the edge of the bed, stripped down to his boxer briefs, hunched forward. They had gotten back to the room, leaving Hunter in Joe's capable hands (who the fuck was Joe, Michael wanted to know), Ben trying to keep a playful mood going the whole way back. It was rubbing Michael the wrong way. When they had entered the room, Michael had dutifully slipped off his shoes, socks, shucked the light jacket he had worn and peeled off his shirt, sitting on the bed to take his pants off.
Ben had watched the entire ordeal in silence, twirling the silver ring on his left hand nervously. Things had just been so fucking awkward, Ben didn't know how to approach it. Where they used to relish every moment alone to be together, especially with Hunter around, Michael was now avoiding him. He wondered if maybe it was just a bad week, they happened sometimes. Nothing went right, forgotten shipments coming in or…
Christ, Ben knew it wasn't that. You could only have so many deliveries in a week, and with a store that small, there wasn't that much upkeep. Logically, this all made sense, but without that logic, Ben could keep pretending his husband wasn't acting like he was on the verge of… the end. Like his world was about to crack.
"I'm just tired," Michael said. His shoulder shook just slightly. He was giggling, thinking that for a moment he had been going to say 'I have a headache'.
Ben pushed his glasses up slightly. "Baby… I hate to say it, but you've been acting… well, not yourself."
"I'm just annoyed, then, I guess would be better."
"Why?"
Michael couldn't stop himself before the name escaped his lips. "Brian."
He heard Ben heave a sigh before he had finished saying the name. What else interrupted their lives more than Brian? If you asked Ben, nothing. Forget that he's buried in papers and books most of the time, or spending every hour he could guiltlessly squeeze out of his day writing and holing himself up in his office at work. Not to mention the workout regimes that had him leave before the crack of dawn in the mornings and, more often than not, ate up every weekend. Why was Brian the only problem Ben could ever see?
"Michael, what will it take to get rid of him?" Ben asked, voice heavy with annoyance, like they did this every day.
"I don't want to get rid of him!" Michael snapped, looking over his shoulder to give Ben a scathing look.
"Then you need to find a goddamn balance!" Ben commanded, raising his voice. "When he fucks up, I don't get my husband. Hell, when he doesn't fuck up I still don't have a husband!"
Michael flopped to his side on the bed, curling up. "Don't start this shit again, Ben. I love you, I married you, I'm here."
"Do you even want to be anymore? Because all your time is spent with Brian. And if it's not with him, it's thinking about him or whatever happened with you two this time."
"Real easy to say when it only affects you when you're fucking home," Michael said, defeated already.
"I have work, Michael!"
"And I don't? But you don't have-" Michael stopped himself, rolling onto his stomach. "Can we just drop it? We've got a few more days of this, I'd like it to be on good terms."
Ben crossed his arms over his broad chest. He was right. They had two more schools to look at before they'd be back home, did he really want to spend it fighting? Wasn't there enough of that at home? Ben went to sit on the opposite side of the bed, turning to face Michael who eyed him warily from the crook of his arm.
"Okay," Ben said, taking his glasses off and setting them on the table next to the bed. "Maybe I have some problems dealing with Brian."
Michael snorted. "Understatement of the year."
"Michael, please," the larger man side. "I'm trying to meet you halfway. But for the last week or so you've just been… everywhere but here."
"Things've been busy," Michael muttered, pushing his face into the pillow. Sleeping with Ben just… didn't seem right after being with Brian. How did people get over this? Admitting it would mean leaving Brian completely, no excuses left.
Ben reclined into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Baby, if there's something wrong, could you just try and tell me? I won't snap, I promise."
"What… the fuck just happened?" Michael asked, still staring in the direction Brian had walked off in.
Justin sighed. "You weren't… Michael, I don't know if I should help you anymore. I think I fucked everything up enough."
"What?" the shorter man asked. "Was it never supposed to cross my mind that two ex-lovers just might get back together?!"
The blond shook his head. "No… but you were supposed to trust him. You were the only one that ever did."
Justin was right. Michael knew he was, but it never crossed his mind that he was… the he disappointed Brian. They were… Fuck! This was too hard. Honestly, Michael just wanted to tuck his tail between his legs, go home and forget this happened. Watching Brian's face when he walked by had left Michael feeling like he needed to crawl back to his best friend and apologize profusely. He felt like he ruined what made them… them. The Brian and Mikey show. Dynamic Duo. Them against the world!
But to do that… they had relied on a strong, if seemingly unequal balance, between them over the years. Michael backed Brian up at every turn, even when Brian shut him out. Brian pushed Michael forward, even when Michael wanted to hang on forever. There was a subtlety to them and how they worked that made it interesting to watch. No one could say how they lived was right or wrong… it just was. They might've made bad decisions in their lives, but they made them together, supporting each other and never questioning what the other was doing. They never needed to, because the one thing they had, the one thing Michael didn't give to Brian this time, was a completely loyal sense of trust that both of them thought would always be there.
And Michael just broke it.
Ben was offering him the chance to come clean. He was sitting there making himself open to let Michael tell him everything. He could spill it and then they could work on fixing things, couldn't they? After all, Ben had that 'almost' cheat with that college kid. Maybe he'd get a free pass, so to speak. The idea was tempting, even forgetting the fear of having to lose Brian completely.
"He went to New York," Michael confessed. Last minute, thinking about Brian not being there anymore scared him too much.
"That's it?" Ben asked, thick lines furrowing his brow. "Michael, what the hell-"
"You said you wouldn't snap," Michael cut him off. "But he left the day we were supposed to go to the comic convention."
"It's a comic convention, baby," the larger man replied with a sigh that indicated an unspoken 'get over it'.
"Justin has his first big show in New York this month," Michael said sourly.
Ben realized what it was about now. It aggravated him, of course, but he had to understand Michael's position as best he could. That was his best friend who ditched him to run off with his ex. Nothing in the world could make that right for Michael and Ben knew it. It really didn't explain the lack of affection, but it explained Michael's mood now and that's what he had to work on. At least, he thought so. Michael just wanted to be left alone.
He slipped off his shoes and went to pull Michael up, cradling him awkwardly. Michael reluctantly accepted being held. He didn't want to be coddled right now. This was not a private moment to share with his husband and this all felt wrong. He didn't care Brian went to see Justin, honestly, Brian could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Michael just didn't want to be left for Justin. And after what they did? Did Brian have any reason to stay?
Brian headed straight for a bar after leaving Michael and Justin to air dirty laundry in the middle of a hotel hallway. This day had not gone as planned and Brian thought the best way to end it was finding his way home too drunk to count, let alone recite the ABC's. It was a hole in the wall place off of Liberty Ave, not the smoky jock bar his father used to frequent, it was just old, forgotten and for the love of God, quiet. He had found himself here more often than not while playing this stupid fucking game with Michael.
That's what it was, a goddamn game. He didn't like being fucked around with by Justin, and from Michael? Looking back on everything, having it tainted with the rage he was feeling towards his best friend, it wasn't a pretty picture. Whoever said actions spoke louder than words needed to be shot. Once… once Brian used to swear that he and Michael could've lived by that. It didn't matter what they said, it was what they did for each other that had mattered. Michael could've yelled at him when they were kids until he was on the verge of an asthma attack and that wouldn't phase Brian, but when Michael looked at him. Disappointment, hurt, the unable to answer question of 'why?'… Brian couldn't take it. His heart would break and he knew what a shit he'd been.
Brian set himself up at the bar, throwing the bartender a careless hand motion, indicating he wanted something and he didn't give a fuck what it was.
The bartender set a beer down in front of Brian. "Here a little early, aintcha, Boss?"
"Bad day," Brian muttered.
"Well, ain't no one else here," the bartender – Brian recalled his name now, Jim, that was it – offered. He was a large man, ruddy complexion and a hairline receding so far back, it didn't exist anymore. Jim was in a grungy grey t-shirt and who knows what below Brian's line of sight under the bar, but he was good man. Worked hard, knew when to talk, knew when to shut up. A bartender Brian liked.
Brian took a long drink from his beer. "You don't need me ruining your peace and quiet, do you?"
"Boss, I seen you come in here for months straight way back when," Jim said casually, leaning on the bar top with one beefy arm. "Too shitfaced to talk, let alone get home. I keep saying to m'self 'Imma talk to that guy. One day, 'fore he breaks.' You look like I mighta caughtcha just in time."
"Maybe I'm an alcoholic in and out of rehab," Brian grumbled, desperately wanting to avoid conversation.
Jim snorted. "Yeah, and I gotta mansion hidden in the back. Wanna see? You ain't no dummy, Boss. You know when to put down the drink, you just overdo it when thinkin' gets hard."
"You married, Jim?" Brian asked, if nothing else to stop hearing about his own flaws.
Jim chuckled. "Nah. Got the old lady at home and happy, but we didn't need none a that bullshit. We knew what we had."
"She your best friend?"
"One and only," Jim said with a nod. "We never been happier than the day we found out, no matter what happened, we'd be t'gether."
Brian spent a long time staring at his beer before he drained it empty in one shot. Jim set him up with another, clearing the empty bottle. He'd known types like Brian, in and out, mood swings. Came from worrying yourself raw, as Jim's mom would've said. Guy looked like he'd had a bad fucking life, if you asked Jim.
"How long you known her?" Brian questioned in between long drinks from his beer. He had to remember the goal: Get drunk.
Jim smiled. "Since we was kids. Lived right next door all our lives. Didn't have th'balls to ask her out 'til high school."
Brian felt the corners of his lips pull up. "Friends before that, though?"
"Can't live next to someone yer whole life an' not be," the bartender replied gruffly. "Whatcha getting' at, Boss? I could tell you my life story, but I think I asked you first."
"Gotta problem with faggots, Jim?" Brian asked abruptly, tempting fate.
"What you do ain't my business," Jim told Brian solemnly. "'Sides, that shit's been around for years. Ain't gonna go away now."
Brian barked out a laugh as he finished the second beer. Jim set him up with another one just as smoothly as before. "Damn fucking straight."
Jim chortled. "Now, you try gettin' a chick ta let you in that way… well, you'd be a better man than me."
If the position wasn't already taken, Brian might've made this his favorite bar. Despite the dark atmosphere, low radio tunes flowing in on an old beat up stereo on the self behind the bar and the utter lack of people more often than not, the place was clean, quiet and he never had problems in here.
"So, Boss, what's up?"
"Best friends since we were fourteen," Brian sighed, twirling the bottle on the bar by the long neck. "I don't know why. I don't think I'll ever know why. He was a dork. Comics, cartoons, scrawny looking… he screamed dork, Jim." Brian smiled faintly "But he held on to me like I was gonna drown without him."
"Were you?" Jim asked, curious.
Brian pondered the question in silence. "Yeah… I think I was. He was sent along to rescue me."
"Did a good job."
"I think so," Brian agreed, finally taking up the bottle to drink. He set it back down with a light 'clack'. "He loved me. He loved all of me. Not just the pretty part, or just the smart part, or the part that was good in bed… all of it. He loved me so much… it fucking hurt. And I screwed up a lot."
"We all do," Jim sympathized. "Kids do stupid shit. Ain't a big deal looking back on it."
"You've never seen his face," he countered, taking another drink. "I think it killed him a little every time I fucked up, no matter what it was. But he always came back and loved me more than ever. You know how fucking scary that is?"
Jim knew there was no point in actually answering the question, he just nodded absently.
"I didn't wanna ruin it," Brian muttered, toying with the bottle again. "I was a shit, I still am a shit. I fucked everything, I don't know why. The experience, the rush. New people, new places. In and out and it's a good time for everyone. Started to be a game after awhile." Brian laughed "I think I even made a list of things to accomplish, y'know, sexually. Kept a tally runnin'."
"But not him," the bartender said aloud, realizing what Brian was trying to say. "Didn't wanna ruin 'im."
"Drag him down the way I was?" Brian asked absently, shaking his head. "Couldn't do it. Never. We were too young for me to stay in one place like that."
One more bottle down and the fourth appeared like magic in Jim's capable hands. "So, what? Hitcha over the head jus' now that you want 'im?" Jim had turned his back after serving Brian again to fiddle with the radio. Static burst forth and the low hum of an announcer's voice came on. Jim paused hand on the dial before deciding this was good enough.
Brian lolled his head to one side. "I wish."
The announcer's voice faded out at the introduction of the next song. Brian groaned as Jim raised the volume just a notched to hear the music a little better.
It started off so well
They said we made a perfect pair
Ben placed a kiss on Michael temple. They hadn't done much but cuddle together in the few hours before they had to get Hunter. The plan had been to get Hunter, go out to dinner with Joe (still, who the fuck was Joe? Michael never got an answer, not a real one. 'Just a friend from way back' Ben told him) sleep in and get started on their way to the next school. Michael just wanted to stay in bed. Ben allowed him that much, at least, letting Michael eventually squirm away and bury himself under the sheets.
It felt suffocating to Michael, to have someone else around him when this man didn't know a goddamn thing about him. The way his mom adored him now, how much his friends liked him… how Brian kept pushing him towards Ben. That was the worst, Michael thought. That Brian continually had that faith that Ben was what Michael wanted, he would be able to get it. And he did… but now what?
"Baby, I'm gonna go get Hunter, you okay here?" Ben asked softly.
"Yeah… I'd like to go with you guys to dinner, but…" Michael trailed off.
"I'll bring you something back," his husband said decisively, placing another kiss to his temple.
"Thanks."
Ben slipped his shoes back on after he sat up. There wasn't really room to argue in this situation. Michael was as stubborn as Debbie on some things. Usually Brian and when he didn't want to do something. He wouldn't've been able to get his husband out of bed for anything short of his best friend's triumphant return. He shut the door quietly behind him, already deciding on telling Hunter that Michael was tired from the drive and being around all day. He would understand.
Once Ben left, Michael sat up in bed, leaning over to grab his jeans off the floor to get his phone out of the back pocket. He couldn't help it, he just had to check. His phone remained blank save for the picture of JR on the screen. Sighing, he set the phone on the side table nearest him and laid back down. Why was he hooked on this man?
For all Michael was worth, love couldn't blind him. He wasn't unaware of Brian's faults (the many of them that there were), in fact, Michael loved Brian all the more for his faults. He didn't pretend they didn't exist, he flaunted them. He was good looking, almost perfect at first glance. A crooked tooth was revealed under that, a doing of Jack's once upon a time. He was well maintained, but not built like Ben, stretching his shirts to the seams when he did the simplest of tasks. Brian had the attitude, but he could still come pounding on Michael's door in the middle of the night.
There were simple things that people might think brought them together. Both lonely separated kids in school, the opposites attracting theory… none of it matter. There was a simple, easy give and take between them that they had never had to work at, and that's why they worked. Brian hated, Michael loved. He loved Brian so much that it didn't feel like those words actually fit it. He knew how Brian felt about him, it was simpler, plainer love without the dustings of other feelings in the way, like Michael had. But he wished, he wished it was different. Especially after being put in this position. Brian was just someone who was in constant turmoil, surprisingly, the smallest things would eat at him where no one could see it but Michael, but sometimes… sometimes Michael felt like he was left in the lurch. He didn't need anything given back, but the occasional bit of consideration, a call, fair warning. Those things are nice sometimes.
You take the good with the bad, Michael rationalized. He didn't begrudge Brian for it, he didn't know better, really. Once they had formed the lifelong friendship so long ago, Brian had held on to Michael like he would never let go no matter what. And he hadn't. They always had someone to pick them up when they fell, to cry on, to help each other grow up. It may have been a fucked up childhood, but they wouldn't've changed it if it meant never getting to have each other.
I clothe myself in your glory and your love
How I loved you,
"So, what's the problem, Boss?" Jim asked, pulling up a seat behind the bar. "Y'know whatcha got."
Brian grimaced. "He's married."
"Shit!" Jim exclaimed. "You c'n do that here?"
"No, no," Brian shook his head. "They got hitched in Canada, doesn't mean shit here, but they're standing it by it… mostly."
"Bet ya played best man," the bartender guessed. Brian nodded. "Didn't speak up?"
"His mother threatened my balls. I was gonna," he sulked, finishing his beer. "Whisky this time, Jim."
"What were you gonna say?"
Brian laughed as Jim got out a glass and poured. "I don't have a damn clue. Anything to stop it, disrupt it. It was a spur of the moment wedding. Not a lot of time to plan ahead to get the guy in the end."
Jim shook his head and slid the glass towards Brian. "Never works like th' movies, Boss."
"Fuck no it doesn't," he agreed, tipping his head back to drain the glass. His eyes watered and he cleared his throat roughly. "No it fucking doesn't. So they got married, watched my best friend marry this guy I fucked years ago."
"No shit?" Jim asked, pouring another slosh of whisky in the glass. "Small fucking world."
"Literally," Brian chuckled. "Didn't like him then, don't like him now. He was… he was me, if I partied that hard. I like goin' out. I like drinkin' and I like the drugs. I fuck, but I'm safe. Tested every six months, clean bill all the time. He put me to shame with half the shit he was loaded up on and all the men he was running through at the time."
"Why'd ya let him get the guy?"
Brian swallowed his drink, clearing his throat again. "Didn't. They found each other, turns out the guy's HIV Positive now-"
"AIDS?" Jim asked, startled.
"Nah, it's like… the step below AIDS," Brian gestured with hand, raising it up and then lowering it. "It's still pretty fucking bad, though. When we found out, I told him. I told my friend to fuck him and forget him. I didn't even want him to fuck him! It's too scary to even think about if he… if he got it."
Jim nodded quietly and Brian continued. "He couldn't do it in the end. Went together for awhile, but my friend just couldn't do it, so they ended things. I figured we were in the clear, but I dunno… maybe he thought this guy was his best shot, cause he worked so fucking hard to get him back." Brian slid the empty glass towards Jim, who poured easily. "Karaoke! If you can fucking believe it, he got up on stage after dragging the guy to the bar and sang horribly to him in front of the entire crowd."
Brian's shoulders started to shake as he let himself curl over the refilled glass. Fuck. He hadn't been waiting for any of the alcohol to hit, like a fucking sane person would, it was just one after the other. And it all felt like it just exploded into his system at once. The mixture of beer and whisky didn't upset him as much as thinking he was going to be piss ass drunk and talking about Michael. Mikey. Fuck.
A tear escaped silently, unable to control it, as it slid down the side of Brian's face. A twin from his other eye followed close behind. Motherfucker.
How I cried
The years of care and loyalty
What if Brian didn't come back? What if he and Justin got their happily ever after? Where did that leave him, the best friend? He couldn't trail behind all the way in New York. Phone calls, email? None of that shit worked when he left for Portland, why would it work if Brian went to New York? He'd finally get his dream though, making it big in the Big Apple.
"Fuck you, Kinney," Michael muttered, glaring at his phone on the table while he was curled up on his side. He needed to move on. Had to move on. If he could work past Brian's faults all these years, why couldn't he work past Ben's? So he worked a lot, he had a family to support. He worked out a lot, but he felt a compulsive need to take care of himself considering the sickness. That was fine, when Vic was still around, he had his own ways to cope with it, too.
He had to stop living for Brian. It was time to be up front about it now, rather than lead to more disappointment and a broken home later. Brian could stand on his own now, there was no need for him to be used as a crutch anymore. He had Ben, the man Brian told him to marry (he never said that, a little voice in his head countered). Brian had trashed his views on life, being married, having kids (probably didn't understand it. You knew what his home was like, that small voice continued).
"He called me a fucking 'Stepford Fag'!" Michael spat, rolling away from his phone. He lay in silence trying to quiet his thoughts. Drive away that little voice.
It didn't work. (Well, wasn't that what you were trying to be? The voice asked. Shit, what was wrong with Liberty Ave, exactly?)
"It was time to grow the fuck up."
(Says the man who still owns toys.)
"Collector's items, action figures, replicas," Michael corrected by habit.
(What the fuck ever. Does that seem like growing up to you? You got a bigger house to put your childhood shit in. It's a-)
"Don't."
(Sham. Farce. Lie. Fake. Smoke and mirrors. The voice taunted. Can't bullshit a bullshitter, kid.)
Oddly enough, that last part reminded Michael of Vic. It was something he would say, but that was beyond the point, really. The point was that he needed Brian to have less of a hold in his life.
(He doesn't.)
"He does."
(I don't wanna play this game, the voice said, sounding a little worn out. It's stupid and no one wins. You let him in, but does he control you?)
Michael had to think about it, because automatically he wanted to say no, but everyone else for years would've said yes. Was Brian really holding the reins in this friendship? "No," Michael admitted aloud.
(You just love so much, kid, the voice consoled. Not a bad thing, mind you.)
"Ugh, then why is Ben so fucking intent-"
(Remember Justin?)
Michael shut his eyes. "How could I forget him?"
(Same thing. He's threatening the position.)
"What?"
(Ben, the voice clarified slowly. He wants all or nothing, no compromise. You were willing to make room for Justin. But Ben? He wants you, all of it, no one else gets it.)
"I need my friends," Michael murmured.
(He doesn't know… you ever meet his friends? Family? Ever wonder where the fuck he came from?)
"Doesn't matter," Michael said stubbornly. "I love him, I married him. We have each other, but we can't move on as a couple as long as Brian still has me."
Were nothing but a sham it seems
The years belie we lived our lives
Jim couldn't claim to have some innate sixth sense about his customers. He couldn't read minds or body language (professionally anyways). He was just a guy who served drinks and had what his mom would've called a 'knack' with people. He had his own share of shit in his life to find someone else hurting just like he had once. Years of agonizing over shit that seemed like nothing now. But this guy? He was dying.
Jim watched as Brian tipped the drink back and set the thick glass on the bar top, pushing it away in disgust as his other hand wiped at his face. "Sang to him and then they made up like nothin' happened. Fuck. I just… I wish, just once…"
"It coulda been you, Boss," Jim said sadly. "Y'never know. Few different cards dealt, it coulda been you."
Brian snorted derisively. "Not done yet, Jimmy! This was… forever ago" he waved his hand absently "They got together, I hit some shit with a little punk who wouldn't leave me the fuck alone." Brian went quiet, thinking about it for a moment before continuing, "He's a good kid, though. Turned out fine even though I was there. Anyways, we just… drifted and then the guy proposed. Wanna know how he did it?"
Jim nodded while he busied himself with cleaning out the glass Brian left.
"On a bus!" Brian exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the bar. "Liberty Ride, Jimmy. They got on that bus and he popped the question. Ain't that the most romantic fucking thing you ever heard of? He deserved better."
"How would you've done it?" Jim asked, setting the glass away under the bar.
Brian shrugged. "I don't want to get married. I don't need a fucking piece of paper to tell me who I fucking love."
"I hear ya."
"Liberty Ride started in Canada and went back down here. I wasn't supposed to go. Got cancer before the ride, went through treatment. I wasn't in any shape to fucking do that, you'd imagine. But they went to a bar that night, some anniversary party going on, and I showed up like magic. Figured I would make the best of it, got my best friend by my side, what the hell could stop me from riding across the fucking country? That's how he makes me feel."
"Amazin' guy, then?" Jim cracked a smile. Brian smiled back, swallowing the lump in his throat, more tears threatening to brim over.
"My hero," Brian choked softly.
I love you 'til I die
After lying in bed arguing with himself for another hour, Michael surprisingly felt better. Like he'd come to a decision, finally. He hadn't known the weight he'd been dealing with all this time until that little chat. Feeling that much better, he'd gotten out of bed, straighten up the room by picking up his discarded clothes and opted for a shower. Might as well start clean.
There wouldn't be time to try and rekindle anything Ben had wanted from this afternoon. They were in a double bed room with Hunter taking the one on the other side. When the two of them got back, it would mostly likely be catching Michael up on the rest of the evening before heading out in the morning. Michael liked the idea. It was amazing what a slight change of attitude could do for your mood. Brian hadn't called? Ah, fuck it. Justin was probably having a great time. Let them… let them be happy together, there was Ben and Hunter. His family.
Michael had tugged on a pair of flannel PJ bottoms over himself once he finished drying off and decided to settled back into bed with a comic book. He was halfway to the bed, comic in hand when he paused. He looked down at the worn comic in his hand. Hadn't he just been arguing that he was trying to grow up? What was he doing with this? He didn't really read in bed like Ben. He preferred to be entertained visually and quickly. That's why he liked comics. There was a TV, but he didn't feel like being a vegetable in front of it, a lump in bed.
Well, there was a little time before he assumed Ben and Hunter would be back. Going back to his small suitcase, he pulled out a notebook. Without Justin and the ending they had created for Rage (the ending Justin wanted), there was little left to create, but from time to time he liked to go back to his previous works and look over the original ideas he had when they first started the project and add on as he would've seen fit.
Michael wouldn't say there was something stopping him from recreating Rage, after all, DC and Marvel did it all the time. New creators, writers and artists came in all the time to rework the old favorites. He didn't know the effort it would take to get a new artist, it's not as though Michael and Justin had made a killing on the comic, but he daydreamed about it sometimes.
Settling on the bed, he flipped the old notebook open to the last page he'd written on, all scribbles in different colored ink. Things circled and stared. The more he thought about, the more he was sure Brian would probably know where to find a great artist to fill in the shoes Justin left. Maybe one that didn't try to take over his dream… Michael snapped the notebook shut. He was starting to feel miserable again. It was like, no matter what it was, it always came back to Brian.
How was get going to get through this?
Save, save, save me
I can't face this life alone
Brian was starting to feel woozy. Alcohol and emotion did a number on him. He leaned heavily against the bar with his forearms, knotting his hands together as though he were in prayer. He snorted, tears falling at a steady pace now. Prayer couldn't save him before and it wouldn't save him now. Mikey was always the one to do that.
"Did he say yes?" the bartender asked, resting his cheek on a large balled fist. "Your guy."
Brian shook his head, still staring at his entwined hands. "Not right away. Think he was waiting for me. I know it's fucking crazy. He knew I wasn't supposed to go, but I would bet my life he knew I was going to show up. Came up to me in the bar, told me about the proposal and I-" Brian's voice cracked. He was sorely tempted to lay his head down on the bar.
"Boss, you just take your time. I don' get a crowd here 'til eight," Jim consoled Brian, the urge to pat him on the arm, something, was strong.
Brian inhaled deeply, trying to get control of himself. It was barely there. "I made a joke. I always do, it's… us. That's how we say what we mean without… hurtin' each other. I guessed that he told the guy no cause he still loved me best. Because… he did still love me best. He had to. I was there first!" He knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care "I was there always. And he just looked at me and it was one a'those looks. Broke my fucking heart, Jim. Thought I pushed too hard, but he didn't go yet. Wanted my blessing."
Jim shook his head. "That was your now or never moment?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Brian sniffled, unclenching his hands to rub at his wet eyes. "Told him to do what made him happy, basically. He rewrote the ending, y'know? Next thing I know they're hugging and I'm playing best man at a shotgun wedding with all eyes waitin' to see if I'll fuck it up, knowing that I would try. Then we did the ride, broke my collar bone, fell off the bike trying to show off for some guy. I was suppos'd to go home."
"Gotta feelin' there's a lotta 'supposed to's in your life you ain't listened to before," the bartend cracked.
Brian shrugged miserably. "Pretty much. Pain was so fucking bad and riding with one arm felt like it woulda killed me worse than the cancer might've. But he was there, right next to me the whole way. We didn't get a cheering section. We didn't get in until almost the next morning it was so late." Brian held back a quiet sob before continuing, "He missed the birth of his daughter… for me."
"Y'said-"
"Surrogate mom. Friends of ours," Brian cleared up with a dismissive wave, going on. "That little punk stayed around. I didn't have anyone but the kid when my friend got married. Had to move on and make his own life, away from me. Had kids, they took in a fuckin' stray." He clarified at Jim's lost look "Another kid, before he got his biological one. But none of it meant shit, y'know? Still lived in that apartment and went on like nothing else had happened. Didn't mean shit. Then they bought a house, moved to the 'burbs. Good ole married life!"
Brian rapped at the bar top with his knuckles, debating. "Gimme a bit a'Jack."
Jim was hesitant. "I dunno, y'plan on drivin'?"
"Nah, plan on gettin' too fucked up to stand. Set it up," Brian demanded, clearing his voice. It was getting rusty with the bouts of tears. He felt raw. Vulnerable. More alone than he ever thought he could feel. "So, they move and I've got this kid breathin' down my fucking neck. Commitment, love, marriage. He wants what my friend and this asshole have. Fucking lies. My friend and I… we got in a bad fight, hadn't spoken in I dunno how long. Last time we did… my club, on Liberty Ave, exploded. Fucking bomb. Everyone was there. My friend, the kid… everyone I knew. The kid had moved in with my friend and his husband at the time." Brian snorted. "Trying to be his own man or some crap, I say good for him for trying. Most don't. Heard about the explosion as I was leaving for the airport, turned my ass around and headed straight for the club. Jim… the panic. The fucking screaming, people pouring out, black with soot and pissin' their pants."
"Shit, Boss, you've had it worse than I ever thought," Jim told Brian quietly as he slid him the drink.
"Yeah," Brian sniffed. "Sounds impossible, right? Run to the club, ran into the kid's mom, beggin' me to find her kid. First it was 'leave him', then 'keep him', leave him, keep him and now it's 'find him'. Fuck if that woman knows what she's doin'. Ran into him, started draggin' out the people my best friend spends time with, now that my responsibility is done, I want to know where the fuck my friend is. He's there. He has to be. Yelling, screaming, searching… we get back out and they're loadin' him…" Brian had to stop, mouth going dry. He felt like he was going to rid himself of every drink he'd just had along with lunch and that protein crap he'd had this morning for breakfast. He took the drink Jim poured and didn't even think as he empted the glass, letting it hit the bar top hard.
Brian felt his face heat up. The first few glasses of whiskey had been a brand he didn't prefer. Something his body didn't recognize besides alcohol content, but Jack… well, he knew good old Jack like the back of his fucking hand, didn't he? The taste, the texture over his tongue. The way it smelled and stung his throat and burned a hole in his chest. He knew Jack.
"Putting him on a stretcher," Brian said, voice hoarse. "Loading him into the ambulance… and I wasn't there. My club, something I should've been there for. I could've… fuck, I could've-" He broke down again, this time letting his head fall on his forearms on the bar. He could've fucking been there for Michael. Maybe gotten him out of the blast, something. Rescue him from what happened instead of some stranger.
Save, save, save you
I'm naked and I'm far from home
"Honey, I'm home!" Hunter called out as the door was shoved open, Ben shushing him as he trailed behind, a takeout bag in his hand. Hunter dove on the bed that Michael was perched, comic in his hands. It was the only thing that kept Brian out of his head in the long run. If he had to change one crutch for another, so be it.
"Hey, kid, how'd it go?" Michael asked, slipping the comic on the side table where his phone had lain silent the whole time.
Hunter rolled onto his back, sprawling out on the available room. "Meh. Joe showed me this and that and all the shit around campus. Woo hoo." He twirled a finger in the air.
Michael laughed. "Anything interesting?"
Ben set the bag down on the dresser that held the TV. "Despite what he says, Joe said he was really interested in the English programs, writing classes…"
"Hey, you meant it?" the smaller man on the asked, leaning forward onto his knees. "Wanna be a writer like your old man?"
"You're not that old, Michael," Hunter argued.
Ben cleared his throat. "Hey, pal, a little respect for the published author?"
Hunter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So, what's up for tomorrow?"
"Figure we'll hit up the little place across the way for breakfast and get a move on pretty early," Ben said, stretching his arms over his head.
Michael perked up. This was the perfect time to make it up to Ben. "Or Hunter could scram for an hour for breakfast."
"Aw, man, is that all I mean to you?" Hunter asked, placing his hands over his heart. "I can't believe it."
Ben shook his head. "We should get going pretty early, baby. Traffic, y'know?"
"Alright, alright," Michael said, folding in. "Just trying to, y'know, do something for us."
The larger man smiled, sitting on the bed with Michael and Hunter. "I know, baby, but this is important for Hunter. Maybe when we get settled at the next one…"
"That's my cue to run very far away," Hunter interrupted, rolling off the bed gracelessly.
"Hey, pal, where are you going?" Ben asked, taking his eyes off Michael.
The young man shrugged. "Dunno. Doesn't seem like a bad place to go for a walk."
"Need cash?" Michael asked, reaching for his wallet on the side table. "Saw an arcade, café, hang out place a few blocks down."
Hunter grinned. Michael always knew where the fun stuff was. "How could I turn down an offer like that?"
Michael smiled getting off the bed and slipping a few bills into Hunter's hand. "Be good, don't pull any stupid shit, I want you back in an hour. Got your phone?"
"Right here," Hunter said patting his back pocket. "Call you if the cops come?"
"Nah, by then it's too late for us to help," Michael snickered. "Go on. Be careful, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," the young man brushed off. "You too."
Hunter left Ben and Michael alone and Ben looked a bit ticked off at it. "You just let him do what he wants, don't you?"
Michael put his hands on his hips. "Ben, it's a college town. The worst they've got is drunk kids. I think Hunter's been through worse."
"Don't remind me," Ben sighed. Michael sat next to him on the bed.
"C'mon, don't be like that. I wanted to say I was sorry for earlier," Michael murmured, kissing Ben. "You're right. Brian's in the way too much. I shouldn't let him ruin our fun. Let it ruin us."
The slate will soon be clean
I'll erase the memories
Jim reached out and patted Brian's shaking shoulder awkwardly, pouring another drink and then a second. He felt like he needed one for himself. The bartender pulled a wad of paper towels out from under the bar and nudged Brian with them. He lifted his head from his quiet turmoil, only muffled snuffles and coughs being heard and gratefully took the offer from Jim, wiping the harsh material at his sticky face. Fuck this was harder since he already knew the end of the story.
"So?"
Brian blew his nose noisily. "So, I went back to the club after spending some time goin' batshit on a doctor who wouldn't take my blood for him. Found the kid again. I was so… messed up. Knowing I was God knows how close to losing my best friend, cause none of us knew if he'd make it. He was the best thing I ever had. But in bad times, sometimes we can only remember the good. I was a shit, but the kid had stuck around, y'know? Said he loved me, for all it was worth, but… it wasn't bad. Some days it was… nice to have someone around."
"Y'love 'im?" the bartender asked gruffly, wiping his mouth after finishing his drink.
"Not like that," Brian shook his head. "But if I was gonna lose my best friend, I needed someone else and… the kid was close. They had… they were… I can't explain. Sometimes I could see a little of them in each other. It might be all I had left, so I told the kid I loved him. I cracked, gave in. Fucking pressure from all goddamn sides, so we – I – decided fuck it. I've got nothin' left to lose at that point. Explosion took my club, almost my friend, the kid… everyone. I, literally, had nothin' besides work left to lose. So, I did it. Was gonna be a married man."
Jim shook his head while Brian played with the rim of his full glass, looking into the dark liquid miserably.
To start again with somebody new
Was it all wasted, all that love?
After Michael's statement it had been a flurry of fast hands and clothing pushed aside. Preferably, Michael had wanted to face away from Ben, on his stomach, maybe. It didn't feel right, just yet. It didn't make his stomach lurch like the first time he had thought about sleeping with Ben after Brian, the guilt was still there, but it was worse when he had to look into Ben's eyes when he entered, pressing their foreheads together. Michael had to shut his eyes tightly and found a place in the back of his mind to enjoy it.
It felt like an eternity.
I hang my head and I advertise
A soul for sale or rent
"Well, I don' see no ring," Jim said as the silence stretched on.
"Called it off last minute," Brian said. "Drove the kid nuts trying to be a 'good life partner'. Pretty sure I did it on purpose, but he never said anything. Got me and my friend back together, though. Showed up to congratulate me at work after he got his invite. If I didn't know before, I knew then. The way he smiled, Jim. That's all I needed."
Jim nodded. It's how it had been for him and his girl. Just watching her proved how much he loved her more than anything.
"I was gonna sell the club. After what happened…," Brian's throat closed. "But my friend talked me out of it. Loved him more for it."
"So, yer jus' stuck then," the bartender guessed, figuring that was the end.
Brian shook his head. "Nah. I lost myself after awhile, going out too much, drinking, druggin'. All of it, and I dragged my friend along with me. Nearly killed his marriage at one point, I'm sure." He sounded a little smug at that "But then, we… we drank too much, partied a little too hard and I… fuck. I fucked up, Jim. He was helpin' me get home, gonna spend the night. We do that, sometimes. And it was the best fucking night of my life."
"Left in the cold after, huh?"
"For awhile. It was weird. We didn't know what to do because nothing happened," Brian explained, sighing. "The kid went to New York when we called it off, he's an artsy faggot type. I went to see him right after. I dunno, maybe to find a difference. It was all wrong. Couldn't get my friend out of my head no matter what. So I left early, was gonna tell him everything…"
"I feel 'nother 'but' comin' on," Jim sighed, feeling weary from this story.
"He left town. Family trip or some shit. I don't remember now," Brian was starting to slur a little. He eyed the drink cupped in his hands and left it alone for now. "But he wasn't there and I had time t'think, y'know? He was married, kids and a life… couldn't take it away from 'im. What kind of bastard would I be? He already gave me so much, Jim. Couldn't. I ignored him, left him and figured we'd both just move on and it looked like he did."
I have no heart I'm cold inside
"What?" Brian snapped as Cynthia came into his office. He was tired, he was busy and he was craving something he could never have.
"You have someone here to see you," the blonde snapped back.
"I'm busy, tell them to fuck off," he replied. He had no appointments today.
"You already did," Michael said, following in behind Cynthia. "Just not to my face."
Brian's head snapped up from the computer screen. Michael wasn't supposed to be here. The trip had gone… as well as could be expected. He and Ben had found their place again and he had tried to avoid Brian like the plague for about a week, sitting at the counter with Ben in the mornings at the Diner for breakfast, or only going out when Ben wanted to come with him… it was hard, he thought he was home free until he'd gotten an email from Justin. Nothing serious, just asking if he knew what was wrong with Brian.
He would've laughed if it hadn't been such a loaded question.
So, Michael tried calling Brian determined just to be the go between for him and Justin. Tried to make lunch plans, dinner, find him in the club or bar. But when he tried to sit at the booth for breakfast, Brian would leave, taking his order to go. The backroom seemed mysteriously devoid of his presence and he wouldn't take his calls at work or return his personal ones.
Before Michael knew it, he was sucked back in right where he started.
"Michael, go home," Brian told the shorter man who was doing the opposite by coming over to his desk and sitting in the chair on the other side of Brian's desk.
"Why won't you answer my calls?" Michael asked.
"I'm busy."
"Why do you keep leaving the diner when I get there?"
"Running late these days."
"Why the fuck aren't you at the club?"
"I pay people to fucking run it for me!"
"Well, why won't you even talk to me?!"
"Because I have a life!" Brian shouted, slamming his hands down on the table as he stood up. "Now get the fuck out of it!"
Michael figured he was supposed to crack at this point. Brian knew how to hurt him, but they'd been through this game before and it was nothing but an annoyance. He just had to remember he wasn't here for himself, he was here for Justin. It was almost a month, going on two since he'd started going after Brian, but he was going to get him now.
"I'm not asking to be let back in it, asshole," Michael said scathingly. You left me first, he thought. "Justin sent me an email-"
"Oh, what the fuck?" Brian asked, letting his head fall back. "Can't the princess take care of himself?"
"He's worried about you."
Brian hesitated, looking Michael over. Justin wouldn't… maybe? No. "Well, good for him. You can tell him I'm fine."
"You should probably tell him yourself."
"Then he should've asked me."
Michael was getting fed up with this. "I know you're trying to keep me out. That's fine, but Justin needs someone who's going to be honest with him."
"And?" Brian arched an eyebrow, taking his seat again. "How do I come into that?"
"Well, aren't-" Michael stopped, looked at Brian and then groaned. "Is he making something out of nothing again?"
The taller man couldn't help by smile as he leaned back in his chair. "Answered your own question, Mikey."
"Guess you didn't see him on your trip then?" Michael had to ask.
"I was meeting a client," Brian shrugged. "No time to go play."
"You always make time to play, Brian."
"I came home early," Brian muttered, eyes wandering back to the computer screen. He was opening up his email account now. Gonna give that little what was coming to him.
Michael felt relaxed, as if the last month or so had been nothing but a tense nightmare. "What for?"
"Closed the deal early, you were away with the family," Brian told his friend, trying to keep any sort of tone out of his voice. "Told me not to call you."
"Why do you do what you're told when no one wants you to?" the shorter man asked, exasperated.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I was waiting for you to call!"
Brian hid his smile behind the computer screen. "Don't be a fucking lesbian and tell me not to call you, then."
"You're impossible," Michael told Brian, frowning. "What are you doing?"
"Ripping Sunshine a new asshole," Brian told him honestly. "You didn't need to be bothered with this."
"Not a big deal, I mean-"
"I'm sure Big Ben's missing you," Brian clarified quietly, sitting back as he hit 'send'.
Michael shrugged. "He's starting a new book. I don't exist."
"Wanna go out tonight?"
I have no real intent
Brian's stomach was heavy and he had to push the drink away from him before he threw up all over the bar he couldn't take it. Jim took the drink for him instead. During this time, one or two stragglers had come into the bar as it neared eight. Commuters having a drink before going home to see the wife and kids. Jim tended their needs quickly, striking up simple conversation to let Brian stew in his own thoughts for a bit.
"So, Boss, where does that leave you now?" Jim asked, rounding back on Brian.
"We got back together, like old times," Brian smiled, red rimmed eyes looking up at Jim. "And we slipped up again and… we never said anything, but… we couldn't let go. Been sleeping with someone's husband for nearly a year." He flutters a hand, time was irrelevant right now.
"Got the short end a'the stick?"
"Maybe," Brian replied thickly. Goddamn he was tired from this. Too many emotions wore him out. "I guess so, cause I asked 'im to make a choice."
Jim sighed. "Never turns out right."
"Nope!" Brian agreed, almost happily. "Cause him and the hubby are goin' 'way for a 'romantic weekend'." He snorted "It's crap, but I could live with that. He just… I didn't think it could get worse."
"Y'tellin' me it gets worse than this?" the bartender asked, incredulous.
"Can't do anything quietly," Brian said proudly. "I was plannin' on expanding my business, y'know?"
"What, the club?"
Brian shook his head. "It's a thought, Jimmy, but nah. I run an ad firm here, was gonna expand it out to New York. The kid's visitin' right now, so I figured a big 'family' dinner, y'know. All the friends and whatever and I'd tell 'em the great news."
"And?"
"And the kid fucked it up," Brian said sourly. "Went to hang out with my friend, his mom was who I was gonna ask about the dinner, she works at the diner they had lunch at and asked about the dinner. She thought we – me and the kid – were getting back together. I went to his room to tell the kid I wasn't doin' the dinner. Fuck it, why bother, y'know? And my friend showed up at the wrong time, thought somethin' was going on-"
Jim snorted. "Don't sound like he got much a place to talk."
"Don't," Brian warned, glaring at Jim.
"After all that, still standin' by 'im?" the bartender asked seriously.
"Whatever happened, he was my best friend first," Brian said stubbornly. "Even if… he can't trust me."
Jim nodded in agreement. Rarely were there partners that left truly amicable. There was very little sense of friendship sometimes, making it awkward to keep up appearances and they usually fell flat. But, to Jim, Brian looked like a man who stuck by it. Sounded as though his entire life had been nothing but this friend and it meant everything to him. If Jim had to guess, Brian was feeling like he was strung along by his friend for most of his life since he realized he didn't trust him just this once.
The alcohol probably wasn't helping any, nothing would.
Save, save, save me
I can't face this life alone
"Mikey?" Brian asked in the darkness. They were stretched out on Brian's bed after spending the night in their usual haunts. Emmett and Ted had acted like nothing had been different. They loved Michael to death and tolerated Brian as much as they could, walking that tightrope between liking him and hating him, but they didn't exist on the same plane of friendship Michael and Brian did.
Brian and Michael needed each other. One couldn't be without the other and know else seemed to understand it and they were tired of questioning it. The night had played out almost like the first time. They were drunk, but Brian was the only one buzzed on something special. By the end of the night, Michael had been able to drive home, but not Brian, so the logical choice, after picking up after his best friend, was to spend the night.
There was a cautious air that Brian choose to ignore when they entered the Loft. He was already pulling off his clothes and heading for the bed. Michael paused, watching the retreating form before picking up the clothes left behind, ending with the jeans Brian had taken off in his room. He put them away in the hamper tucked in the bathroom and came back out, taking his own shirt off and grabbing a pillow off the bed, heading for the living room. Brian watched Michael curiously, waiting. Wondering if… maybe…
"Where ya goin', Mikey?" Brian asked as Michael reach the steps of the bedroom.
"The couch," Michael answered, not turning his head to look.
"Why?"
"Cause I'm tired."
"Got half a bed right here."
Michael turned around and hugged the pillow close to his chest, unsure of himself. "And you're naked in it."
"I sleep naked," Brian agreed, lacing his fingers together to cradle the back of his head as he watch his best friend.
"It's not a good idea."
"Why?"
"Brian… don't," Michael said, holding the pillow tighter. Had it been alive, Michael would've squeezed the air right out of it.
"I'm not doin' anything but offering my best friend a more comfortable place to sleep."
Michael looked Brian over. "And nothing else?"
"Depends on you."
The smaller man released his hold on the pillow and walked back to the bed, tossing it at Brian's face. They laughed as Michael took off his jeans, careful to leave his boxer briefs on before climbing into bed. When he asked for the pillow back, Brian whacked him in the face with it. They wrestled with each other before exhausting themselves, laying comfortably against each other.
"Who knew you could have so much fun in bed?" Brian joked, running a hand through Michael's hair as he rested his head on Brian's chest.
"Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"Go to sleep."
Brian had tried, really. He hadn't been asking for anything, he wasn't looking for anything. Somehow… trying, or maybe expecting, to get Michael in bed felt wrong. But this? Holding Michael while he stared into the darkness? That felt right. Laughing bed, that was right. All these thoughts kept him awake, leading him to call out Michael's name in the night.
The deep breathing continued on his chest. Brian tried again, nudging Michael just slightly with his body. "Mikey?"
Michael slept like a rock, always had. Tonight was no different when dosed with alcohol.
Brian sighed. "Not exactly how I pictured our next night together."
"You'll live," Michael said thickly.
"Tell that to my-" Brian paused. "Shit, Michael. You're an asshole."
"And you're a dick. Match made in heaven," the smaller man joked sleepily.
Brian couldn't help but smile. "I missed you."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
"Sleep?" Michael asked, half hoping that would be the right answer.
"I'm trying to be serious," Brian said. "I don't… Michael. This is-"
"I know. Go to sleep, Brian."
Save, save, ooooh
I'm naked and I'm far from home
Eight o'clock ticked by, then fifteen past. Brian still sat at the bar, miserable. He felt lighter, but it didn't help his predicament any. Jim was tending to the new customers filtering in. He wanted another drink, but his mouth was dry and the mere thought sent his stomach heaving in a preemptive strike.
Jim made his way back to Brian. "Whatcha gonna do now, Boss?"
Brian looked up at Jim blearily. "Sit here until I know what to do."
"Well, you was talkin' 'bout the dinner and that kid screwing it up."
"Yeah, and?" Brian asked, confused.
The bartender laid a large hand on Brian's shoulder. "So fix it."
Each night I cry I still believe the lie
Sleep evaded Brian for most of the night, glad he had a clear schedule in the morning. He had already decided to go in late. But he was in tune with his bed partner. Usually, Brian kicked them out before spending the night for a simple reason. He didn't want this with anyone else. Yes, he liked sharing bed space with Michael, always had, but his eyes had opened the moment Michael stirred from sleep, the smaller man's internal clock going off.
They had shifted during the night, laying face to face, foreheads gently touching. Brian looked into Michael's bleary eyes and smiled. "Morning."
Michael turned his head away to yawn. Nothing worse than waking up with morning breath blasted right in your face. "Mornin'. Y'good?"
"Could be better," Brian replied, finding it cute that Michael's first instinct was to check on him.
"Why?"
"Never got an answer last night," he told Michael, half serious and half joking. In the sober morning light, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Michael shrugged, sitting up in bed. "I wouldn't question it, Brian." He yawned again "C'n I use the shower?"
"Do you have to ask?"
Michael threw a pillow at Brian's head as he made his way to the bathroom. He left the door opened a crack in case Brian had anything to take care of in the bathroom and stripped off the last remaining layer that had kept him and Brian apart. He turned on the shower, adjusting the nob and the glass steamed up and he stepped inside, enjoying the hot water.
He just stood there for a minute, hands pressed up against the glass, letting the water cascade over his body. Michael didn't want to, but he found himself tearing up at the thought of last night. It was one of the lesser known fantasies Michael had imagined. Just him and Brian, nothing sexual. It made it harder thinking about having to go home.
I'll love you, 'til I die
"He doesn't trust me, Jim," Brian told the bartender, sure that was a perfect explanation.
Jim shrugged. "If you two are like ya say, I'd bet money he knows he fucked up."
"Wanted him to go with me," Brian muttered, staring at the bar. "Maybe branch out his shop."
"Only one way to find out if he would. 'Sides, you'd need someone t'keep ya company out there."
Save, save, ooooh, save me
Don't let me face my life all alone
Michael came out of the bathroom a little while later, cleaner but not feeling much better. Brian had left the bedroom, wandering into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He was negligent when it came to stocking the place. There was cereal that he pulled from a cabinet and Michael smiled as he watched Brian sniffed the milk questioningly and deciding it was good.
"Bathroom's free," Michael said, announcing his presence. Brian turned around and saw Michael standing on the edge of his bedroom and the stairs, towel wrapped around his waist.
"Found something for breakfast," Brian offered, lifting the milk in his hand. He was still staring, knowing Michael was naked.
Michael shook his head. "Don't really have time if I want to open up when the sign says I do. I need clean clothes."
"I'm going in late," the taller man said, setting the milk down. "Great thing about owning your own business – Oh wait! You do too."
"Brian," Michael warned. "Run a comic shop. You run a multi-million dollar business. I kinda need all the business I can get."
"Sit down," Brian demanded.
The smaller man raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"
Brian backed down, the next words out of his mouth would've made things awkward. "C'mon, Mikey, please? Have breakfast with me, I'll drive you to change and drop you off at work."
One hand went to adjust the towel around his waist as he pretended to think about the offer. "Alright, fine. Lemme put on something."
"I've got sweats on the bottom drawer," Brian called out when Michael went back into the bedroom and went in search of bowls.
Michael sat on the bed after retrieving a pair, the urge to cry stronger than ever. "Hey, Brian?"
Brian made his way into the bedroom after a minute, leaning in the doorway. Michael noticed he'd put on jeans at some point. "What's up?"
"Can we just stay here today?" Michael asked, looking up at his best friend, almost pleading.
"What about Ben?"
"I'm… trying, but," he sighed, looking over at Brian. "I would rather be here, right now."
Michael let the pants find a place on the floor and unwrapped the towel before getting back under the sheets. He patted the other side of the bed, eyes still watering. Brian hesitated. He could take off for the day, that wasn't an issue, but what was Michael asking of him? He couldn't make any promises.
"Stop thinking," Michael said, snapping Brian out of it. "I think we deserve this."
"Why's that?" Brian asked, pushing himself off the door frame he leaned on and going to the other side of the bed. His fingers hesitated at the waistline of his jeans.
"I tried to forget you," the smaller man admitted, and Brian could swear he heard just how miserable and guilty the idea made him.
That sealed it for Brian, removing his last line of defense and climbing in the bed with Michael to console him. Holding the smaller man just made him feel better. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the damp, dark locks. He hated when Michael was upset, even hurt that his best friend had tried for this long, but hadn't he done the same?
"It's okay," Brian murmured. "I tried to get rid of you."
"We're pathetic," Michael croaked, sniffling as he held on to Brian.
They didn't leave the bed all day, ignoring their phones and only finding comfort that they had been missing for the last month with each other. There were heated moments that passed, but they restrained themselves. Now that the door had been opened, it seemed so much easier to enter, but there were others they had to think of. No, it wasn't how Brian expected their next encounter to be, but it had solidified the fact that there would be more of them.
Save, save, ooooh
I'm naked and I'm far from home
"I gotta go," Brian announced, pushing himself up straight on the barstool. He was done with this.
"Anyone I can call, Boss?" Jim asked.
Brian thought about it before patting down his pockets and found his phone. "Nah, I got this." He found his wallet and looked at Jim for the grand total. The man shook his head and held out his hand.
"I'd like t'think my payment will be you comin' for a drink with yer guy," Jim stated. "When ya get 'im. You're a determined shit."
Brian grabbed the other man's hand firmly even though Jim's nearly swallowed his, smiling. "I usually don't take advice unless it's someone's overbearing mother, but I'm makin' an exception, Jim."
He got up and left a large bill on the counter anyways, despite the protests. Brian wasn't a gambling man or one who liked to be indebted to someone else. So, in case it all fell through, he and Jim could call it even. The street was dark when he left the bar and seriously contemplated getting behind the wheel. He thought he'd driven under worse conditions, but considering his emotional state along with the drinks… it was better to have someone pick him up.
Lighting a cigarette as he pressed the phone to his ear, he listened to the dial tone before the recipient picked up on the other end.
"Sunshine? Yeah, I need a favor."
A/N: The top A/Ns were done previously (obviously) as my friend went home and I'm on the last dregs of my Spring Break. And it's currently raining. Gotta love it.
Anyways, thank you guys again for sticking with this (if you have. If you're like me, you've wandered off for a snack and forgot what was going on here completely) and we're almost done. I know there are better things you could be doing, so I really appreciate the readership.
The song this time is Save Me, again, by Queen. It seemed like a good choice for the moment, I couldn't help it. Um… I dunno what else to say honestly. Lol Weird, I know. It's odd writing this, seriously. I've been in every position but Michael's, so it's mere speculation on that part when thinking about this and trying to get it to be as real as possible.
Justin… well, I don't particularly like Justin, but I have hopes the kid would mature with distance and time between him and Brian, that's why I chose him as the confidant. Michael and Justin eventually found footing in a reliable friendship. Maybe not close, but honest. Michael was trying to help the kid from day one as it was, so their interaction is natural.
As a character, Ben is hard to nail down. For those of you that've seen the whole series, you know why. The back story is sporadic and his actions are just… out of left field sometimes. This is all my opinion, not looking to start arguments. Just saying, so you know where I'm coming from on the character. I liked Ben in general, though, even with all the weird ups and downs.
Brian, well, I adore Brian. And being the other person in the relationship is weird, confusing, especially when you have a built-in sense of control like he does. And right now, but giving that up, he's feeling a little tormented, strung along and lied to. Even though it's Mikey, it can still hurt pretty bad.
And Michael. Where to begin? I don't know, really. I've been changing gears so much with this story from the purpose that brings him to the point of cheating to why he'll stick around. But, the main focus I'm getting a lot is that some people make themselves miserable in a situation by doing nothing and just letting them get rolled over and they don't help at all. Getting him to move on somehow, actually make the decision (no hints as to what it'll be… cause I don't even know), that's fucking hard, man. He's stubborn and angry and a little depressed right now. Whoo. Trifecta right there.
I like Jim! ^.^ What can I say? The main cast, besides Emmett, has no inflection or certain dialect to use, and I really love when a character has something like an accent or just slang from another part of the country. It makes them so much more fun to write, because you start to hear it in your head as you write it. I was just having a 'J' day I guess, starting with Joe and ending with Jim. Joe, even though he's not shown, is pretty much based on my dad of the same name. Was just in a mood, I guess. Lol But Jim is sort of… Oh, maybe an amalgamation of an uncle of mine from another part of my state that has you winding up with a bit of an accent and just gruff, burly bikers or something. Dunno if he'll make another appearance, but I liked him.
And, uh… that's it, I guess! I now have other business to tend to before school starts again on Monday. It might be a bit sporadic (if you know how teachers are after a break… they're worse than students sometimes, I swear) and all the fun that entails. I hope everyone has a great Easter if you celebrate it, if not… Um, have a great whatever you do on that day! I just like the Easter Bunny.
Feel free to leave a review!
~SL
PS – I will steal your candy.
