"I don't think Michael likes me very much," Justin said, passing a plate to Emmett so that the taller man could dry it and put it away. Emmett smiled a little at the honest naivety of his younger friend.
"It's not that he doesn't like you, sweetie," the taller man said being as diplomatic as he could. "It's more that he doesn't like the situation."
"The 'being stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere for months on end' situation?"
"No, the 'being stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere for months on end with a kid who's fucking the love of your life' situation."
Justin stopped scrubbing the dish for a second as he tried to work out if he'd understood Emmett's comment correctly. "Michael loves Brian? For how long?"
"Oh, only ever since they met," Emmett said cheerily, taking the dish from Justin's still hands and drying it off.
"But Brian fucks loads of guys," Justin frowned, picking up spatula and beginning to scrub it, "you've all said it. Does Michael hate all of them?"
"No. To Brian sex is like a handshake … usually," he smiled knowingly at the kid. "He greets you, he fucks you, he never sees you again and if he does, he doesn't remember who you are. Except for you. You are different. Brian's never been like this before with anyone and Michael doesn't like it because now you're a threat."
"I'm not a threat," Justin chuckled, handing over the spatula and moving on to a glass, "I'm convenient. Brian's told me that plenty of times."
"And how many times has he sounded like he meant it?" Emmett smiled, leaving Justin with something to think about as he walked across the vast kitchen to put the newly washed and dried dishes away.
::
The rest of Brian's birthday, just like every other day in this house, began to drag as it reached early afternoon. The rain had faded into a light drizzle so Brian, Ted, Emmett and Michael had gone into the garden to try out Brian's new gun. Justin had asked to go with them but Brian had told him he was too young to be messing about with firearms. It was bullshit. Ted had told him that Brian had his first gun when he was sixteen but now he, Justin, at the age of eighteen wasn't allowed to have a go. What a fucking hypocrite!
Justin had watched them through the French doors in the kitchen for a while. He'd had his face pressed against the glass, like a child at a zoo and watched with interest as the men had taken it in turns to shoot at various targets around the small patch of grass they were using as a shooting range.
Justin wasn't particularly surprised to find out that Ted was almost completely incapable of firing a gun. His hand eye coordination was less than zero and looked lost when trying to aim. Emmett had fantastic aim, though he looked almost uncomfortable about that fact and barely took any shots at all. Michael was a good shot too but he looked like he'd had to practice hard for years and years to hone his skill. He certainly wasn't a natural at it like Emmett … or Brian. Because of course Brian was a natural shot. He looked completely at home with a gun in his hand and he was well practiced too. He looked like he was born to do this and Justin thought that that should probably have scared him but he was having a very different reaction to seeing Brian deftly shooting cans balanced on a trashcan of a branch of a tree. A warm shiver of desire ran down Justin's spine and he almost let out a groan. God, he wanted Brian. He always wanted him but seeing him stand like that, confident, sexy, beautiful and dangerous, it just made the thirst all the more intense.
He got bored, eventually, of watching the firing practice, that and he was sick of Michael looking up and spotting him and then saying something to the others that Justin was sure could only be negative. He really was sick of the abuse he got from Michael. He understood that as the youngest he was going to be picked on to a certain extent. Brian, Ted and Emmett pretty much used him as their personal errand boy forcing him to do their menial but undesirable jobs. He also endured being the butt of a lot of light-hearted ribbing and none of that bothered him. But with Michael it was different. It was malicious and spiteful like Michael was always trying to make him look stupid and put him down. As Michael looked up at him and whispered something to Ted, Justin decided enough was enough and opted to find something else to occupy his time. It didn't take him long to decide to work on a birthday present for Brian. It would give him a chance to do some of his art and it would allow him to avoid watching his own face fly around the screen on Pittsburgh News. So, he went up to his and Brian's bedroom and began to sketch furiously in his pad.
::
It was early evening when Brian walked into his bedroom to find Justin hunched over on the floor, completely engrossed in his furious scribbling onto a piece of paper.
"What are you doing?" He asked, causing the kid to jump a little.
"Shit," Justin gasped. "I didn't see you."
"Yeah you were too caught up with this." Brian waved his hand at the notebook dismissively. "What is it?"
"It's your birthday present," Justin said offhandedly, placing the sketchpad, face down, on the carpet. "So how was your shooting?"
"Yeah, it went well," Brian said offhandedly before adding curiously, "birthday present?"
"I didn't get chance to get you anything," Justin explained, trying not to sound too angry, "so I thought I'd draw you something."
"You're an artist?"
"Sort of," the kid blushed. "But this isn't finished yet so you'll have to wait."
"Well, maybe while I'm waiting, you could give me your other present in the shower." Brian was dripping wet from the drizzling rain, there was a droplet at the end of his nose waiting to fall, his hair was plastered to his forehead and he was probably freezing but god he was beautiful and Justin thought back to the way he'd been so commanding with that gun and he was on his feet rushing into the shower in milliseconds.
::
Emmett decided to give Justin a night off the cooking duties, so as the nelliest of the group pranced around the kitchen, the rest of the boys settled down in the sitting room. The Justin Taylor kidnapping story had begun to take a backseat in the Pittsburgh News, thanks mainly to the suspicious disappearance of a drama student and her best friend ("they're lesbians and they've run off together," Brian said firmly as the police explained how clueless they were, "there's nothing mysterious about it. Well, except for the mystery as to why anyone would want to be a lesbian") and the Pirate's appalling start to the season ("this isn't news," was Brian's comment this time, "they always have a shit start to the season"). So, Brian had decided that the televisions could be used to watch something other than the news in the evenings, though Ted always had his laptop computer loaded with the 24 hour news homepage just in case there was any kind of break in the story.
It was a shame really that Justin was so engrossed in his drawing that he didn't have chance to enjoy his evening off as house skivvy and just watch the television but he was determined to get this picture finished no matter what.
"I don't want to watch this shit," Michael moaned as Brian found some old black and white movie on a Classic Movies channel.
"Would you rather we found some Spiderman Movie?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't make us watch it because I can appreciate that some people may not want to watch it."
"Well," Brian said, aiming the remote quite viciously at Michael, "good luck finding something for me, you and Ted want to watch."
"What about your little puppy?" Michael asked, indicating Justin, who was sat cross-legged on the floor right next to Brian's feet. "Doesn't he get a say?"
"He's not watching," Brian said, trying to get a look at whatever Justin was drawing over his shoulder but the kid manoeuvred himself perfectly so Brian caught nothing more than an indecipherable glimpse of a shaded area. Sighing, he turned back to Michael, "come on, choose a show."
Michael flicked through the hundreds of channels at an infuriatingly slow pace until he eventually opted for Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?
"What a stupid question," Ted commented. "Name one person who doesn't want to be a millionaire."
Brian raised his hand slowly and Michael and Ted looked at him curiously before he explained, "I already am one. And I didn't need a stupid game show."
"No, just a gun and a level of ruthlessness second only to Vlad the Impaler," Ted replied sarcastically.
"Well, would you listen to that, Theodore's been brushing up on his history," Brian said with faux-politeness.
"Will you two shut up," moaned Michael, "I'm trying to hear the question."
"It's written at the bottom of the screen Mikey," Brian pointed out in a tone that was dripping condescension. "See that bit 'homeowners buy surge protectors to protect their possessions from unexpected surges of what'?"
"Well everyone knows that it's water flow," Michael said confidently.
Brian and Ted just shot him a disbelieving look, even Justin looked up from his drawing to say, "if I were you Michael, I'd phone a friend."
Brian laughed a little but Michael just remained in ignorant denial. "Well, that's because you're barely out of kindergarten and you don't know shit. The answers B, water flow."
"Are you serious?" Justin asked, a smirk running all over his face as the man on the screen also confidently said, "B".
"See," Michael looked smugly at Justin. "Don't worry boy wonder, better luck next time."
Ted let out a low whistle before mumbling, "this is going to be embarrassing," as the correct answer was revealed to be in fact 'A', electric current.
The awkward tension in the room was palpable. Everyone was looking anywhere but at the cringing Michael, who wore the same shocked, disbelieving expression as the incorrect contestant on the TV. The silence was heavy and pressured by the unquenchable need to laugh and the desperate will not to until Justin couldn't hold on anymore and exploded into giggles, which he quickly tried to hide under a cough.
"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Michael demanded, glaring at him with pure murder in his eyes.
"I didn't," Justin said in faux innocence.
"Bullshit," Michael snapped.
"Give him a break Mikey," Brian butted in, an amused grin plastered across his face. "You got the $100 question wrong, the kid's allowed to laugh."
"Fuck you," Michael turned his glare on his best friend. "It was an easy mistake to make."
"Yeah if you're simple," Brian countered, which sent Justin into another fit of giggles.
"Shut the fuck up," Michael shouted at the kid. "You weren't even watching the TV. Why don't you go back to," he eyed the notepad sceptically, "what is that anyway?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Brian said, leaning forward to try and peer over Justin's shoulder for a second time but the kid was ready and immediately hid what he was drawing from view by clutching it to his chest.
"I already told you," Justin said firmly, scooting closer to Brian's leg and resting his chin on the older man's knee, "it's a birthday present. I'm nearly finished."
"But I've already had all the birthday present I wanted from you," Brian drawled, his fingers creeping automatically into Justin's hair, "in the shower."
Justin smiled and Ted shook his head in a fond, admiring sort of way. Michael just allowed his scowl to consume his face even more, screwing it up so much he looked like one of those ugly bulldogs. Brian spotted his friend's face immediately and chided,
"cheer up Mikey, it could have been worse. You could have got the $100 question wrong on national television."
Justin started laughing but Michael only managed to look more miserable.
"Maybe you should put a different program on," Justin suggested. "Like 'Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?" He grinned cheekily at Michael as Brian practically fell about. Even solemn Ted snorted a little.
"Why are some of your classmates on the show this week?" Michael scorned.
"You know, this young shit is getting kind of boring," Justin sighed.
"You're getting kind of boring," Michael retorted.
"And your comebacks are lame."
"You're lame!"
"Case and point," Justin muttered, turning around to pick up his notebook and go back to his drawing.
It was so close to being finished, a few more patches of shading and he'd be able to give it to Brian. He just hoped he'd like it and wouldn't laugh in his face but he had a feeling he wouldn't. Or at least he hoped he wouldn't at least not if he gave it to him alone.
They watched a few more of the questions were asked on Millionaire. Brian got most of them right, Ted got all of them right and Michael didn't open his mouth once. Justin was too engrossed in finishing his picture that barely noticed anything that wasn't his drawing. He didn't even notice Emmett in his pink 'kiss the chef' apron, flutter into the room and announce,
"Dinner is served."
He didn't notice Ted get up from the sofa, groaning and stretching before strolling to the kitchen. He didn't notice Michael get up and leave either. He probably wouldn't have noticed Brian leaving if the older man hadn't given him a kick on the way past.
"You coming?" he asked as he got to the door.
"Yeah, yeah," Justin said barely looking up from his work. "I'll be right there."
"Well, don't leave it too long," Brian said, "you know what those boys are like, they'll be nothing left."
::
Brian walked through to the kitchen and quickly realized that even if Justin didn't come in the room for another two weeks there'd still be plenty of food for him.
"Christ Emmylou," Brian said as a plate was shoved into his hands and Emmett told him to help himself from the buffet.
"It's great isn't it?" Ted beamed, piling his plate with as much food as would fit on. "There's enough food here to feed an army."
"Two armies," Brian muttered his agreement. He wasn't particularly hungry, he was never particularly hungry, but especially not today, he'd had a huge meal
for breakfast and two pieces of cake. The last thing he needed were more calories but he put a bit of the salad on his plate and a piece of chicken.
"Come on," Michael said enthusiastically, his mouth full of food. "Live a little. Try this pasta, it's delicious." He scooped a large spoonful of pasta in marinara sauce onto Brian's plate.
"That's great," Brian frowned. "Thanks Mikey."
"Just try it," the shorter man insisted. "It's the best thing I've ever tasted," his eyes fixed straight over Brian's shoulder as he continued, "definitely the best meal since we've been at this house."
Brian peered over his shoulder to see what Michael was looking at. Unsurprisingly, he saw it was Justin, who was just stood glaring back.
"Er, yes well," Ted interrupted, coughing slightly. "Where did you get the recipe for this Emmett?"
"Well I …"
"I'm sick of all this shit Michael!" Justin exploded suddenly taking everyone in the room by surprise. "Why don't you just say it? You hate me."
"I don't hate you, boy wonder. I think you're a bit over-sensitive. Still, it's to be expected … at your diminutive age."
"Fuck you!" Justin yelled and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
The whole house seemed to shake with the force of it and Michael just smirked to himself as another door slammed and Justin could be seen through the French doors marching across the garden away from the house.
"Stupid kid," he muttered under his breath, before sitting down and tucking into his meal. He didn't notice the pissed expressions on Ted and Emmett's face.
The only expression he noticed was the puzzled look Brian was shooting him.
"What?" he demanded his mouth full of pasta. Ted and Emmett turned to look at Brian. They weren't sure what they were expecting, maybe for Brian to stick up for the kid. Maybe for him to tell Michael to get the fuck over all this ridiculous jealousy but all he actually said was,
"Where the fuck did you learn the word diminutive?"
"Jesus Christ," Emmett muttered disapprovingly. He put down his food down as though to follow the kid but as he reached the door Brian stuck an arm out in front of him and said simply, "don't."
Emmett looked into Brian's face and he saw he was serious, deadly serious. So, reluctantly, Emmett nodded and returned to his plate of food. It was probably for the best in the long run anyway. They still didn't know how long they were going to be stuck in this house and if Emmett walked out of that room now, he'd be as good as drawing the battle lines for this seemingly imminent war. He'd have declared himself on Justin's side and the house would have been split. They didn't need internal fighting when they had to battle the whole fucking world together.
The meal was strained and awkward. Emmett in particular kept opening his mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it and shutting it again. Brian knew what Emmett was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. Why the fuck was Michael being so horrible to the kid? It wasn't like him. Michael was the kind of person who gave everyone a chance but not Justin. He hadn't even pretended to give him a chance.
Eventually, Ted managed to open up a boring conversation about where the police were currently searching for them and it was enough to break the silence for a while. Towards the end of the meal, Michael raised his glass in a toast to Brian and the others joined him. This time, thank god, he kept the speech short.
They'd been sitting eating and drinking for half an hour when it really came to Brian's attention that Justin still hadn't returned. It wasn't like the kid to miss a meal, he loved his food. Brian's eyes had been flicking to the window all night. He hadn't seen Justin come back, he hadn't heard the door go and it was getting late. He doubted the kid had taken a coat, Justin didn't always think sensibly about things like that and Brian was getting worried. After all, if Justin was caught by the police or even spotted by anyone who happened to recognize him they were all as good as arrested.
He must have been staring out of the window because he was suddenly made aware of Michael's hand waving right in front of his nose.
"Brian," he was calling in a sing-song voice. "Brian, are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," Brian snapped, catching Michael's hand and twisting it a little, "if you get your fucking hand of my face."
"Ow, hurting," Michael hissed, retrieving his and nursing it to his chest. Brian just looked at Michael, an expression of contempt before saying,
"I'll be right back." He pushed himself to his feet, pulled on a leather jacket before marching out the French doors.
"Where are you going?" Michael demanded. "Never go after anyone, that's what you said. What do you think yo-" But Brian shut the door on his best friend cutting him off mid-word. He was really sick of his pissy attitude today.