Author's Note: Um, well, so, I only own seasons one and three, which I guess is where the Brent inclusion came from. I did think he and Emmett were a little hilarious together.

The first few days that followed were far from noteworthy. Brian and Owen were, as far as we could tell, in hiding, so we spent our time catching up with the others that hadn't seen my best friend since the holidays. We met Emmett and Brent (his new/old flame) for dinner, and Ted and Blake for drinks. We spent every lunch at the diner because, really, Debbie would skin both of us alive if we even considered trying to find another restaurant. (Not that we would, of course. Debbie was a second mom to him, and a favorite aunt, at the very least, to me.) We hung out with Jennifer, Tucker, and Molly through the week, playing Taboo, Scrabble, and, in one particularly disastrous instance, Monopoly, which had ended with Molly bankrupting all of us. Even after I offered her real money to let me out of just one rent.

And really, it was fun. Justin was laughing more than I'd seen him since before he left, and with each passing day he became more determined and optimistic. More than once I caught him grinning to himself, and when I asked about the reason for it, he gave a coy shrug and just answered, "Brian."

It was an entire week before we made any further Operation Britin attempts. As the Decision Maker of our plans, I had held firm on my decision to avoid Babylon, at least at first, but after the seventh day of no Brian, I realized that we had no fucking choice. Not that I'm not a fan of Babylon, but it's not a place that you see a lot of straight girls.

We decided to go on Friday.

"So, how do I look," Justin asked me for the fourth time that evening. I fell backwards on my bed, then rolled onto my side to give him yet another critique.

White button down with blue pinstripes and a white tee underneath, and jeans. I made a face. "Too preppy. But you can keep the jeans."

He rolled his eyes, then withdrew another shirt. "You know," he commented as he pulled it on, "you're being kind of strict with the dress code, Daph. Hopefully I won't have to wear it long." He stood in front of me again. "Better?"

I knew where he was coming from about the clothes, but I was doing this for his own good. He hadn't dressed for Brian in a year, and, quite frankly, I really do have kick ass taste. So I eyed the new shirt. "Looks good," I was finally able to say, and I gave a bright smile. It really did. This time he had chosen a light brown sweater with a blue trim along the neckline. Only . . . "Haven't you had that for a while?"

He dropped his gaze in embarrassment, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"What?"

"This might be shirt I wore when we made up after Ethan," he answered with another shrug. Off my look he added defensively, "What? You don't have things you kept for sentimental value?"

"Not clothes."

"It's a queer thing."

"Oh, we're in agreement there."

He shot me a glare, though it didn't reach his eyes, and with a laugh we left the apartment.

By the time we got to Babylon, the evening was in full swing. Already, the dance floor was packed with half-naked guys grinding against each other to the beat of "Don't Stop the Music" by Rihanna, which I personally thought was fairly recent for the Babylon DJ, not that I was complaining. Weaving through the throngs of men, we made our way to the bar.

"A Long Island," I requested, the moment the bartender saw us.

He cocked an eyebrow at Justin, who nodded and said, "Make it two."

As the bartender turned to make our drinks, I gave the dance floor a more detailed examination. Brian was here somewhere. I'd confirmed with Ted (who, now that he was with Kinnetic, remained aware of his boss's whereabouts for the most part) twice before coming, so now all we had to do was locate the gorgeous bastard.

Unfortunately, I didn't immediately locate him, so I pursed my lips and returned my attention to Justin and my waiting drink.

"Would you relax," my best friend hissed at me as I took a first sip. "You're stressing me out."

"Sorry," I responded. "But aren't you excited? He's here! You guys' second home, practically."

"Oh please. It's just a club." But neither of us really believed that.

Suddenly the beat changed, and I recognized "Cable Car" coming over the speakers. God, I fucking loved that song. I opened my mouth to see if Justin would be willing to dance, so I wouldn't have to do so by myself, when a sharp voice caused my thoughts to detour dramatically.

"At what point did I tell Jackson to start playing fucking slow shit?"

Justin and I stared at each other before turning simultaneously. There, advancing towards the bar, was Brian, looking amazing as ever in a black wife (or husband) beater and jeans. He was the only man I'd ever known who could make casual look so chic.

"Brian," Justin acknowledged smoothly, as though he hadn't gotten to an argument with Brian's boyfriend the last time they had seen each other. Owen, who had been following Brian closely, stopped short when he saw us and let out a quiet, though discernible, sigh.

"I'm going to dance," he snapped, and immediately he went back the way they had come.

Brian was silent for a split second, then he confusedly shook his head and took a seat. Beside me. "I didn't really think this was your scene, Daphne," he said. "Or else I would have added you to the List. You guys wouldn't have had to wait outside in the cold."

Finally he looked at Justin, and it was hard to tell if he recognized the shirt in question or not. I couldn't imagine that he would, but the way his eyes swept across my best friend seemed too speculative for innocence.

"Well, you know," I replied, though I was fairly sure I had already been forgotten. "I was really just in the mood to watch guys that would never be interested in me make out with each other. It's my new thing."

Brian shifted his eyes back to me. "It's always good to have a hobby."

"What about you, Brian," Justin intervened quickly. "You have any hobbies?" He raised his eyebrows and I, for my part, pretended I wasn't listening, or that I didn't understand what Justin was really asking - whichever one Brian would believe. Which, honestly, was probably neither.

There was a moment where no one spoke, then, in a voice too soft for our surroundings, he answered, "No, I can't say that I do."

I took another large swallow of my drink to save myself the trouble of formulating an comment of some kind. I couldn't stop my eyes from finding Justin's, and the shocked pain there was tough to ignore. I hated to think what Justin must have been feeling, knowing that Brian was in a monogamous relationship, when it had never, not once, worked for them.

But reason fell to me, and still I wasn't worried. All that meant was that Brian was more unfulfilled than ever, and as I pondered that, I was struck by another brilliant idea. "Wanna dance," I asked Brian, ignoring the look of surprise both men shared. Brian gave me a blank look, and it was clear he was trying to think of an excuse, any excuse. "Come on," I cajoled. "I'm sure Owen would agree that I'm the safest option here."

Brian let out a derisive laugh. "I'm not sure that's true." But he took a step towards the dance floor.

Before walking to him, I stopped to whisper in Justin's ear, "Don't worry. There's rhyme and reason to this."

Let's rearrange,
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage.
Just say that we agree and then never change.

Once we were on the dancefloor, we shared a brief moment of awkwardness. It occurred me that Brian had, perhaps, never danced with a girl, and I had never danced with someone so tall. We chuckled together, then I nervously rested my hands on his forearms and he wrapped his arms around my waste.

"It's a little weird," I told him with another laugh.

He smirked. "A little. I usually like my dance partners to be a little further away from the ground. And it doesn't help that you're lacking one crucial element here."

"Not anymore," I replied.

Soften a bit, until we all just get along.

"What," he questioned, thunderstruck.

"Not what I mean," I clarified quickly. "I just meant that it's not like you're allowed 'crucial elements' since Owen. I still can't believe you're in a relationship. A regular, normal, monogamous, relationship."

Brian shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"It is to Justin." I looked up at my dancing partner. "Seems odd that you couldn't make it work with him, but for Owen, whom you've known all of a few months, you're willing to give up the one night stands. Or, rather, one hour stands."

"Did you ask me to dance just so you could try to lay the guilt on thick?"

"Are you surprised?"

Everyone knows I'm in
over my head,
over my head

"I guess not. But for the record-" Then he saw something behind me that made him stop. "Isn't that Hunter," he suddenly asked, and I turned to check.

It was, and he was walking towards us with a very serious look. My hands fell away from Brian, and I stepped to my ex in concern. "What's wrong," I asked immediately. I recognized the expression as his "so fucking bad" look.

He took a deep, terrified breath. "It's Debbie."