Justin finally has a confrontation with his admirer - or does he?

The next day, Justin no longer even felt dread about the latest delivery; he had come to expect it by now, so in a way he wasn't as anxious about it, more like resigned to his fate. So he was getting flowers by the truckload, and this guy was apparently smitten with him. As long as he didn't do anything further to contact him, he could just ignore the guy, along with the schmaltzy cards. Sylvia seemed captivated by the various varieties of flowers, however, so he let her keep taking them home with her. That was more than fine with him.

As he entered the gallery, however, and he peered over at Sylvia's work area, his heart beat furiously and he stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed a tall, distinguished-looking man leaning silently on the counter, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, wrapped in the typical cellophane packaging. He recognized the flower this time: carnations. Blue and yellow carnations. So this was the guy. Well, he had stepped over the boundary now. This man was NOT going to get to him. Nor was he going to go easy on him. He was tired of this charade.

The man turned around at the sound of the door opening and smiled politely at Justin, who frowned slightly and glowered back at him, realizing the man did look familiar. So he WAS one of the patrons of the gallery! Sylvia apparently had been right. That was where they had met.

Before the man could say anything, Justin rushed up to him with righteous fury. "You have to stop this!" he growled at him, staying back far enough that the man couldn't make any sudden moves. Thoughts of countless men pawing at him with unwelcome advances, or outright leering at him during exhibitions of his work flashed through his mind as the man opened his mouth to reply, a look of shock on his face over Justin's outburst.

"Don't say anything!" Justin snapped as the man closed his mouth back up, a confused look on his face. Was this man dense? "Listen, I have a partner! I'm involved with someone! I don't want any more of your damn flowers! Don't send me any more of them, and DON'T ever come back here again, do you understand?" Snatching the flowers out of the man's hand, he threw them into the nearby garbage can for emphasis, breathing heavily and his face red with anger. "Now get out, before I call the police!" he warned him, his blue eyes flashing in fury.

But the man furrowed his brow as if Justin had lost his mind as he stood up straighter, finally seizing an opportunity to speak as Justin took a breath. When he did, it was with a distinct French accent, giving Justin a definite sense of déjà vu as his mind furiously searched for when and how he knew him. "What did you do THAT for? I don't know what your problem is..." the stranger began, clearly indignant.

Justin glared at him. He certainly had a LOT of nerve; HE was the one being harassed. Of course, it WOULD take a lot of nerve to just show up out of the blue, and think he would rush into his arms and proclaim his love for him...

"I'll TELL you what my problem is!" he interrupted the taller man as he reached to grab the guy's wrist, preparing to try and forcibly remove him if he had to, even though the man clearly outweighed him. But he figured if adrenalin could help someone lift a car off someone else, he hoped it would help him throw the guy out...

"JUSTIN!"

Justin jumped back, startled, as he heard Sylvia's voice boom from behind him as she returned from the back room.

"No!" she exclaimed in shock. "That's not him!" She rushed up to the two men, grabbing her young friend's arm and placing herself in between them to keep them separated from each other. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the perturbed stranger with a smile to assure him, "I can explain."

Justin peered over at her in disbelief. "What are you DOING?"

She took a deep breath before she replied quietly, "Justin...you remember Phillippe? My...husband?"

And suddenly he knew why the man appeared familiar; he DID remember him from one of his exhibitions here at the gallery a few months ago. Sylvia had made a point of introducing them, since as a software consultant for numerous overseas companies, he did a great deal of traveling. So when he was finally available to visit the gallery one evening during a display of his work, along with some up-and-coming artists, she had made a point of introducing him.

Justin covered his eyes with his hands briefly, his face turning red with embarrassment. "Oh, shit."

Sylvia laughed as she realized he now knew he had made a big mistake. "Today's our anniversary," she explained, "and Phillippe is here to take me out to dinner to celebrate."

Her husband peered over at him warily, still a little miffed as he turned to gingerly retrieve the flowers from the garbage can. Fortunately, since they had been wrapped in cellophane, they were still in fairly decent shape. "These WERE for you," he said a little coolly as he glanced over at a clearly mortified Justin.

Sylvia burst out laughing as she surmised what had happened. "Thank you, Sweetheart. You remembered my favorites." She grinned over at Justin, seeming to enjoy his discomfiture, as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Don't worry about it," she whispered in his ear with a wink. "I'll explain it to him."

"I am SO sorry," Justin murmured at Philippe. He sighed, feeling extremely awkward as he brushed his left hand restlessly through his hair.

Sylvia slid her arm soothingly around Philippe's waist. "Let's go to dinner, and I'll tell you all about it. Believe it or not, there's a rational explanation for all this." Her husband didn't appear too convinced, however, as she turned to Justin to ask, "Would you mind keeping an eye on things while I'm gone? We shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

Justin could only nod his head, still trying to come to grips with what he had just done. Giving him a slight smile of reassurance, Sylvia hooked her arm around her husband's and led him over to the door, still holding the bouquet in her hand. He sighed heavily in relief as he slumped down onto one of the armchairs interspersed throughout the small gallery as the couple left. "Fuck," he muttered as he sat there, mentally exhausted. The room was blissfully without any patrons at the moment, providing him with a few minutes of much-desire quiet as he tried to calm his nerves. Silence had never sounded so wonderful - or been as needed.

After a few minutes of gathering up his energy, he began to rise, thinking he might finally be spared another flower delivery - and that perhaps his would-be suitor had finally given up, since the hour was later than the delivery man would normally arrive. As he glanced over at Sylvia's work area, however, his eyes were immediately drawn to some flowers presently standing in a tall, 3-foot vase by her chair; Sylvia must have placed them back there when they had been delivered. These weren't small or delicate, lacy flowers this time like the others had been, and they weren't the customary blue-with-yellow-centered ones he had been receiving every day, either; these were totally different. Sunflowers.

He pondered that fact as he slowly walked over to them. No one here in New York knew his nickname, the one that Debbie had decided would be his to keep from the first moment they had met at the diner, and the one that everybody used so much it easily fell from their lips as if it were his birth name. The overzealous admirer couldn't possibly know about that. So was this just a coincidence? As he studied them, he decided it had to be. Brian would never do this sort of thing. He guessed the guy must have just run out of ideas for the blue-on-yellow theme, which he assumed had to be a vague reference to his blond hair and blue eyes, so he had to find some other type of yellow flower.

He couldn't resist this time as he pulled the card out from between two of the large flowers to open it up. Your smile is like this flower- bright and sunny, it said. He snorted; how hokey could you get? Well, it just had to be one of those eerie coincidences. The trouble was, though, it DID remind him of his nickname, which in turn reminded him of Brian, who he still hadn't spoken to all week; every time he tried, the phone went right to voicemail. "Damn it!" he cursed under his breath. He felt utterly frustrated; how could he fight someone he didn't even know? Not even bothering to touch the flowers, he turned and stomped back to the rear of the building, feeling decidedly like someone in a Groundhog Day movie. Would it never end?

The Next Morning...

Six days. Six days of being showered with flowers he didn't want, and six days of not speaking to Brian. His partner could always calm his worries and make him feel better.

But finally this morning, he had succeeded in reaching him - and hearing his voice. His heart immediately rejoiced by beating ridiculously fast like a baby bird when his lover actually answered the phone with his customary, nonchalant greeting. "Hey."

Justin almost missed it, having figured he would once more reach his voicemail, and there would be a short text from Brian acknowledging it afterward, so it took him a few seconds to respond. "Hey! So you ARE still alive."

He could almost hear the smile on the other end as Brian replied, "Alive and kicking, Sunshine. And a lot richer, too; all my team's hard work paid off. The client signed with us this morning."

Justin smiled, happy for his partner. "That's great! But not a surprise. Just shows how smart the guy is."

"That's true enough." Brian replied smugly in his customary style. He paused for a moment, noticing his lover was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally that sort of statement would at least garner some sort of reaction - either a snort over his arrogance, or a laugh. "You're not pissed at me, are you? I really WAS working practically 24/7 for the past few days."

Justin sighed. "No, I'm not mad. I'm...just glad to finally hear your voice, that's all."

"Well, it IS an honor to talk to me, I know."

"Shut up!" At last Justin laughed.

"Seriously, though, Justin. You're being awfully quiet for someone who hasn't spoken to me in several days. Normally I can't get you to shut your mouth...unless it's preoccupied with eating - or something else."

Justin bit back a groan at the image in his head. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Talk about that. Fuck, Brian, when can you come back here? I miss you."

He could hear Brian's slightly wheezy breathing on the other end for a few moments before his partner admitted softly, "I miss you, too." He sighed. "But we just got this new account, and it's a huge one. It'll require a lot of work, Sunshine," he explained regretfully. He paused. "But you're dodging my question; I can hear it in your voice. What's going on? Is something wrong?" The concern was obvious in his voice, which made Justin feel good for some reason. He opened his mouth, prepared to tell him all about the weirdo who had been sending him the flowers, but he hesitated. He knew if he told Brian, despite his mantra about not 'doing jealousy,' he would be on the first available flight to New York City. But if Brian really was as busy as he said, was it fair of him to place that burden on him? As badly as he wanted to see his partner - and it was bordering on desperation now - he still wouldn't be the cause of his lover possibly jeopardizing his newest account, which by all indications was a very lucrative one. Besides, the guy hadn't done anything else except overwhelm him with flowers and send him schmaltzy notes of admiration. And there was Marco, too, who lived nearby and could be at the gallery in practically a moment's notice.

So instead of pouring out his heart to his lover, he answered as reassuringly as possible, "No, I'm fine. Just a little tired from working on a painting. One of Sylvia's clients commissioned it especially with the condition that I be the artist, and he put a rush on it by paying extra, so I've been working on it several hours a day. There'll be a hefty bonus if I complete it on time."

"You're also working at the museum," Brian pointed out. "Are you sure you're getting enough sleep, Justin? A sleepy artist isn't a very productive artist."

Justin smiled over his partner's comment, and his concern. "I have that airbed at the studio, remember? I should be done with it sometime today, anyway, so don't worry. I'll get some extra shuteye then."

"Promise."

"I promise," Justin replied softly. "Now I want YOU to promise me something."

There was a brief pause. "Promise you what?"

"That you will hop on a plane as soon as you get a break in your workload there, and come here to see me. I would come there, but..."

"It's okay, Sunshine. I think that's a promise I can keep. Phone sex is just not the same."

Justin smiled wistfully. "No. So is that the only reason you want to see me? Because I give the best head?" He knew that Brian had cut down dramatically on the amount of tricking he was doing in his absence; at least, if the observations from Emmett were any indication. He spoke fairly often with him on the phone, and his friend had informed him that Brian oftentimes wouldn't even head into the backroom at Babylon; in fact, he only visited his newest 'toy' every once in a while; not nearly the same frequency as before. Truth be told, Justin noticed he had begun to cut down even before he had left town.

"You know it's not," was the quiet response as he turned his attention back to the present. "Not that the mind-blowing sex isn't a nice bonus, though."

Justin knew his lover was no doubt smirking right now as he laughed in response. "Well, I'll keep myself all limbered up so you can indulge yourself right away the next time you're here. And that would be...?"

Brian chuckled. "Okay, okay. Soon. I promise. Very soon," he added, his voice softer now.

"Well, I know you're a man of your word, Brian Kinney. So I'm holding you to that promise. I'll be looking forward to it." You don't know how much...

"So will I, Sunshine. Now...until then, what was that you said about giving good head?"

Later that Day...

As Justin almost robotically entered the gallery this time, he did not notice any flowers. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He refused to get his hopes up, however; not after the delivery man had been running late that one time. Peering over at Sylvia, he brushed his hand through his hair as he walked up to her.

"Sylvia...I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn't realize who it was at first...and when I saw those blue and yellow carnations..."

She laughed. "Don't worry about it. Once I explained it all to Philippe, he actually thought it was funny. He did say you were on the feisty side, though. But he understood. And it sure made our anniversary stand out this year." Her eyes twinkled as Justin groaned in reaction.

"I feel so ridiculous, though! I really thought it was him."

"I know." She gazed over at the barren-looking counter as she commented, "It looks so empty right now," she lamented. She had been enjoying the variety of flowers that Justin had been receiving, finding it a welcome sight after the long, dreary winter. The last few days had been gray and cloudy, and even though the first day of spring had been delightful, it had taken a turn toward colder temperatures since then, and the flowers had definitely brightened up the place.

"Well, it's fine with me!" Justin replied firmly. "But I'll believe it when I DON'T see it. Maybe it's another banner day for flower deliveries again, or he got stuck in traffic somewhere."

But Sylvia smiled at him as she shook her head. "No to both."

Justin frowned, wondering what the look on her face meant. "What do you mean?"

"Today's the last delivery," she told him mysteriously. "And since it's the last one, the guy decided to save the best for last...and deliver it in person."

Justin looked around, his heart beating furiously in anxiety. Had he heard her right? "I don't see anyone," he told her, thinking that all the flower pollen must have gone to her head.

"Oh, he's here," she told him. She cocked her head sideways. "He's waiting for you back in your studio right now."

Justin's eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. "What?! Are you crazy? You don't know anything about this guy!"

She smiled even more as she replied, "As a matter of fact, I do. I recognized him right away."

Justin's pulse accelerated. "Who is it, then? One of your buyers? And why in the hell would you let him back there? We don't know what he's capable of! Are you out of your mind? He could ruin my painting! We have him trapped back there, and you know who he is! Call the fucking police! I'M not going back there!" He vowed. He couldn't believe it. Whose side was she on?

"Justin, calm down," she told him soothingly as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. "Trust me. It's okay. Just go talk to him. He's not going to hurt you."

Blue eyes flashed in astonishment. "I can't believe this! How do YOU know? Who IS this guy? And why are you taking his side? Is he some big shot client or something, and you're afraid you'll lose his business?"

Sylvia sighed heavily. "You know I don't work that way. Would I let anything happen to you, Justin? Just go find out. It will be okay. I promise."

Still thinking Sylvia had ingested something foreign to her, Justin took a deep breath as he turned and slowly walked toward the rear of the gallery. "If you hear me yelling or screaming," he told her as he briefly turned around to glare over at her, "promise me you will call the police. And Marco."

To his utter astonishment, Sylvia had the nerve to laugh at his concern as she replied, "Don't worry. Now go!"

Slowly Justin turned around and turned the door's handle to hesitantly walk inside, not noticing Sylvia quietly picking up her purse and heading toward the door, turning the 'open' sign around to say 'closed.' She waited until she was certain Justin wouldn't see her before softly opening the door and closing it, taking a moment to smile in satisfaction before locking the door behind her.