Disclaimer: I don't own this show or these characters. I just like playing with them.

A/N: Still alive. Not only did this chapter give me issues, but Real Life showed up in the form of a Cross-Country Move and I've only recently started to really settle in.

Justin looked at his slacks and the button down he'd put on that morning. "Yep. Is that what you are going to wear?" he asked, pointing a finger at Brian's clothing.

Brian stared down at his own aged, long sleeved t-shirt with its frayed hem and his worn out jeans. "I suppose I could have put some effort into looking nice if I'd only had some warning about today's schedule of activities."

Justin grinned. "Got it covered. You should give Cynthia a raise," he said while opening the door a crack and calling for Brian's luggage. Once the suit bag was handed over, Justin shut and locked the door.

Brian gave the bag a dubious look. "I should have known something was up when she broke into the loft this morning and started talking about emergency meetings in the next state over while raiding my closet."

Leaning against the bathroom counter, Justin grinned. "She and Ted have been in on the whole thing. Something about how you're nicer when you get a truly excellent sexual experience. They've been keeping track; you threaten to fire less people after I've sucked on your dick for a few hours."

Brian shook his head while looking through his suit bag. "I should fire the both of them for conspiring to kidnap me but I suppose they are right. I am nicer after a few rounds of you."

Justin's grin upped in intensity at the praise. "Just doing my part to keep the employee morale up at Kinnetic. I should get some sort of kick back for my services."

Brian pulled a red shirt from the bag and held it against his chest. "You do get a kick back. My dick up your ass in exchange for the services you offer in improving employee morale."

"So, let me get this straight. My reward for giving you a blow job in your office every couple of months, thus improving your mood and lessening the fear your employees have of you is that I get fucked?"

Brian tossed the shirt aside, proclaiming it too Christmassy. "Got it in one, Sunshine. Everyone benefits. I get off, thus I don't fire my entire HR or art or accounting department, thus I'm in a good mood and eager for a marathon of fucking and sucking you later on, which gets you off and causes endorphins and you feel good enough for more. Lather, rinse, and repeat."

"I see your point though I still think I should be on the payroll or something."

"I can just imagine trying to explain that to Ted," Brian said as he pulled his tee off. "What about this one," he asked while shaking out a shirt.

Justin stepped up behind Brian once he had the button down on and smoothed out the shoulders. "Black's always been one of your best colors," he said before tugging on the collar.

Brian watched Justin's reflection as the younger man tugged at the collar points. "Exactly how long have you been planning this reunion?"

"About a month now. I enlisted my mom, Ted, Cynthia and Ben to help out."

"What did Ben do?"

"He kept Michael in the dark about this. You know that if he knew, Michael would be crawling all over you, whining about it and we'd risk you being infected with the Stepford Fag Syndrome again."

Brian smirked as he buttoned the shirt. "Glad we avoided that. So, Sunshine, what are the rules?"

"Rules for what?"

"Our marriage."

"Oh, those kinds of rules. We've never been good with those. I'd say we should only have two rules. The first is that we actually communicate. And the second is no tricks at the house. Everything else is like, I don't know, guidelines?"

"Guidelines for marriage?"

"Why not? Rules have never exactly worked for us. You know, we communicate with each other, we don't bring up past mistakes, we support each other in all things. We make this work according to us and we don't let others dictate our paths based on their ideas and expectations."

Brian turned to lean against the vanity counter. "Okay. What made you do this now?"

"I'm sick of everyone going, 'oh, so you're not really a real couple then, are you' when I tell them about us."

"You want to marry so we can be declared a real couple?"

Justin sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "It's complicated. For a bunch of artists, the people I live with are remarkably closed minded."

"Ah, the open relationship issue."

Justin nodded. "We're each other's booty call, apparently. Because I have free rein to sleep with anyone, same goes for you, while living in New York, it can't possibly be a real relationship."

"The course of our relationship is nobody's business but ours. We don't have to marry just because people don't get us."

"It's not just that."

"Oh?"

"Okay, yeah it would be great to shake my ring in their faces and say that my open, long distance marriage is more stable then September's on/off relationship with the sleazy cheater or Tom's online relationship with a girl who lives across the country and sounds too perfect. You ask me, she's probably some 50 year old hairy bastard and Tom deserves to get what's coming to him. He makes it sound like she's some sort of reincarnation of Mother Theresa. I mean, come on, what sort of wo-"

"Sunshine, focus. The reason you want to marry me besides one upping your roommates?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Before New York, that wedding was a reaction to the bombing. We rushed into it. One minute, we weren't together and the next we were engaged. Everyone reacted differently to the situation. Look at the girls; their fleeing to Canada turned out so spectacularly bad that they came running back to the Pitts within a year.

"Neither of us were ready to jump into marriage then and this whole New York thing offered us a way out. I've been in the city for what, two years now?"

"Just about."

"Don't get me wrong, I love New York, it has this exciting sort of energy and something is always happening but I went there to paint. Between working two jobs to afford my share of the rent and the rent on the studio space, not to mention all the supplies and food, I barely have time to paint. I've talked to people; they all say that I have talent but I need to have the time and space to focus. I had one guy tell me that if I'm not careful, the city will swallow me whole.

"And I'm tired of scheduling my visits for a weekend here or there of whenever I can get two consecutive days off from both jobs. I miss my family. I miss randomly dropping in on Deb and having lasagna forced on me. I miss trips to the park with Gus. Molly is dating now and I'm not only missing out on teasing her about it but I can hardly be the big brother from New York. For fucks sake, I missed my mother's birthday because I couldn't get the time off and no one was willing to trade shifts."

"So, why not just come home? How is marriage going to solve any of those problems? You know that I'm willing to support your career."

"I wasn't done. Yeah, coming home would solve all those problems. I'd be around for my mother and sister and all the others. The only problem with coming home because I miss everybody is that people would start whispering about how I've given up and can't hack it in the big apple. Lindsey has already started in on me about it. I've talked with other artists in the city. They've all said that if they'd had the kind of support system I've got rooting for me, they'd probably still be in their hometown, waiting tables while working on their art.

"Forgive me for saying this but marrying you would give me a valid reason for coming home. In any long distance relationship, if it makes it, eventually someone is going to give something up in order to be together. I miss you. I miss just being around you. Yeah, living with the Great Brian Kinney isn't easy but its where I want to be. And, oh my God, now that I'm actually here and saying these things to you, I can't believe how stupid this all sounds."

Silence reigned in small bathroom for a few seconds before Justin huffed out a sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck. "This was a stupid idea. I'll go tell everyone that we changed our minds again."

Brian caught Justin by the upper arm and pulled him away from the door. "Now, just hold on, Sunshine. I agree that we were ill suited to our previous attempt at a wedding but I still think we are suited for marriage."

"Huh?"

Swallowing a laugh, Brian folded his lips under while looping an arm around Justin's neck. He pulled the younger man closer to him. "Remember after the club was bombed and the words I told you? I still mean it."

"Yeah and I still return the words but we don't need marriage to prove it."

"Now, you let me finish. When you left for New York, we said it was only time. And, perhaps, time wouldn't matter but there are other things. I find that I don't like having to share you during those short visits to town. And during my visits to you, I saw how the men in the clubs looked at you. My ring on your finger would tell everyone that while you might play, you're taken. And I wouldn't particularly mind it if you moved back."

Justin blinked up at Brian. "You mean it?"

"Yes. And to hell with whatever people think. I've never really cared what others think. Neither should you. You went, tried your luck and decided that it wasn't for you. Doesn't mean you failed. We marry, you come home, work if you want and work on your art. I know a few agents; we'll talk to them and see what we can do.

"Fuck the opinions of the others. I want to be with you and I want rings on our fingers this time."

Brian barely had time to brace himself before Justin tackled him. "No backing out this time, Sunshine. You have a house to fill up with your art."