INVASION - Chapters 5 to 7
Chapter Five
A week later, Debbie offers to take the children for the weekend. “Go out. Dance. Drink. Fuck. Whatever it is you boys do on the weekends. You need a break.”
Justin would’ve argued, but he wants to go out. He wants to dance, drink, and fuck. He especially wants to fuck. His own fist is only satisfactory for a short time.
Justin stands in the middle of Liberty Avenue, debating between Woody’s and Babylon.
“Come with us to Woody’s,” Ben says, startling Justin out of daze. “We’re gonna shoot some pool. We usually don’t end up at Babylon until after eleven. That’s when it really starts thumping.” He smiles kindly at Justin. “Everyone’s there already.”
Justin follows Ben into the bar. The children have made him antsy and nervous. He sends grateful thought to Debbie. He needs this break.
“Hey, Justin,” Ted calls out, waving them over. “Good to see you again.”
Justin nods.
“What’s your poison?”
“Beer or Beam.”
Ted gets him both.
“Hey, Boy Wonder,” Michael greets him as they make their way to the pool tables. “Wanna get in on this?” He motions to the game he, Brian, and Emmett have already started.
“Nah. I don’t know how.”
Brian does a quick double take. “You’re kidding. Every boy from the Pitts knows how to shoot pool.”
“Not me.”
“That’s pathetic,” Brian grumbles, carefully aiming his cue. He hits the white ball and they all watch as three balls roll into three separate slots. “I’m surprised you don’t play.” He hands his cue to Emmett, who manages to get a ball into a slot.
“Why’s that?”
“‘Cause you’re an artist. Pool’s all about precision and angles.”
Justin nods slowly, watching as Michael leans over the table, missing his shot completely.
“Obviously Mikey here isn’t an artist,” Brian grins, taking the cue away from Emmett and again, sinking the balls into the goals.
“Fuck off. I’m usually not this bad. I’m really batting zero here tonight.” Michael steps in front of Ben and they kiss, momentarily lost.
“Get a room!” Ted yells, laughing as Michael pulls Ben into a deeper kiss.
“I thought you were into exhibition, Theodore,” Brian teases the man. He lifts his beer to his mouth and makes a disgusted face. “This is for shit.” He reaches over and takes Justin’s beer from his hand. Bringing the bottle slowly to his mouth, Brian takes a huge gulp. “Much better.”
Justin looks away as Brian licks his lips. “Keep it. I’m not thirsty.”
“Good. C’m’on, Sunshine. Play a game with me,” Brian insists, taking Michael’s cue and handing it to Justin. “We’ll teach you.”
Justin stutters over his answer as Brian sets the table up for a new game. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he tells Brian.
“Do what?”
“Take the triangle thingy off the balls. I like how they stay in formation even after you take the triangle away.”
Brian raises his eyebrows and grins. “Then do it.” He moves away from the table and gestures for Justin to lift the triangle up. “You’re a natural, Sunshine.”
And he is. Justin finds that not only does he like to play pool, he’s good at it too.
“I should warn you,” Justin says as Brian walks around the table, surveying his potential shots.
“What’s that?”
“I’m very competitive and get really pissy when I don’t win.” He frowns as Brian makes a perfect shot.
“Is that a threat, Sunshine?”
“Well,” Justin says, leaning over the table, carefully gliding the cue back and forth before making a shot. “I am taking care of your son.” Justin looks into Brian’s eyes seriously for a moment before breaking out into a huge grin. “Fuck off, I’m kidding! Do I really look like the kind of guy who’d get all pissy over some game?”
“I dunno. You’ve been hanging out with children all week. Who knows what they’ve brain washed you with. And I have first hand experience with Gus’ competitive nature.” Noticing a flash of humor in Justin’s eyes, he asks, “So, you beat him at Go Fish yet?”
“Yeah. And once is enough to learn never to win again. God. Where’d that demon come from? He’s usually such a good child.”
“He gets it from his dad,” Emmett laughs.
Brian wins the game--barely.
A tall, dark haired man saunters over to their table. “Hey,” he says to Brian, leaning seductively against the table. “You play a good game--really know how to aim those balls.”
Justin almost snorts at the man’s pick up line. He thinks Gus could do better.
Brian looks the potential trick up and down, sneaking a quick glance at Justin, who’s amused, if anything.
“It takes practice. As do your pick up lines. Not interested. Sorry,” Brian tells the guy, picking up Justin’s beer and finishing it off. The man’s still there when he puts the bottle back down. “I’m serious.”
“Oh.” The guy bites his lip and frowns. “You sure?”
Brian reaches around and grabs the guy’s nonexistent ass. “Oh, yeah.”
Justin bursts into laughter when the guy leaves. “That was cruel, Brian.”
“The man has no ass!”
“Cruel.”
Shrugging, Brian leans into Justin and whispers, “You, on the other hand, have a great ass.” He pulls away and winks, before saying, “Let’s go to Babylon.”
The others glance curiously between Brian and Justin before getting up.
“What was that about?” Emmett asks Justin in a stifled whisper.
Justin merely shakes his head. “He’s just joking... I think...”
*****
Babylon is packed.
“God. Everyone and their grandpa is here tonight,” Ted yells over the noise.
Brian pats him hard on the back. “Then maybe you’ll finally get laid.”
At least three men approach Brian before they even reach the bar.
“I didn’t know you were in such demand, Brian,” Justin yells into his ear, pulling back and smiling as another man comes up.
Brian shrugs it off and, after a few drinks, accepts a dance with a young brunette. Justin watches out of the corner of his eyes for a minute before heading to the dance floor himself.
“Where’ya going, Princess?” Emmett asks, pulling on his arm to stop him.
“I want to dance.”
“Alone?”
“I won’t be alone for long. Someone will come around.” He grins and offers his friends a small wave before disappearing into the sea of sweaty men.
And he’s right. Not thirty seconds after Justin hits the dance floor, an older man comes up from behind and starts grinding into him. Another man presses his groin against Justin’s and they dance like that for a few minutes.
“Wanna go to the back room?” The trick in front of him asks, lust apparent in his eyes as Justin’s body moves fantastically to the music.
Justin shakes his head slightly. He still wants to dance. The trick behind him moves away and no one takes his place. Justin looks into the eyes of his dance partner and smiles.
“You’re friends with Kinney?” The man asks, swaying his hips to the music.
Justin nods.
“He’s an asshole,” the trick insists, placing his hands delicately around Justin’s waist. “Why do you hang out with him?”
“He’s nice to me.” Justin doesn’t want to think about Brian. He wants to lose himself to the music.
“Wanna go to the back room now?” The man asks again, gently tugging Justin toward the back room.
“Wait--”
“For what?”
Justin pauses, looks around. None of his friends seem to notice him. Sighing, Justin leans forward. “I don’t bottom.”
“That’s fine. I will,” the man laughs.
Justin nods and the man leads him into the back room.
Brian’s receiving a blow job from some guy in the corner. Justin’s not sure, but he thinks that his trick positions them so that Brian will see them. He prepares the man swiftly and enters him in one quick thrust.
His eyes close with pleasure as he stabs once, twice, three times. The guy’s into it, groaning appropriately and squeezing his muscles every few thrusts. Justin’s eyes open momentarily and he meets Brian’s lustful gaze. Brian’s mouth is slightly open, his chest heaving up and down. Justin watches as Brian’s eyes fall to the guy he’s fucking. Looking back at Justin, Brian’s eyebrows raise and then he smiles.
The smile eggs Justin on. He feels a tingle at the base of his spine as he moves his hips in small circles, making his trick cry out. “Jesus Christ,” the man calls as he comes.
Justin’s no where near being done and continues pounding into the man as he watches Brian’s dick being swallowed by the guy on his knees. Justin comes when Brian comes and they share a small smile before zipping up.
Brian holds the curtains open for Justin. “I didn’t know you’re a top.”
“It’s the hair. People assume that just because I’m blond, I’m automatically a bottom.”
Brian laughs. “It’s not just the hair, Sunshine.”
He ushers them to the bar.
“What’s that mean?”
Brian turns to their friends. “So, do you guys think Justin’s a top or bottom?”
He’s answered with a chorus of “bottom”s.
“What? Why?”
“Well, you’re so... fragile... looking...” Emmett trails off.
Michael agrees. “Yeah. And small.”
“And blond,” Ted says, raising his beer in salute.
“Well, guess what?” Brian announces to the group. “Justin’s a bona-fide top.”
“No shit?” Emmett squeals. “You any good?”
Justin blushes and orders a beer.
“Do you ever bottom?” Michael asks incredulously. They all lean in.
Justin’s face pales. “Uh... No.”
“Wait. Have you ever bottomed?” Emmett asks, his face scrunching up in disbelief.
“Oh. Ah... Once or twice.”
“That’s too bad,” Brian sighs. The group falls into an awkward silence as Justin stares at Brian in disbelief. “We could’ve had some fun.”
“You’ve gotta stop saying shit like that, Brian. It isn’t fair.”
The others’ eyes shift between Brian and Justin.
Brian winks and walks back to the dance floor, grabbing a guy at the edge and disappearing with him into the crowd.
“You know... I think I’m going to call it a night,” Justin grins uneasily at his friends. “See you tomorrow... Maybe...”
*****
“Where’s Justin?” Brian asks the minute he returns. He flips his hair out of his eyes and it sticks to his forehead. His shirt’s open and sweat is dripping down his chest.
“He left a while ago. You shouldn’t fuck with him, Brian,” Michael complains.
“I’m not fucking with him.”
“You do know he likes you, right Brian?” Emmett asks wearily. He brings his martini to his mouth and looks at Brian over the lip of his glass.
“Nah. He just wants me to fuck him. He’ll get over it. We talked about it.”
The others just roll their eyes.
“What?” Brian asks in an exasperated tone.
“Did you really ‘talk’ about it, Brian? Or did you just walk away like you always do?”
Brian takes a deep, calming breath. “Why do I get the feeling I’m being grilled?”
No one responds. They just linger around the bar for a while, each lost in thought.
“He’s hot, though, huh?” Emmett teases the man, nudging him with his shoulder.
Brian turns around quickly and orders a shot.
“Mm hmm,” Emmett says in an annoying know-it-all voice.
Buttoning up his shirt, Brian turns to face his friends. “You guys are being asses. Nothing’s going to happen. Jesus.” He shoots back his liquor, surveys the room, then waves to his friends. “I’m heading out.” He pushes away from the bar and leaves through the front door, dodging the reaching arms of desperate men.
“Well, this’ll be fun,” Ted sighs. “How much you wanna bet he heads over to Mel and Linds’?”
*****
Justin doesn’t even enter the house. He waits, leaning against the gate, smoking a cigarette. The headlights of Brian’s jeep blind him momentarily, then darkness again. He hears the crunch of Brian’s footsteps.
Brian takes the cigarette from his fingers and the sound of the tobacco burning echoes in the stillness of the night. “I like these. What kind are they?”
Clearing his throat, Justin says, “Camel Turkish Gold 100s.”
“They taste better than reds.”
“Yeah. Marlboro’ll kill you.”
“They all do, eventually.”
“Yeah.”
Justin lights another one and hands it to Brian, their fingers sliding against each other’s. “Thanks.”
Brian’s mind was reeling on the ride over. He had thousands of speeches planned about queers and love and fucking, but now that he’s next to the blond, he can’t remember a single one. And it’s pissing him off. His anger is rolling off him like waves and Justin senses the disturbance.
“I didn’t mean to act like such a dyke.”
Brian grunts his response.
“It’s just that so many people think it’s funny to fuck with my feelings. I’m sort of sick of it.”
“I was kidding.”
Justin takes a long drag from his cigarette. On the exhale, he responds. “You don’t know me too well yet.”
“So, what? You’ve got a stick up your ass or something?”
“Perhaps.”
“I told you I don’t do this shit.”
“Yep.”
“Then why’re you making a big deal out of it?”
“It’s just how I’m feeling, Brian. Don’t worry. I’ll get over. I don’t expect you to fuck me or anything.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
A pause, then, “No.”
“Liar.”
It’s almost a whisper and Justin isn’t sure he hears it.
“I talked to the girls today. Lindsay told me you’re quite charming, but not to fall for your crap.”
“Whatta sweet friend.”
“What does it matter, Brian? Nothing’s gonna happen anyway. You said so yourself.”
“God. Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Throwing what I say back at my face.”
“Then, don’t say it if you don’t meant it.”
“I do mean it!”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
Brian huffs loudly. He tosses his cigarette onto the floor and stomps it out, smashing it underneath his foot. He does this for a long time.
“Why’d you have to tell me that you like me?” He asks angrily. “I didn’t even think of you as a possibility until you said that. I don’t--” He exhales heavily. “Besides, Lindsay would kill me if I even touch you. She gave me a death threat before they eloped.”
“I’m a big boy, Brian. I can make decisions for myself.”
“Look. I just came here to reiterate that I’m not going to fall in love with you.” He sees Justin flinch. “I don’t want to love you. I’m not going to love you. So, stop trying.”
Justin’s eyes unwillingly fill with tears. “I’m not trying,” he whispers honestly.
“Well, it feels like you are. I mean, Jesus, why would I love you?” The venom in Brian’s voice has Justin opening the gate and walking up the path to the house.
Brian, of course, immediately regrets saying what he does. He wants to chase after Justin. Say that he didn’t mean it. That he’s just being retarded. That he doesn’t want to love anyone. That that doesn’t mean Justin’s unlovable. But his feet stay firmly rooted to the ground and his voice never leaves his throat.
“Good night,” Justin hollers hoarsely, his voice bouncing off the houses around them. He turns, slides the key in the lock, and securely shuts the door behind him. Sliding down the door, Justin crumples into an emotional mess.
It’s pretty easy not to love me, he thinks dramatically to himself. The thought makes him laugh, but then he’s hit with a sudden wave of irrational fear and loneliness. Who’d want to. Brian’s voice screams in his head. “I’m not going to love you... Why would I love you?” And sounds too much like it has in the past. Too much.
Chapter Six
Painting has always been a form of catharsis for Justin. When the world becomes too demanding, he likes to lose himself in his art. That’s what makes him a good artist--his constant need to paint.
But today, Justin stands in front of the blank canvas, his brush dripping black and his creativity... nonexistent.
He wants to hate Brian for saying what he said. For being stoic and reserved and, well, so much the asshole everyone says Brian is. But he can’t. He’s caught up in soft touches and humorous glances--the little nuances that aid in the making of a terrible crush.
Justin’s arm reaches out and he paints a short down stroke in the middle of the canvas. He connects that stroke with another, only slanted. Brian’s last words appear on the canvas like some sick horror film. He starts to blot out the canvas until it’s a textured black hole, the words leaping out in disdain.
Justin feels so self-absorbed.
Well, his professors would always tell him to “paint what you know.”
He leans against the desk in the studio and studies his painting. He thinks back on his career as an artist and realizes that he has never once painted happy love. It’s always been bleak, painful, and dark.
Paint what you know.
Only, for once, he wants to be able to paint something colorful and bright and... trivial. Trivial is good. He’d welcome the mundane.
He didn’t have to be so mean.
Stupid Lindsay. Why’d she have to fuck some guy and ruin her marriage? Justin decides to blame Lindsay entirely for the shitty weekend he’s been having.
A repetitive, annoying noise keeps interrupting his thoughts. Looking around the room, his eyes land on the house phone, the antennae blinking red as it ceaselessly rings. Sighing, he walks over to it and wills that it shut up.
“Hello?” He asks weakly.
“Sunshine! What are you doing this afternoon?” Debbie's shrill voice forces the phone away from Justin’s ear.
“I’m painting.”
“Well, take a break and come to my house for lunch. Everyone’s gonna be there. I’d love for you to come!”
“Oh... I don’t...”
“Come.”
Justin sighs. “Fine. What time?”
“Two.” Debbie snaps her gum in victory.
“Fine. I’ll see you later.”
*****
Justin arrives later than Brian. He runs into the house, breathless, cheeks bright pink from exertion.
“Sorry! I missed the bus and then I couldn’t get a cab, so I had to walk here!” He places his hands on his knees and breaths deeply. He just can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.
“You walked? Sunshine, you shoulda called. Someone woulda picked you up,” Debbie says, concerned. She puts a hand on Justin’s back and starts rubbing it. Justin’s beginning to wheeze. “Are you okay?”
“F--fuck--fucking asth--asthma--” His voice is stilted. “Just... need... room.”
“That means get the fuck away from him, Debbie,” Brian calls out, annoyed. “Jesus. Don’t you know anything about asthmatics?”
Debbie throws Brian a heated glare. “I’m just trying to help.”
Brian shakes his head and goes back to his magazine, trying to ignore Justin’s stunted breathing. Eventually, it evens out and Justin stands upright, his watery gaze instantly finding Brian’s.
Justin’s the first to look away and Brian sighs inwardly.
“How come you didn’t meet us at Babylon last night?” Michael asks. “I called and called, but you never answered.”
Waving a hand in the air, Justin settles on the couch, sitting as far away from Brian as humanly possible. “Oh. I was... Busy.”
Brian makes a weird tsk-ing noise in the back of his throat. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Justin turns to Debbie and asks about the children. The rest of the room glances meaningfully at each other.
Lunch is awkward, to say the least. There’s no longer that carefree camaraderie between Brian and Justin.
Debbie’s the first person to say something.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you two?”
Justin shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Well, how come you guys aren’t flirting shamelessly like you usually do?”
Casting a small glance at Brian, Justin says, “We don’t flirt.”
“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that and maybe it’ll come true.”
They don’t respond and Debbie lets it go. For now.
*****
Brian’s staring at himself in the second floor’s bathroom mirror. He prays for it to be over. He hates feeling this way. He hates feeling regret and apologetic. He wishes Justin would just shrug the other night off.
Brian keeps telling himself that it’s only because he likes Justin’s company. That’s why, try as he might not to, he keeps thinking about Justin.
The hot water from the sink steams up the bottom of the mirror. Brian takes one of his hands from under the running water and wipes the mirror off, leaving an uneven streak. The streak twists his reflection into something unidentifiable.
That’s not me, he insists to himself. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he cleans the mirror, the surface gleaming smooth and normal.
Normal.
God, what he wouldn’t give to feel that way again.
To not feel so bad.
To not feel at all.
He wonders to himself what it is about them, that family, Lindsay and Justin, that makes him behave differently. To think, feel, act so unlike himself.
Or, so unlike the self everyone else knows.
Or... so like himself.
Maybe.
Shaking his head, Brian momentarily recalls a class on Buddhism he took in college. “When you do something, you should burn yourself completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself.” He’s never been quite sure what that means, but it’s like his mantra. It’s about humility, he assumes. Or maybe it’s about good deeds. Fuck. He really doesn’t know. And he really doesn’t care. He just likes the part about leaving no trace of himself. He’s been doing that for years. Coming and going out of men’s lives, disappearing once they orgasm. They eventually forget his face and the feel of his hands, mouth, and cock. He eventually floats away like ash and dust.
Maybe that’s why the whole thing with Justin pisses him off. Because Justin won’t let him go. Justin’s words, the pain in his eyes, the cracked good-bye; they swarm restlessly through his brain.
It’s always drama with Lindsay, too. Is it just innate in their family? Or is it a blond thing?
But good’s always coming out of the drama. Sticking by Lindsay has brought Brian a strong friendship, a kinship, and a son. But, Justin...
Brian sees his eyebrows press together. There’s nothing with Justin. And it’s so goddamn confusing.
Slapping his cheek lightly, Brian insists that he stop thinking like a lesbian. To stop thinking about it. He’s an asshole to almost everybody. Hell, he’s even an asshole to Michael and Deb on occasion, but it’s never been an issue. It’s who he is.
“Right?” He asks his reflection out loud. His reflection raises an eyebrow and then shakes its head slowly. “Fuck you. It is.” Brian throws some water at the mirror in retaliation.
Justin bursts into the room, pulling at his zipper frantically. “Uh...” His ministrations stop when he realizes he isn’t alone. “I’m... God... I’m sorry! I really have to pee...” He slowly backs away, cheeks red. He’s almost to the door when Brian reaches out, wrapping his arm around Justin’s waist and pulling him back in, slamming the door behind them. “What are you--”
He stops when Brian pulls him into a hug. “Stop being like this,” Brian whispers. “I’m... I didn’t really handle that whole situation the way I wanted to...”
Justin’s eyes are wide. He pushes Brian away. “How were you gonna handle it, then?” He asks, searching Brian’s face until it’s too much for Brian and he has to look away. “What? Were you gonna give me the same speech I hear you give every trick who starts imagining himself in love with you? About one night only and relationships and what a fucking loner you are? ‘Cause if that’s what you’re gonna say, save your breath. I’ve heard it a million times.”
Brian’s confusion is evident and he opens his mouth to ask something, but Justin cuts him off. “You’re just like all my other boyfriends,” Justin spits out. “Good, at first. Nice, at first. Then vicious. Vindictive. Selfish. I’m used to it, don’t worry. But I’m not going to accept it anymore, Brian. It’s not what I want.”
“Then you’re going to be very disappointed in life, Sunshine.” Brian’s jaw tightens and he swallows hard.
“Who says I’m not already?”
Brian looks at Justin, his mind reeling. Justin thinks for a minute that Brian is going to defend himself, but instead, Brian steps aside and walks to the door. “You have to pee. See you downstairs.”
Brian shuts the door lightly behind him and Justin hears his footsteps fade down the hallway. His bottom lip is quivering slightly. His need to pee has all but vanished.
“Fuck!” He leans back against the door. “Fuck,” he says again, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He bangs his head lightly against the door, willing all this unexpected drama out of his life.
There’s a knock on the door and before Justin can move, Brian’s soft voice is heard through the door. “Listen. Just because I’m scared... and acted irrationally on that fear doesn’t make me vicious, Justin. Or vindictive and selfish. It makes me... human... And fuck you for making me feel bad for being human. For once in my life, I react to my feelings and I get trashed for it. I don’t believe in apologies, Justin, otherwise I’m sure I’d be apologizing like crazy right now. But I just can’t. Do you get it? I can’t.”
“Why?” Justin isn’t sure he actually spoke the word out loud.
“Because that’s not who I am.”
“But--”
“No, Justin. It’s not who I am.”
“But--”
“Justin! Why can’t you just accept the fact that I want to apologize?”
Justin pauses, his palms caressing the door, imagining Brian doing the same thing. “How is that any different from apologizing? By admitting you want to apologize, isn’t that like apologizing?”
“I--” There’s a long moment of silence. Brian pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and looks up to think. After a minute he says, “Huh... I’m not... I don’t know...”
Despite himself, Justin snickers. “God, we’re being real drama queens about this, huh?”
He hears something that sounds suspiciously like Brian giggle, then, “I’m never a drama queen, Justin. It must be all you.”
“Sure,” Justin says, snorting. “You know,” he pauses, then continues. “No one’s ever offered me a non-apology before. It’s kinda funny, but... your non-apology seems more sincere than anyone’s so-called real apology.”
“So,” Brian raps on the door lightly. Justin pushes away and opens it a crack. They look at each other, grinning softly. “Do you accept the fact that I don’t do apologies?”
“Sure. If you accept the fact that I don’t do drama queen.”
They both smile real smiles for the first time since they’ve spoken.
“Suddenly, I have to pee again.”
Justin can hear Brian’s laughter echo down the hall as he walks away.
Chapter Seven
“When did you two become such good friends?” Michael mutters to Justin after Justin and Brian come back from a couple hours on the dance floor. They’re soaked in sweat and Brian leaves a giggling Justin to buy them ice cold beers.
“What?” Justin asks with a slight drunken slur. He leans into Michael, breathing heavily on his face. “Who wouldn’t want to be friends with me?” Justin guffaws.
Michael pushes him away and begins to peel the label off of his beer bottle. “Be serious. You guys were all mad at each other and suddenly, you’re best friends? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Justin stops swaying to the music and narrows his eyes at Michael. “What? Are you jealous or something? Wittle Mikey’s jealous a wittle bit? Hmmmm?”
“Please. Get over yourself.”
“Not over me, stupid.” Justin shakes his head and then points toward Brian, who’s at the far end of the bar. “Over him.”
Michael rolls his eyes and steps aside, ready to join Emmett on the dance floor.
“‘Cause I know you’re in love with him.” Justin’s voice is sure and steady, quite a change from his tipsy giggling moments before. Justin sees Michael’s fists clench into tight balls and makes the wise decision to shut up.
Brian returns with three beers. “One for you, Mikey.” He kisses his friend’s cheek sloppily. “Thought I’d forget you, huh? But I’m a good boy.” He winks and then downs his own beer like it’s water.
Justin follows suit.
“You guys better slow down. ‘Cause I have to be at work for an early shipment and I’m not gonna drive your drunk asses home,” Michael growls, grabbing his beer off the bar and marching out of sight.
Justin and Brian watch him retreat with the same bright eyes. They glance at each other, busting out into a fit of giggles.
“I think dad’s mad,” Brian whispers, putting his fingers to his lips in order to hush a snorting Justin. “I think we should behave.”
Brian’s finger falls from his mouth as a hot blond passes by him. “Hey,” he calls out to the guy, who stops and turns around slowly.
He looks between Brian and Justin. “Wanna fuck?” Brian asks, a huge grin on his face.
Justin clicks his tongue and stomps his foot. “I wanna fuck him, too. That’s not fair.”
“Shoulda said something, Sunshine. I saw him first.”
“Actually,” the man interrupts their silly bickering. “I could do you both.”
“Like, me first and then Justin?” Brian asks, the liquor clouding his mind.
“No. Like one of you can fuck me and I can fuck the other. At the same time. You guys are fucking hot.”
“I’m a top,” Brian and Justin say together.
“Ooo-kay. Well, one of you could fuck me and I could suck the other one off?”
Before they can answer, Emmett and Michael slide next to their drunken friends. “I wouldn’t do that. They’re too drunk. It wouldn’t be worth it,” Michael tells the guy, pulling Brian toward the door. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to take you home. Emmett will take Justin home.”
Justin looks at Emmett when he hears this. “Do I really have to go home?” He asks, a pout taking over his boyish features. “I wanna stay out longer. Please?” He almost whines the word.
Laughing, Emmett tugs at Justin’s arm, following Michael’s lead. He offers an apologetic shrug to the potential trick and effectively gets Justin to follow him by promising, for some odd reason, a snow cone.
The cold air hits their faces with an intense rush. Michael and Brian are waiting for them by the jeep. “So, you take the twink home and I’ll take Bri home,” Michael nods at Emmett.
“I’m not a twink! Are we really getting snow cones?” Justin’s hopeful voice makes Emmett smile.
“If we can find a store that’s open and sells snow cones, I’ll get you one.”
Emmett takes Justin’s hand into his own and they start walking in the opposite direction.
“Wait,” Brian calls out. “Why does he get a snow cone and I don’t get jack shit? I didn’t even get laid tonight. That’s really not fair.”
Justin sticks his tongue out at Brian and says, “It’s ‘cause they all like me more than you.”
Michael rolls his eyes. “Go home, Boy Wonder. Sleep well.”
*****
“I don’t think Michael likes me very much anymore,” Justin’s voice is quiet.
Emmett denies the impulse to look at him, trying to focus on the road. He’s beginning to think that driving after two drinks isn’t such a great idea. Especially if they’re going to talk about the dynamics of the Brian and Michael Show.
“Oh, he likes you plenty.”
“He did.” The drive is sobering Justin up.
“It’s just that... well, I think maybe he thinks you’re taking his place in Brian’s life.” Emmett drawls. Justin opens his mouth to argue, but Emmett cuts him off. “And you are. In a way. I mean, you guys get along really well. You share a lot more interests with Brian than Michael does.”
Justin shakes his head vigorously. “Yeah. But. That’s not my fault.”
“Michael’ll get over it. He gets it from Deb. You know, that protective mothering crap they like to pull. He’s not really in love with Brian, despite what we all might believe. He loves him, yes. But he knows, deep down, that it would never work out. They’re too different. And their friendship it too important. Just... uh... don’t fuck Brian. Because if you do, I think Michael will really stop liking you. You know... ‘cause Brian supposedly doesn’t fuck friends...”
Justin doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets out a huge sigh and places his feet on the dashboard, unrolling the window in order to smoke.
“You don’t like that idea, do you?”
The lighter makes a clicking noise and the car is filled with a sudden wisp of smoke. “Not really. No. But Brian isn’t ready for anything more. I don’t think...” But he trails off and doesn’t finish his explanation.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Justin...”
“I just... I don’t think Brian will ever be ready for anything more. He’s going to have a sad, lonely life.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be sure about that. I know many single people who are happy.”
“Yeah, but... Ah, never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Emmett makes a frustrated noise. “Justin. I’m trying to have a conversation with you. I’m trying to help you. So, just say whatever it is you want to say and get it done with already.”
“All right. But, don’t tell Brian I said this, okay? He’d be pissed.”
“Fine.”
Justin places the cigarette in his mouth and inhales deeply. Letting the smoke glide through his lungs for a moment, he finally exhales and says, “Brian thrives off of attention, you know? I mean, that’s why he and Michael are such good friends. ‘Cause Michael’s the perfect little lap dog. But what happens when Michael finally grows up or moves away or realizes how important Ben is to him? Then what happens to Brian? Brian would be happy being single if he was guaranteed a regular fan base of drooling admirers.”
“That’s quite perceptive, Justin.”
“Psychology 10B.”
“But I think you’re wrong.”
Justin shrugs and says nothing. Then, turning to Emmett, a slight feral grin on his face, he says, “That guy was really hot, huh?”
“Who?”
“That blond guy that wanted us to fuck him. He was damn good. Tasty tasty.”
Snorting, Emmett pats Justin’s head affectionately. “You’re really fucking cute, you know that?”
“So I’m told,” Justin answers, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance. They’re at a red light and Emmett’s able to study his expression. Justin’s nose scrunches up and he bites his bottom lip, slightly shaking his head.
“What now?”
“I just...” Justin trails off and nods to the road. “Green.”
“Oh.” Emmett shifts gears and turns left. “Sorry.”
“I want...”
“What do you want, Justin?”
“Well, all my life people have told me I’m cute. I have a cute smile, a cute laugh, a cute body, blah, blah, blah.”
“You don’t like cute? What? You’d prefer hot? Or sexy?” Emmett grins at his own joke, but notices Justin nervously fiddling with his lighter. “Or what?”
“I just wish it wasn’t an issue.”
“What? You being cute? Honey... most people would kill for your looks.”
“Yeah. But that’s all, you know? All the guys I’ve ever been with... well, they pursue me ‘cause I’m cute. I’m a cute, middle-class white boy from the suburbs. No one ever sees anything else.”
“Well... you’re an artist, too.”
Justin lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah. I’m your typical art fag. Blond hair, blue eyes, soft spoken, cute bubble butt. I’m like a VW Bug. The newer ones, you know? Everyone thinks they’re so fucking cuuuuute. But no one really takes them seriously. I mean, you don’t buy a Bug for its performance. Not really. You buy it ‘cause it’s cute and comes in cool colors. And all your friends love it. But once you grow up... well, can you imagine a fifty-year old business man driving one of those things?”
“Damn. Alcohol makes you bitter.”
“I’m actually a bitter person.”
“Yeah right.” Emmett slows down and pulls into the driveway. “Well, here we are.”
“I hate being here when it’s just me. I get lonely. I’m not used to having so much space.”
“Uh... you’re not... gonna invite me up, right? ‘Cause we’re just friends and I think Brian would flip a lid if we fucked.”
Justin’s smile lights up the inside of Emmett’s car and calms him down. Laughing softly, Justin opens the car door and unlatches his belt. “Sorry, Em. You’re really not my type.”
Emmett watches Justin stumble down the pathway and finally unlock the front door. He doesn’t pull out of the driveway until the door shuts and the porch light flicks off.
“I might not be your type,” Emmett says to himself. He puts his car into drive and heads to his apartment. “But it’s obvious who is.”
*****
“You shouldn’t string him along like this, Brian. You know nothing will come of all that flirting you guys do.” Michael’s helping Brian into his loft.
“Who? What?” Brian slips off his shoes, leaning heavily into Michael. “I don’t flirt.”
“Yeah, you do.”
Brian slips in his socks and reaches down to rip them off, dangerously close to falling. “I hate--fucking--socks!” He cries, flinging them across the room. “And I might flirt,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks up the stairs to his bedroom. “But it’s just for play. For fun. You’re right. Nothing’s gonna come to it.”
Michael edges closer to the bedroom, watching Brian change through the partitions in the wall. “So... uh... you know who I’m talking about, then?”
He sees Brian stop unbuttoning his pants. Heaving a loud sigh, Brian says, “Justin.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Brian goes to remove his pants, looks over and sees Michael watching him. Instead, he grabs some sweats out of this drawer and heads to the bathroom. “I can take over from here, Mikey. You don’t need to stay.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll stay ‘til you’re in bed.”
His voice muffled, Brian answers. “Uh... okay... just... make sure you lock up.” He doesn’t need to see Michael’s smile to know that it’s there. “Look, Mikey...” He begins, stepping out of the bathroom shirtless and cautious. “I don’t need you to tell me to watch myself. I can take care of it.”
Michael joins him in the bedroom. He runs his hand over the soft blue duvet as Brian slides into the bed. “I know that, Brian. I just... I don’t want to see the tw--Justin... I don’t want to see Justin hurt.”
Brian gives him one of those looks. The one where he raises his eyebrows in wonder and stares until the recipient has to look away from embarrassment. Over the years though, Michael’s learned to hold his own. “What?” He asks Brian, sitting down at the edge of the bed.
“Like you give a flying fuck about Justin’s feelings.”
A little harsher than he expects Brian to be, Michael gazes at him before quickly looking away. “I just don’t get why you’ve been hanging out with him so much lately. You hardly know him.”
“Well, that’s why I’m hanging out with him so much. So that I can get to know him,” Brian says matter-of-factly.
“But why? Why waste your time? Your energy? You know he’s more than willing to fuck you. Why not just get it over with? Why play hard to get?” Michael’s voice raises an octave. He gets up to start pacing the room.
“Jesus, Mikey. I’m not playing anything with him. We’re just friends. I want to be his friend. He’s nice. Talented. Intelligent... Funny. God, he’s fucking hilarious. He almost got us kicked out of a restaurant tonight ‘cause he was being so--”
“You went out to dinner with him?”
“Well, yeah. Just like I go out to dinner with you.”
“Don’t compare our relationship with each other to your relationship with Lindsay’s cousin. God. She’s gonna be so pissed.”
“Why? That I’m friends with her cousin. I doubt that, Michael.”
“Just be careful, that’s all.”
“Of what?”
“Well, you know his types. Blond, cute, and young. He’s probably used to everything being handed to him on a silver platter. God knows Lindsay is.”
Brian sinks into his pillow and reaches over to turn off the light. “He’s not Lindsay, Michael. And he’s not you. Everyone has different experiences in life. And unless he’s told you all about it himself, don’t make any assumptions. Make sure you set the alarm before you leave.”
Michael trudges over to the door and listens to the stillness of the loft for a moment before punching the alarm’s code and locking the door behind him.
Onto Chapters 8-10...