Ethan's Back - Jane!fic
Ethan's Back - Jane!fic
Justin slid into the booth after looking around the diner for Brian, and Michael set down the Pittsburgh daily that he had been reading, open to the Entertainment section, so that the headline showed. “Violinist Back in Town after Smash European Tour.” Justin looked up to find Michael’s eyes on him.
He already knew what the article said. Ethan Gold conquers Europe, huge fan base, successfully bridging the pop audience/classical gap. Girls love him, so do guys. Officially out of the closet. The worst part of the article read, “‘Well,’ the young artist said, with the sexy half smile that drives his fan base wild, ‘I was never officially in the closet, I just made it a point not to discuss my personal life.’ I asked him of there was anyone special, and Gold’s eyes wander off for a moment. ‘There was,’ he replied, ‘back in Pittsburgh. My professional life made it impossible to manage that relationship, I’m afraid we went in different directions. But I’m hoping, when I go back, maybe…’”
And now Ethan Gold was to play his big homecoming concert, backed up by the Pittsburgh Civic Orchestra, quite an honor for them. “I know,” Justin replied, pushing the paper away. “Why do you think I’m not at school? The Music School is currently being honored with his magnificent presence.”
Michael quoted, “ ‘I’m hoping, when I go back, maybe…’ I assume he’s talking about you? Has Brian seen this yet?”
“With the way he goes over the entire paper every morning looking for advertising ideas? …he was gone before I got up.”
“And?”
Justin’s patience levels wore down just a bit. He did not have the emotional energy for this. “What? You think I’m interested in this shit? It’s bad enough that it happened, okay, knowing Brian’s going to be reading this, and then watching me… The worst thing is, I don’t blame him. I know I’m not interested in Ethan’s bullshit, but you know Brian. Words are shit, and he’s pretty much right. I could tell him from here to eternity that a public declaration in the fucking home town newspaper is total crap as far as I’m concerned, I am so done with him, it’s in the past where it belongs. Shit, it belongs in a nightmare, not even a memory. Huge, huge mistake.”
“You okay, hon?” Debbie stood over them with a coffee pot. She glanced at the paper, then glanced at Justin. “Need anything?”
Justin sighed. “I’m really not hungry.”
“Yeah,” Debbie replied, turning to walk away. “Something like this would kill pretty much anyone’s appetite. I’ll bring you a water.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “It’s been like this. Everybody knows. Everyone is going to be watching what happens. I humiliated him, Michael, that’s pretty much fucking unforgivable, and now that we’ve finally gotten to a point where we seem to be… oh, I don’t know, in sync or something, putting it behind us, where we can just breathe around each other, this. All the walls are going to come up again.” He looked back to the man sitting across from him. “Honestly? I’m completely terrified, thinking about what’s going to happen.”
Michael pulled the paper out of the way, as Debbie came back with two glasses of water, set them down on the table, and put her hands on her hips. She looked back and forth between the two men, saw that they were staring intently at each other, and turned to leave them alone. She liked to see her boys communicating; what was it with men that they found it so difficult to just talk to each other? So she left the area, and moved to the counter to watch the door and steer the gang away until the two seemed done with their conversation. Well, she’d snag everybody except Brian, of course. Why waste energy?
Michael pushed the glass in front of him out of the way; most of the water sloshed onto the paper, soaking the article. “Then don’t let anything happen, don’t let anyone see the cracks. That’s gonna be your job, crisis management, for the next while. You know, Brian’s pretty forceful, and seems pretty in control of every situation…”
“Tell me about it.”
“…but with you, he’s different. This is something he has no control over, and believe me, he’s going to be as freaked out about it as you are. But the truth is, whatever you had with that Ian guy…”
“Ethan.”
“Whatever. Whatever was between you and Ethan, that is all yours, not was, if this article indicates anything, it still is. You left Brian for this other guy because you were waiting for Brian to do all the work in this relationship you got going with him, you thought he wasn’t committing, you thought he was too busy, you thought he wasn’t being understanding, and you thought it was his business to fix it. And Brian sure acts like he can fix everything, but that’s just the way he is, you know that. He’s not an easy person to work with - for whatever reason, but you want him, you gotta deal with all that crap that makes him who he is. It takes two, you know? So, don’t make the same mistake this time.” Michael paused. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”
Justin shrugged. “I can’t tell, I won’t be able to tell just by talking to him. I’m only going to be able to tell by dealing with how he acts, shit, in reacting myself. I’m hoping I can handle it, but you know, I didn’t before. I don’t blame him for not trusting me, I’m not sure I can trust myself.” He saw Michael’s frown and rushed on to say, “Not the Ethan thing, that’s a guarantee, that’s so over. I mean with Brian. I don’t know if I can handle his reaction to this.”
“Well, you’ll see, I guess. How are you with this otherwise?”
“Do we have to keep talking about it?”
“But that was about you, as in ‘you and Brian.’ How are you, just Justin, doing with this?” Michael gestured toward the article which was now slowly turning to gray pulp in the small pool of water.
For the first time all day, Justin smiled slightly, and was amazed that the catalyst for this was Michael, of all people. He had to hand it to Mikey; every time he was ready to dismiss him as someone who for the life of him could not see beyond his own ass, he came out with something like this that showed he was not so blind to what was going on in general.
“Honestly? It’s completely freaked me out. And you’re right, not just because of me and Brian.” Justin nodded at the paper. “What is that, he lost me over a time management thing? He’s actually deluded himself into thinking that, that there’s a possible future? Who is this guy? I realized, when I read this, that I never knew him at all, that he never cared or even thought about my feelings about anything. I’d allowed myself to get into a situation where I had no control and didn’t even know it. It was just like that Pink Posse crap, all of a sudden, someone you thought you knew is waving a gun around and you could have gotten caught up in serious trouble. I mean, do I do this all the time, put what’s important to me at risk like that, even when I don’t recognize that that’s what I’m doing? And even worse, I left someone who genuinely cares for me and has my best interests at heart, for that?” Michael just watched as the younger man’s eyes filled, and the voice dropped a register. “And, suddenly, when I was reading that crap this morning, the full impact of what I had done to Brian by leaving him the way I did for that, it hit me, finally. I knew I’d made a mistake, but that word, ‘mistake,’ suddenly took on life, you know? I took something from him, I opened him up to public humiliation. As he once said to my Dad, that’s not love. That’s hate. I treated him hatefully, and I can’t change it now. It’s just been hitting me all morning, what I did. Some things you do, they can’t be fixed. How can Brian forgive me?”
“He has forgiven you,” Michael said gently.
Justin shook his head. “Maybe, but can he ever trust me again? Really, I mean? I don’t know. We’re going to find out, I guess.”
Michael looked across the diner, to see Ben sitting on a stool, waiting. “Hey, Ben!” he called. “What are you doing over there?”
Ben strolled over, slid in and kissed Michael. Justin took in the couple across from him, almost jealous. They were so easy together, and while Ben wasn’t Brian, Justin had eyes, the man was equally gorgeous, just in a different way. Justin watched as they discussed Hunter’s school work and plans for the evening, and thought about how good Ben had been for Brian’s friend. Michael was happy; it sure made all of their lives easier.
“Anyone want to go to a concert?”
Justin’s heart skipped, then began racing painfully. He looked over his shoulder and up. Brian, in one of his Armani suits, taking off his sunglasses, staring down at him. The smile, like Bruce the Shark’s from Finding Nemo, firmly in place. The mask down, the face like granite. The softness that had begun to peer out from somewhere still unnamed, but showing up every so often in the last few months stirring silently behind the eyes as they rested on his lover, erased as if it had never existed. He wasn’t moving to sit, and said nothing into the silence, just stared hard at Justin with that supercilious raised eyebrow.
At least the waiting to find out what Brian’s reaction was going to be was over. They say waiting is the hardest part. Bullshit.
“You saw it.”
“Hard to miss, the triumphant return.” Brian sat down, not bothering to push Justin further into the booth, just ramming his way onto the seat, hip first. Justin scooted out of the way, not quite fast enough. He knew a mood when he felt one.
“Debbie, can I get some coffee?”
“Sure, just a sec.” She came over with the pot and a cup. “You’re not going to be an asshole about this, are you?”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Why should I? The coffee here always sucks.”
Debbie slammed the cup down. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She poured; the coffee sloshed, some onto the newspaper; Ethan’s face leered up at them through a haze of smearing newsprint. “Sunshine’s probably in enough of a state as it is, like he needs your shit on top of it.”
“Are you in a state?” Brian asked, turning to Justin.
Justin shook his head, raised his eyebrows. “I’m fine.” Not quite, but this was hardly the place to bring it up. With that hip check, appeasement seemed more in order. At the moment.
“He’s fine.” Brian picked up his coffee, sipped it, grimaced.
Ben glanced over at Michael, and they shook their heads at each other. Really, it would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.
“So why aren’t you at school?” Brian was saying, as Debbie walked away with a snort of disbelief. “Don’t you have class?”
Justin shrugged, and Michael rolled his eyes. School boy wasn’t off to a good start in managing this crisis, regardless of their earlier conversation. The old impatience rose up in Michael. But Ben’s words, from the night he had returned with Hunter, came back to him, how he admired Michael’s emotional courage, when Michael did what he thought was best for those he cared about. Michael still wasn’t sure how much he cared for Justin; the kid showed really bad judgment a lot, and Michael had always suspected that part of Justin’s attraction for the older man was a recognition of a mirrored selfishness, a selfishness that they both retreated behind far too easily. Michael loved Brian, but part of that was based on their history as childhood friends, and besides, Michael knew so much of Brian’s reserve was self-protective. With Justin, the selfishness seemed purely emotionally based - and events had sure conspired against quelling that aspect of his nature. Justin was naturally passionate, and Michael knew Brian definitely loved that about the kid, but when fired up, Justin had his own way, and to hell with consideration of the needs and worries of those around him. Those two had a similar hard, ambitious edge that could survive anywhere, against anything, with nothing to hold onto but himself. It worked for them, Michael guessed, probably part of what kept things so heated when they got together, but it worked as much against them, too. At the heart of each man was a core capable of running over anything in its path on the way to fulfilling its desires and ambitions. That was the real trick to them, that hard edge, and it scared Michael, who had no way of relating to something so alien to his own nature. He was well aware such temperaments were capable of creating real damage to those who cared for the men they were attached to. Brian, though, despite what he said, always pulled away just when he seemed about to do something irretrievably awful. He always managed to keep that core part of him reined in because he was, at heart, a good person. But Justin… who knew? And Brian still pissed Michael off with his ability to retreat behind that mask of his and lock everyone out, even him. Michael had enough of caring for one man who had such a hard time with emotional issues. So Michael had no idea how he felt about Justin, even if he was starting to warm up to the kid. Experiencing Justin’s talent as an artist sure helped, hard not to be impressed. And he wasn’t bad all the time. In fact, sometimes he was a lot of fun.
But Michael wouldn’t be helping them out now for Justin, he’d be doing it for Ben, who believed in him, and admired his partner’s ability to give of himself in helping others. That was enough. So while the two idiots across from him pretended to ignore the newspaper and each other, Michael filled in what Justin should have said a few moments before. “The fiddler’s having a grand welcome at the Music School, so Justin figured he’d make himself scarce.”
Justin frowned, but Michael raised his eyebrows at him, nodding toward Brian, who was finally staring down at the newspaper at the side of the table. Michael thought, if it were really Rage, laser eyes would have burned the thing to ashes the second he saw it. Oh, gee, he was starting to come up with a story line for the next issue. He turned to Ben, and asked, “You have a piece of paper and a pen?”
While Ben bent over toward his knapsack and Michael waited for the items, Justin turned fully toward Brian. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much it. I have no desire to deal with that.”
“Oh?” Brian fingered the paper, not looking up at the young man by his side. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit what that guy does. Why should you disrupt your day for him?”
Justin almost growled in response, but swallowed it and waited for the impulse to pass. Then he put his hand on Brian’s face, and lifted his head so he was looking straight at him. “I don’t want my day disrupted. But I figure, why allow myself to be somewhere I might get ambushed if I don’t have to? I allow myself to get into bad situations too much, and I think it’s time I cut that out, don’t you? I really don’t want to end up in another unwelcome mess, if that interview’s any indication…” He gestured at the paper, “Whatever the hell that’s all about. If I were at school and he saw me there, he might think I wanted to be there so I could see him. Seriously, I have no idea what he’s thinking, I really don’t give a shit.” He bit his lower lip, and Brian’s eyes shifted to that movement, but his face remained carefully neutral, waiting. The rest rushed out before Justin could stop it, “Except that it’s kind of freaking me out, actually. If he means me in that interview, and I’m assuming he does… it’s just weird, like, scary weird. I don’t want to have to deal with him at all. I wish he’d just go away again.” As soon as he heard it, he wondered if confessing his anxiety over the whole thing was going too far, confessing any emotion at all about Ethan’s return, even if all negative, if Brian was getting any of what he was trying to say. He hadn’t wanted to bring up the subject of that damn interview, but he didn’t want Brian to think he had anything to hide from him by completely avoiding acknowledgement of the situation. And there was no way Brian hadn’t read the entire thing, so he already had his mind made up on some level. Shit! This sucked, was he saying too much, or not saying enough?
Brian studied Justin’s face, really searched for something. Then he smiled, a slight lift of one side of his mouth, too tight an expression for Justin’s comfort. “Well! Then I’d better take this with me, so you can survive the afternoon.” He picked up the dripping paper, grimaced, and began to walk away.
“Hey! Aren’t you staying for lunch?” Michael called.
“No time,” Brian answered, on his way out the door. He dropped the paper in the trash, forcefully.
“Well,” Ben said, in the silence that descended. “You handled that very well, Justin, the explosion seems to have been averted.”
“I have no idea what I said.”
“You told him the truth, that’s all you needed to do,” Michael returned.
“Plus,” Ben added, “you also made it clear that you were pretty vulnerable and might need some help with the situation. You know Brian, he’s not good at asking for help, but he’s pretty good at being there for the rescue.”
“Fairy princess.”
“Fuck you, Michael, don’t make me get out the pictures from Pride parade.”
“Wait, what’s that?” Ben really wanted to know this one.
“Nothing, shut the fuck up, you little twat, or I’ll turn Rage on JT.”
“Like that would ever get drawn.”
Before those two could begin taking the tension out on each other, Ben stepped in. He’d find out about the pictures later; Michael could never keep anything secret. “Well, so begins this round. You’ve got the moves, but you always could dance pretty well.”
Justin sighed. “I guess. We’ll see what happens. I’m not sure I know the steps on this one.” He laughed, humorlessly. “If I ever did. I might be taking too long to learn. Thanks,” he continued, looking over at Michael. “Feel free to coach from the sidelines.”
Michael laughed, over the spat already. “I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll have to settle for hand signals, I’m not going to get my head bitten off because of you.”
Justin just nodded. Of course not
Brian was pissed off. And he was pissed off that he was pissed off.
Here he was, headed to Babylon after a very long day - he’d been working until past nine, but the fact that he had enough work to keep him well into the night… of course, he had no doubt that if anyone could have pulled this off, he would be the one. Plenty of clients, and he’d spent part of the day going over the resumes that Cynthia’d passed by him to supplement the support staff. Already growing - was that any surprise? As it should be, naturally - all it took was his hand and a willingness to go all out. No problem.
It was the first really nice day of the year, he had the driver’s side window down and music on, and Babylon was waiting. Home, take a shower, grab a beer, and out the door to drive to Babylon, meet the guys, get his dick sucked if he felt like it, dance with Justin…
Yeah, there it was, that tight feeling in his chest again. Pissed off. Which made no sense, and pissed him off more. His fingers clenched around the wheel, and he stepped on the gas pedal, the surge of power briefly offsetting the tension that cramped his midsection.
He shouldn’t feel this way. Okay, damn it, he knew when he allowed himself to start feeling anything for anybody, that some of it would be bad. Maybe even all of it. Probably all of it. Shit, look at the crap he’d put Mikey through. The fact was, even good feelings couldn’t be trusted. Even at the best things got, there was always that doubt lurking around behind, say, the feeling he got drowsing off in bed with Justin draped over him, after hours of fucking… okay, more than fucking. Whatever. Or dancing, knowing everyone was watching them, how hot they were together… that other shadow, lurking just behind the dazzling one that promised so much - those promises were decoys, drawing him in just so a nasty one could step out from behind the sunburst of well-being and clock him.
So yeah, there was that feeling too. It pissed him off. The part where everybody watched them, that was fine, well, really, he got off on it, so did Justin. Knowing they hardened every dick in the immediate surround when they got out on the dance floor and into it, they both got off on that. Only with Ian back in town, the brains behind those watching eyes would be flashing on the memory of Justin’s little waltz out of the Rage party, magnifico on his arm, not on the sight of Brian jerking his blond boy off in the here and now. The memory would be on the tongue of every bitch in the place. Not that he, Brian, cared about what all those assholes thought. He was with Justin now, that’s what was important. The gossiping queens around them were beside the point. But that doughboy’s hands on the beautiful body, Justin kissing him, fuck! Sure, he’d wanted Justin to see him fucking Rage that night, he’d watched Justin watch him fuck Rage. He could remember, clearly, thinking to Justin standing there just behind the net wall as he, Brian, pumped his dick into Rage’s ass, thinking, this is me, JT. Deal with it or get the fuck out, just stop playing with me, stop lying to me, it’s pissing me off. Get it over with, I’m tough enough to take your shit, I’ve taken much, much worse than anything you got. Just do what you gotta do, and get it over with.
He had expected Justin to get the idea. He had expected some sort of blowup. Hell, he expected Justin to leave him. He hadn’t expected Ian to show up; he hadn’t expected that he’d have to watch his boy being kissed by that guy, those hands on the pale skin… Well, now that was his problem, that memory, wasn’t it? His bad memory and everyone else’s secret delight: the top dog brought down a notch. But fuck it, what did he care what anyone thought?
The point was, he didn’t own Justin, never had, never would, just, those lips at least, those were reserved. And, Justin said, they were on reserve again.
Justin said.
Fuck!
He finally found a spot about a block from the club and pulled in, cutting the engine. But he didn’t get out right away. He sat there, for just a second, just to get this under control. He couldn’t face Justin without composing himself, locking this shit down. Justin would know, he always knew, that something was wrong. And really, nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Really.
Flipping down the visor, Brian checked himself in the mirror. Well, good to go. As usual. But he hesitated.
The truth was he was pretty tired of this, all this guessing. What Justin had done, what he himself had done, all that was both their faults. They still had communication issues; but they seemed to be working on them. Sort of. Things were different now. They were.
*Why?* You sure things are different?
There it was, that little voice nagging in the background. He had no answer for it.
He knew exactly why Justin had left him. The thing was, he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d come back. Except for the sex. That he understood.
Brian flipped the visor back into place and opened his car door, swinging long legs out. Maybe that whole Ethan thing was for the best, they did seem to be getting along better now. But that whole thing had whipped up like a bad storm out of the seeming blue; and Brian had been so busy at work at the time, that there was a good possibility that he might’ve missed the warning signals even if he’d been paying attention. And here he was, swamped with work all over again. Maybe if Justin was living in the loft… why exactly didn’t he want to move back in?
Christ, he didn’t own the kid. Justin wanted to live at Daphne’s, he had his reasons, and that was good enough. He had his own life, that’s what he wanted, and Brian wanted him to do what he wanted, to be where he wanted. Justin wasn’t expecting Brian to make him happy now, he was figuring out how to do that for himself. That was the trick, that was the important thing.
As he approached Babylon, he promised himself that he’d talk to Justin more, later tonight when they were alone, about what Justin had said at the diner earlier. About avoiding school because of this. Missing school was not in his best interest, but the reason for it… Justin had been through a lot in a relatively short period, and Brian hated to hear him use that word, “scary,” as a reason to avoid parts of his life. That would be bad, Justin being scared away from anything, from taking risks that sometimes just had to be taken to get you where you want to go. Look at what he was doing, opening his own agency. Doing things like that, taking those risks, it was for a certain breed of people, people born for the big time, and Justin was to the manor born. He loved Justin’s courage, loved the fact that he was right up front about who he was and anyone who didn’t like it could fuck themselves. Yeah, yeah, he could think the word, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
But Brian didn’t think the fiddler’s presence should keep Justin from school, he really didn’t. That place was more Justin’s than Gold’s. He hadn’t said anything because, well, he hadn’t been sure what Justin was thinking about that article, about what Gold had said about wanting another shot at him. Declarations of desire, in a public paper, no less. Now there was a gesture, that asshole. Sad, really. Brian had been too relieved at what Justin had said about it, that he didn’t think of a response at the time, and only later realized he should have addressed Justin’s anxiety, that “scary weird” comment. Reassure him or something. The guy was nothing, he was more pathetic than scary. And Brian knew how strong Justin was; he’d remind him of that later, too. Maybe it would help, who knew? Justin liked to hear things. Brian didn’t get it; he was an artist, why couldn’t he be happy with just seeing the way things were for himself, not what other people had to say about them?
But even with his immediate concerns relieved after leaving the diner, Brian still wondered. Justin had said he was through with the guy, but again, words. Easy to say what you’d do in any given situation; when things actually happened, well. Look at how quickly Justin jumped on the guy the first time, when Brian had been preoccupied, on top of just being himself.
But things are different now.
*Why?*
A block from the entrance, he shook his head to clear this train of thought. His crap wasn’t the point at the moment; he needed to focus on how Justin was doing. He could feel bad that he hadn’t said what he should have said to Justin at the diner, but he really hadn’t had time to talk more. He hadn’t really had time to go there in the first place, but Debbie had called his office, asking him why Sunshine was at the diner looking like a truck had hit him. What had Brian done now? Wasn’t the kid supposed to be at school? He had told her it was none of his fucking business, or hers for that matter, Justin could take care of himself. So he had hung up on the annoyance, and had turned back to the paper. To the entertainment section.
Half block from Babylon, guy leaning against the bricks just off to the right caught Brian’s eye. Ice blue eyes, black hair, t-shirt hugging chiseled muscles, nipples at attention, tight pants promising what lies beneath. Gave Brian the once over, the come hither look, the fuck-me smile. Leaned so his ass pointed Brian’s way. Brian returned the look idly, good-looking guy, but he didn’t really have time right now. Maybe later. He picked up his pace.
Nick watched Brian bound up Babylon’s steps and disappear. Fuck. So close. The legend had given him the eye; Nick wondered why he hadn’t taken him up. The interest obviously was there. Well, everyone knew about Kinney; he’d get his full attention eventually. From what he’d heard, it was worth waiting for, and sure to come, so to speak. For now, though, Nick moved off the wall, off to find another hot guy. Just looking had made his dick like a rock.
Brian walked into Babylon, pushed through the crowds, looking around. He knew he looked good; that last look into the mirror confirmed it, and of course, the looks coming his way eased his ego, half empty as it was sometimes. Okay, a lot of times.
He moved to the bar, noticing some very hot bodies parting in front of him, eyeing him up and down, and thought again of that guy out in front. Hm…
“Usual,” he said to the bartender, who turned to get the Beam.
“Kinney,” came an oily voice at his elbow.
“Sap,” Brian replied, barely acknowledging the rat, who seemed determined to push into his space.
The man didn’t bother to correct him, the way he usually did. “I got a live show tonight, you should like this one.”
His drink set in front of him, Brian turned around and leaned his back against the bar, glancing at the crowd. “I know Stockwell’s out of office, but isn’t that a bit much, even for you?” Brian asked, sipping at the amber liquid. Like fire, burning. Nice.
“Oh, no,” Sapperstein chuckled. “This is musical, we have a visiting artist, who wants to bridge the pop-classical-fusion gap. He’s chosen Babylon to introduce his next album. Go figure.”
It wasn’t as easy as it usually was, but Brian managed to keep his initial reaction from moving the muscles in his face. He glanced across the dance floor, and saw the equipment being set up in front of the video screens. Well, well, well. Wasn’t this… interesting. There, next to a sound board on the side, Magnifico himself, gesturing wildly at the guy messing with wires. Dismissing him immediately, Brian searched the crowds on the floor, at the other bar. He really wanted another drink, but knew it would be better to wait. Sap was waiting for a reaction. Fuck if he’d give him one. “Interesting,” was all he said, carefully making it seem that his eyes were wandering, when they actually searched like spot lights, over the lower bars, up the stairs, across the catwalks… There. The blonde head, three steps back from the rail, almost invisible behind Emmett’s lanky form, Michael’s protective back. “I seriously doubt this’ll help business,” he said, before pushing off. Damn it, he wanted a better line, but for some reason, anything really stinging had escaped him. He stalked through the crowd, toward the stairs.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Sap said, to no one in particular. He watched the crowd part for the man, parting for that saunter that expected no resistance. And worse, got none. Arrogant asshole. Sap could give a fuck about this Gold kid. That wasn’t the show being put up tonight. And the real one, now, that was very good for business. To say nothing of making that blonde bitch squirm, fuck, his knee cap throbbed in memory of that kick. Little fucker, he hoped he got dumped over this. Not like it hadn’t happened before.
The first words from Justin when he saw Brian. “Let’s go.” Brian looked down at the blue eyes, pleading, staring up at him. Shit, vulnerability, he knew it when he saw it. Fucking great.
“Oh, no way,” Brian replied, “Miss this? Didn’t I ask you if you wanted to go to a concert? And here one is, Taylor-made.” A smile appeared on his face, much easier than he expected, and he laughed at his own pun. Justin didn’t laugh back, shit. So much for making light of the mess.
“Really, do you have to torture the poor thing? He’s only been waiting for you to show up, it’s okay, honey, you don’t need to deal with this.”
“Shut the fuck up, Emmett.” Brian turned back to Justin, put his hand at the nape of his neck, the pad of his thumb feeling the pulse under the jaw line. Sweet, sweet spot. He allowed himself to get distracted for a moment, but seeing Justin’s eyes start to glaze over, he knew this wasn’t the time for that. “You gonna run away again?”
“I didn’t know he was going to be here or I wouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“This is your place, not his.” My place, Brian added to himself. But again, not important at the moment. “Are you going to change your life for him? Or are you going to go the places you want to go, do what you want to do, and to hell with who gets in your way?”
Justin bit his lip, brought his hand up to Brian’s, intertwined the fingers. “I really had no idea this was going to happen. If I’d known…”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t. Time to face the music, Justin.” Justin’s lips tugged upward at that one, and Brian kissed him. Justin sighed into it. Finally.
“If he wants to leave, he should leave,” Michael added from the sidelines.
Brian pulled back, and when he opened his eyes, they were on Justin again, ignoring Michael. They did not need an audience for this, this was serious, he wanted to get through to the man in front of him, he could give a fuck about the rest. But it wasn’t going to happen if Justin kept running, and they kept talking about it. Talking, what would that do? Standing ground, that meant something. He stared down into the blue eyes, saying nothing.
“You really want to watch this?” Justin asked. He looked skeptical.
“Did you know, sweetie, you now have a classical fusion album dedicated to you?” Emmett had a CD in his hands, checking out the back. Ben came up behind Michael and handed him a beer. Michael grabbed the CD from Emmett, read the back. “To Justin, my muse, near or far. Oh my God.”
“Well,” Ben added, taking a long swallow of his water, “At least we know, the guy isn’t exactly original.”
Justin looked appalled, stared up at Emmett, not knowing what to say. Brian burst out laughing. The other four looked at him, astonished.
“And you want us to go?” Brian spit out, when he was able to control himself. “I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Justin grumbled, looking away. Michael nodded, and Emmett raised an eyebrow. Ben just watched.
Oh, bullshit, Brian thought. He grabbed Justin’s shoulders, and steered him into the rail, so that his stomach pressed against it, and Brian’s hard-on pressed into his ass cheeks. “Embarrassing for whom? You’re telling me you’d miss this guy making a total twat out of himself?”
Michael, Emmett and Ben took up position on either side at the railing. Ethan had taken out his violin. The music faded. The crowd turned in the direction of the top of the stage, those on the sidelines glancing to the stage, then up at the royal couple watching from above.
Justin shook his head as Brian’s jawline settled onto the muscle between his neck and shoulder, so that their cheeks pressed together, “But it is pretty embarrassing for me. I mean, if I hadn’t created the situation, we wouldn’t be standing here watching this, being watched like this.”
Yeah, Brian thought, we wouldn’t be standing here like this. But instead of that last, he lifted his head and pulled away so that Justin could look him in the face when he said what he had to say. “Look, Sunshine,” he started, trying not to get distracted by those lips, a never ending source of interest, “You didn’t do this. You didn’t choose this,” he nodded down at the stage. “Whatever’s in the past, that’s where it is, where it belongs. It’s over. Get over it. You didn’t choose to have this… fiddler come to Babylon to serenade you, to be so without a clue that he thinks you’d be happy about it. Either that, or he wants to embarrass you, that’s pretty shitty too. What do you have to run from? That?” Brian glanced down briefly, noted that there were far too many people watching him talk to his young lover. Fuck them, goddamn it. He continued, “He’s embarrassing himself, not you, you’re not responsible for his choices. Whatever happened, that’s in the past, right?”
“Oh, my God, yes.” Justin turned back face out over the rail, and pressed that luscious ass into Brian’s groin again. Shit, maybe they should get out of there. But not until this little play was over. Brian was right. Why should he run?
“Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Justin answered, starting to roll as the music started. He just couldn’t help himself, music did that to him. Brian grabbed his hips, pulled him back, moving with him. “I thought I promised you I’d never play violin music in your presence again.”
“Well, you’re not. But you think I’m gonna miss this screeching idiot make a total ass of himself in public? Now shut up, I want to watch.”
Justin didn’t say anything; the lights went down, the spotlight turned on the musician on stage. Ethan looked pretty good, Justin had to admit. He seemed to have been working out, and his clothes hugged his body, looked expensive. Well, anything was an improvement over the Salvation Army shit he used to wear. But besides that, Justin felt… nothing. Not even embarrassed anymore. Brian’s hard on pressed into him. Now he wanted to get out of here for reasons that had nothing to do with Ian… Ethan. But Brian was right. No running away. Why should he? This no longer had anything to do with what he wanted, and fuck if he was going to play a game whose rules he never agreed to.
The crowd hushed, and Ethan moved to the microphone.
“Ladies… gentlemen… alternatives…” Ethan began, drawing a bit of a laugh, “I want to thank you for letting me unveil my new sound, to make my case, as it were, with you here tonight. I started my illustrious career in Pittsburgh, as you all know, as a classicist, but, well, shit, that’s not who I am, and I should never have compromised myself. When I was in Europe, I came out with a fusion sound, closer to what I was interested in…”
“Long-winded, isn’t he?” Emmett said, gulping at his cocktail.
“Shush,” Brian answered, his breath raising the hairs on Justin’s neck.
“…But it still wasn’t good enough. I left some things behind in Pittsburgh, deeply tied to myself but outside of what I strictly knew; and I realized that part of courage is taking in, incorporating challenges, to not be afraid to take those risks. Even fusion wasn’t enough to satisfy the… desires that represent what I left behind here, so I came up with this.” He glanced up and briefly met Justin’s eyes. Justin stared back; he wouldn’t look around, knowing the entire bar had followed that look. He flushed, painfully. Ethan lifted his bow, and the music crashed to a start.
Wow, danceable, Justin thought, feeling his body instinctively respond to the insistent beat that accompanied the foreground violin, harshly played, an assault on the strings, and that drumbeat in the background.
“You shake those hips one centimeter and I won’t fuck you for a week.”
Justin stopped immediately.
Brian thought it sounded like cats fucking while jumping up and down on empty trash cans, but the dance floor was full of bodies who disagreed. Techno inspired, with an almost African beat and classically influenced, the music could have been a disaster, but somehow it worked. Justin was impressed; Ethan’s genius realized.
He wished it would end. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?” Justin moaned. The speech was beyond embarrassing; his entire fuck-up resonated through every word, generating the gossip mills for weeks. He could feel eyes all over him and not in a good, life-affirming way.
“No.” Brian moved to Justin’s right, separating their bodies.
Justin studied Brian’s rigid stance. He seemed to casually drape his arms over the rail, his lithe body leaning against it lightly, but the clasp of his hands was just a tad too tight, the jawline clenched ever so slightly.
“You’re still mad, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wasn’t mad…” Brian paused. He finally looked over at the younger man, then glanced away again. “Maybe just a bit. I’ll get over it.”
But not until after this, Justin thought. Payback was a bitch, even if he definitely deserved it. Staying here and taking the humiliation - because that’s what it was, humiliating, if Ethan thought he was complimenting him he was sorely mistaken, Justin could feel every cell in his body cringing with embarrassment - standing here and taking this should just about even the score between them. Sorry was bullshit.
It didn’t mean, though, that he had to be a pussy about it. “Fine. You want me to take a stand, I’m going to talk to him and tell him to fuck off,” Justin said.
Brian looked at him, an expression of total indifference coming down over his face. “Whatever you think is best.”
“To tell him all this means nothing to me.”
“Whatever.”
“Stop it.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Brian did know. He also knew he would love to get the fuck out of here as much as Justin did; all this screeching was deflating his dick, big time. Besides, it was boring. So why wouldn’t he just go?
Because he had to see what would happen. It was this sick urgency, like standing in front of a cliff and needing to jump. If you want to go, just fucking go! one voice yelled in his head. But another replied, much more calmly, “No.” He trusted the calmer voice, mostly because he wasn’t feeling calm at all and he hated that. It was the music. Christ, would it never end?
Ethan played for about twenty minutes, and that was it. He thanked the audience, thanked the management, glanced up at Justin. Then the real music started, the spotlight cut out. That was that.
Justin pushed away from the rail and stalked off. Michael and Ben watched him walk down the stairs; Emmett had long left for the dance floor, and Brian was studiously examining the parade of bodies filing by.
Michael moved to join his friend. “Are you okay with this? You just going to let him go over to that guy, after what he did?”
Brian’s tension relaxed down with that, since Michael had put into words exactly what he was feeling, and out loud he heard how ridiculous it was. He did not see what Michael saw, that look of resignation that came over his eyes like a curtain. It covered his first reaction, that anger through which he channeled every other emotion he wasn’t equipped to deal with, in other words, pretty much all of them. That look of resignation passed over the features, and Brian closed his eyes, then snapped them open again. “He’s a big boy, Mikey, he can take care of himself.” He eyed the guys going by within reach. But then he added, in a slightly different tone, “Just tell me when he’s done, or tell me if he looks like he’s getting in over his head.”
“No problem.” Michael faced around, back to the little scene playing out on the floor.
Brian really needed to fuck someone, right now, and eyed the shirtless ash-blond with the tight jeans sashaying by. But more than that, he needed to wait, he needed to wait for whatever was happening beneath him. Man, did this suck, waiting. Hurry up, Sunshine, he thought, get it over with and get your ass back here. How long was it going to take for that guy to get out? Or would the fiddler hang out, have a group bang in the backroom, each fan getting a lick in? Hmph, that guy was probably a bottom. Definitely a bottom. Line up, boys. Brian smiled at that visual, added some leather, whips, a wheel, the local news, cameras… romance boy knocked off the charts by his appalled fan base who expected only ridiculously romantic bullshit, dumped by his label… It could happen. Hey, it *could* happen…
“Ethan.”
Ethan looked up. There he was. His stomach dropped about a mile. This had been a risk, but wasn’t he taking them a lot lately? And look at how they’d paid off. “Hi. How are you?” He stood up.
Justin said, “Why are you doing this?”
“The music? You inspired me to greatness, what can I say?”
“And your premiere here? Babylon?”
“I thought you’d be flattered.”
“I’m not.”
The two men stared at each other. For the first time in a while, Ethan was too scared to make the move he wanted to. He wanted to say so much, but Justin’s face was closed, he seemed angry. If only he could get him to listen.
“You’re embarrassing me, dedicating the CD to me… you lost your right to call me your muse. It’s embarrassing me. It’s embarrassing Brian.”
“Oh, him.”
“Yes, him. I was an idiot to walk out on him in the first place, to fall for your bullshit, and now what? CD dedications, more meaningless words…”
“This isn’t just words, Justin, can’t you see, my whole life has changed because of you, I changed my music, opened my life to who I really am, came out of the closet, all because of your influence …”
“Those are your feelings,” Justin replied. “I’m happy for you if your life is better. The music’s awesome, you know that. But I don’t really care, I’m back with Brian, I belong with him…”
“You do NOT belong with him!” Ethan lost it a bit, he had meant to be calm, but he couldn’t help it. “He’s still fucking around, I know, I asked, he hasn’t changed at all. Yeah, maybe I fucked up, but I’ve changed a lot… Justin, listen to me…” He grabbed Justin’s wrist, as the other man seemed ready to turn away, “Maybe I fucked up, but he can’t give you everything you want, someone who loves only you. I still love you, I changed everything because of how I feel…”
“You don’t know him at all,” Justin replied, trying to pull his wrist out of the other’s grasp. “You don’t need to. All you need to know, all *I* need to know is, I’m in love with him. There’s no room in my heart, or my life, for anyone else.”
Michael’s words interrupted Brian’s pleasant daydream, which had developed into a picture of a fat fiddler, violin long gone, waiting in line at the Salvation Army, sitting on the curb with his feet in the gutter, about to get beat up by all the other drunks as he went on and on about his “illustrious” but long gone career… “Uh, hate to say this,” Michael’s voice broke in, “but he just grabbed Justin’s arm and seems to be trying to drag him out.”
Brian whipped around, looked down, saw Justin shouting over the music, attempting to twist away from the clamp on his wrist. Great, it had to be *that* wrist. Brian didn’t say anything, just handed Michael his beer and stalked off to the stairs.
“Get your fucking hands off him.”
Oh, thank God. Justin looked over to where Brian had come up behind them. His wrist was dropped.
“Need help, Justin?”
“I got this one.”
Brian stood back, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. Justin turned back, and said to the dark-haired man in front of him, “Look, Ian, it’s over, there’s nothing you can do that would make me change my mind…”
Brian burst out laughing, and Ethan went beet red. Justin looked between the two, and then realized what he’d said. He stuttered, “Ethan, I mean, Ethan…” He pressed his lips together and elbowed Brian, who was cracking up, almost doubled over. Then he started laughing too, and turned into Brian’s side, burying his head on his shoulder, feeling bad about being an asshole but unable to help himself. Brian put his arm around Justin’s back, pulled him in closer. “Bye, now,” Brian mouthed over Justin’s head, before turning away, and pulling his lover onto the dance floor. Bodies parted, then swallowed them up, and the pair disappeared into the crowd.
Ethan stared for a moment, wondering what had just happened, and then stalked away.
Justin stopped, refused to go further. “You didn’t have rescue me you know, I’m not a fucking princess.” Brian raised an eyebrow. “Fuck you, Brian, I’m not! I can take care of myself!” Justin balled up his fist, hit it on the other man’s chest, to make his point. Brian grabbed it, held it there, forced the fist open, and rubbed the palm with his thumb.
“Okay, you’re not a princess, happy? Maybe a queen…” He saw the look on Justin’s face, and added, “I wasn’t rescuing you, I know you can take care of yourself. I just…” He stopped. Justin didn’t want to push him, knowing how he could get when forced into a corner about his emotions. His hand relaxed, and lay flat on Brian’s chest. He loved to feel Brian’s heart beating. Brian finally continued, “Come on, you know how I get off on building walls, so? Build this one with me. A nice big wall to shut this guy out.”
“And us in?”
For an answer, Brian hooked his hand in the back of Justin’s cargo pants, pulled him closer, kissed him, trailed his lips to the jawline. “Let’s dance to some real music.”
Across the room, Ethan angrily ordered a vodka. Fucking Brian, Justin lost his mind around that guy, didn’t he remember anything, after all Justin had told him about what Brian had done to him? And here he was, back with that guy? He couldn’t be happy. No way. Brian could never give Justin what he, Ethan could, monogamy, Europe, worship really, he knew what an artist’s ego needed, all Brian knew was tricks and fucking. As he had told Justin, he had asked around, and the story was the same as when Justin had turned away from that prick the first time. Nothing had changed, there was no way Justin could be happy about that. He’d talk to him when that asshole wasn’t around.
“Hey.” Ethan turned his head to the side, to see a sort of boyishly good looking, slightly built man standing next to him.
“Do I know you?”
“I got it,” the man said to the bar tender, paying for the drink.
“Not interested,” Ethan said, turning away.
“Neither am I,” the dark-haired man answered. “Want you to see something.”
Ethan grimaced. “Really not interested.”
Loud sigh, over the din of the club, that loud. “It’s not what you think. We’ll be in public. Well, in this place, that doesn’t always mean anything. Just come with me, it’s not that.”
Curious despite himself, Ethan picked up his drink and followed the man up the stairs to the catwalk above the dance floor. The man found an open place on the railing, looked beneath him, searched a second, then pointed across the floor. Ethan moved to the rail and looked down.
Brian and Justin were dancing, if that’s what you wanted to call it. They were given a bit of space even though the floor was packed; the guys around them were watching, out of the corners of their eyes, or even openly. Brian’s hands were on Justin’s hips, pulling him in to his, moving against other. Justin was licking a spot on Brian’s neck, before the lips moved upward and the face that had been tilted back to enjoy the caress moved down to lock his lips with the slighter man’s. Justin’s hands moved down Brian’s arms, running down to his hands, and their fingers entwined; Brian moved Justin’s arms behind his neck, so their chests were flush up against each other. They hadn’t broken the kiss.
“So, sex, so what,” Ethan said. Sex was never the problem, hadn’t Justin said that? He remembered everything Justin had said.
“They love each other,” Michael replied, wondering if this guy was the biggest moron on the planet. What was it with Brian and Justin, why did they get to people the way they did? He suddenly understood Justin’s wariness of this musical genius; apparently the idea that geniuses were crazy had roots. “Think about it, when you left here after the Rage party last year, when Justin kissed you, you think that was for you? It was a message for Brian. This,” Michael gestured down at the pair, “he’s not doing that for your benefit, it’s still all for Brian. And himself. They love each other.”
Ethan was silent. He became aware that the guys who were watching the couple in the center of the dance floor were glancing up at him. “I remember you, you’re that Rage comic guy Justin works with, aren’t you? Is that why those guys on the floor are looking up here? They stare at what they think are your conquests as much as they watch Brian fuck around with his?”
Michael laughed. “What? Oh, nah, they know the story, those two are their favorite exhibitionists. They know what’s going on, I mean, you did announce your intent to reclaim Justin in the local newspaper. For fuck’s sake, you dedicated that CD to him. They all watched Brian take him away from you just now without any effort at all. Now they’re wondering how long it’s going to take you to get a clue and leave. There’s a pool on how long before you get out of Dodge. Dave the bartender is taking the bets.”
“Who are you? Dante?” Ethan sneered.
A man, gorgeous, really, with the most amazing jaw and aquiline nose, turned from where he stood on the other side of Michael, to look over at Ethan. “Try Virgil. Your visit to hell is over, Gold, say good-bye. Go make art from what you have seen.” Ben waved the man off, his hand, brushing his presence out of existence.
Ethan’s lip curled, but with one last snort, he was gone.
“Who the fuck is Dante?”
Ben laughed, kissed Michael on the cheek, rubbed up on him from behind. “The kid was being a pretentious snot. Dante wrote a great poem about being given a guided tour of hell, Virgil was the guide. So Ian had his reference wrong, calling you Dante, when clearly you were Virgil the guide, and that makes him Dante. And here he thought he was such a clever boy. I figured one last thing would put him in his place, make him get how much of an idiot he’s being. And I can’t stand anyone taking shots at you.” Full kiss, on the lips, nice.
“Think he got the picture?” Michael asked.
“Hm, well, if he didn’t, he always has his music. Some of the best art is produced through pain. Look at Orpheus, couldn’t get over his dead wife, so he invented the lyric, and entranced the world with his sorrow.”
“Orpheus, huh? What happened to him? Ever find anyone else?”
“Nah, he pissed off the Furies, they ripped him to shreds and threw the pieces in the river, where his decapitated head floated away, still singing.”
“God, you are so smart, I love your brain,” Michael laughed.
“Just my brain?” Ben pushed against the other man, harder.
“Okay, that’s it, ready to go home?”
“Definitely.”
Epilogue
____
“Man, am I glad to get back here. That was excruciating.” Justin flopped onto the couch as Brian closed the door to the loft. “Brian?”
“What?” Brian moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
Justin took a deep breath. “I’m such an asshole. I am so sorry about that whole thing, I had no idea that was going to happen. I just… I never told you this directly. It was such a huge mistake, I really fucked up. I don’t know how you can ever really forgive me… ever trust me again.”
“Look,” Brian moved across the room and stood, looking down at Justin. “You don’t want me to think of you as a princess, stop acting like one. You’re doing that ‘reassure me, rescue me’ thing right now.” Brian’s voice took on a high note, imitating Justin’s voice, mocking him. “‘I’m an asshole. I made all these mistakes, I ruined everything…’ You think you created this whole situation all by yourself, that you’re the one doing everything to set up these little dramas, and I’m just some twat standing off to the side taking your bullshit? Is that what you think?”
“Of course not,” Justin answered.
“Okay, so I don’t always express myself, I can be … withholding.”
Justin’s lips twitched.
“What?” Brian demanded.
“I was gonna say immature, but then I thought, at the moment, it might be a little hypocritical…”
“Yeah, well, we both gotta work on that one.” Brian reached down, lifted him to his feet, settled his forearms on Justin’s shoulders, tilted his forehead to touch the other’s. “Look, the point is, just because I don’t always express what I feel doesn’t mean you’re the only one who feels anything. You’re not the only one in this.”
“In what, Bri?”
“You know what, so shut up and listen. We’re going to schedule panic days.”
Justin frowned, but was having a hard time focusing on what Brian was saying, the way the other man’s hips were pushing forward, pelvis rubbing against his, along with other parts… “What?”
“Panic days. You get to panic on Mondays and Wednesdays and I’ll reassure you, if I must, and I get to panic on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We take weekends off.”
Justin started to laugh, and Brian moved in to kiss him. “Wait!” Justin broke away, with a bit of effort of will. “You’re making fun of me, this is serious!”
“I know it’s serious, all the more reason to make fun… among other things.” He picked Justin up, and walked with him up the steps to the bedroom. Brian looked down at Justin’s face, flushed and eager. “It’s Friday,” he said. “No panicking til Monday.” He dropped the younger man onto the bed.
“Okay,” Justin agreed. “Brian?”
“Hm?” Brian asked from beneath the shirt he was raising over his head.
“Are you really okay with the whole Ethan thing?”
“He’s gone, we don’t have think about him. Got better things to think about…” Brian lowered himself to the bed, then his lips were on Justin’s stomach, moving down. Justin gasped, but refused to be distracted. “No, stop, I mean it.”
Brian sighed, and looked up, but only by lifting his head from the young man’s torso. He waited, ready to return to what he had been doing as soon as possible. “What?”
“I mean it. We never really talked about it. Are you okay with the whole Ethan thing? I don’t need a long discussion, just some sort of idea about what’s up on your end.”
Brian stared at him, opened his mouth to answer, something dismissive, but thought better of it. He pressed his lips shut, rested his head on Justin’s stomach for just a second. Then he pulled his way up the bed, so he was looking down directly into Justin’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m completely okay yet. But I think I will be, if you bear with me. Think you can do that?”
“I can do that. On Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Good. Now can I please get back to what I was doing?”
“Just one thing.”
“What now.” Muffled, lips on skin.
“Maybe we won’t need to panic at all?”
Brian moved downward, over Justin’s abdomen, his hand running down his thigh, spreading his legs. “Let’s just see what happens. Now shut up, so I can fuck you without a narrative.
Justin slid into the booth after looking around the diner for Brian, and Michael set down the Pittsburgh daily that he had been reading, open to the Entertainment section, so that the headline showed. “Violinist Back in Town after Smash European Tour.” Justin looked up to find Michael’s eyes on him.
He already knew what the article said. Ethan Gold conquers Europe, huge fan base, successfully bridging the pop audience/classical gap. Girls love him, so do guys. Officially out of the closet. The worst part of the article read, “‘Well,’ the young artist said, with the sexy half smile that drives his fan base wild, ‘I was never officially in the closet, I just made it a point not to discuss my personal life.’ I asked him of there was anyone special, and Gold’s eyes wander off for a moment. ‘There was,’ he replied, ‘back in Pittsburgh. My professional life made it impossible to manage that relationship, I’m afraid we went in different directions. But I’m hoping, when I go back, maybe…’”
And now Ethan Gold was to play his big homecoming concert, backed up by the Pittsburgh Civic Orchestra, quite an honor for them. “I know,” Justin replied, pushing the paper away. “Why do you think I’m not at school? The Music School is currently being honored with his magnificent presence.”
Michael quoted, “ ‘I’m hoping, when I go back, maybe…’ I assume he’s talking about you? Has Brian seen this yet?”
“With the way he goes over the entire paper every morning looking for advertising ideas? …he was gone before I got up.”
“And?”
Justin’s patience levels wore down just a bit. He did not have the emotional energy for this. “What? You think I’m interested in this shit? It’s bad enough that it happened, okay, knowing Brian’s going to be reading this, and then watching me… The worst thing is, I don’t blame him. I know I’m not interested in Ethan’s bullshit, but you know Brian. Words are shit, and he’s pretty much right. I could tell him from here to eternity that a public declaration in the fucking home town newspaper is total crap as far as I’m concerned, I am so done with him, it’s in the past where it belongs. Shit, it belongs in a nightmare, not even a memory. Huge, huge mistake.”
“You okay, hon?” Debbie stood over them with a coffee pot. She glanced at the paper, then glanced at Justin. “Need anything?”
Justin sighed. “I’m really not hungry.”
“Yeah,” Debbie replied, turning to walk away. “Something like this would kill pretty much anyone’s appetite. I’ll bring you a water.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “It’s been like this. Everybody knows. Everyone is going to be watching what happens. I humiliated him, Michael, that’s pretty much fucking unforgivable, and now that we’ve finally gotten to a point where we seem to be… oh, I don’t know, in sync or something, putting it behind us, where we can just breathe around each other, this. All the walls are going to come up again.” He looked back to the man sitting across from him. “Honestly? I’m completely terrified, thinking about what’s going to happen.”
Michael pulled the paper out of the way, as Debbie came back with two glasses of water, set them down on the table, and put her hands on her hips. She looked back and forth between the two men, saw that they were staring intently at each other, and turned to leave them alone. She liked to see her boys communicating; what was it with men that they found it so difficult to just talk to each other? So she left the area, and moved to the counter to watch the door and steer the gang away until the two seemed done with their conversation. Well, she’d snag everybody except Brian, of course. Why waste energy?
Michael pushed the glass in front of him out of the way; most of the water sloshed onto the paper, soaking the article. “Then don’t let anything happen, don’t let anyone see the cracks. That’s gonna be your job, crisis management, for the next while. You know, Brian’s pretty forceful, and seems pretty in control of every situation…”
“Tell me about it.”
“…but with you, he’s different. This is something he has no control over, and believe me, he’s going to be as freaked out about it as you are. But the truth is, whatever you had with that Ian guy…”
“Ethan.”
“Whatever. Whatever was between you and Ethan, that is all yours, not was, if this article indicates anything, it still is. You left Brian for this other guy because you were waiting for Brian to do all the work in this relationship you got going with him, you thought he wasn’t committing, you thought he was too busy, you thought he wasn’t being understanding, and you thought it was his business to fix it. And Brian sure acts like he can fix everything, but that’s just the way he is, you know that. He’s not an easy person to work with - for whatever reason, but you want him, you gotta deal with all that crap that makes him who he is. It takes two, you know? So, don’t make the same mistake this time.” Michael paused. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”
Justin shrugged. “I can’t tell, I won’t be able to tell just by talking to him. I’m only going to be able to tell by dealing with how he acts, shit, in reacting myself. I’m hoping I can handle it, but you know, I didn’t before. I don’t blame him for not trusting me, I’m not sure I can trust myself.” He saw Michael’s frown and rushed on to say, “Not the Ethan thing, that’s a guarantee, that’s so over. I mean with Brian. I don’t know if I can handle his reaction to this.”
“Well, you’ll see, I guess. How are you with this otherwise?”
“Do we have to keep talking about it?”
“But that was about you, as in ‘you and Brian.’ How are you, just Justin, doing with this?” Michael gestured toward the article which was now slowly turning to gray pulp in the small pool of water.
For the first time all day, Justin smiled slightly, and was amazed that the catalyst for this was Michael, of all people. He had to hand it to Mikey; every time he was ready to dismiss him as someone who for the life of him could not see beyond his own ass, he came out with something like this that showed he was not so blind to what was going on in general.
“Honestly? It’s completely freaked me out. And you’re right, not just because of me and Brian.” Justin nodded at the paper. “What is that, he lost me over a time management thing? He’s actually deluded himself into thinking that, that there’s a possible future? Who is this guy? I realized, when I read this, that I never knew him at all, that he never cared or even thought about my feelings about anything. I’d allowed myself to get into a situation where I had no control and didn’t even know it. It was just like that Pink Posse crap, all of a sudden, someone you thought you knew is waving a gun around and you could have gotten caught up in serious trouble. I mean, do I do this all the time, put what’s important to me at risk like that, even when I don’t recognize that that’s what I’m doing? And even worse, I left someone who genuinely cares for me and has my best interests at heart, for that?” Michael just watched as the younger man’s eyes filled, and the voice dropped a register. “And, suddenly, when I was reading that crap this morning, the full impact of what I had done to Brian by leaving him the way I did for that, it hit me, finally. I knew I’d made a mistake, but that word, ‘mistake,’ suddenly took on life, you know? I took something from him, I opened him up to public humiliation. As he once said to my Dad, that’s not love. That’s hate. I treated him hatefully, and I can’t change it now. It’s just been hitting me all morning, what I did. Some things you do, they can’t be fixed. How can Brian forgive me?”
“He has forgiven you,” Michael said gently.
Justin shook his head. “Maybe, but can he ever trust me again? Really, I mean? I don’t know. We’re going to find out, I guess.”
Michael looked across the diner, to see Ben sitting on a stool, waiting. “Hey, Ben!” he called. “What are you doing over there?”
Ben strolled over, slid in and kissed Michael. Justin took in the couple across from him, almost jealous. They were so easy together, and while Ben wasn’t Brian, Justin had eyes, the man was equally gorgeous, just in a different way. Justin watched as they discussed Hunter’s school work and plans for the evening, and thought about how good Ben had been for Brian’s friend. Michael was happy; it sure made all of their lives easier.
“Anyone want to go to a concert?”
Justin’s heart skipped, then began racing painfully. He looked over his shoulder and up. Brian, in one of his Armani suits, taking off his sunglasses, staring down at him. The smile, like Bruce the Shark’s from Finding Nemo, firmly in place. The mask down, the face like granite. The softness that had begun to peer out from somewhere still unnamed, but showing up every so often in the last few months stirring silently behind the eyes as they rested on his lover, erased as if it had never existed. He wasn’t moving to sit, and said nothing into the silence, just stared hard at Justin with that supercilious raised eyebrow.
At least the waiting to find out what Brian’s reaction was going to be was over. They say waiting is the hardest part. Bullshit.
“You saw it.”
“Hard to miss, the triumphant return.” Brian sat down, not bothering to push Justin further into the booth, just ramming his way onto the seat, hip first. Justin scooted out of the way, not quite fast enough. He knew a mood when he felt one.
“Debbie, can I get some coffee?”
“Sure, just a sec.” She came over with the pot and a cup. “You’re not going to be an asshole about this, are you?”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Why should I? The coffee here always sucks.”
Debbie slammed the cup down. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She poured; the coffee sloshed, some onto the newspaper; Ethan’s face leered up at them through a haze of smearing newsprint. “Sunshine’s probably in enough of a state as it is, like he needs your shit on top of it.”
“Are you in a state?” Brian asked, turning to Justin.
Justin shook his head, raised his eyebrows. “I’m fine.” Not quite, but this was hardly the place to bring it up. With that hip check, appeasement seemed more in order. At the moment.
“He’s fine.” Brian picked up his coffee, sipped it, grimaced.
Ben glanced over at Michael, and they shook their heads at each other. Really, it would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.
“So why aren’t you at school?” Brian was saying, as Debbie walked away with a snort of disbelief. “Don’t you have class?”
Justin shrugged, and Michael rolled his eyes. School boy wasn’t off to a good start in managing this crisis, regardless of their earlier conversation. The old impatience rose up in Michael. But Ben’s words, from the night he had returned with Hunter, came back to him, how he admired Michael’s emotional courage, when Michael did what he thought was best for those he cared about. Michael still wasn’t sure how much he cared for Justin; the kid showed really bad judgment a lot, and Michael had always suspected that part of Justin’s attraction for the older man was a recognition of a mirrored selfishness, a selfishness that they both retreated behind far too easily. Michael loved Brian, but part of that was based on their history as childhood friends, and besides, Michael knew so much of Brian’s reserve was self-protective. With Justin, the selfishness seemed purely emotionally based - and events had sure conspired against quelling that aspect of his nature. Justin was naturally passionate, and Michael knew Brian definitely loved that about the kid, but when fired up, Justin had his own way, and to hell with consideration of the needs and worries of those around him. Those two had a similar hard, ambitious edge that could survive anywhere, against anything, with nothing to hold onto but himself. It worked for them, Michael guessed, probably part of what kept things so heated when they got together, but it worked as much against them, too. At the heart of each man was a core capable of running over anything in its path on the way to fulfilling its desires and ambitions. That was the real trick to them, that hard edge, and it scared Michael, who had no way of relating to something so alien to his own nature. He was well aware such temperaments were capable of creating real damage to those who cared for the men they were attached to. Brian, though, despite what he said, always pulled away just when he seemed about to do something irretrievably awful. He always managed to keep that core part of him reined in because he was, at heart, a good person. But Justin… who knew? And Brian still pissed Michael off with his ability to retreat behind that mask of his and lock everyone out, even him. Michael had enough of caring for one man who had such a hard time with emotional issues. So Michael had no idea how he felt about Justin, even if he was starting to warm up to the kid. Experiencing Justin’s talent as an artist sure helped, hard not to be impressed. And he wasn’t bad all the time. In fact, sometimes he was a lot of fun.
But Michael wouldn’t be helping them out now for Justin, he’d be doing it for Ben, who believed in him, and admired his partner’s ability to give of himself in helping others. That was enough. So while the two idiots across from him pretended to ignore the newspaper and each other, Michael filled in what Justin should have said a few moments before. “The fiddler’s having a grand welcome at the Music School, so Justin figured he’d make himself scarce.”
Justin frowned, but Michael raised his eyebrows at him, nodding toward Brian, who was finally staring down at the newspaper at the side of the table. Michael thought, if it were really Rage, laser eyes would have burned the thing to ashes the second he saw it. Oh, gee, he was starting to come up with a story line for the next issue. He turned to Ben, and asked, “You have a piece of paper and a pen?”
While Ben bent over toward his knapsack and Michael waited for the items, Justin turned fully toward Brian. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much it. I have no desire to deal with that.”
“Oh?” Brian fingered the paper, not looking up at the young man by his side. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit what that guy does. Why should you disrupt your day for him?”
Justin almost growled in response, but swallowed it and waited for the impulse to pass. Then he put his hand on Brian’s face, and lifted his head so he was looking straight at him. “I don’t want my day disrupted. But I figure, why allow myself to be somewhere I might get ambushed if I don’t have to? I allow myself to get into bad situations too much, and I think it’s time I cut that out, don’t you? I really don’t want to end up in another unwelcome mess, if that interview’s any indication…” He gestured at the paper, “Whatever the hell that’s all about. If I were at school and he saw me there, he might think I wanted to be there so I could see him. Seriously, I have no idea what he’s thinking, I really don’t give a shit.” He bit his lower lip, and Brian’s eyes shifted to that movement, but his face remained carefully neutral, waiting. The rest rushed out before Justin could stop it, “Except that it’s kind of freaking me out, actually. If he means me in that interview, and I’m assuming he does… it’s just weird, like, scary weird. I don’t want to have to deal with him at all. I wish he’d just go away again.” As soon as he heard it, he wondered if confessing his anxiety over the whole thing was going too far, confessing any emotion at all about Ethan’s return, even if all negative, if Brian was getting any of what he was trying to say. He hadn’t wanted to bring up the subject of that damn interview, but he didn’t want Brian to think he had anything to hide from him by completely avoiding acknowledgement of the situation. And there was no way Brian hadn’t read the entire thing, so he already had his mind made up on some level. Shit! This sucked, was he saying too much, or not saying enough?
Brian studied Justin’s face, really searched for something. Then he smiled, a slight lift of one side of his mouth, too tight an expression for Justin’s comfort. “Well! Then I’d better take this with me, so you can survive the afternoon.” He picked up the dripping paper, grimaced, and began to walk away.
“Hey! Aren’t you staying for lunch?” Michael called.
“No time,” Brian answered, on his way out the door. He dropped the paper in the trash, forcefully.
“Well,” Ben said, in the silence that descended. “You handled that very well, Justin, the explosion seems to have been averted.”
“I have no idea what I said.”
“You told him the truth, that’s all you needed to do,” Michael returned.
“Plus,” Ben added, “you also made it clear that you were pretty vulnerable and might need some help with the situation. You know Brian, he’s not good at asking for help, but he’s pretty good at being there for the rescue.”
“Fairy princess.”
“Fuck you, Michael, don’t make me get out the pictures from Pride parade.”
“Wait, what’s that?” Ben really wanted to know this one.
“Nothing, shut the fuck up, you little twat, or I’ll turn Rage on JT.”
“Like that would ever get drawn.”
Before those two could begin taking the tension out on each other, Ben stepped in. He’d find out about the pictures later; Michael could never keep anything secret. “Well, so begins this round. You’ve got the moves, but you always could dance pretty well.”
Justin sighed. “I guess. We’ll see what happens. I’m not sure I know the steps on this one.” He laughed, humorlessly. “If I ever did. I might be taking too long to learn. Thanks,” he continued, looking over at Michael. “Feel free to coach from the sidelines.”
Michael laughed, over the spat already. “I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll have to settle for hand signals, I’m not going to get my head bitten off because of you.”
Justin just nodded. Of course not
Brian was pissed off. And he was pissed off that he was pissed off.
Here he was, headed to Babylon after a very long day - he’d been working until past nine, but the fact that he had enough work to keep him well into the night… of course, he had no doubt that if anyone could have pulled this off, he would be the one. Plenty of clients, and he’d spent part of the day going over the resumes that Cynthia’d passed by him to supplement the support staff. Already growing - was that any surprise? As it should be, naturally - all it took was his hand and a willingness to go all out. No problem.
It was the first really nice day of the year, he had the driver’s side window down and music on, and Babylon was waiting. Home, take a shower, grab a beer, and out the door to drive to Babylon, meet the guys, get his dick sucked if he felt like it, dance with Justin…
Yeah, there it was, that tight feeling in his chest again. Pissed off. Which made no sense, and pissed him off more. His fingers clenched around the wheel, and he stepped on the gas pedal, the surge of power briefly offsetting the tension that cramped his midsection.
He shouldn’t feel this way. Okay, damn it, he knew when he allowed himself to start feeling anything for anybody, that some of it would be bad. Maybe even all of it. Probably all of it. Shit, look at the crap he’d put Mikey through. The fact was, even good feelings couldn’t be trusted. Even at the best things got, there was always that doubt lurking around behind, say, the feeling he got drowsing off in bed with Justin draped over him, after hours of fucking… okay, more than fucking. Whatever. Or dancing, knowing everyone was watching them, how hot they were together… that other shadow, lurking just behind the dazzling one that promised so much - those promises were decoys, drawing him in just so a nasty one could step out from behind the sunburst of well-being and clock him.
So yeah, there was that feeling too. It pissed him off. The part where everybody watched them, that was fine, well, really, he got off on it, so did Justin. Knowing they hardened every dick in the immediate surround when they got out on the dance floor and into it, they both got off on that. Only with Ian back in town, the brains behind those watching eyes would be flashing on the memory of Justin’s little waltz out of the Rage party, magnifico on his arm, not on the sight of Brian jerking his blond boy off in the here and now. The memory would be on the tongue of every bitch in the place. Not that he, Brian, cared about what all those assholes thought. He was with Justin now, that’s what was important. The gossiping queens around them were beside the point. But that doughboy’s hands on the beautiful body, Justin kissing him, fuck! Sure, he’d wanted Justin to see him fucking Rage that night, he’d watched Justin watch him fuck Rage. He could remember, clearly, thinking to Justin standing there just behind the net wall as he, Brian, pumped his dick into Rage’s ass, thinking, this is me, JT. Deal with it or get the fuck out, just stop playing with me, stop lying to me, it’s pissing me off. Get it over with, I’m tough enough to take your shit, I’ve taken much, much worse than anything you got. Just do what you gotta do, and get it over with.
He had expected Justin to get the idea. He had expected some sort of blowup. Hell, he expected Justin to leave him. He hadn’t expected Ian to show up; he hadn’t expected that he’d have to watch his boy being kissed by that guy, those hands on the pale skin… Well, now that was his problem, that memory, wasn’t it? His bad memory and everyone else’s secret delight: the top dog brought down a notch. But fuck it, what did he care what anyone thought?
The point was, he didn’t own Justin, never had, never would, just, those lips at least, those were reserved. And, Justin said, they were on reserve again.
Justin said.
Fuck!
He finally found a spot about a block from the club and pulled in, cutting the engine. But he didn’t get out right away. He sat there, for just a second, just to get this under control. He couldn’t face Justin without composing himself, locking this shit down. Justin would know, he always knew, that something was wrong. And really, nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Really.
Flipping down the visor, Brian checked himself in the mirror. Well, good to go. As usual. But he hesitated.
The truth was he was pretty tired of this, all this guessing. What Justin had done, what he himself had done, all that was both their faults. They still had communication issues; but they seemed to be working on them. Sort of. Things were different now. They were.
*Why?* You sure things are different?
There it was, that little voice nagging in the background. He had no answer for it.
He knew exactly why Justin had left him. The thing was, he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d come back. Except for the sex. That he understood.
Brian flipped the visor back into place and opened his car door, swinging long legs out. Maybe that whole Ethan thing was for the best, they did seem to be getting along better now. But that whole thing had whipped up like a bad storm out of the seeming blue; and Brian had been so busy at work at the time, that there was a good possibility that he might’ve missed the warning signals even if he’d been paying attention. And here he was, swamped with work all over again. Maybe if Justin was living in the loft… why exactly didn’t he want to move back in?
Christ, he didn’t own the kid. Justin wanted to live at Daphne’s, he had his reasons, and that was good enough. He had his own life, that’s what he wanted, and Brian wanted him to do what he wanted, to be where he wanted. Justin wasn’t expecting Brian to make him happy now, he was figuring out how to do that for himself. That was the trick, that was the important thing.
As he approached Babylon, he promised himself that he’d talk to Justin more, later tonight when they were alone, about what Justin had said at the diner earlier. About avoiding school because of this. Missing school was not in his best interest, but the reason for it… Justin had been through a lot in a relatively short period, and Brian hated to hear him use that word, “scary,” as a reason to avoid parts of his life. That would be bad, Justin being scared away from anything, from taking risks that sometimes just had to be taken to get you where you want to go. Look at what he was doing, opening his own agency. Doing things like that, taking those risks, it was for a certain breed of people, people born for the big time, and Justin was to the manor born. He loved Justin’s courage, loved the fact that he was right up front about who he was and anyone who didn’t like it could fuck themselves. Yeah, yeah, he could think the word, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
But Brian didn’t think the fiddler’s presence should keep Justin from school, he really didn’t. That place was more Justin’s than Gold’s. He hadn’t said anything because, well, he hadn’t been sure what Justin was thinking about that article, about what Gold had said about wanting another shot at him. Declarations of desire, in a public paper, no less. Now there was a gesture, that asshole. Sad, really. Brian had been too relieved at what Justin had said about it, that he didn’t think of a response at the time, and only later realized he should have addressed Justin’s anxiety, that “scary weird” comment. Reassure him or something. The guy was nothing, he was more pathetic than scary. And Brian knew how strong Justin was; he’d remind him of that later, too. Maybe it would help, who knew? Justin liked to hear things. Brian didn’t get it; he was an artist, why couldn’t he be happy with just seeing the way things were for himself, not what other people had to say about them?
But even with his immediate concerns relieved after leaving the diner, Brian still wondered. Justin had said he was through with the guy, but again, words. Easy to say what you’d do in any given situation; when things actually happened, well. Look at how quickly Justin jumped on the guy the first time, when Brian had been preoccupied, on top of just being himself.
But things are different now.
*Why?*
A block from the entrance, he shook his head to clear this train of thought. His crap wasn’t the point at the moment; he needed to focus on how Justin was doing. He could feel bad that he hadn’t said what he should have said to Justin at the diner, but he really hadn’t had time to talk more. He hadn’t really had time to go there in the first place, but Debbie had called his office, asking him why Sunshine was at the diner looking like a truck had hit him. What had Brian done now? Wasn’t the kid supposed to be at school? He had told her it was none of his fucking business, or hers for that matter, Justin could take care of himself. So he had hung up on the annoyance, and had turned back to the paper. To the entertainment section.
Half block from Babylon, guy leaning against the bricks just off to the right caught Brian’s eye. Ice blue eyes, black hair, t-shirt hugging chiseled muscles, nipples at attention, tight pants promising what lies beneath. Gave Brian the once over, the come hither look, the fuck-me smile. Leaned so his ass pointed Brian’s way. Brian returned the look idly, good-looking guy, but he didn’t really have time right now. Maybe later. He picked up his pace.
Nick watched Brian bound up Babylon’s steps and disappear. Fuck. So close. The legend had given him the eye; Nick wondered why he hadn’t taken him up. The interest obviously was there. Well, everyone knew about Kinney; he’d get his full attention eventually. From what he’d heard, it was worth waiting for, and sure to come, so to speak. For now, though, Nick moved off the wall, off to find another hot guy. Just looking had made his dick like a rock.
Brian walked into Babylon, pushed through the crowds, looking around. He knew he looked good; that last look into the mirror confirmed it, and of course, the looks coming his way eased his ego, half empty as it was sometimes. Okay, a lot of times.
He moved to the bar, noticing some very hot bodies parting in front of him, eyeing him up and down, and thought again of that guy out in front. Hm…
“Usual,” he said to the bartender, who turned to get the Beam.
“Kinney,” came an oily voice at his elbow.
“Sap,” Brian replied, barely acknowledging the rat, who seemed determined to push into his space.
The man didn’t bother to correct him, the way he usually did. “I got a live show tonight, you should like this one.”
His drink set in front of him, Brian turned around and leaned his back against the bar, glancing at the crowd. “I know Stockwell’s out of office, but isn’t that a bit much, even for you?” Brian asked, sipping at the amber liquid. Like fire, burning. Nice.
“Oh, no,” Sapperstein chuckled. “This is musical, we have a visiting artist, who wants to bridge the pop-classical-fusion gap. He’s chosen Babylon to introduce his next album. Go figure.”
It wasn’t as easy as it usually was, but Brian managed to keep his initial reaction from moving the muscles in his face. He glanced across the dance floor, and saw the equipment being set up in front of the video screens. Well, well, well. Wasn’t this… interesting. There, next to a sound board on the side, Magnifico himself, gesturing wildly at the guy messing with wires. Dismissing him immediately, Brian searched the crowds on the floor, at the other bar. He really wanted another drink, but knew it would be better to wait. Sap was waiting for a reaction. Fuck if he’d give him one. “Interesting,” was all he said, carefully making it seem that his eyes were wandering, when they actually searched like spot lights, over the lower bars, up the stairs, across the catwalks… There. The blonde head, three steps back from the rail, almost invisible behind Emmett’s lanky form, Michael’s protective back. “I seriously doubt this’ll help business,” he said, before pushing off. Damn it, he wanted a better line, but for some reason, anything really stinging had escaped him. He stalked through the crowd, toward the stairs.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Sap said, to no one in particular. He watched the crowd part for the man, parting for that saunter that expected no resistance. And worse, got none. Arrogant asshole. Sap could give a fuck about this Gold kid. That wasn’t the show being put up tonight. And the real one, now, that was very good for business. To say nothing of making that blonde bitch squirm, fuck, his knee cap throbbed in memory of that kick. Little fucker, he hoped he got dumped over this. Not like it hadn’t happened before.
The first words from Justin when he saw Brian. “Let’s go.” Brian looked down at the blue eyes, pleading, staring up at him. Shit, vulnerability, he knew it when he saw it. Fucking great.
“Oh, no way,” Brian replied, “Miss this? Didn’t I ask you if you wanted to go to a concert? And here one is, Taylor-made.” A smile appeared on his face, much easier than he expected, and he laughed at his own pun. Justin didn’t laugh back, shit. So much for making light of the mess.
“Really, do you have to torture the poor thing? He’s only been waiting for you to show up, it’s okay, honey, you don’t need to deal with this.”
“Shut the fuck up, Emmett.” Brian turned back to Justin, put his hand at the nape of his neck, the pad of his thumb feeling the pulse under the jaw line. Sweet, sweet spot. He allowed himself to get distracted for a moment, but seeing Justin’s eyes start to glaze over, he knew this wasn’t the time for that. “You gonna run away again?”
“I didn’t know he was going to be here or I wouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“This is your place, not his.” My place, Brian added to himself. But again, not important at the moment. “Are you going to change your life for him? Or are you going to go the places you want to go, do what you want to do, and to hell with who gets in your way?”
Justin bit his lip, brought his hand up to Brian’s, intertwined the fingers. “I really had no idea this was going to happen. If I’d known…”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t. Time to face the music, Justin.” Justin’s lips tugged upward at that one, and Brian kissed him. Justin sighed into it. Finally.
“If he wants to leave, he should leave,” Michael added from the sidelines.
Brian pulled back, and when he opened his eyes, they were on Justin again, ignoring Michael. They did not need an audience for this, this was serious, he wanted to get through to the man in front of him, he could give a fuck about the rest. But it wasn’t going to happen if Justin kept running, and they kept talking about it. Talking, what would that do? Standing ground, that meant something. He stared down into the blue eyes, saying nothing.
“You really want to watch this?” Justin asked. He looked skeptical.
“Did you know, sweetie, you now have a classical fusion album dedicated to you?” Emmett had a CD in his hands, checking out the back. Ben came up behind Michael and handed him a beer. Michael grabbed the CD from Emmett, read the back. “To Justin, my muse, near or far. Oh my God.”
“Well,” Ben added, taking a long swallow of his water, “At least we know, the guy isn’t exactly original.”
Justin looked appalled, stared up at Emmett, not knowing what to say. Brian burst out laughing. The other four looked at him, astonished.
“And you want us to go?” Brian spit out, when he was able to control himself. “I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Justin grumbled, looking away. Michael nodded, and Emmett raised an eyebrow. Ben just watched.
Oh, bullshit, Brian thought. He grabbed Justin’s shoulders, and steered him into the rail, so that his stomach pressed against it, and Brian’s hard-on pressed into his ass cheeks. “Embarrassing for whom? You’re telling me you’d miss this guy making a total twat out of himself?”
Michael, Emmett and Ben took up position on either side at the railing. Ethan had taken out his violin. The music faded. The crowd turned in the direction of the top of the stage, those on the sidelines glancing to the stage, then up at the royal couple watching from above.
Justin shook his head as Brian’s jawline settled onto the muscle between his neck and shoulder, so that their cheeks pressed together, “But it is pretty embarrassing for me. I mean, if I hadn’t created the situation, we wouldn’t be standing here watching this, being watched like this.”
Yeah, Brian thought, we wouldn’t be standing here like this. But instead of that last, he lifted his head and pulled away so that Justin could look him in the face when he said what he had to say. “Look, Sunshine,” he started, trying not to get distracted by those lips, a never ending source of interest, “You didn’t do this. You didn’t choose this,” he nodded down at the stage. “Whatever’s in the past, that’s where it is, where it belongs. It’s over. Get over it. You didn’t choose to have this… fiddler come to Babylon to serenade you, to be so without a clue that he thinks you’d be happy about it. Either that, or he wants to embarrass you, that’s pretty shitty too. What do you have to run from? That?” Brian glanced down briefly, noted that there were far too many people watching him talk to his young lover. Fuck them, goddamn it. He continued, “He’s embarrassing himself, not you, you’re not responsible for his choices. Whatever happened, that’s in the past, right?”
“Oh, my God, yes.” Justin turned back face out over the rail, and pressed that luscious ass into Brian’s groin again. Shit, maybe they should get out of there. But not until this little play was over. Brian was right. Why should he run?
“Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Justin answered, starting to roll as the music started. He just couldn’t help himself, music did that to him. Brian grabbed his hips, pulled him back, moving with him. “I thought I promised you I’d never play violin music in your presence again.”
“Well, you’re not. But you think I’m gonna miss this screeching idiot make a total ass of himself in public? Now shut up, I want to watch.”
Justin didn’t say anything; the lights went down, the spotlight turned on the musician on stage. Ethan looked pretty good, Justin had to admit. He seemed to have been working out, and his clothes hugged his body, looked expensive. Well, anything was an improvement over the Salvation Army shit he used to wear. But besides that, Justin felt… nothing. Not even embarrassed anymore. Brian’s hard on pressed into him. Now he wanted to get out of here for reasons that had nothing to do with Ian… Ethan. But Brian was right. No running away. Why should he? This no longer had anything to do with what he wanted, and fuck if he was going to play a game whose rules he never agreed to.
The crowd hushed, and Ethan moved to the microphone.
“Ladies… gentlemen… alternatives…” Ethan began, drawing a bit of a laugh, “I want to thank you for letting me unveil my new sound, to make my case, as it were, with you here tonight. I started my illustrious career in Pittsburgh, as you all know, as a classicist, but, well, shit, that’s not who I am, and I should never have compromised myself. When I was in Europe, I came out with a fusion sound, closer to what I was interested in…”
“Long-winded, isn’t he?” Emmett said, gulping at his cocktail.
“Shush,” Brian answered, his breath raising the hairs on Justin’s neck.
“…But it still wasn’t good enough. I left some things behind in Pittsburgh, deeply tied to myself but outside of what I strictly knew; and I realized that part of courage is taking in, incorporating challenges, to not be afraid to take those risks. Even fusion wasn’t enough to satisfy the… desires that represent what I left behind here, so I came up with this.” He glanced up and briefly met Justin’s eyes. Justin stared back; he wouldn’t look around, knowing the entire bar had followed that look. He flushed, painfully. Ethan lifted his bow, and the music crashed to a start.
Wow, danceable, Justin thought, feeling his body instinctively respond to the insistent beat that accompanied the foreground violin, harshly played, an assault on the strings, and that drumbeat in the background.
“You shake those hips one centimeter and I won’t fuck you for a week.”
Justin stopped immediately.
Brian thought it sounded like cats fucking while jumping up and down on empty trash cans, but the dance floor was full of bodies who disagreed. Techno inspired, with an almost African beat and classically influenced, the music could have been a disaster, but somehow it worked. Justin was impressed; Ethan’s genius realized.
He wished it would end. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?” Justin moaned. The speech was beyond embarrassing; his entire fuck-up resonated through every word, generating the gossip mills for weeks. He could feel eyes all over him and not in a good, life-affirming way.
“No.” Brian moved to Justin’s right, separating their bodies.
Justin studied Brian’s rigid stance. He seemed to casually drape his arms over the rail, his lithe body leaning against it lightly, but the clasp of his hands was just a tad too tight, the jawline clenched ever so slightly.
“You’re still mad, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wasn’t mad…” Brian paused. He finally looked over at the younger man, then glanced away again. “Maybe just a bit. I’ll get over it.”
But not until after this, Justin thought. Payback was a bitch, even if he definitely deserved it. Staying here and taking the humiliation - because that’s what it was, humiliating, if Ethan thought he was complimenting him he was sorely mistaken, Justin could feel every cell in his body cringing with embarrassment - standing here and taking this should just about even the score between them. Sorry was bullshit.
It didn’t mean, though, that he had to be a pussy about it. “Fine. You want me to take a stand, I’m going to talk to him and tell him to fuck off,” Justin said.
Brian looked at him, an expression of total indifference coming down over his face. “Whatever you think is best.”
“To tell him all this means nothing to me.”
“Whatever.”
“Stop it.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Brian did know. He also knew he would love to get the fuck out of here as much as Justin did; all this screeching was deflating his dick, big time. Besides, it was boring. So why wouldn’t he just go?
Because he had to see what would happen. It was this sick urgency, like standing in front of a cliff and needing to jump. If you want to go, just fucking go! one voice yelled in his head. But another replied, much more calmly, “No.” He trusted the calmer voice, mostly because he wasn’t feeling calm at all and he hated that. It was the music. Christ, would it never end?
Ethan played for about twenty minutes, and that was it. He thanked the audience, thanked the management, glanced up at Justin. Then the real music started, the spotlight cut out. That was that.
Justin pushed away from the rail and stalked off. Michael and Ben watched him walk down the stairs; Emmett had long left for the dance floor, and Brian was studiously examining the parade of bodies filing by.
Michael moved to join his friend. “Are you okay with this? You just going to let him go over to that guy, after what he did?”
Brian’s tension relaxed down with that, since Michael had put into words exactly what he was feeling, and out loud he heard how ridiculous it was. He did not see what Michael saw, that look of resignation that came over his eyes like a curtain. It covered his first reaction, that anger through which he channeled every other emotion he wasn’t equipped to deal with, in other words, pretty much all of them. That look of resignation passed over the features, and Brian closed his eyes, then snapped them open again. “He’s a big boy, Mikey, he can take care of himself.” He eyed the guys going by within reach. But then he added, in a slightly different tone, “Just tell me when he’s done, or tell me if he looks like he’s getting in over his head.”
“No problem.” Michael faced around, back to the little scene playing out on the floor.
Brian really needed to fuck someone, right now, and eyed the shirtless ash-blond with the tight jeans sashaying by. But more than that, he needed to wait, he needed to wait for whatever was happening beneath him. Man, did this suck, waiting. Hurry up, Sunshine, he thought, get it over with and get your ass back here. How long was it going to take for that guy to get out? Or would the fiddler hang out, have a group bang in the backroom, each fan getting a lick in? Hmph, that guy was probably a bottom. Definitely a bottom. Line up, boys. Brian smiled at that visual, added some leather, whips, a wheel, the local news, cameras… romance boy knocked off the charts by his appalled fan base who expected only ridiculously romantic bullshit, dumped by his label… It could happen. Hey, it *could* happen…
“Ethan.”
Ethan looked up. There he was. His stomach dropped about a mile. This had been a risk, but wasn’t he taking them a lot lately? And look at how they’d paid off. “Hi. How are you?” He stood up.
Justin said, “Why are you doing this?”
“The music? You inspired me to greatness, what can I say?”
“And your premiere here? Babylon?”
“I thought you’d be flattered.”
“I’m not.”
The two men stared at each other. For the first time in a while, Ethan was too scared to make the move he wanted to. He wanted to say so much, but Justin’s face was closed, he seemed angry. If only he could get him to listen.
“You’re embarrassing me, dedicating the CD to me… you lost your right to call me your muse. It’s embarrassing me. It’s embarrassing Brian.”
“Oh, him.”
“Yes, him. I was an idiot to walk out on him in the first place, to fall for your bullshit, and now what? CD dedications, more meaningless words…”
“This isn’t just words, Justin, can’t you see, my whole life has changed because of you, I changed my music, opened my life to who I really am, came out of the closet, all because of your influence …”
“Those are your feelings,” Justin replied. “I’m happy for you if your life is better. The music’s awesome, you know that. But I don’t really care, I’m back with Brian, I belong with him…”
“You do NOT belong with him!” Ethan lost it a bit, he had meant to be calm, but he couldn’t help it. “He’s still fucking around, I know, I asked, he hasn’t changed at all. Yeah, maybe I fucked up, but I’ve changed a lot… Justin, listen to me…” He grabbed Justin’s wrist, as the other man seemed ready to turn away, “Maybe I fucked up, but he can’t give you everything you want, someone who loves only you. I still love you, I changed everything because of how I feel…”
“You don’t know him at all,” Justin replied, trying to pull his wrist out of the other’s grasp. “You don’t need to. All you need to know, all *I* need to know is, I’m in love with him. There’s no room in my heart, or my life, for anyone else.”
Michael’s words interrupted Brian’s pleasant daydream, which had developed into a picture of a fat fiddler, violin long gone, waiting in line at the Salvation Army, sitting on the curb with his feet in the gutter, about to get beat up by all the other drunks as he went on and on about his “illustrious” but long gone career… “Uh, hate to say this,” Michael’s voice broke in, “but he just grabbed Justin’s arm and seems to be trying to drag him out.”
Brian whipped around, looked down, saw Justin shouting over the music, attempting to twist away from the clamp on his wrist. Great, it had to be *that* wrist. Brian didn’t say anything, just handed Michael his beer and stalked off to the stairs.
“Get your fucking hands off him.”
Oh, thank God. Justin looked over to where Brian had come up behind them. His wrist was dropped.
“Need help, Justin?”
“I got this one.”
Brian stood back, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. Justin turned back, and said to the dark-haired man in front of him, “Look, Ian, it’s over, there’s nothing you can do that would make me change my mind…”
Brian burst out laughing, and Ethan went beet red. Justin looked between the two, and then realized what he’d said. He stuttered, “Ethan, I mean, Ethan…” He pressed his lips together and elbowed Brian, who was cracking up, almost doubled over. Then he started laughing too, and turned into Brian’s side, burying his head on his shoulder, feeling bad about being an asshole but unable to help himself. Brian put his arm around Justin’s back, pulled him in closer. “Bye, now,” Brian mouthed over Justin’s head, before turning away, and pulling his lover onto the dance floor. Bodies parted, then swallowed them up, and the pair disappeared into the crowd.
Ethan stared for a moment, wondering what had just happened, and then stalked away.
Justin stopped, refused to go further. “You didn’t have rescue me you know, I’m not a fucking princess.” Brian raised an eyebrow. “Fuck you, Brian, I’m not! I can take care of myself!” Justin balled up his fist, hit it on the other man’s chest, to make his point. Brian grabbed it, held it there, forced the fist open, and rubbed the palm with his thumb.
“Okay, you’re not a princess, happy? Maybe a queen…” He saw the look on Justin’s face, and added, “I wasn’t rescuing you, I know you can take care of yourself. I just…” He stopped. Justin didn’t want to push him, knowing how he could get when forced into a corner about his emotions. His hand relaxed, and lay flat on Brian’s chest. He loved to feel Brian’s heart beating. Brian finally continued, “Come on, you know how I get off on building walls, so? Build this one with me. A nice big wall to shut this guy out.”
“And us in?”
For an answer, Brian hooked his hand in the back of Justin’s cargo pants, pulled him closer, kissed him, trailed his lips to the jawline. “Let’s dance to some real music.”
Across the room, Ethan angrily ordered a vodka. Fucking Brian, Justin lost his mind around that guy, didn’t he remember anything, after all Justin had told him about what Brian had done to him? And here he was, back with that guy? He couldn’t be happy. No way. Brian could never give Justin what he, Ethan could, monogamy, Europe, worship really, he knew what an artist’s ego needed, all Brian knew was tricks and fucking. As he had told Justin, he had asked around, and the story was the same as when Justin had turned away from that prick the first time. Nothing had changed, there was no way Justin could be happy about that. He’d talk to him when that asshole wasn’t around.
“Hey.” Ethan turned his head to the side, to see a sort of boyishly good looking, slightly built man standing next to him.
“Do I know you?”
“I got it,” the man said to the bar tender, paying for the drink.
“Not interested,” Ethan said, turning away.
“Neither am I,” the dark-haired man answered. “Want you to see something.”
Ethan grimaced. “Really not interested.”
Loud sigh, over the din of the club, that loud. “It’s not what you think. We’ll be in public. Well, in this place, that doesn’t always mean anything. Just come with me, it’s not that.”
Curious despite himself, Ethan picked up his drink and followed the man up the stairs to the catwalk above the dance floor. The man found an open place on the railing, looked beneath him, searched a second, then pointed across the floor. Ethan moved to the rail and looked down.
Brian and Justin were dancing, if that’s what you wanted to call it. They were given a bit of space even though the floor was packed; the guys around them were watching, out of the corners of their eyes, or even openly. Brian’s hands were on Justin’s hips, pulling him in to his, moving against other. Justin was licking a spot on Brian’s neck, before the lips moved upward and the face that had been tilted back to enjoy the caress moved down to lock his lips with the slighter man’s. Justin’s hands moved down Brian’s arms, running down to his hands, and their fingers entwined; Brian moved Justin’s arms behind his neck, so their chests were flush up against each other. They hadn’t broken the kiss.
“So, sex, so what,” Ethan said. Sex was never the problem, hadn’t Justin said that? He remembered everything Justin had said.
“They love each other,” Michael replied, wondering if this guy was the biggest moron on the planet. What was it with Brian and Justin, why did they get to people the way they did? He suddenly understood Justin’s wariness of this musical genius; apparently the idea that geniuses were crazy had roots. “Think about it, when you left here after the Rage party last year, when Justin kissed you, you think that was for you? It was a message for Brian. This,” Michael gestured down at the pair, “he’s not doing that for your benefit, it’s still all for Brian. And himself. They love each other.”
Ethan was silent. He became aware that the guys who were watching the couple in the center of the dance floor were glancing up at him. “I remember you, you’re that Rage comic guy Justin works with, aren’t you? Is that why those guys on the floor are looking up here? They stare at what they think are your conquests as much as they watch Brian fuck around with his?”
Michael laughed. “What? Oh, nah, they know the story, those two are their favorite exhibitionists. They know what’s going on, I mean, you did announce your intent to reclaim Justin in the local newspaper. For fuck’s sake, you dedicated that CD to him. They all watched Brian take him away from you just now without any effort at all. Now they’re wondering how long it’s going to take you to get a clue and leave. There’s a pool on how long before you get out of Dodge. Dave the bartender is taking the bets.”
“Who are you? Dante?” Ethan sneered.
A man, gorgeous, really, with the most amazing jaw and aquiline nose, turned from where he stood on the other side of Michael, to look over at Ethan. “Try Virgil. Your visit to hell is over, Gold, say good-bye. Go make art from what you have seen.” Ben waved the man off, his hand, brushing his presence out of existence.
Ethan’s lip curled, but with one last snort, he was gone.
“Who the fuck is Dante?”
Ben laughed, kissed Michael on the cheek, rubbed up on him from behind. “The kid was being a pretentious snot. Dante wrote a great poem about being given a guided tour of hell, Virgil was the guide. So Ian had his reference wrong, calling you Dante, when clearly you were Virgil the guide, and that makes him Dante. And here he thought he was such a clever boy. I figured one last thing would put him in his place, make him get how much of an idiot he’s being. And I can’t stand anyone taking shots at you.” Full kiss, on the lips, nice.
“Think he got the picture?” Michael asked.
“Hm, well, if he didn’t, he always has his music. Some of the best art is produced through pain. Look at Orpheus, couldn’t get over his dead wife, so he invented the lyric, and entranced the world with his sorrow.”
“Orpheus, huh? What happened to him? Ever find anyone else?”
“Nah, he pissed off the Furies, they ripped him to shreds and threw the pieces in the river, where his decapitated head floated away, still singing.”
“God, you are so smart, I love your brain,” Michael laughed.
“Just my brain?” Ben pushed against the other man, harder.
“Okay, that’s it, ready to go home?”
“Definitely.”
Epilogue
____
“Man, am I glad to get back here. That was excruciating.” Justin flopped onto the couch as Brian closed the door to the loft. “Brian?”
“What?” Brian moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
Justin took a deep breath. “I’m such an asshole. I am so sorry about that whole thing, I had no idea that was going to happen. I just… I never told you this directly. It was such a huge mistake, I really fucked up. I don’t know how you can ever really forgive me… ever trust me again.”
“Look,” Brian moved across the room and stood, looking down at Justin. “You don’t want me to think of you as a princess, stop acting like one. You’re doing that ‘reassure me, rescue me’ thing right now.” Brian’s voice took on a high note, imitating Justin’s voice, mocking him. “‘I’m an asshole. I made all these mistakes, I ruined everything…’ You think you created this whole situation all by yourself, that you’re the one doing everything to set up these little dramas, and I’m just some twat standing off to the side taking your bullshit? Is that what you think?”
“Of course not,” Justin answered.
“Okay, so I don’t always express myself, I can be … withholding.”
Justin’s lips twitched.
“What?” Brian demanded.
“I was gonna say immature, but then I thought, at the moment, it might be a little hypocritical…”
“Yeah, well, we both gotta work on that one.” Brian reached down, lifted him to his feet, settled his forearms on Justin’s shoulders, tilted his forehead to touch the other’s. “Look, the point is, just because I don’t always express what I feel doesn’t mean you’re the only one who feels anything. You’re not the only one in this.”
“In what, Bri?”
“You know what, so shut up and listen. We’re going to schedule panic days.”
Justin frowned, but was having a hard time focusing on what Brian was saying, the way the other man’s hips were pushing forward, pelvis rubbing against his, along with other parts… “What?”
“Panic days. You get to panic on Mondays and Wednesdays and I’ll reassure you, if I must, and I get to panic on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We take weekends off.”
Justin started to laugh, and Brian moved in to kiss him. “Wait!” Justin broke away, with a bit of effort of will. “You’re making fun of me, this is serious!”
“I know it’s serious, all the more reason to make fun… among other things.” He picked Justin up, and walked with him up the steps to the bedroom. Brian looked down at Justin’s face, flushed and eager. “It’s Friday,” he said. “No panicking til Monday.” He dropped the younger man onto the bed.
“Okay,” Justin agreed. “Brian?”
“Hm?” Brian asked from beneath the shirt he was raising over his head.
“Are you really okay with the whole Ethan thing?”
“He’s gone, we don’t have think about him. Got better things to think about…” Brian lowered himself to the bed, then his lips were on Justin’s stomach, moving down. Justin gasped, but refused to be distracted. “No, stop, I mean it.”
Brian sighed, and looked up, but only by lifting his head from the young man’s torso. He waited, ready to return to what he had been doing as soon as possible. “What?”
“I mean it. We never really talked about it. Are you okay with the whole Ethan thing? I don’t need a long discussion, just some sort of idea about what’s up on your end.”
Brian stared at him, opened his mouth to answer, something dismissive, but thought better of it. He pressed his lips shut, rested his head on Justin’s stomach for just a second. Then he pulled his way up the bed, so he was looking down directly into Justin’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m completely okay yet. But I think I will be, if you bear with me. Think you can do that?”
“I can do that. On Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Good. Now can I please get back to what I was doing?”
“Just one thing.”
“What now.” Muffled, lips on skin.
“Maybe we won’t need to panic at all?”
Brian moved downward, over Justin’s abdomen, his hand running down his thigh, spreading his legs. “Let’s just see what happens. Now shut up, so I can fuck you without a narrative.