Fic: "He Hasn't Fucked Me" (1/1)
Title: He Hasn't Fucked Me
cowritten by josselin and seperis
Spoilers: through S3, parts of it are set in a kind of AU generic S4
Pairings: Brian/Justin, Brian/Emmett
Summary: Who can summarize this? It's so incredibly random.
Author's Note: Thanks to Rikka and J for editing.
Jenn and I cowrote it in AIM chat as sort of an on-going amusement to ourselves, so a lot of it feels to me as though it's just going along for the sake of going along, not going along to get somewhere, and I suppose it feels that way because it is. Also, just because it was a bizarre and fun premise, we had little side-notes that we wanted to include in that don't necessarily fit with the plot, but we included them anyway. It switches POV randomly between scenes, time passes in random increments between scenes, there are probably remnants of when we had to switch the tense we were telling it in and actually, there is no plot. Whatever. Basically, this is a celebration of the fact that as someone (I forget who, so sorry!) so cleverly proved with pictures several months back, Brian and Emmett share a wardrobe.
He Hasn't Fucked Me
Ted: Is there anyone here you haven't fucked?
Michael: He hasn't fucked me.
Brian pulled money out of his wallet, shaking his head at Michael's announcement that he was going to spend the evening restocking with Tracy at the store.
"I agree," Emmett said. "I always say, come clean, or don't come at all."
"Where I work," Michael complained, "they laugh at faggots."
"The only faggots worth laughing at are the ones who don't tell the truth," Brian pronounced. "Don't be one of those assholes who hides, Mikey."
Michael left, and Brian and Emmett were left alone on the bench in the diner. Brian's arm was stretched out along the back of the seat, and he dropped his hand onto Emmett's neck.
Emmett twitched. "Don't touch me."
Brian took his hand away briefly, but then dropped it down again. Emmett shot him an irritated look, and Brian was grinning smugly. Emmett sniffed. "I'm not in the mood."
Brian did his falsetto thing and leaned over to nuzzle Emmett's neck. "Not tonight, dear."
Emmett slapped Brian's hands away in a girly fashion but a reluctant smiled was forming on his face. Brian nudged Emmett out of the booth. "Let's go."
* * *
Emmett walked into the loft without knocking, as he always did. He sashayed into the bedroom and dropped a pile of laundry on Brian's bed, then sat down next to it. "Interesting statement, there," he said, nodding his head toward Brian's current outfit. "I brought back the clothes I borrowed," he explained, gesturing toward the laundry. "You going to Babylon tonight, or is Gus really going to keep you at home?"
There were signs of recent clean-up that made Emmett's eyebrows rise, and leaning over, he glanced at the remarkable number of condoms on the bed. Brian ignored him, sifting through the shirts, obviously worried about the sanctity of his wardrobe. "Big orgy, sweetie?"
"Don't be stupid," Brian said. "How could I have an orgy when my kid is staying with me?" He glanced perfunctorily at the car seat that was still sitting on his dresser. Gus was fast asleep.
It still threw Emmett a little, watching Brian slither to his feet and saunter over to the dresser, leaning down to peer into Gus's eyes with a most unBrian-like look on his face. He hated to be caught, though, and Emmett was too tired for drama this early in the afternoon.
"Right," Emmett agreed, slapping his thighs. "So, I'll just be going, then, as those of us who are not bound by the dictates of fatherhood are heading off to the Leather Ball." He stood up and took three steps toward the door before Brian grabbed his arm and moved stealthily behind him to rest a warm hand on his ass.
"Nice pants," Brian said throatily into his ear, with only an edge of mocking in his voice.
He told himself he'd say no--it was one thing to fuck around a few times at random, but Emmett was starting to get antsy, and he really couldn't explain it even to himself--okay, that was a lie, he totally could. It started with Justin and ended with the fact that more than once, he'd stumbled across the kid's socks in Brian's laundry these days.
But "no" didn't mean very much once Brian's hands were on his skin, especially *that* patch of skin, and damn--where had the lube come from? Brian was always like that, all liquid voice and bullshit words that faded into nothing because of the way your body felt when he touched you. It wasn't love, it wasn't even friendship, it wasn't even like Brian's dick had magical powers--it was pure experience. Brian had touched a lot of men, and Brian knew how men liked to be touched.
...and Gus was inches away. "Gus," Emmett heard himself whisper, a desperate glance showing a sleeping baby and right, no way out there, and Brian's teeth skimmed the back of his neck, touching briefly below his ear. "Fuck."
"That's the general idea."
"So you're thinking that because your kid's here and you can't have an orgy, that I'm a good substitute," Emmett said, trying to sound indignant. A man had to have standards, after all.
"I'm thinking," Brian managed to open the front of his pants one-handed; he had to get Brian to share that trick with him sometime. "That I'm horny, and you're horny, and that there's no reason to think any further than that." Brian punctuated the comments about horniness with a pointed stroke of Emmett's dick, and Emmett had to admit, Brian could be pretty persuasive sometimes.
* * *
They were at the diner and Emmett was being pissy. Brian rolled his eyes and drank his coffee and waited for Emmett to come out with it. "You didn't iron my shirt!"
Brian gave him a look that said, So? "Is that all?" he questioned. "Justin was wearing it."
"You let Justin borrow my shirt?" The way Emmett was carrying on, you'd think this were the end of the world. Of course, to Emmett, fashion was the end of the world.
Brian gave him another look. "You let Michael borrow my cashmere sweater and he spilled coffee all over it."
Emmett frowned and dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "That was years ago! And it's not like you don't loan your clothes to Michael all the time. It's different from giving them to some twinkie."
Brian sipped his coffee. "Well if you want to come stake out my dresser and defend all the Armani from the 'twinkie,' be my guest. That'd be the only way to stop the little clothes-horse," Brian grumbled.
There was silence for a moment, and then Emmett started to grin. "I have to say, Bri," he wiped his mouth with a napkin delicately. "He's a bigger queen than I am."
Brian eyed him sideways, and just then, Justin walked out of the back carrying a tray of food. Brian looked him over and turned to Emmett again. "Almost," he acknowledged, sounding sort of proud. "Almost."
* * *
Brian came by Ted's studio after work, still wearing his work shirt with his tie loosened around his neck. Michael was busy with Ben and Justin was doing schoolwork; Brian spent a while dawdling around Ted's desk, trying to convince him to come play at Babylon, since Brian was bored. Ted was quite involved with some finance thing on his computer and told Brian to buzz off.
Abandoning Ted to the boredom of accounting, Brian stalked off to hunt down Emmett. The most logical place to look-after a perfunctory scan of all the cameras on-line, of course-was Emmett's private dressing room, which had been one of Ted's additions to the porn studio as he expanded after his initial success.
The room door was decorated with "Fetch" in a fancy script, and Brian entered without knocking. The dressing room was small, but Emmett's favorite feature of it was the giant mirror surrounded by bright make-up bulbs.
Ted's frugality will never change, though, and the right wall of the dressing room was merely a screen between the room and one of the cameras and filming sets in the back. Brian and Emmett could hear groans from the set drifting through the screen. Brian found a hanger on one of Emmett's chairs and tossed it across the room, saying, "Fetch this!"
Emmett rolled his eyes. "Asshole."
"Come to Babylon," Brian said.
"I just got off work," Emmett said, gesturing around at the studio. "I'm hardly in the mood to see more hot, horny guys."
"I need someone to dance with," Brian announced.
This did not persuade Emmett. "Honey, you are the worst dancing gay man I have ever met. And that's saying something, because I have met a lot of dancing gay men."
Brian was fiddling with things on the makeup counter next to his chair, and Emmett came over and batted his hands away. "You don't even like dancing," Emmett continued. "It's just foreplay or something until you can find some unlucky victim to pull to the backroom."
Brian stood up, affronted. "Unlucky?"
They faced off for a moment, and then Brian, perhaps feeling that his prowess needed to be reestablished, reached for the ties on Emmett's robe. Emmett took a step back. "Ah, no."
But there was nothing Brian liked better than a challenge. He cornered Emmett against the back wall, next to the ratty couch. There was a crack between the back wall and the screen that blocked off the dressing room, so when Emmett turned his head to the left, he could see through the crack and watch some guy being gang-banged.
Emmett tried to push himself off the wall weakly. "Sweetie," he said, pushing ineffectually at Brian's chest, but Brian kept him pinned easily with one hand, and managed to get his robe totally open. Emmett usually ended every shift thinking to himself that he'd never be able to get it up again, so it said something that Brian had already managed to stir his interest.
Brian leaned in, and Brian's tongued traced patterns along Emmett's shoulder, flicking across his collarbone, and Emmett relented for a moment, resting his hands on Brian's waist and enjoying the feel of Brian's mouth on his skin. Brian traced up his neck and along his jaw, and Emmett turned his head in for a kiss, but then it was Brian's turn to duck away slightly, twisting his head so Emmett couldn't meet his lips.
Emmett reached a hand up to Brian's neck, trying unsuccessfully again to guide him to a kiss. "Honey, my breath doesn't smell that bad," Emmett protested, arching into Brian's hand on his dick. Brian's eyes narrowed, and he moved away slightly, face shadowed.
Emmett was going to complain again about Brian's unwillingness to kiss, but Brian was already putting hands on his shoulders and turning him around to face the wall. Emmett pressed his face up against the pink tulle covering the white-painted cinderblocks, and watched the gang orgy through the crack in the screen. Brian tugged his robe off and it fell to the floor; Brian's own pants disappeared in a similar magical act.
"Em?" A shadow walked past the crack in the screen and Ted's voice echoed dangerously near.
Mouthing curses, Emmett elbowed Brian away and tried to approximate a casual tone. "Don't come in yet," he yelled. "I'm naked."
Brian snorted at the obvious pun there, and Emmett shot him a rotten look, grabbing his robe indignantly. Ted burst in the door and took in Brian lounging on the couch and Emmett standing in the middle of the room. "Teddy!" Emmett squawked, pulling his robe shut.
"What?" Ted said. "I've seen it before."
"Everyone's seen it before," Brian said, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket.
"I wrapped up my spreadsheet," Ted announced. "Are we going to Babylon, or what?"
"Oh, let's," Emmett said, with somewhat exaggerated excitement. "I'm in the mood for--" Brian was smirking over on the couch and Emmett gave him another dirty look "--something fruity."
* * *
Recently, Justin was pretty open-minded when walking into the loft. Depressed unemployment orgies, celebratory new job orgies, orgies for the sake of orgies orgies--who knew what might be going on in the loft at any particular moment. But he had to admit that he had never expected to see this.
He didn't say "what the fuck" because, well, there weren't words. And the snap of Emmett's eyes onto him killed even the desire. Anything he said now would come out all wrong. Pretty much anything he said now would be wrong, period. Turning to the fridge, Justin took a breath and went hunting for water.
He found a water bottle behind a head of lettuce--only slightly wilted--and he stood up and closed the refrigerator, his mouth still gaping open in shock. As he opened the water bottle, he couldn't help but glance back over at the other side of the loft, and oh, yeah, it hadn't been a mirage.
It looked like, just maybe, they were finished. Justin really hoped so. "Hey." And maybe later he'd be pissed, but right now, he honestly could not think of anything that quite compared to Emmett's wide-eyed horror. Taking a drink of water, Justin tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do.
"Hey," Brian replied, hiking up his jeans and leaving only the top button undone. He wandered over and took Justin's water bottle to steal a swig, and then leaned down for a brief peck, just like it were any other day Justin had come home to find Brian fucking some guy on the couch.
"How was your day?" He'd had weirder conversations. That one time, with the angst about Ethan and the guy going down on Brian pretty much simultaneously, and totally not appropriate for him to be thinking right now. But still. Tricks were tricks and Emmett was diving for his pants like he expected Justin to come after him with a knife or something.
Brian shrugged in response to his question and moved toward the fridge himself, reemerging with the necks of two beer bottles in one hand. He offered one to Justin, who shook his head, and then held it out to Emmett, who was now fully dressed and struggling to tie his shoe while resting his foot on Brian's new coffee table, but Brian didn't even seem to notice. "No thanks, honey," Emmett said about the beer, moving to the door. "I think I really need something stronger, but uh, not here."
Justin took another drink and watched Emmett fight off the imminent descent of his pants. "Emmett, you--"
"No, really, I have--somewhere--to be." Emmett did a strange hopping thing, probably something to do with the fact he had the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, reaching for the loft door with his free hand. Justin sighed.
Justin glanced at Brian for a clue on how to handle this, but Brian was just drinking his beer as if nothing were going on. Justin fought a giggle fit and had a feeling that someday, this was going to make a really, really funny story to tell at the diner.
Of course, that assumed Justin was the one to tell it. God knows what Emmett would be saying. Not that he and Brian could really surprise anyone anymore. "Emmett. Sit down, okay? Not a big deal." Not now, anyway, and Justin gave Brian another look that promised, explain later?, then leaned into the counter and smiled. "No locks."
Emmett stared at them like they were aliens. Justin bit his lip. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.
He managed not to laugh, but he couldn't help a small smile escaping. "Let me tell you both about my morning," he offered, and somehow, now that he could talk again, he just couldn't shut up. "First Michael and I had that meeting with the publisher, and Michael got in an argument with our editor over the size of the margins, and it went on for forty-seven minutes, I counted. After the margins, it was the color they used on Rage's cape on the cover, and that took thirteen minutes to be decided that yes, the color was definitely not the same as the color on the first page. Clearly the lesson here is that one should never go into business with Michael..." he trailed off because Brian was giving him an irritated look and Emmett still looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.
"That's--fascinating, sweetie." Emmett looked down at his shoes, like he was only just aware that not only were they on the wrong feet, they were Brian's. He kicked them off with a wriggle that sent Justin's face into the counter. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Brian's fingers massaged the back of his neck lightly. "Um, I don't--"
Justin snuck another glance over at Brian--was it possible that Brian didn't see the humor in this situation? Brian still seemed totally oblivious, though Justin knew him well enough by now to guess that it was a mask. "Why don't I fix dinner?" Justin said. "Sit down, Emmett. Brian will poor you a drink, won't you, dear," he added to Brian. Brian rolled his eyes and slapped Justin's ass on his way over to the liquor cart. Emmett sat down tentatively on one of the kitchen stools, holding his bag on his lap.
Justin thought he could already hear Emmett telling this story, *"and then he invited me in for dinner!"* He should make it worth Emmett's time. Justin watched Brian pour out two glasses, Emmett taking it with care so there was no actual physical contact, complete denial of no, you did not just see your boyfriend's cock up my ass, Justin, nothing like it. And can I get out of here now?
"I'm going to take a shower," Brian announced, like this was world news that CNN should have been running. "Call me when it's ready?"
"Yes, honey." Justin grinned unrepentantly into Brian's little frown, crossing two steps to brush a kiss over his mouth. "Hurry. It won't be long."
He watched Brian disappear into the bathroom and then turned around to frown at the fridge. Was there any food here, anyway? Only slightly wilted lettuce. He decided to quasi-cheat and pulled a jar of pasta sauce out of the cupboard and dumped it in a pan, then reached for a box of noodles. It took Emmett a full five seconds or so to confess. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean it."
Justin pushed the noodles the rest of the way into the water on the stove, and turned his full attention on the still-miserable-looking Emmett. "Didn't mean what, exactly?"
It was probably mean to draw it out like this, but Justin was kinda getting a really sick kick out of it. Brian tricks, fine. Random guys, random days, whatever, just wake me up after he's left, Brian, so I can lock the door and get some sleep, okay? But Emmett? Totally didn't fall into that category. And Justin really would like to know why.
"Brian and I--it's just sex. You know that!" Justin nodded and watched the water boil, adding salt as needed.
"Of course it is," Justin agreed soothingly, but Emmett wasn't even listening.
"It wasn't supposed to happen today," Emmett protested. "But I was upset, and Brian hates it when people cry, and it's like he can't help it, tears, cock, wham, and I couldn't help it either because he took his pants off and what else was I supposed to do?"
Justin could utterly sympathize with that last sentiment, and now he was flashing back to all the times he'd cried in front of Brian, wondering if they had lead to fucking. It was kind of hard to tell, because with Brian, really everything led to fucking.
"Really, it's fine." This weird desire to hug Emmett popped up, but Justin wasn't sure Emmett could take that. "No locks here. Me and Brian decided that. It's really okay. I'm not a total girl. I get this." Well, he didn't, but this was Emmett, and well, he could cut him some slack. Brian had cut his tricking way down recently. It had to come out somewhere. Just, he wouldn't have thought Emmett would be on the list.
"So," Justin said, drawing the syllable out and pulling some dishes out of the cupboard. "Was it any good?" He wasn't sure what answer he wanted to hear to that question, but he was really damn curious. "Sorry if I came in at an importune time--I didn't know," Justin continued. He started setting the table with placemats because Brian was really anal that way--with Brian it was either eating out of a carton or the full shebang of silverware and china.
Emmett's blank stare was getting a little annoying. "Justin." His mouth shut tight. "It was--just a thing. This thing. We--do this. Sometimes. Used to do it. It's just sex. I mean, I'm not all wondering what this means about anything--just sex." Emmett's struggle through the dictionary hisses along the lines of Justin's repressed smile. "Do you always feed Brian's tricks?"
Justin considered the question. "More often than you'd think, actually," he said. "Though there was this one guy once who had brought a pumpkin pie along with him--I have no idea why, but it was really good." He handed Emmett a stack of plates. "Help me set the table?"
Emmett was starting to eye the door nervously again.
"I'm not--Justin, this isn't anything like--" Emmett trickled off, possibly because he didn't have the right word for what it was. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Justin considered the boiling water carefully. Just--it's okay, you know? It's fine. No drama here. Just dinner.
"Look," Justin said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "Unless you've convinced Brian to go back to school to become a brain surgeon, probably nothing you've done is any weirder than stuff he's done before, and I'm sure you've heard the stories. Stop worrying," he finished firmly. But he couldn't resist a last jab. "If you want a shower, I'm sure Brian wouldn't mind company." Emmett almost jumped off his stool.
Okay, maybe that was below the belt, but the look of sheer horror on Emmett's face really made it worth it. Justin thought he deserved a little reward after finding this. "How often do you do it?" Emmett's head whipped around like a kite in a storm. Justin bit his lip to strangle another laugh.
The only thing that could make this funnier would be if Ted had been along when he walked in. Except Ted had been really unfunny lately, with the whole drug thing, so maybe not on that one. Justin wasn't sure that he could hold the laughter in any longer, so he gave Emmett a sudden, "I've gotta pee," and ran for the bathroom. Brian stepped out of the shower to find Justin doubled over on the toilet seat, practically in tears. Brian treated this too as if it were completely normal, merely reaching out a hand for Justin to pass him a towel.
* * *
Emmett looked a little shocky when he started the salad, but Justin figured that it would pass, keeping an eye on the bubbling sauce on the oven.
Food is good for anything and everything--if there's one thing he learned from Debbie Novotny, it was how to use food well.
Emmett was too distracted to notice that the salad was merely wilted lettuce, but Brian held up an admittedly pathetic-looking leaf with his fork and frowned pointedly. Justin shrugged helplessly and passed Brian some salad dressing, which Brian stared at as though it came from a foreign planet. It was Brian's own fault, after all--it wouldn't kill him to keep some real vegetables in his apartment.
Emmett speared a lettuce leaf, fluffed the salad around his plate a few times, then set his fork down and opened his mouth. "Look, Justin..."
Justin put his fork down and waited, but Emmett seemed to run out of words, slashing looks between Brian and Justin like they were from some never-before-discovered planet, which was probably closer to the truth than anyone knows. Seconds passed, and Emmett still stared. Hmm. "Bread?" Justin offered, sliding the basket down the table, earning another look from Brian. Like anyone can eat spaghetti without garlic bread. Carbs be damned, it's *garlic bread*.
"Thanks." Emmett pulled the basket slowly toward him, like it was dangerous or something, which it would be if Brian had had anything to do with it, because who in the name of God thinks carb-free bread belongs anywhere near human stomachs anyway? "I." Emmett stopped, staring at a slice. It would have been kind of Justin to maybe help him through this, but they didn't have cable television these days, so Justin took his entertainment at the loft when he could get it.
Emmett tore the bread into four pieces, then let them all drop to his plate next to the lettuce and looked up. "Look, it started when Brian and I were having our nails done."
Brian cleared his throat. "I do *not* have my nails done."
Both Emmett and Justin ignored him. "So we were waiting for the final coat to dry," Emmett continued, "and then Brian asked me if I could help him get his keys out of his pocket, so he wouldn't chip the finish, and..."
Brian interrupted again. "I do *not* have my nails done."
"And then somehow my hand was in his pocket, and then we were in the back of the Jeep, and there was this flier on the back seat about this guy who needed a roommate, and that was Michael, of course, and God, things happen so *fast*, don't they?" Emmett finished with a kind of weak laugh.
Justin leaned in interestedly. "Tell me more about Brian's manicure."
"I don't get manicures."
Justin sighed. Whatever. The Education of a Twink to Be the Best Homosexual He Can Be had included the many ways Brian disapproved of not having perfectly clean, neat nails. This was so not a secret. "Whatever. So..." He trailed off meaningfully and got a kick under the table. Justin returned it, grinning at Emmett over his bowl when his foot ended up on Brian's thigh. "You found the flier...."
"Yeah." Emmett stared at Brian, who was deeply absorbed in contemplation of wilting lettuce like he'd never seen such a thing before. "Anyway. I met Michael and we hit it off, so he and Brian helped me move."
Justin carefully pressed his foot between Brian's legs. "Manual labor, huh?" It was a nice thought. A really nice thought. A look from beneath dark lashes, fast and sharp, made him shiver, before Brian leaned back, thighs opening. This had possibilities.
Emmett's voice was somewhat indignant. "Well, you know, all that bending over to pick up boxes, a girl gets ideas..."
Brian managed to speak evenly even as Justin's foot moved slowly closer to his crotch. "That's bad lifting technique," Brian pointed out helpfully. "Lift with your legs, it's better for your back."
"Lift with your legs?" Justin echoed suggestively, giving Brian a demonstration with his foot of exactly what one might do with a lifted leg. Brian favored him with an indulgent grin. Emmett seemed to be clueing in that something else was going on here at the table.
Of course, Emmett had seen him going down on Brian in the back of the jeep, on Debbie's couch, and that memorable afternoon against Lindz and Mel's bedroom door. Really, he shouldn't be looking that uncomfortable. Justin watched the long fingers tear one piece of bread into neat quarters and really regretted that he hadn't been here earlier-things might have really been interesting. Stupid Michael. "You know, maybe--"
"No, keep going." Justin pressed the ball of his foot into Brian's cock, grinning to himself at the way Brian twitched. "You were watching Brian lift something?" Frankly, Justin was kind of wishing he'd been around to see that.
* * *
Eventually Emmett's explanation ended--but not before Justin caught a little detail involving Brian and a lizard that will be blackmail material enough for months--and they headed off to Babylon. Brian found his way to the backroom, Emmett was firmly ensconced at the bar, and Justin found himself dancing next to Michael. Michael nodded toward Emmett. "Emmett looks depressed, doesn't he?"
Justin shrugged acknowledgement. "Brian was cheering him up earlier today."
Michael eyed Emmett skeptically. "He doesn't seem very cheered."
"Well, you know," Justin said. "Brian's skills in that department are questionable."
Michael snorted and laughed in agreement.
It was probably the number of drinks, or so Justin thought later, but no matter the reason, he laughed a little more, and said, "Why didn't you ever tell me that Brian and Emmett were fuck buddies?"
Michael's brows furrowed. "What?" he asked, still bouncing in time to the music.
"Brian." Justin clarified. "Emmett. Fucking. Many times, apparently. Why didn't you tell me?"
Michael stood still on the dance floor and shook his head back and forth. "Brian and Emmett never fucked," he proclaimed.
Justin scoffed. "Yeah, right."
Michael was turning that look on him now, the sort of probing look that reminds Justin vaguely of Debbie. "What?"
"I saw them together this afternoon. Emmett told me himself."
Michael was frowning now, and shooting a glance over at Emmett over by the bar as though he might catch Brian and Emmett fucking at this very moment, and frankly, Justin wouldn't be surprised. He's been surprised enough today already; it's past his quota.
"You saw them," Michael said, as though he were tasting the phrase in his mouth to see if he could get it out.
Justin frowned. "And I sort of wanted to be the one to christen the new couch."
"At the loft?" Michael seems more incredulous about he location than the deed.
"Where else?" Justin asked, genuinely curious.
"God knows," Michael said, and then suddenly he's weaving through the dancers over toward the bar.
Justin was debating following Michael to watch the impending confrontation, but suddenly a familiar hand grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt, and he was tugged toward the backroom.
* * *
It was only a matter of time after Michael found out that Ted discovered the news. Ted and Emmett's showdown happened in the alley outside Babylon, and Justin, Michael, and Blake leaned against a dumpster and tried to pretend they weren't watching intently.
"Oh great, my lover used to fuck Brian Kinney." Ted paced back and forth waving his arms in frustration. "Is it any wonder we didn't work out?" he spat at Michael. "We were cursed from the very beginning." He glared at Emmett, who was in tears again. "Why didn't you tell me that you and Brian were fuck buddies?" Ted asked Emmett angrily.
Emmett bit his lip. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"How could I ever compare with the great god Kinney?" Ted asked sarcastically. "Probably you were off fucking him every other weekend!"
"Teddy, it wasn't like that!" Emmett protested.
Ted stopped pacing to stare him down. "You're trying to tell me that sex with Brian wasn't the best you'd ever had."
Emmett gestured helplessly with his hands. "Look," he began.
"Uh huh," Ted interrupted, nodding. "Right."
"No, it's like," Emmett continued, "It didn't mean anything! It never meant anything. Because it's Brian, and he'd fuck you over as soon as look at you."
Ted wasn't listening. "And here I went around buying his bullshit. 'I don't do repeats.' So," Ted continued conversationally, "Has he been fucking Michael, too?"
"Teddy!" Emmett protested.
Blake stirred from where he'd been leaning against the wall in the alley. "He hasn't fucked me," Blake offered. Justin and Michael shot glances over toward him as they were reminded he was there, but Emmett and Ted didn't even take their eyes off each other.
"Would you shut up?" Emmett said, managing to direct his comment to Blake without even looking at him.
Justin cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm pretty sure we picked you up in a foursome with that red-haired guy."
Blake frowned for a moment, remembering. "Oh, right, Nelson! I remember now. Damn, that was hot."
And that was really too much for one night. Ted's fury and Emmett's tears aside, Justin collapsed on Michael's shoulder in the alley, doubled over with hysterical laughter.
* * *
Brian knew that something was up when Emmett asked him out to lunch, but followed along willingly enough to some weird-ass health-food tofu-drink place that had wheat grass decorating the counters and recycled paper menus. Emmett got through two glasses of carrot juice before coming out with it. Brian just waited, playing with his fork.
"I'm not going to have sex with you anymore," Emmett said finally, wringing his hands with a little nervousness.
Brian raised an eyebrow as if he didn't even know what Emmett were talking about.
"Oh, don't give me that, asshole," Emmett said, irritated. "Fucking you, though admittedly some of the best sexual experiences I've ever had, has managed to totally mess up my life, and I'm going to stop."
Brian nodded slowly, taking this in. "So," Brian drawled. "Are you and Theodore giving it another go?"
"No," Emmett said firmly. "Ted has..." he trailed off for a moment, staring out the window, "his own problems, and he's going to work them out. I have my life, and I'm going to try to not make too big a mess of it."
Brian nodded easily, and the waitress brought their orders of whole grain toast sprouts, and the conversation drifted to softer topics, such as Hunter's latest attempt to get an allowance.
After they ate, they walked out together, and Brian offered Emmett a ride, but he declined. Emmett was going to leave Brian to walk to his car, but Brian grabbed his hand, and to Emmett's great surprise, pulled him into a tight hug. After recovering from his moment of shock, he squeezed Brian back, but couldn't help but shoot Brian a questioning look when he pulled back. Brian had a wide grin on his face, and his voice went into his falsetto tone. "I really hope we can always be friends," Brian said smarmily.
"Oh for Chrissake," Emmett said, rolling his eyes. But he couldn't help but laugh.
The End -- Feedback always welcome.
cowritten by josselin and seperis
Spoilers: through S3, parts of it are set in a kind of AU generic S4
Pairings: Brian/Justin, Brian/Emmett
Summary: Who can summarize this? It's so incredibly random.
Author's Note: Thanks to Rikka and J for editing.
Jenn and I cowrote it in AIM chat as sort of an on-going amusement to ourselves, so a lot of it feels to me as though it's just going along for the sake of going along, not going along to get somewhere, and I suppose it feels that way because it is. Also, just because it was a bizarre and fun premise, we had little side-notes that we wanted to include in that don't necessarily fit with the plot, but we included them anyway. It switches POV randomly between scenes, time passes in random increments between scenes, there are probably remnants of when we had to switch the tense we were telling it in and actually, there is no plot. Whatever. Basically, this is a celebration of the fact that as someone (I forget who, so sorry!) so cleverly proved with pictures several months back, Brian and Emmett share a wardrobe.
He Hasn't Fucked Me
Ted: Is there anyone here you haven't fucked?
Michael: He hasn't fucked me.
Brian pulled money out of his wallet, shaking his head at Michael's announcement that he was going to spend the evening restocking with Tracy at the store.
"I agree," Emmett said. "I always say, come clean, or don't come at all."
"Where I work," Michael complained, "they laugh at faggots."
"The only faggots worth laughing at are the ones who don't tell the truth," Brian pronounced. "Don't be one of those assholes who hides, Mikey."
Michael left, and Brian and Emmett were left alone on the bench in the diner. Brian's arm was stretched out along the back of the seat, and he dropped his hand onto Emmett's neck.
Emmett twitched. "Don't touch me."
Brian took his hand away briefly, but then dropped it down again. Emmett shot him an irritated look, and Brian was grinning smugly. Emmett sniffed. "I'm not in the mood."
Brian did his falsetto thing and leaned over to nuzzle Emmett's neck. "Not tonight, dear."
Emmett slapped Brian's hands away in a girly fashion but a reluctant smiled was forming on his face. Brian nudged Emmett out of the booth. "Let's go."
* * *
Emmett walked into the loft without knocking, as he always did. He sashayed into the bedroom and dropped a pile of laundry on Brian's bed, then sat down next to it. "Interesting statement, there," he said, nodding his head toward Brian's current outfit. "I brought back the clothes I borrowed," he explained, gesturing toward the laundry. "You going to Babylon tonight, or is Gus really going to keep you at home?"
There were signs of recent clean-up that made Emmett's eyebrows rise, and leaning over, he glanced at the remarkable number of condoms on the bed. Brian ignored him, sifting through the shirts, obviously worried about the sanctity of his wardrobe. "Big orgy, sweetie?"
"Don't be stupid," Brian said. "How could I have an orgy when my kid is staying with me?" He glanced perfunctorily at the car seat that was still sitting on his dresser. Gus was fast asleep.
It still threw Emmett a little, watching Brian slither to his feet and saunter over to the dresser, leaning down to peer into Gus's eyes with a most unBrian-like look on his face. He hated to be caught, though, and Emmett was too tired for drama this early in the afternoon.
"Right," Emmett agreed, slapping his thighs. "So, I'll just be going, then, as those of us who are not bound by the dictates of fatherhood are heading off to the Leather Ball." He stood up and took three steps toward the door before Brian grabbed his arm and moved stealthily behind him to rest a warm hand on his ass.
"Nice pants," Brian said throatily into his ear, with only an edge of mocking in his voice.
He told himself he'd say no--it was one thing to fuck around a few times at random, but Emmett was starting to get antsy, and he really couldn't explain it even to himself--okay, that was a lie, he totally could. It started with Justin and ended with the fact that more than once, he'd stumbled across the kid's socks in Brian's laundry these days.
But "no" didn't mean very much once Brian's hands were on his skin, especially *that* patch of skin, and damn--where had the lube come from? Brian was always like that, all liquid voice and bullshit words that faded into nothing because of the way your body felt when he touched you. It wasn't love, it wasn't even friendship, it wasn't even like Brian's dick had magical powers--it was pure experience. Brian had touched a lot of men, and Brian knew how men liked to be touched.
...and Gus was inches away. "Gus," Emmett heard himself whisper, a desperate glance showing a sleeping baby and right, no way out there, and Brian's teeth skimmed the back of his neck, touching briefly below his ear. "Fuck."
"That's the general idea."
"So you're thinking that because your kid's here and you can't have an orgy, that I'm a good substitute," Emmett said, trying to sound indignant. A man had to have standards, after all.
"I'm thinking," Brian managed to open the front of his pants one-handed; he had to get Brian to share that trick with him sometime. "That I'm horny, and you're horny, and that there's no reason to think any further than that." Brian punctuated the comments about horniness with a pointed stroke of Emmett's dick, and Emmett had to admit, Brian could be pretty persuasive sometimes.
* * *
They were at the diner and Emmett was being pissy. Brian rolled his eyes and drank his coffee and waited for Emmett to come out with it. "You didn't iron my shirt!"
Brian gave him a look that said, So? "Is that all?" he questioned. "Justin was wearing it."
"You let Justin borrow my shirt?" The way Emmett was carrying on, you'd think this were the end of the world. Of course, to Emmett, fashion was the end of the world.
Brian gave him another look. "You let Michael borrow my cashmere sweater and he spilled coffee all over it."
Emmett frowned and dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "That was years ago! And it's not like you don't loan your clothes to Michael all the time. It's different from giving them to some twinkie."
Brian sipped his coffee. "Well if you want to come stake out my dresser and defend all the Armani from the 'twinkie,' be my guest. That'd be the only way to stop the little clothes-horse," Brian grumbled.
There was silence for a moment, and then Emmett started to grin. "I have to say, Bri," he wiped his mouth with a napkin delicately. "He's a bigger queen than I am."
Brian eyed him sideways, and just then, Justin walked out of the back carrying a tray of food. Brian looked him over and turned to Emmett again. "Almost," he acknowledged, sounding sort of proud. "Almost."
* * *
Brian came by Ted's studio after work, still wearing his work shirt with his tie loosened around his neck. Michael was busy with Ben and Justin was doing schoolwork; Brian spent a while dawdling around Ted's desk, trying to convince him to come play at Babylon, since Brian was bored. Ted was quite involved with some finance thing on his computer and told Brian to buzz off.
Abandoning Ted to the boredom of accounting, Brian stalked off to hunt down Emmett. The most logical place to look-after a perfunctory scan of all the cameras on-line, of course-was Emmett's private dressing room, which had been one of Ted's additions to the porn studio as he expanded after his initial success.
The room door was decorated with "Fetch" in a fancy script, and Brian entered without knocking. The dressing room was small, but Emmett's favorite feature of it was the giant mirror surrounded by bright make-up bulbs.
Ted's frugality will never change, though, and the right wall of the dressing room was merely a screen between the room and one of the cameras and filming sets in the back. Brian and Emmett could hear groans from the set drifting through the screen. Brian found a hanger on one of Emmett's chairs and tossed it across the room, saying, "Fetch this!"
Emmett rolled his eyes. "Asshole."
"Come to Babylon," Brian said.
"I just got off work," Emmett said, gesturing around at the studio. "I'm hardly in the mood to see more hot, horny guys."
"I need someone to dance with," Brian announced.
This did not persuade Emmett. "Honey, you are the worst dancing gay man I have ever met. And that's saying something, because I have met a lot of dancing gay men."
Brian was fiddling with things on the makeup counter next to his chair, and Emmett came over and batted his hands away. "You don't even like dancing," Emmett continued. "It's just foreplay or something until you can find some unlucky victim to pull to the backroom."
Brian stood up, affronted. "Unlucky?"
They faced off for a moment, and then Brian, perhaps feeling that his prowess needed to be reestablished, reached for the ties on Emmett's robe. Emmett took a step back. "Ah, no."
But there was nothing Brian liked better than a challenge. He cornered Emmett against the back wall, next to the ratty couch. There was a crack between the back wall and the screen that blocked off the dressing room, so when Emmett turned his head to the left, he could see through the crack and watch some guy being gang-banged.
Emmett tried to push himself off the wall weakly. "Sweetie," he said, pushing ineffectually at Brian's chest, but Brian kept him pinned easily with one hand, and managed to get his robe totally open. Emmett usually ended every shift thinking to himself that he'd never be able to get it up again, so it said something that Brian had already managed to stir his interest.
Brian leaned in, and Brian's tongued traced patterns along Emmett's shoulder, flicking across his collarbone, and Emmett relented for a moment, resting his hands on Brian's waist and enjoying the feel of Brian's mouth on his skin. Brian traced up his neck and along his jaw, and Emmett turned his head in for a kiss, but then it was Brian's turn to duck away slightly, twisting his head so Emmett couldn't meet his lips.
Emmett reached a hand up to Brian's neck, trying unsuccessfully again to guide him to a kiss. "Honey, my breath doesn't smell that bad," Emmett protested, arching into Brian's hand on his dick. Brian's eyes narrowed, and he moved away slightly, face shadowed.
Emmett was going to complain again about Brian's unwillingness to kiss, but Brian was already putting hands on his shoulders and turning him around to face the wall. Emmett pressed his face up against the pink tulle covering the white-painted cinderblocks, and watched the gang orgy through the crack in the screen. Brian tugged his robe off and it fell to the floor; Brian's own pants disappeared in a similar magical act.
"Em?" A shadow walked past the crack in the screen and Ted's voice echoed dangerously near.
Mouthing curses, Emmett elbowed Brian away and tried to approximate a casual tone. "Don't come in yet," he yelled. "I'm naked."
Brian snorted at the obvious pun there, and Emmett shot him a rotten look, grabbing his robe indignantly. Ted burst in the door and took in Brian lounging on the couch and Emmett standing in the middle of the room. "Teddy!" Emmett squawked, pulling his robe shut.
"What?" Ted said. "I've seen it before."
"Everyone's seen it before," Brian said, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket.
"I wrapped up my spreadsheet," Ted announced. "Are we going to Babylon, or what?"
"Oh, let's," Emmett said, with somewhat exaggerated excitement. "I'm in the mood for--" Brian was smirking over on the couch and Emmett gave him another dirty look "--something fruity."
* * *
Recently, Justin was pretty open-minded when walking into the loft. Depressed unemployment orgies, celebratory new job orgies, orgies for the sake of orgies orgies--who knew what might be going on in the loft at any particular moment. But he had to admit that he had never expected to see this.
He didn't say "what the fuck" because, well, there weren't words. And the snap of Emmett's eyes onto him killed even the desire. Anything he said now would come out all wrong. Pretty much anything he said now would be wrong, period. Turning to the fridge, Justin took a breath and went hunting for water.
He found a water bottle behind a head of lettuce--only slightly wilted--and he stood up and closed the refrigerator, his mouth still gaping open in shock. As he opened the water bottle, he couldn't help but glance back over at the other side of the loft, and oh, yeah, it hadn't been a mirage.
It looked like, just maybe, they were finished. Justin really hoped so. "Hey." And maybe later he'd be pissed, but right now, he honestly could not think of anything that quite compared to Emmett's wide-eyed horror. Taking a drink of water, Justin tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do.
"Hey," Brian replied, hiking up his jeans and leaving only the top button undone. He wandered over and took Justin's water bottle to steal a swig, and then leaned down for a brief peck, just like it were any other day Justin had come home to find Brian fucking some guy on the couch.
"How was your day?" He'd had weirder conversations. That one time, with the angst about Ethan and the guy going down on Brian pretty much simultaneously, and totally not appropriate for him to be thinking right now. But still. Tricks were tricks and Emmett was diving for his pants like he expected Justin to come after him with a knife or something.
Brian shrugged in response to his question and moved toward the fridge himself, reemerging with the necks of two beer bottles in one hand. He offered one to Justin, who shook his head, and then held it out to Emmett, who was now fully dressed and struggling to tie his shoe while resting his foot on Brian's new coffee table, but Brian didn't even seem to notice. "No thanks, honey," Emmett said about the beer, moving to the door. "I think I really need something stronger, but uh, not here."
Justin took another drink and watched Emmett fight off the imminent descent of his pants. "Emmett, you--"
"No, really, I have--somewhere--to be." Emmett did a strange hopping thing, probably something to do with the fact he had the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, reaching for the loft door with his free hand. Justin sighed.
Justin glanced at Brian for a clue on how to handle this, but Brian was just drinking his beer as if nothing were going on. Justin fought a giggle fit and had a feeling that someday, this was going to make a really, really funny story to tell at the diner.
Of course, that assumed Justin was the one to tell it. God knows what Emmett would be saying. Not that he and Brian could really surprise anyone anymore. "Emmett. Sit down, okay? Not a big deal." Not now, anyway, and Justin gave Brian another look that promised, explain later?, then leaned into the counter and smiled. "No locks."
Emmett stared at them like they were aliens. Justin bit his lip. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.
He managed not to laugh, but he couldn't help a small smile escaping. "Let me tell you both about my morning," he offered, and somehow, now that he could talk again, he just couldn't shut up. "First Michael and I had that meeting with the publisher, and Michael got in an argument with our editor over the size of the margins, and it went on for forty-seven minutes, I counted. After the margins, it was the color they used on Rage's cape on the cover, and that took thirteen minutes to be decided that yes, the color was definitely not the same as the color on the first page. Clearly the lesson here is that one should never go into business with Michael..." he trailed off because Brian was giving him an irritated look and Emmett still looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.
"That's--fascinating, sweetie." Emmett looked down at his shoes, like he was only just aware that not only were they on the wrong feet, they were Brian's. He kicked them off with a wriggle that sent Justin's face into the counter. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Brian's fingers massaged the back of his neck lightly. "Um, I don't--"
Justin snuck another glance over at Brian--was it possible that Brian didn't see the humor in this situation? Brian still seemed totally oblivious, though Justin knew him well enough by now to guess that it was a mask. "Why don't I fix dinner?" Justin said. "Sit down, Emmett. Brian will poor you a drink, won't you, dear," he added to Brian. Brian rolled his eyes and slapped Justin's ass on his way over to the liquor cart. Emmett sat down tentatively on one of the kitchen stools, holding his bag on his lap.
Justin thought he could already hear Emmett telling this story, *"and then he invited me in for dinner!"* He should make it worth Emmett's time. Justin watched Brian pour out two glasses, Emmett taking it with care so there was no actual physical contact, complete denial of no, you did not just see your boyfriend's cock up my ass, Justin, nothing like it. And can I get out of here now?
"I'm going to take a shower," Brian announced, like this was world news that CNN should have been running. "Call me when it's ready?"
"Yes, honey." Justin grinned unrepentantly into Brian's little frown, crossing two steps to brush a kiss over his mouth. "Hurry. It won't be long."
He watched Brian disappear into the bathroom and then turned around to frown at the fridge. Was there any food here, anyway? Only slightly wilted lettuce. He decided to quasi-cheat and pulled a jar of pasta sauce out of the cupboard and dumped it in a pan, then reached for a box of noodles. It took Emmett a full five seconds or so to confess. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean it."
Justin pushed the noodles the rest of the way into the water on the stove, and turned his full attention on the still-miserable-looking Emmett. "Didn't mean what, exactly?"
It was probably mean to draw it out like this, but Justin was kinda getting a really sick kick out of it. Brian tricks, fine. Random guys, random days, whatever, just wake me up after he's left, Brian, so I can lock the door and get some sleep, okay? But Emmett? Totally didn't fall into that category. And Justin really would like to know why.
"Brian and I--it's just sex. You know that!" Justin nodded and watched the water boil, adding salt as needed.
"Of course it is," Justin agreed soothingly, but Emmett wasn't even listening.
"It wasn't supposed to happen today," Emmett protested. "But I was upset, and Brian hates it when people cry, and it's like he can't help it, tears, cock, wham, and I couldn't help it either because he took his pants off and what else was I supposed to do?"
Justin could utterly sympathize with that last sentiment, and now he was flashing back to all the times he'd cried in front of Brian, wondering if they had lead to fucking. It was kind of hard to tell, because with Brian, really everything led to fucking.
"Really, it's fine." This weird desire to hug Emmett popped up, but Justin wasn't sure Emmett could take that. "No locks here. Me and Brian decided that. It's really okay. I'm not a total girl. I get this." Well, he didn't, but this was Emmett, and well, he could cut him some slack. Brian had cut his tricking way down recently. It had to come out somewhere. Just, he wouldn't have thought Emmett would be on the list.
"So," Justin said, drawing the syllable out and pulling some dishes out of the cupboard. "Was it any good?" He wasn't sure what answer he wanted to hear to that question, but he was really damn curious. "Sorry if I came in at an importune time--I didn't know," Justin continued. He started setting the table with placemats because Brian was really anal that way--with Brian it was either eating out of a carton or the full shebang of silverware and china.
Emmett's blank stare was getting a little annoying. "Justin." His mouth shut tight. "It was--just a thing. This thing. We--do this. Sometimes. Used to do it. It's just sex. I mean, I'm not all wondering what this means about anything--just sex." Emmett's struggle through the dictionary hisses along the lines of Justin's repressed smile. "Do you always feed Brian's tricks?"
Justin considered the question. "More often than you'd think, actually," he said. "Though there was this one guy once who had brought a pumpkin pie along with him--I have no idea why, but it was really good." He handed Emmett a stack of plates. "Help me set the table?"
Emmett was starting to eye the door nervously again.
"I'm not--Justin, this isn't anything like--" Emmett trickled off, possibly because he didn't have the right word for what it was. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Justin considered the boiling water carefully. Just--it's okay, you know? It's fine. No drama here. Just dinner.
"Look," Justin said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "Unless you've convinced Brian to go back to school to become a brain surgeon, probably nothing you've done is any weirder than stuff he's done before, and I'm sure you've heard the stories. Stop worrying," he finished firmly. But he couldn't resist a last jab. "If you want a shower, I'm sure Brian wouldn't mind company." Emmett almost jumped off his stool.
Okay, maybe that was below the belt, but the look of sheer horror on Emmett's face really made it worth it. Justin thought he deserved a little reward after finding this. "How often do you do it?" Emmett's head whipped around like a kite in a storm. Justin bit his lip to strangle another laugh.
The only thing that could make this funnier would be if Ted had been along when he walked in. Except Ted had been really unfunny lately, with the whole drug thing, so maybe not on that one. Justin wasn't sure that he could hold the laughter in any longer, so he gave Emmett a sudden, "I've gotta pee," and ran for the bathroom. Brian stepped out of the shower to find Justin doubled over on the toilet seat, practically in tears. Brian treated this too as if it were completely normal, merely reaching out a hand for Justin to pass him a towel.
* * *
Emmett looked a little shocky when he started the salad, but Justin figured that it would pass, keeping an eye on the bubbling sauce on the oven.
Food is good for anything and everything--if there's one thing he learned from Debbie Novotny, it was how to use food well.
Emmett was too distracted to notice that the salad was merely wilted lettuce, but Brian held up an admittedly pathetic-looking leaf with his fork and frowned pointedly. Justin shrugged helplessly and passed Brian some salad dressing, which Brian stared at as though it came from a foreign planet. It was Brian's own fault, after all--it wouldn't kill him to keep some real vegetables in his apartment.
Emmett speared a lettuce leaf, fluffed the salad around his plate a few times, then set his fork down and opened his mouth. "Look, Justin..."
Justin put his fork down and waited, but Emmett seemed to run out of words, slashing looks between Brian and Justin like they were from some never-before-discovered planet, which was probably closer to the truth than anyone knows. Seconds passed, and Emmett still stared. Hmm. "Bread?" Justin offered, sliding the basket down the table, earning another look from Brian. Like anyone can eat spaghetti without garlic bread. Carbs be damned, it's *garlic bread*.
"Thanks." Emmett pulled the basket slowly toward him, like it was dangerous or something, which it would be if Brian had had anything to do with it, because who in the name of God thinks carb-free bread belongs anywhere near human stomachs anyway? "I." Emmett stopped, staring at a slice. It would have been kind of Justin to maybe help him through this, but they didn't have cable television these days, so Justin took his entertainment at the loft when he could get it.
Emmett tore the bread into four pieces, then let them all drop to his plate next to the lettuce and looked up. "Look, it started when Brian and I were having our nails done."
Brian cleared his throat. "I do *not* have my nails done."
Both Emmett and Justin ignored him. "So we were waiting for the final coat to dry," Emmett continued, "and then Brian asked me if I could help him get his keys out of his pocket, so he wouldn't chip the finish, and..."
Brian interrupted again. "I do *not* have my nails done."
"And then somehow my hand was in his pocket, and then we were in the back of the Jeep, and there was this flier on the back seat about this guy who needed a roommate, and that was Michael, of course, and God, things happen so *fast*, don't they?" Emmett finished with a kind of weak laugh.
Justin leaned in interestedly. "Tell me more about Brian's manicure."
"I don't get manicures."
Justin sighed. Whatever. The Education of a Twink to Be the Best Homosexual He Can Be had included the many ways Brian disapproved of not having perfectly clean, neat nails. This was so not a secret. "Whatever. So..." He trailed off meaningfully and got a kick under the table. Justin returned it, grinning at Emmett over his bowl when his foot ended up on Brian's thigh. "You found the flier...."
"Yeah." Emmett stared at Brian, who was deeply absorbed in contemplation of wilting lettuce like he'd never seen such a thing before. "Anyway. I met Michael and we hit it off, so he and Brian helped me move."
Justin carefully pressed his foot between Brian's legs. "Manual labor, huh?" It was a nice thought. A really nice thought. A look from beneath dark lashes, fast and sharp, made him shiver, before Brian leaned back, thighs opening. This had possibilities.
Emmett's voice was somewhat indignant. "Well, you know, all that bending over to pick up boxes, a girl gets ideas..."
Brian managed to speak evenly even as Justin's foot moved slowly closer to his crotch. "That's bad lifting technique," Brian pointed out helpfully. "Lift with your legs, it's better for your back."
"Lift with your legs?" Justin echoed suggestively, giving Brian a demonstration with his foot of exactly what one might do with a lifted leg. Brian favored him with an indulgent grin. Emmett seemed to be clueing in that something else was going on here at the table.
Of course, Emmett had seen him going down on Brian in the back of the jeep, on Debbie's couch, and that memorable afternoon against Lindz and Mel's bedroom door. Really, he shouldn't be looking that uncomfortable. Justin watched the long fingers tear one piece of bread into neat quarters and really regretted that he hadn't been here earlier-things might have really been interesting. Stupid Michael. "You know, maybe--"
"No, keep going." Justin pressed the ball of his foot into Brian's cock, grinning to himself at the way Brian twitched. "You were watching Brian lift something?" Frankly, Justin was kind of wishing he'd been around to see that.
* * *
Eventually Emmett's explanation ended--but not before Justin caught a little detail involving Brian and a lizard that will be blackmail material enough for months--and they headed off to Babylon. Brian found his way to the backroom, Emmett was firmly ensconced at the bar, and Justin found himself dancing next to Michael. Michael nodded toward Emmett. "Emmett looks depressed, doesn't he?"
Justin shrugged acknowledgement. "Brian was cheering him up earlier today."
Michael eyed Emmett skeptically. "He doesn't seem very cheered."
"Well, you know," Justin said. "Brian's skills in that department are questionable."
Michael snorted and laughed in agreement.
It was probably the number of drinks, or so Justin thought later, but no matter the reason, he laughed a little more, and said, "Why didn't you ever tell me that Brian and Emmett were fuck buddies?"
Michael's brows furrowed. "What?" he asked, still bouncing in time to the music.
"Brian." Justin clarified. "Emmett. Fucking. Many times, apparently. Why didn't you tell me?"
Michael stood still on the dance floor and shook his head back and forth. "Brian and Emmett never fucked," he proclaimed.
Justin scoffed. "Yeah, right."
Michael was turning that look on him now, the sort of probing look that reminds Justin vaguely of Debbie. "What?"
"I saw them together this afternoon. Emmett told me himself."
Michael was frowning now, and shooting a glance over at Emmett over by the bar as though he might catch Brian and Emmett fucking at this very moment, and frankly, Justin wouldn't be surprised. He's been surprised enough today already; it's past his quota.
"You saw them," Michael said, as though he were tasting the phrase in his mouth to see if he could get it out.
Justin frowned. "And I sort of wanted to be the one to christen the new couch."
"At the loft?" Michael seems more incredulous about he location than the deed.
"Where else?" Justin asked, genuinely curious.
"God knows," Michael said, and then suddenly he's weaving through the dancers over toward the bar.
Justin was debating following Michael to watch the impending confrontation, but suddenly a familiar hand grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt, and he was tugged toward the backroom.
* * *
It was only a matter of time after Michael found out that Ted discovered the news. Ted and Emmett's showdown happened in the alley outside Babylon, and Justin, Michael, and Blake leaned against a dumpster and tried to pretend they weren't watching intently.
"Oh great, my lover used to fuck Brian Kinney." Ted paced back and forth waving his arms in frustration. "Is it any wonder we didn't work out?" he spat at Michael. "We were cursed from the very beginning." He glared at Emmett, who was in tears again. "Why didn't you tell me that you and Brian were fuck buddies?" Ted asked Emmett angrily.
Emmett bit his lip. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"How could I ever compare with the great god Kinney?" Ted asked sarcastically. "Probably you were off fucking him every other weekend!"
"Teddy, it wasn't like that!" Emmett protested.
Ted stopped pacing to stare him down. "You're trying to tell me that sex with Brian wasn't the best you'd ever had."
Emmett gestured helplessly with his hands. "Look," he began.
"Uh huh," Ted interrupted, nodding. "Right."
"No, it's like," Emmett continued, "It didn't mean anything! It never meant anything. Because it's Brian, and he'd fuck you over as soon as look at you."
Ted wasn't listening. "And here I went around buying his bullshit. 'I don't do repeats.' So," Ted continued conversationally, "Has he been fucking Michael, too?"
"Teddy!" Emmett protested.
Blake stirred from where he'd been leaning against the wall in the alley. "He hasn't fucked me," Blake offered. Justin and Michael shot glances over toward him as they were reminded he was there, but Emmett and Ted didn't even take their eyes off each other.
"Would you shut up?" Emmett said, managing to direct his comment to Blake without even looking at him.
Justin cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm pretty sure we picked you up in a foursome with that red-haired guy."
Blake frowned for a moment, remembering. "Oh, right, Nelson! I remember now. Damn, that was hot."
And that was really too much for one night. Ted's fury and Emmett's tears aside, Justin collapsed on Michael's shoulder in the alley, doubled over with hysterical laughter.
* * *
Brian knew that something was up when Emmett asked him out to lunch, but followed along willingly enough to some weird-ass health-food tofu-drink place that had wheat grass decorating the counters and recycled paper menus. Emmett got through two glasses of carrot juice before coming out with it. Brian just waited, playing with his fork.
"I'm not going to have sex with you anymore," Emmett said finally, wringing his hands with a little nervousness.
Brian raised an eyebrow as if he didn't even know what Emmett were talking about.
"Oh, don't give me that, asshole," Emmett said, irritated. "Fucking you, though admittedly some of the best sexual experiences I've ever had, has managed to totally mess up my life, and I'm going to stop."
Brian nodded slowly, taking this in. "So," Brian drawled. "Are you and Theodore giving it another go?"
"No," Emmett said firmly. "Ted has..." he trailed off for a moment, staring out the window, "his own problems, and he's going to work them out. I have my life, and I'm going to try to not make too big a mess of it."
Brian nodded easily, and the waitress brought their orders of whole grain toast sprouts, and the conversation drifted to softer topics, such as Hunter's latest attempt to get an allowance.
After they ate, they walked out together, and Brian offered Emmett a ride, but he declined. Emmett was going to leave Brian to walk to his car, but Brian grabbed his hand, and to Emmett's great surprise, pulled him into a tight hug. After recovering from his moment of shock, he squeezed Brian back, but couldn't help but shoot Brian a questioning look when he pulled back. Brian had a wide grin on his face, and his voice went into his falsetto tone. "I really hope we can always be friends," Brian said smarmily.
"Oh for Chrissake," Emmett said, rolling his eyes. But he couldn't help but laugh.
The End -- Feedback always welcome.