Better Friends and Lovers

Chapter 26

(Setting: Manhattan; early the second week of July; POV/Miguel)

"Juan, I told you, Justin is doing whatever the fuck it is that Justin wants to be doing. I can't be babysitting your little pale ass pato...." I waited as my twin interrupted with his long distance guilt tripping. For this, I got family plan on my cell phone. Unlimited minutes of nagging. I want the plan that bars family members from calling, that's what I want. I bet the WASPS have that plan. You won't catch the Rockefellers putting up with annoying relatives on the Treo.

"You know he isn't happy, Miguel. Why would he want to be doing this, staying with that old man? What you're describing doesn't sound like Justin at all. It sounds like Simon has him brainwashed or something. I'm worried. You should've checked on him after that drug episode, man. Simon could've done something to him."

I rolled my eyes, sighing over the wasted effort since Juan couldn't see it anyway. His next words made me laugh.

"And don't you go rolling your eyes and giving those big sighs of yours, you don't know what could happen. That Simon is one crazy fucker. I wouldn't put anything past him and neither would you. Is Cyprian still there?"

"Yeah, but Justin doesn't say much to her these days. She's laying low and playing it cool since that George guy seems a little suspicious of her. Besides, Justin's all happy, getting ready to leave for their trip to Europe. His reward for being a good boy in Pittsburgh, no doubt, and coming home with his old Daddy instead of staying with his younger Daddy. Although, from what I saw on TV, I don't know that he had any choice. The Dark Angel was looking pretty fine, and word is that Kinney is his man now. When Kinney came up here, he was concerned about your boy, but he wasn't acting like a man in love with him." Juan was successfully distracted. For the moment.

"How much of the show did you see? Did you see the part with Cher that was on ABC. Oh baby, the Dark Angel in that thong...if I had a couple hundred thou, that's where I would've put it...all for the good of the charity, of course. I never could've danced like that after performing for all those hours. Hell, I can't dance like that on my best day with plenty of rest! And how many times did you cry? When Fantine died? And again when the Dark Angel sang 'Bring Him Home,' I lost it, man. Someone here had dish satellite so we were able to tune in for the last hour and catch the ending too. Man, I cried buckets. That lady who died, that was so sad, her kids and everything. And then everybody lighting candles, man. Made me proud to be queer."

"And you make me question it. You know I don't cry for telethons...but I did get a hard on for the thong so at least we have some traits in common. I watched it at 'Divas,' you know the place, that old queens' club in Soho. They had it on all day because it was their Danny in it. They still idolize him there. Those guys were calling in pledges and requests the whole time. And rehashing the old story. You should've heard them when they saw Simon in the crowd with his new angel. When Danny sang a song dedicated to Justin, for Kinney and him to dance to, you would've thought it was fucking 'Casablanca' and Rick sending his love away. But then, at the very end, they had a camera panning the final dancers as they played credits and all, and there was the Dark Angel dancing with Kinney to one of those old songs. All the old fags cried like it was 'Casablanca' again, but with a happy ending."

"Poor Justin."

I rolled my eyes again. Juan can feel sympathy for anyone. Give him half a chance, he'd work up sympathy for that rich old fucker, Simon. I've lost patience with him. Not that I had much to lose.

"Explain that to me, Juan. Quickly, because at some point, I need to get some work done today. How do you get 'poor Justin' out of this situation?"

How about poor Miguel? I didn't add that, but I thought it. All those weeks, hell, months, of babysitting the brat, worrying about one of us getting caught by Simon. I didn't even get laid. Of course, I couldn't say that to Juan. I barely admitted it to myself, but a lot of my anger came from the fact that Justin seemed perfectly happy to walk away from me without a backward glance. Fuck him. Metaphorically, of course, since my twin's pet pato from Pittsburgh's finer suburbs was a slut for everyone except me. Hell, even my twin had fucked him. But not me. I'm Noble Miguel, Justin's proxy friend. I scowled at the secretary who poked her head in my office and she scurried away. That restored my good humor a bit.

Being the only paralegal who had ever lasted more than a year with the head partner definitely had its perks. One was getting my own office instead of a cubicle, and another was access to his associates' secretaries to type for me. The best, however, was that I could be almost as big of a son of a bitch as he was and people respected it. His top associate was super smart and super hard working, but nice as all get out. The boss and the staff walked all over her. If I didn't step in, her work would get done last. She wasn't tough enough for this profession. That will never be my problem. That chick I just scowled at was probably running back to her desk to see what she could possibly get done for me. And if she doesn't have anything, she'll double-check the work she last did. Being a bastard is a good thing.

"Justin misses you, Miguel." Huh? Juan was so good at dragging my wandering thoughts back to him; clever twin.

"How you figure that, Juan? Your super powers now include the ability to read his mind as well as my facial expressions over the phone?"

"He calls me sometimes, using a phone card, did you know that?" Actually, no, I didn't. Maybe Simon's mind control wasn't as complete as we thought. Let's hear it for the boy. He's sentient.

"He feels bad about what happened that last night he saw you, but he's also confused, Miggs. He really didn't know all that happened or why. He can't figure out how he got so fucked up. He's taken E before and never got like that. Kinney and him, they didn't talk much about what went down when he woke up the next morning. Kinney was busy playing twenty questions about his life with Simon. You can guess how he reacted to that. Then there was his friend Daphne, acting all motherly and treating him like a baby...."

"He deserved it, Juan! You should've seen him that night! Those guys were true friends, man, they dropped everything and came here in the middle of the night to take care of him. I was scared for him, you know I was. He was out of his head. You talked to him that night, hell, even the Dark Angel did, and they hate each other. But, you know, Justin was offering to do him too, at one point. He was fucking nuts. Did you know he offered to fuck me? Said he'd even do it raw. I didn't share that little tidbit with Kinney, was afraid he'd kill me, but it was a bad night. Can you imagine if Justin had been alone at a club and acted like that?"

Juan made soothing noises. I got up and closed my office door. I'd been keeping my voice down, but still, best to be safe. You never knew who was hanging around outside listening.

"Look, I know it was a terrible time for you and you were great. You had no way of knowing, man, that Kinney's phone would be picked up by Justin's worst nightmare." Juan's voice had gone from soothing to amused. I snorted.

"Listen, do you want to get to the point of this call sometime today? So far, all you've convinced me of is that Justin is still blaming everyone else for his bad judgment. He takes drugs and it's everyone else's fault: mine for calling Kinney, O'Keefe's for answering Kinney's phone, Kinney's for being worried about him. Forget that I carried him to my place and sweated through the whole night, worrying whether he was going to go into a seizure on me or worse. Forget that Kinney flew up here just to make sure Taylor didn't end up at the hospital with someone who knew nothing about his medical history. And forget about O'Keefe being a decent guy and helping out the whole fucking night, even having his doctor brother participate, as you might recall. Oh yeah, let's not forget the little best friend, that Daphne girl. She must also bear some blame, for caring about him and having the nerve to think maybe he isn't capable of taking care of himself. Well, guess what, Juan? There's a reason she thinks that. It's because he fucking isn't! Did I miss anyone, Juan? Is it your fault too? Maybe for moving to California?"

"Why haven't you slept with him yet, Miguel?"

The question was soft, non-judgmental. Right now, I knew that all the concern in that voice was for me, and yet I had no idea how I was going to answer him. I was suddenly conscious of running my hand through my hair. Bad habit of mine when I was stressed. I'd need to fix it before I let anyone see me. I had an image to maintain. probably should get it cut too, but no time for it today as I also had three depositions left to summarize before I left work. And right now, there was still my loving twin to deal with, patiently waiting for the answer to a question that I really didn't want to address.

"Listen, Juan, I really need to...."

"Just answer my question and then you can get back to your oh so important work. Or, in the alternative, promise me you'll get together with Justin before he leaves for Europe and I'll let you off the hook. For now. Let him know you forgive him, Miguel. And it wouldn't hurt for you to let him know that some people like him just for himself. That was kind of your point, wasn't it? To show Justin he didn't have to fuck his way into friendships? That some people could want to spend time with him and even come to care about him without sex? Despite their best efforts not to, huh?"

Well fuck me and fuck the twin mind reader shit. I rejected making up some answer, like that I had no interest in sleeping with the little fucker, or that I didn't think I could have fucked him had I made the effort. Juan was the only person I could never fool. I could lie to myself better than to him. I promised to call his "friend" and got off the phone as quickly as I could. I wasn't ready to admit that I didn't fuck Justin Taylor because I knew that once I did, I wouldn't be able to deal well with the idea of him going back to Simon. That night, before he had his melt down, I was finally ready to make my move. Which is probably why I was so upset over the whole fucking thing. Not quite the Noble Miguel. I wanted him for myself. Which didn't make sense because he was so not my type. I liked tall, dark and handsome, not cute, blond and boyish, no matter how tempting the ass. Granted, his ass did look good. But it was more than just lust for a cute ass that I'd been feeling. I hated seeing those bruises on him which I wasn't convinced were merely the result of a little consensual fun and games. I hated the unhappy look on his face that slowly faded as he got further away from that place. I hated the unnatural way he reacted to normal touching....

I sat up straighter in my chair. Well fuck me again. I ran over in my mind Justin's symptoms from the night of what Juan called "drug episode," then jotted them down, along with a list of symptoms from other nights I'd spent in his company. Definite overlap. I picked up my office phone and buzzed my favorite nice smart associate.

"Hey, Shar, do we have a pharmacological expert who might answer a few questions, gratis?"

While I waited for her to get the name and phone number, thankful that it would never occur to her to ask me why I wanted it or tell me to look up my own fucking expert's phone number, I made a mental note to stop by 'Divas' again tonight. Time to check up on what had happened to the Simon's other Dark Angel surrogates before Justin. My own little "Behind the Scenes: Where Are They Now and Did They Need Detox?"

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(Setting: Pittsburgh; Second Saturday after Fourth of July; POV/Emmett)

"I don't want pancakes. Pancakes make you fat. Uncle Daddy says so. I want crepes."

Briana was sticking her lower lip out and crossing her arms in front of her. She looked like a miniature copy of her uncle in a stubborn mood. It was so cute. I was ready to brave Debbie's wrath and invade the diner kitchen to make the little darling crepes. However, the baby's flushed cheeks and overly bright eyes made me question the wisdom of feeding her anything. I looked doubtfully at Mary Pat and Mel.

Gus was digging into his own plate of pancakes, as were John's boys, Jared and Joshua. Mary Pat was doing triple baby-sitting duty this weekend, watching John's kids while he moved out of the house. Shocking everyone, John had announced at the Benefit that he and Carol had separated. He thought it would be tough for the kids to see him moving all of his things out of their house, so he'd asked Mary Pat to watch them for him at the family homestead. Apparently there was a lot of screaming going on from Carol. Mary Pat was being tight lipped as to the reason for the separation, but there was some indication a pool boy was involved. It was beyond me why a woman who was married to a man who looked like John O'Keefe would want to fool around, even if he was a bit stern and a workaholic. Danny and John had hugged when John told him the news, and Danny immediately offered him the spare room in the town house until he found his own place. Surprisingly, John accepted, even knowing I would be there. When he had the boys he would stay at the big house with Mary Pat, but during the week he planned to stay at Danny's place. I think he was trying to mend some familial bridges that had been damaged when Mama Rose died.

Before he left for Ibiza last Monday, Danny had asked me if I was okay with John coming to stay at the townhouse.

"If you aren't, Em, I'll tell him it won't work after all. This is your home now. I don't want you feeling uncomfortable. He can stay with Mark or Jamie. Or he can stay at the house. It's just a little far from his office, but he can manage until he finds a place."

"Don't be silly. He's your brother and he needs a place to stay. Jamie's place is a mess and Mark has too many kids, your place is best. Are you sure he'll be okay with, well, you know..." I'd looked down at my clothes. Danny had laughed and given me a hug.

"You dress a lot more tastefully than Carol ever did. And if John isn't okay with us, he can go to a hotel. I'm not changing my lifestyle to suit him and neither are you. To be fair to him, I think moving in with me is his way of saying he's sorry for how he acted. Mama's death hit him hard, not least because she never saw fit to tell him she'd done a new will and all after Dad died. Mama was never happy about John divorcing Michelle, and she never took to Carol. Hell, none of us did. When Mama died, John was kind of hit with how far away from the family he'd drifted."

"Well, I just hope little 'ole me doesn't get to sleep walking and go wandering into the wrong room one night. That could prove embarrassing." I put on my most innocent face. Danny cocked an eyebrow at me.

"I said he was making an effort at not being homophobic. I didn't say any miracles had happened, so don't go doing anything stupid. At least not while I'm not around to save you from getting your ass kicked. I may have my doubts about some of my relatives, but I can safely say that John is 100% straight."

So far, things had gone pretty smoothly, helped by the fact that Mary Pat was staying at the townhouse part of the time. I was helping her out with Briana while Danny was away. In another surprise, Mary Pat, with Danny's blessing, had invited Mel, Lindsay and their kids to stay at the O'Keefe family house. Even with John and his boys there some of the time, there was plenty of room, given that the house had been home to the huge O'Keefe brood. Mel and Lindsay were happy to accept since they had decided to extend their visit while they re-examined their decision to leave Pennsylvania. Canada wasn't working out too well for them, especially since Mel couldn't practice law there and she wasn't suited to being the stay at home mom.

While it had been nice of MP to make the offer, she ended up spending a lot of time at the townhouse because she could only take so much of Lindsay. She got along great with Mel for the most part. Both were sharp-tongued, little she-devils. They were like long lost sisters, as long as Mel didn't say anything against Brian. And Mel, to her credit, made a real effort not to bash Brian around Mary Pat and the rest of Danny's family. The same could not be said for Lindsay. She and MP went at it like Brian and Mel used to. Having Corrine around was another issue for Lindsay. While Mel seemed genuinely happy to see Corinne with Mary Pat, Lindsay seemed to hold a grudge against her for having dated Mel a few times. The end result was that Lindsay spent a lot of time lying down with a "headache." Of course, as Debbie commented, if Lindsay knew how little she was missed, she'd probably get better a hell of a lot faster.

I turned my attention back to the scowling Briana, who was still refusing the pancakes MP was trying to get her to eat.

"Briana, sweetie, why don't I just order you some eggs? You can have them the way Uncle Danny has them."

"Tasteless? You sure you want to do that to the poor baby?" Debbie had returned and of course had to put in her two cents worth. But she'd done it this time. Briana's bottom lip came out even farther and the long lashes started fluttering. The little chin was quivering but she was trying her hardest not to cry. Danny would be proud.

"I want my Uncle Daddy! I don't want pancakes and I don't want you, mean lady!"

Full scale three alarmer. Mary Pat looked mortified while Debbie just stood there, mouth gaping, face red. Mel was hiding a grin behind her hand while John's two boys were laughing outright. The laughter made Briana even more upset and she started repeating her complaints more loudly, edging into hysteria. I tried patting her back to calm her down, with no appreciable luck, when Gus walked over to her side of the table and pulled her into a hug.

"You want me to call him on the phone, Bree? I always call my dad on the phone and he talks to me when I get upset. We'll call Mr. Danny for you and he'll make you feel better." He spoke so matter of factly and his tone of voice sounded so much like Brian, it made all of us adults stare.

"Well, God bless the child," Debbie murmured as Briana nodded her head and sniffled back her sobs. I whipped out my cell and punched the speed dial for Danny before Mary Pat could argue. She had decided that it would be good for Briana to go the ten days without having Danny being at her beck and call, and that she would do better without any contact, even phone calls, so the plan was for there to be no contact between them while Danny was gone. He hadn't been happy about it, but since he was the one asking for ten days of babysitting, he felt he had to agree to the terms. Mary Pat, with Matt's support, argued that it would be easier on the child, and everyone else, if Briana didn't have continual contact with Danny to get her worked up over and over. It was felt that she would settle down soon enough once he was gone a few days. Mary Pat also preferred that Briana not have Danny to turn to every time she wanted to dispute Mary Pat's decisions. Personally, I thought daily phone calls would have made it a lot easier on the baby girl, but who would listen to me?

As I listened to the phone ring, I wondered what time it was in Ibiza. I hoped they weren't in the middle of fucking. I avoided eye contact with MP. Danny picked up on the third ring, thank goodness.

"Hey, Em! Miss me? I'm getting dressed to go out dancing and was just thinking of you ...I was too thinking of Emmett, Kinney! He always helps me pick out what to wear. God, you're so conceited. Thinks I only think of him, Em. I just think of him ninety percent of the time, not a hundred. What's up, big guy?"

"Your little one misses you. Is it okay if she talks to you for a minute?"

He was quiet for just a second and then, "Of course. Put her on. I thought making her go without talking to me was a stupid idea."

He sounded eager to talk to her. Poor Danny, he probably missed her too, although he had a nice enough distraction. He was used to making all of the decisions for Briana.

"Uncle Daddy?" Briana was nodding her head at whatever he was asking her. It was so cute how little kids forgot you couldn't see them over a phone. "Uh huh....Uh huh....I want you to come home...Bring Uncle Brian with you. Gus wants to see him too....I know....I do...I am being good." At that, she shot a guilty look at Mary Pat. Jared and Joshua shouted in laughter, calling out that she was being a monster. Debbie gave them each one of her patented whacks on the head and told them to be quiet or she would feed them to a leather daddy. Briana ignored them. "But I don't feel good. I need you home 'cos I'm sick...." At that point, she looked up with this perfectly smug expression and told her aunt, "Uncle Daddy wants to talk to you."

If looks could kill, I would be dead. Mary Pat gave me a killer green glare before taking the phone. She covered the mouthpiece as she hissed to me, "See why I didn't want him getting called? He's going to cut short the only vacation he's ever had because a certain young miss has to get her way. And you, young lady, had better eat those pancakes or you will get liver for dinner."

Gus and Briana both got really wide eyes at that threat. They probably had visions of some person's liver being sliced out. Mel whispered to Gus to sit next to Briana and encourage her to eat a little. She then asked me what Danny liked to eat, and after I suggested an egg white omelette with low fat cheese, she firmly but pleasantly suggested to Debbie that she bring one to tempt Briana's appetite. Who knew Mel could be so reasonable?

"Good thinking," I whispered, straining to eavesdrop on Mary Pat's conversation. She'd walked a couple tables away for privacy. Hunter was lingering nearby so he would fill me in later on what I missed. As it was, she kept her voice pitched low so all I caught were a few sentences, the gist of which was assuring Danny that Briana was fine.

"If you come back early, not only will I cut your balls off, since you're not using them anyway, letting a four year old walk all over you, but you can forget about my ever helping you out again with her if you're going to give in to her like this." Her voice had gotten a little louder.

Ouch. I could kind of see her point. For him to return would make it seem like he didn't trust her to take good care of Briana, which was silly. Mary Pat was a nurse, for Pete's sake. She'd taken off several days from work to spend quality time with her niece, and the truth was, they were getting along great. MP just didn't have Danny's knack for dealing with the temper tantrums. She lost her own temper, and then felt bad. Ironically, she was the one who gave in more often than he ever did, like today. If I hadn't called Danny first and saved face for her, she would've done it eventually, only it would have been after a much more painful scene. At some point, knowing her, she'll bake me a cake as an apology for being bitchy now. She forgets that, unlike her baby brother, I can bake a better cake than she can.

Mary Pat came back and handed me the phone.

"Here, he wants to talk to you." She looked at the omelet plate Debbie was bringing over then looked at Briana. "Will you deign to eat this breakfast, princess? Your Uncle Danny loves egg white omelettes and says all good dancers need their protein."

"Yeah, like he gets his protein off a plate these days," Debbie cackled.

"Please! Is that an appropriate comment to make in front of children?" Mary Pat gave Debbie the evil eye while John's boys snickered. Although Briana and Gus didn't get Deb's little joke, the bigger boys did, even if just eight and ten years old. These two definitely had a good bit of their mother in them. They reminded me of Brian's nephews from hell. I was trying to remember if I would have gotten a joke like that when I was their age when Hunter quietly walked past and smacked both of them. Mary Pat smiled her approval, another example of how her parenting skills differed from Danny's; he would have talked to his nephews about their rudeness but he never would have hit them as Debbie was so fond of doing to make a point. He told me it was an ongoing battle with his siblings, many of whom followed his father's "spare the rod" philosophy.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking," Debbie mumbled, red-faced again. Poor Debbie. Mel looked as uncomfortable as I felt at Debbie being reprimanded, but I knew that she and Lindsay also had problems with the way Debbie talked in front of the kids. They even had asked Michael to try to do something about it. As if Michael ever had any luck restraining his mother. So, I really couldn't blame Mary Pat for saying what everyone else wanted said but was too afraid to bring up. If Deb wanted the kids brought around to see her, she was going to have to watch that mouth of hers. I noticed that the diner patrons all curbed their tongues whenever there was a kid in the vicinity. Even the leather daddies. Debbie was the only one who seemed to think she had to prove she was the baddest of the bad.

"Em, you there?" Danny's voice was a little huskier now. Whether his laryngitis was back or he was upset, arguing with Mary Pat sure hadn't helped. He really needed this break.

"Sure, baby, sorry. Got distracted. Are you having fun?" Like M.P., I excused myself and walked away to avoid the chance of Briana demanding the phone back. He chuckled. "What do you think? But forget about that, I'll give you all the details when I get back. How is Briana really? Mary Pat's ego aside. She sounded fucking pitiful."

"She is pitiful. But Briana can turn pitiful on and off like other kids use a TV remote. She has all five of your brothers jumping, especially Jamie and John, and Mary Pat lets her have two desserts a day. Get this, today's little snit was because she wanted crepes for breakfast because you supposedly told her pancakes make people fat! You would have thought we were force feeding fat and sugar on Ashley Olson. Or is it Mary Kate? I can never remember which is which."

Danny laughed, this hoarse little laugh. "Well? Didn't you make her crepes? She loves your crepes. I miss them, too. The food here isn't as good as yours."

"Nothing but the very best butter, as my Aunt Lula used to say. Your flattery, that is, though it works for the crepes too. To tell you the truth, I wanted to make them for the little sweetheart, she looked so adorable, sticking her nose up at Debbie's pancakes, kind of like you refusing the lemon bars, but I was a little bit hesitant to venture back in that kitchen. I'll make her some at home. Anyway, there we were, with Debbie and Briana squaring off, not to mention your sister and Briana, and you know who was winning, by virtue of that trembling chin thing, when Gus saved the day by giving Briana a hug and suggesting that you be called."

"Ah, nothing like a Kinney man to save the day. I know just how she felt. But listen, Em, you keep an eye on her for me, okay? She gets herself worked up, and I've known her to make herself really sick. Before she does that, just sneak another call to me, okay? I love MP, but she can be stubborn. Briana comes by it honestly. I know how to be firm with her, but there's times when you have to hold your ground and then there's times you just have to bend. This whole 'no contact' thing isn't a smart idea."

"I'll do what I can, baby. But it won't help if your sister figures it out and keeps me away."

"She won't. She loves your cooking as much as I do," he laughed. He then added, "Although I love you for more than that, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, sure, you need someone to watch your cat, too," I grumbled, secretly pleased by the warmth in his voice.

"I love you, Emmett Honeycutt," he whispered, in his deepest, sexiest, voice, the tease. But I did love to hear it. Then I heard Brian's voice in the background.

"Tell him goodbye and stop fucking hitting on him. And Emmett, get yourself a man. Danny can get other people to watch his fucking cat!" The last bit was said louder for my benefit. Ouch. I really should consider rejuvenating my own love life.

"Ignore him, Em. Well, not the bit about me being able to get other people to watch my cat. That's true, you don't need to feel obligated to do that. But I appreciate it and so does Fosse. You know I'm not hitting on you. I do love you, and I feel better knowing I can count on you. It's nice having a friend I can trust."

The unspoken words were that it was nice having a friend who wasn't trying to get into his pants, or get him into their pants. That left out Etienne, who'd left town after a bittersweet good-bye on Wednesday after the show. Aida went with him. Danny was only slightly hampered by his lack of a voice, as he didn't have all that much left to say to them. He was grateful for their help on the show, but as Danny pointed out, as a result of their participation, Aida made a lot of great contacts and "Stephan Lane" got a good deal of favorable publicity. As Danny liked to say, it was a "win/win situation."

Danny's requirement that his friends be platonic and trustworthy left Brandon out too. While the two of them had developed a kind of camaraderie over the course of preparing for their dance numbers in the show, Brandon made no secret of the fact that he wanted to fuck, or be fucked by, Danny. So while Danny had fun with Brandon, he was careful to maintain a distance with him. Hunter was another one Danny liked a lot, but he sensed the boy could all too easily fall in love with him, and thus was really careful to keep their relationship on a brotherly level. He was there for Hunter, but there was a limit to how much he allowed the precocious teen close to him.

Of course, Danny was Brian's lover, and they truly were friends too, but I was Danny's best friend. He could relax with me and show a silly, stupid side of himself to me that he never showed to Brian. Plus, there was still a part of Danny that wasn't sure how much he could trust Brian with his heart. Having been hurt once by him, he was cautious. He loved Brian, but he wasn't completely sure he believed in forever after working for them, poor baby. He knew I wouldn't ever let him down. I hoped Brian wouldn't either, but I didn't have any control over that. All I could do was reassure him that he could count on me.

"You know it, baby. I feel the same way. I'll watch over your little girl for you. You have a great time, and get all the rest you can. Don't let Brian wear you out too much."

That deep chuckle again. "Are you sure it won't be me wearing him out? But thanks, Em. I'll be bringing you back some fabulous presents. Now go make nice to my scary sister. Hug Bree for me. And give Gus a hug for me too; tell him thanks for his smart thinking. Oh, and Brian says to hug Gus for him too."

I said goodbye and headed back to the table. Briana was eating her eggs, smiling at the antics of her older cousins, one hand firmly clasped in Gus's. Her cheeks still looked flushed and I wanted to check her forehead to see if she had a fever but I knew that would set off MP. Well, as any good southern boy knows, there's more than one way to skin a catfish. I leaned down and kissed Briana on the forehead.

"Your Uncle Daddy said to tell you to be an extra good girl for your Aunt Mary Pat, Briana. Your Daddy sends his hugs to you, too, Gus, and they both said you were a smart boy to help Briana out of her little snit. So, who is up for the pool after breakfast?"

Oh dear. If Grandma Honeycutt's tried and true method for checking for a fever was right, Briana wasn't faking it when she said she didn't feel good. She was burning up. Now I had to figure out how to break the news to her scary, stubborn aunt.

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(Setting: Manhattan; Monday, the third full week in July; POV/Edward Simon)

"Edward, we need to talk."

George came into the room and shut the door, locking it. I raised my eyebrows inquisitively. The only one who possibly would come in without waiting for an invitation would be Justin. He also was the only one who might find a locked door strange. George was my oldest friend and indeed, the only relative that I chose to acknowledge, having long cut my own ties to England, the land of our youth, along with any trace of the accent which he retained...when he chose to reveal it. I trusted him as no other, so assumed he had sufficient reason for his action and closed my book, giving him my full attention.

"I'm concerned about the amount of medication we are giving young Justin. I think it's time to start weaning him away from the drugs and..."

I silenced him with a look. "George. We've been over this before. Your treatments have worked wonders for his motor control; you've seen for yourself how happy that makes him, to be able to handle a paintbrush again. He's no longer limited to the computer for his art. You did that, George. I always said you were a brilliant doctor."

I smiled warmly at him. We've been together so long. Since Eton. He's younger than I, but so capable. And clever. The military was foolish to force out its best men for so many years for homosexuality. In George's case, paying his way out of a scandal when he was in his early thirties bought me the most reliable and grateful "personal assistant" a man in my position could possibly have. A highly skilled physician and chemist, who also happened to be a trained killer. One really couldn't ask for more. Second cousins, I'd seduced him when he was a young and impressionable, and although that aspect of our closeness had ended years earlier, he was so grateful when I came to his aid and helped him out of his difficulties. He's always been the one person I could turn to, no matter what. In return, he knows I will keep his secrets. Back when his parents were still alive, that was worth anything to him. I wasn't quite sure why it was so important to him still, but still he remained with me and that suited me well.

I can always tell what George is thinking. Well, almost always, I qualified my own thought. I was never quite sure of his loyalties when it came to my Dark Angel. In that one area, I suspected my trustworthy, long time friend and kinsman of divided loyalties. I never quite understood how Luke O'Keefe managed to find Danny when I finally had him at my mercy. Or how Luke and one other man managed to overpower six of my men. George arrived after the rescue had been effected, just in time to save me, in fact, with a solid excuse for his delay that I never quite believed. Then there was the little matter of last week, when Danny greeted George as he would an old friend. Of course, if Danny knew who it was who had kept his precious sister supplied with the drugs she craved so much, and indeed, who introduced her system to some of them in the first place, even if on my orders, that warmth would undoubtedly change to anger. Maybe even the hatred Danny thought he felt for me. Perhaps George would need reminding of that fact sometime soon. For now, however, I chose a soft touch. There was a knack to maintaining the loyalty of a man such as George. Knowing how and when to manipulate his guilt required delicacy.

"The boy's medical history makes his continued use of the drugs at these levels risky. I spoke to his mother at the benefit as well as to his friend, Daphne, who is a medical student. There was quite a bit of information that was not in the hospital records you gave me."

"You weren't imprudent, I trust?" I watched his face closely.

He smiled. The very coldness of it relieved me. "Need you ask, Edward?"

"Of course not. You're a professional. I'm sure neither woman was aware that you were extracting information. Why don't you cut back on some of the drugs while we are away, see how he does? Perhaps with the change of scenery, you will find he needs less artificial aids to relaxation?"

"Thank you, Edward, for respecting my judgment."

"Don't I always, my friend?"

"Not always, Edward, not always." His tone was dry, and I narrowed my gaze. There was nothing there but the usual cool expression, but I sensed he had something else he wished to say. Perhaps we should have this out.

"You wish to add something, George?"

He stood in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back, his bearing still that of the military officer he had been. I felt as though I should tell him to stand at ease, yet oddly, I was the one who was uncomfortable. I tapped my fingers on my book as I waited for that cool voice to continue.

"Why don't you leave Danny alone? It's been almost ten years, Edward. You can have anyone you want. You don't need to play these games. You don't even need to ply Justin with extra medication in the guise of aiding his motor control or his nightmares. Both are worthy goals, I'll readily admit, but some of the ingredients you request have nothing to do with either of those things. You like Justin; you can travel the world with him by your side, if you choose. Danny was nothing but a whim, a dream. Let it go, let him go."

I felt the anger flare. I threw my book across the room trying to dispel some of the emotion building up inside me. Not at George, of course. I wasn't that crazy. He watched impassively as it sailed over a table, knocking an expensive vase to the floor with a satisfying crash. I looked up at his expressionless face, his very control exacerbating my lack of it. I raised my voice at him.

"Because I can't let it go! Don't you think I would if I could? Don't you think I know what they whisper about me in this city? Simon and his 'angels' is what they snicker! People respected me before Danny O'Keefe. I could make or break a star on Broadway. Then he came along and thumbed his nose at me. He and his slut sister. Well, they paid the price. Now, at least, others fear me, even if Danny has won his Pyrrhic victory."

"I don't think he thinks he has 'won' anything, Edward. I think he would like his freedom, the freedom to dance, to pursue his art. Don't you want that as well? You used to admire his talent. Now I hear you belittle him to others. Do they laugh at you because of Danny's actions or because of your own?"

Damn old friends and the liberties they feel friendship permits. I returned his look through narrowed eyes.

"You presume too much sometimes, George. As you did last week. Perhaps you also retain a fondness for green eyes and black hair?"

He smiled faintly.

"I know. It is a failing of mine, being presumptuous. But you are mistaken if you think it is from an inappropriate fondness for young Daniel. He still seems very young to me. I don't have your eternal youth, my friend. I have always liked him, and I would enjoy seeing him finally achieve the level of success to which his talent entitles him, but I am concerned for you. He will never come to you willingly and if you force him, you will lose more than you conceive. It is not worth it. Look elsewhere, Edward. Let yourself be happy."

I looked at him bleakly. Didn't he understand? If I could think of anyone else, I would. But I was obsessed. Not a day went by that I did not dream of Danny O'Keefe. Had he simply given in to me years ago, perhaps this need for him would have faded. But every year that he stayed away, forcing me to satisfy my yearning with someone else, made me want him that much more. I would do something terrible some day. It would ruin my life. And it would be all the Dark Angel's fault. Not mine.

***************************

(Setting: Ibiza; Monday, third full week of July; POV/Brian)

I looked over at Danny's sleeping form and couldn't hold back a smile. Thank God for nude beaches. I loved Ibiza, and always had a fabulous time, fucking my days and nights away. But coming here with a gorgeous lover with whom I spent almost every moment was even better. We'd waited until after the weekend to leave, so I'd have more time with Gus, but once the munchers decided to stay longer, I finalized my plans and we headed out on our ten day getaway.

Danny hadn't been kidding about needing a vacation after the Benefit. When he woke up the next morning, his voice was gone and he was so stiff and sore he could barely move. The long flight wasn't pleasant for him, but well worth it to get him far away from the demands of family and work. He told me he'd never had a non-working vacation before. Several days of twice-daily massages and long soaks in a hot tub restored his normal flexibility, while rest, along with frequent applications of "protein" solutions to his throat restored his voice. I'd woken up around five most days to find him giving me an early morning blowjob; he'd merely grinned around my cock as he finished me off, then scooted back up to cuddle under my shoulder before falling asleep for a few more hours.

As his muscles recovered from the abuse he subjected them to during the Benefit, Danny was forced to sleep a lot and relax, two things that were practically alien to him but I was up to the challenge of keeping him in bed. Tying him down worked. He even got some rest eventually. He even scaled back his normal exercise routine to swimming and easy runs after the sun went down as long as I joined him for both. Consequently, I was in the best shape I'd been in since college. The looks we both got from other men confirmed it. For once, however, I had no interest in following up on those looks, no matter how hot the guys were who were sending them. The fact that Danny didn't feel threatened by this monogamy we'd drifted into helped me realize that I had nothing to fear from it either. Plus, I'd already done that other thing and it no longer had the same allure. Of course, not one of those other guys could compare to Danny, but, somewhat to my surprise, I realized that wasn't why I wasn't interested. Even if a hotter guy than Danny came along, I don't think I'd be tempted. For his part, Danny seemed oblivious to the attention. He was friendly to other people, but sexual overtures were the fastest way to lose his attention and turn him cold. He truly showed no interest in making me jealous and never paid more than a casual sexual attention to any other guys, which he normally discussed with me in an almost objective way. I found myself enjoying the feeling of security.

As Danny worked on removing all traces of tan lines from his incredible ass, I sat under an umbrella a few feet away, working on my laptop. I was trying to fix a presentation that Cynthia had sense enough to know sucked and shouldn't be presented to the client without my making some major alterations. I tried to focus on my work, since the time difference didn't leave me much time to get it back to her. I looked at my watch. Another thirty minutes would be enough time to finish the project and get Danny out of this blistering sun before he went from golden brown to burnt. He had his hair in the tight braids he'd worn during that first and only soccer game we'd played together. He liked them and said the style kept his hair out of his way when he went swimming. No doubt the long hair was uncomfortably hot, but I was going to talk him into taking them out once we got back to the room. I loved the feel of his hair on my skin.

I got lost in my work for a while and had just finished when a slurred voice caught my attention.

"Damn, that's one fine ass. Jus' begging to be plowed, don't ya think?"

"Pretty ass, pretty braids, what d'ya think the front looks like? S'got to be pretty too, I say."

Fuck. I closed my laptop, my annoyance mixed with a faint unease. Danny was still sound asleep...and naked...while two muscle-bound, tattooed types, who were obviously in the mood for a little unsolicited playtime, crouched on either side of him. He looked vulnerable lying there between them. We were on the beach that fronted our expensive hotel, which catered to gays. It was late afternoon and there weren't many people around. Given the nature of activities the clientele got up to voluntarily, members of the hotel staff weren't quick to intervene in anything they saw.

"That fine ass is taken, boys, so I suggest you find your entertainment elsewhere," I announced as one of the assholes reached out to grab Danny's buttcheek. I hoped both to draw their attention and wake Danny up, thus giving him a chance to get his bearings and figure out something was up before he was molested by one of these bozos. I stood up and crossed my arms, trying to look as mean as I felt. Muscle Boy One just smiled and sat back on his haunches while Muscle Boy Two stood up. Fuck, he was as big as Jamie O'Keefe.

"Well, looks like we found us two pretty bottoms for the night. Ass ain't as perky, but that's a damn pretty face. I'll take you on your back, pretty boy."

I smiled coldly. "You can try, asshole. But you'll lose your balls if you lay a hand on me or my partner, so why don't you and your friend head on down the beach?"

"I wasn't asking, I was...." From the corner of my eye, I saw Danny moving, so I lashed out, kicking low to hook my leg around MB Two's ankle, the way Danny had shown me. At the same time, I grabbed the chair that I'd been sitting in and slammed it down on his head as he went stumbling forward into the sand. MB One had started forward to come to his friend's aid, but Danny was already on his feet, flipping him over his head, and following up with a kick to the gut that was forceful enough to make me wince.

Looking towards Danny was a mistake. My goon was already back up and grabbing me by my wrist. Before he could do more than pull me towards him, Danny had the jerk's other arm twisted behind his back. He released me and tried to turn around, only to find himself suddenly on the ground and getting a punishing kick to the groin.

Laughing green eyes met mine. Danny stood there naked, looking like a bronzed god. An especially well hung one.

"You think they've figured out that we're not going to bottom for them? Or should we kick their asses some more?" I rolled my eyes at him; he was clearly having so much fun.

"I didn't notice you kicking any asses, actually. Stomachs and crotches, yes, asses, no."

I pulled him close to my side and kissed him quickly, keeping one eye on our two friends writhing in the sand. A thought struck me as I considered his comment, and I looked at him suspiciously.

"Were you were awake the whole time?" His grin grew wider.

"Of course. At least from the time I felt two strangers sit that close to me." He moved away so he could pull on a pair of denim shorts that were obscenely low cut, and tight in the ass. Damn, he never wore shorts like that back home. I didn't even know he owned shorts like that. He usually wore the long surfer style shorts and bathing suits while I stuck to my trusty speedo. Trust Danny to bring designer clothes to the beach. He was more of a label queen than even I was. The avenging warrior of a few moments ago was gone and in his place was a cover boy right out of a Dolce and Gabbana ad. One of their new, raunchy ones. He caught me staring at him and smiled.

"I need a shower. I'm all sandy. Are you done here? I want to get back to the room and show you my appreciation for your heroic defense of my virtue."

I gave him a look as I packed up my laptop. "You hardly needed my help, karate kid, so you can save the appreciation. Wish I'd known you were awake, I could have continued working." I started walking away.

"Bri." I kept going, ignoring the soft, deep voice behind me. "Brian, wait for me, please." I kept walking. "Brian, this is silly. I needed you to distract the one guy for me."

I turned and gave him another look, raising an eyebrow. He had the good grace to look a little sheepish.

"Well, okay, maybe I could have handled both of them, as it turns out, but neither of us knew that. That's why I was waiting to see what they were going to do. It was much easier with your help. You did well, kicking low the way I showed you."

I continued walking away. Fucking black belt. In karate and ju jitsu. He probably could have handled six of them on his own. Stupid me. No doubt his main concern had been keeping me from getting hurt. Sometimes I wished he were a little less self-sufficient.

Danny kept trying to get me to talk to him all the way back to our room, but I clung to my sulk. As he followed me into our suite, I glanced back and caught a glimpse of his expression; he seemed to be aiming for chagrined but hit impish instead. Rare for him to miss like that. The reason became clear when he started losing his temper a moment later, hovering between amused and annoyed.

"How long are you going to stay mad at me? Would you have preferred that I let them attack me so you could rescue me? Played damsel in distress to your alpha male? Sorry but I didn't get the fucking script. I'll be sure to do better next time." He was laughing as he pulled me close, but his face grew serious as he nuzzled my neck and some devil of perversity made me continue to resist his caresses. Feeling my reluctance, he lifted his head.

"Stop being such a prick. I want to go out dancing and have fun tonight. Does it really fucking bother you so much that I'm good at self-defense? I was happy to see you take down that guy. I was fucking turned on by you doing it so efficiently. I wouldn't want to be with a wimp, why would you? You were looking out for me, just as I would look out for you. I thought that's what we would do for each other. I really can't pretend to be something I'm not just to make you feel more macho, Bri, and as long as you're macho enough for me, I don't see what your problem is. Unless you really do want a fem kind of boy, which you should know by now, that's not me."

"No, of course I don't. It's just that...." Danny looked up at me, his expression guarded, his arms clasped loosely around my waist as he waited for me to finish. I didn't want him to be just a beautiful face and sculpted body; he was so much more than that. I knew he was brilliant and talented. Perhaps Justin's words from the Benefit had hit home more than I'd realized, because since then I had found myself questioning what Danny saw in me. I was several years past thirty, and while I was in better shape than I'd been in ages and men still checked me out, there was no denying I didn't garner anywhere near the attention he did. Not only was he several years younger than me, but he didn't even look his age. His body was that of an extremely hot twenty-two year old. I was used to being the leader, the alpha in any gathering of men. I was willing to be equals with Danny, but my mind rebelled at taking a subordinate role. How to explain that without sounding like the prick he was telling me to stop being?

Danny's arms dropped from my waist. He turned away abruptly.  "When you figure it out, let me know, okay? I'm getting in the shower."

The bathroom door clicked closed. I sighed. After a few minutes, I stripped off my speedo and followed him. Every line of his body was taut as he stood under the steaming water, head back and eyes closed, letting the water course over his head and shoulders. I got in behind him and methodically started to undo his braids.

"I was going to leave them in for tonight," he calmly stated, voice low.

"I really like your hair down, let me undo them. We can get them put back tomorrow if you want," I whispered softly. He didn't say anything more so I took that as a yes and finished undoing them. Next I shampooed his hair, massaging his scalp the way he liked it, running my fingers slowly through the long strands of hair. I squeezed some body wash onto my hands and ran them down his body, slowly, caressingly. I kept my touch sensual at first, soothing, until I could feel the anger and tension leaving his body. I let the suds rinse over my body, but my focus remained on him. He stood passively through my ministrations, letting me take care of him, stretching every once in a while.

Once I'd finished cleaning him, I pulled him gently back against my chest. I moved his hair aside and kissed the nape of his neck. He caught his breath slightly. The base of his neck was incredibly erogenous, maybe from being covered by hair most of the time and thus protected. Whatever the cause, kissing and sucking it quickly reduced Danny to a shivering state of need. He arched back against me, a hand coming up to entangle in my hair. I reached around to his chest, caressing his nipples lightly as I continued to suck on his sensitive neck. My other hand slid lightly down his side and abdomen, tracing the ridges of his muscles, skimming over the curve of his pelvis.

"Brian, please," he gasped.

"Please what?" I growled into his neck, biting lightly, making him moan. I moved my hand down to his hard cock. His legs were spread, the lovely line of his back and curve of his ass on display in front of me as he arched forward, thrusting his cock into my hand. I ran my other hand down his back slowly, caressing the glistening wet muscles, lightly skimming his crack. I leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me what you want." He shivered again as I moved my lips down to his shoulder and kissed along the smooth curve.

"I want you. I want you to fuck me, Brian."

I soaped my fingers up and slid them down his ass, and then slowly slipped one inside while stroking his perineum and balls with my other hand. He gasped and arched his body again, his soap slick back smooth against my chest as I added a second finger and stroked him. I continued to kiss him and caress his sac and he bucked against me, keeping his hands away from his own cock, arms still anchored around my neck, as he waited for me to give him what he needed.

"I want to hear you cry out for me," I whispered to him.

I edged toward the ledge seat that ran along the back of the shower and donned a condom before sitting and moving him slowly back and down onto my erection.

"Oh God, Brian. Yes. God yes." I used my legs to push his out so that he couldn't get any leverage and had to rely on my lifting and lowering him on my cock to set the pace. His harsh breathing filled the space as he approached his climax. He turned to kiss me, his arms tightening their hold around my neck, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth as I continued to thrust into him. I let go of his hip with one hand so I could fist his cock. I felt my orgasm building, and he met me halfway, hand closing over mine even as his ass tightened around my cock, sending me over the edge so that we came together, shouting out each other's names. I collapsed against the wall as he melted back into my arms.

***************************

Sometime later, he stood at the mirror, combing out his hair. He looked over at me, expression slightly guarded as he posed his question.

"Everything okay now?"

I walked over and rested my chin on his shoulder, looking at our reflections in the mirror. Two tall, dark, handsome men, with a well fucked look to them. One of whom deserved to be happier than he was, and the other who was a hell of a lot luckier than he deserved to be. I took the brush from Danny's hand and began to run it through his thick, dark hair.

"I was an ass. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?" The dimpled smile came over Danny's face slowly. Then he leaned back against me.

"You know the O'Keefe way. An, 'I'm sorry' just doesn't cut it with us, Brian. And while a good ass fucking is always a nice start, it's going to take more than that shower scene to make amends. What else are you offering?"

I grinned. "Well, as you can see, I'm brushing your hair."

He snorted. "That's a treat for you. My hair was fine in its braids. It only needs brushing because you wanted it down. Try again."

I laughed outright. He was such a liar; he loved having his hair brushed. His eyes were twinkling at me in the mirror now. Clearly it was time to raise the stakes. I lowered my voice in an imitation of his "fuck me" pitch.

"How about another good ass fucking, to be administered by you, tonight?" Ah, definite look of interest. Still, being Danny, he had to barter.

"Again, that is something that gives pleasure to you, is what I'm thinking." As I started to remove the offer from the table, he quickly added, "I'm not saying I'm rejecting it, mind you. I'm just wondering if that's the best you can do?"

I pretended to consider.

"Well, you did say something about dancing, I believe. I think I could be persuaded to actually do some of the dancing with you, as opposed to just watching you dance. Should we go out dancing tonight, that is." His eyes lit up. Then he paused, tipping his head to the side in that way he had.

"Real dancing? Not just that standing and rubbing your body against mine stuff your friends call dancing?"

"Real dancing, both fast and slow."

"You have negotiated yourself forgiveness, Brian Kinney." Strong arms pulled me into a crushing embrace. Next thing I knew, I found myself lifted high off the ground. "But don't be a prick again, understand?" Laughing green eyes looked up at me with mock warning.

I pressed my tongue into my cheek and tried to look unimpressed as I waited to be put down. I was kind of turned on by the feel of those strong muscles picking me up. Suddenly, I was reminded of the dance Danny had created and performed with Brandon and the whole afternoon made a lot more sense to me. Lightness and darkness. Our yin and yang. Sometimes Danny would be the one doing the lifting, but just as he was the only one I allowed to pick me up, I was the only man he allowed to lift him. I was the only man he shared all sides of himself with, the light and dark. It was no easier for him than it was for me, this letting go and giving up all control to another man as he had to me in the shower. And the running away and chasing that he'd incorporated into the dance, it was all part of us; but as he showed, each time we separated, the time we spent apart shortened. Danny had played only the one role in the dance, the dominant role, but in our relationship, we had to take turns for it to work because we were both strong men. He'd explained that to me once, but I never really got it until now.

I swallowed hard. I really did finally get it. Even as I had the thought, I felt myself being lowered slowly down against Danny's firm, lithe body.

"Tonight, you're mine," he whispered huskily.

I just nodded. Words weren't needed. He'd finally taught me to dance.

***************************

(Setting: Ibiza; Tuesday, third full week of July; POV/Danny)

I closed my cell phone and tried to meet Brian's look innocently as he walked into the bedroom. He'd been in the living room area of our suite, conducting a conference call with his office so I took the opportunity to try reaching Emmett one more time. There was so sense leaving another message for him. I'd already left half a dozen over the past day. Brian gave me his raised eyebrow look as he looked at my phone.

"What?" I asked, a shade defensively. But I knew he agreed with the "no calls to or from home" edict, so it wasn't hard to guess that he was going to give me a hard time about calling to check on Briana. I could just imagine how he'd react if I suggested we head back a few days early. Not that I wanted to go back. We'd been here a week and it was incredible. Especially since all the rough patches were getting smoothed over. Just the two of us for once. Well, the two of us and thousands of other men. But I can deal with thousands of other men, as can he. It was the interfering friends on his side and the smothering family on mine that got in the way back home. Here, we can fuck when we want, eat when we want, do whatever the hell we want, whenever we want. I couldn't remember ever having a time so unplanned in my life, and to be spending it with Brian made it perfect.

But if Briana needed me....

I sighed as he motioned for me to move closer. I walked over and rested my head on his shoulder.

"ET phone home?" He stroked my hair soothingly even as he made his smartass comment. I loved it when he played with my hair. I would never ask him to do it, it seems too needy or something, but it touches something primal in me when he does. It's comforting or arousing, depending on my mood. Right now, it was kind of both. I rubbed against him, catlike. He chuckled and pulled me down on the bed.

"We have dinner reservations a half hour from now and you didn't eat lunch, so don't try to distract me. I take it from your response, non-verbal as it is, that everything is okay on the home front?"

"I don't know, actually. I assume so. I haven't heard anything since Saturday. Em promised to call if there was a problem. Briana's having temper tantrums like she did was no surprise, but she can get out of hand. Your son really saved the day, not to mention all of the adults' faces, by someone calling me to talk her off the ledge. I just thought... oh hell, I'm being neurotic. When you came into the room, I was leaving a message on Em's cell phone. Briana did say she was sick, and I was just trying to reach him to make sure she really is okay. Emmett said he'd keep me informed as to how Briana is doing. But I haven't heard anything from him for a couple of days."

Brian looked amused.

"What the fuck does Emmett know about kids? I'd think Mary Pat would be more qualified to determine if Briana is really sick, since she's a fucking nurse. Why don't you call her?"

"She's an oncology nurse, Bri. She hardly ever sees kids and when she does, they have serious, life threatening diseases. You have to have one foot in the grave before she thinks you aren't faking it. For routine kid illnesses, she isn't as knowledgeable as, say, Mary Beth or Lynn. But it's more complicated than that. If I call her, she'll think I don't trust her." He raised an eyebrow at me but didn't say anything, just gave me a steady look from those beautiful hazel eyes. I had to laugh at myself.

"Okay, I guess it sounds like I don't trust her but I really do. It's just that she can be so stubborn." I sighed. "She's right, I have to butt out and let her use her judgment. She and Briana are never going to get used to dealing with each other alone if I don't step aside more often. I'm almost always there. And if they don't learn to do without me for more than a day or two, I won't have the chance for more getaways like this until I'm old and grey."

"Not an acceptable solution," he agreed, rolling me over so he could kiss the back of my neck. Oh God, I loved it when he did that. He was uncanny at finding all the spots that drove me wild, places I didn't even know would excite me as much as they did. I closed my eyes and let the sensations roll over me. Another great thing about being with Brian was that I didn't always have to perform for him. While most of the time our lovemaking was reciprocal, there were times one of us would just worship the other, and being on the receiving end of that type of treatment...allowing myself to enjoy it without feeling the need to match it or outdo it somehow...was bliss. With Brian, I could relax, knowing that just as I enjoyed giving him pleasure, he felt the same about me.

I felt a smack to my ass.

"Later for the rest of this, get up now. You have to eat. Actually, I have to eat, too. I'm starved. This running in the morning shit is making me hungrier than usual."

I groaned as I rolled over.

"We could call room service," I suggested hopefully, rubbing my hand over the bulge in his crotch.

"Ahh, nothing I like better than an insatiable man. But you will like this restaurant. And when you don't eat, you tend to get one of your headaches, which will cut short the fun later. So if you don't want me to call out the bad, dick wilting words, get your ass in gear and let's get a move on." Brian gave me a threatening look and I jumped up with a laugh. I never should have given him that information on how to turn me off. He'd used it to good effect ever since to manipulate me. The worst part about it was that there seemed to be no equivalent with him. Nothing turned Brian off once he was in the mood, and he pretty much was always in the mood. Conversely, once he decided something else should be done first, whether work or whatever, he stayed focused until it was done. Then he was a sex machine again.

Come to think of it, that worked pretty well for me. I jumped up to follow him out of the room.

***************************

Dinner was worth it. Delicious fresh seafood accompanied by vegetables the proprietor grew in his own garden. We shared this fabulous dessert, made of rich dark chocolate with a hint of chile. Between courses, we slow danced to the music of a piano player. Both of us were reminded of the night at the Westin Hotel when we met again after so many years. It was funny hearing some of the American standards sung in Spanish by the piano player who was not completely familiar with the tunes. Seeing me wince once or twice, Brian teased me about wanting to go take over the man's job. I told him that if I spoke the language better, I'd be tempted. Spanish was one language Brian spoke far better than I did. I had only a smattering of it, and got by mainly on its passing resemblance to Italian. It had been nice to be able to sit back and let him handle everything on this vacation. I was picking up phrases here and there, but Brian was fluent. All those White Parties in Spanish speaking locales must have helped his accent. He'd even read Gabriel Garcia Marquez' and Pablo Neruda's works in the original. Fucking impressive. A few nights ago, he read to me from a copy of Neruda's Veinte Poemas de Amor y una Canción Desesperada that we'd found in an old bookstore. His tenor voice did a fine job on the Twenty Love Poems, but it was on the Song of Despair that his voice shook with emotion, and I held him tight against my chest as he read. We made incredible love to each other that night.

After one final dance at the restaurant, with Brian leading in a mean tango, we went outside to cool off in the night air, which was pleasantly chilly around us, considering that it was still July.

"So, you want to go back to the hotel now that we're out, or hit a few clubs?" Brian looked at me.

I tilted my head and thought about it. He was holding back a smile. He knew me pretty well.

"I would love to go dancing for a while longer. Work off more of that chocolate." He raised an eyebrow. I laughed. "Fuck it, I want to go dancing just because I love dancing with you, satisfied?" I grabbed him and spun him around.

"I will be satisfied...later. But for now, I wouldn't mind dancing for a few more hours. Not to mention fighting off all the men who try dragging you into the back rooms."

"That's a deal, then. You fight off the men who try dragging me into back rooms and I cut the nuts off anyone who even thinks about taking you." I put my arm around his waist as we headed down the narrow street to one of our favorite night clubs.

While we were still a few blocks away, I heard the faint sound of guitar music coming from a side street.

"Wait a sec, Bri." I listened for a moment more to get a fix on where the sound was coming from, not easy since the nightclub crowds were beginning to fill the streets. Brian peered further down the street and pointed, his greater height giving him an advantage in seeing over the crowds.

"Down that way, just off into the alley, there's an old guy on a step playing. You want to check it out?" Brian looked at me questioningly.

"Do you mind? Just for a bit? That guitar has a beautiful tone." He shrugged, easy to please after the two bottles of wine we'd killed with dinner. We headed down the darkened street.

The man looked to be about eighty but his fingers flew over the strings of a beautiful classic guitar. He was playing an intricate piece I didn't recognize. There were a few other couples standing around listening, but there was nothing out for donations, I noticed. He was sitting outside what appeared to be a small music shop, and if I were to guess, he was probably the master luthier who owned it. He was playing a beautifully constructed Santos style guitar. It had a classic Spanish sound to it, all lush and full bodied. My fingers itched to play it.

The old gentleman finished the number to enthusiastic applause from the small crowd that had gathered and nodded regally in acknowledgment. Then, he looked directly at me and smiled.

"Toca la guitarra?"

I was so mesmerized by the playing and intent on my study of the old man and his instrument, it took me a moment to realize he was speaking to me. Brian nudged me. "Say si," he whispered in my ear.

"Si!" I nodded too, stepping forward

The old gentleman said something in rapid Spanish to a small boy seated on the ground near him and the youngster disappeared into the shop, reappearing quickly with another beautiful instrument, similar to the first one, with a dark spruce front and gorgeous rosewood back. The old man handed it to me and then shifted over, indicating that I should sit on the step below him. I took the guitar in hand reverently, feeling oddly shy as the group of what appeared to be Spaniards and non-tourists who were standing around gave me appraising looks. I looked to Brian for encouragement; without fail, it was there. He was leaning back against a lamppost, arms folded across his chest. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod, and I could feel his calm confidence in me. I took a deep breath and sat down. I shut out everything else as I focused on tuning the guitar.

"Bueno, bueno," the old man said, "Yo soy Josef." I introduced Brian and myself. Brian smiled and greeted the gentleman politely in Spanish. Josef nodded again, and then asked, "Granados?"

Whew. I'd been afraid he would expect me to wing it completely. I raised an eyebrow questioningly, but he just smiled and waited. I started with something I knew I could do well, the No.1 Minueto, from Granados' Twelve Spanish Dances. It had been part of my guitar performance final in college. As we played together, I briefly wondered what my old professors would have thought if they could have heard this performance, with me playing an amazing instrument, accompanied by a true master of Spanish classical guitar music such as Josef. Then I got lost in the music as our efforts melded, and we played almost as one. We proceeded without pause to the next piece, and the next. By watching the old man closely, I found I could sense how he wanted the music to move. It was a joy to play with him, and on such an instrument.

Finally the old man called a halt. I blinked, a little dazed as the applause washed over us. I felt a bottle placed in my hand.

"Come on, Segovia, time to hydrate." Warm fingers grasped my chin and tipped my head back. The cold wine tasted great. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. Brian handed a second bottle to Josef, and we toasted each other, matching grins on our faces as the crowd continued to praise the performance.

Brian crouched down next to me and spoke low, for my ears only.

"You did well, kiddo, held your own with a master."

I smiled at him, pleased beyond measure by his simple praise. I was by no means a match for Josef, but I had held my own, playing far above my usual level. I liked that Brian didn't fawn over my playing, as a few of the men, and more than a few of the women, were doing. He was always honest.

"Thanks. It's an incredible guitar," I leaned against him slightly, not sure how welcome overt affection between two men would be, and not wanting to lose the good feelings from the evening. I held the instrument carefully in my lap, waiting for the right moment to thank Josef for the opportunity to play it and share the music with him.

Within a short time, Josef dismissed most of the onlookers and turned toward Brian and me.

"Gracias," I began, offering the guitar back to him regretfully. He shook his head with another of his wide smiles and began speaking in rapid Spanish. I looked at Brian helplessly.

Brian entered into a lengthy discussion with Josef. Then, strangely, he asked me in French how much such a guitar should cost, telling me to answer him in French.

["Anything he wants, it is beautiful, is he selling it? The one I played?"

"Which is the better one, Danny, the one you played or the one he played, if you could have either?"]

I narrowed my eyes, looking at Brian closely. Josef was strumming lightly on the guitar in his arms, and it was the sound that had first lured me. I loved the one I was holding, but the one he had was magical. I bit my lip. It seemed wrong somehow to even think about buying Josef's guitar. Brian must have read my thoughts, because he brushed his lips across my cheek lightly and moved his mouth to my ear to whisper, "Trust me."

Josef watched the small gesture of affection with no sign of being bothered. If anything, his dark eyes gleamed slightly.

[His is the better one, and worth probably twice as much... at least. It's hard to put a price on it. It's a masterpiece and it's fully broken in, which is a plus. But this one is lovely, too, and is easily worth twenty thousand. His, I'd say forty, fifty thousand. I would take either one over any instrument made by any of the famous luthiers currently producing."]

Brian set to work. I sat, drinking wine and playing some more as he and Josef negotiated. By the time he was done, the wine was gone, Josef was set to have a magazine and website advertising campaign for his luthier business designed by Kinnetik, and I had a masterpiece for a birthday present, cash price unknown to me.

***************************

"I cannot believe you got me this guitar. I am going to love you forever." I was sitting naked on the bed, caressing my new classical guitar, running my fingers over the smooth wood.

Brian grinned as he threw himself down on the bed, totally pleased with himself.  "I'm so glad to learn that you can be bought. Makes life so much easier. So how about you stop playing with that wood and start playing with mine?"

I carefully leaned the guitar against the wall near the bed, then crawled between his spread legs.

Looking down at his erect cock, I grinned as I bent down to swipe at it with the tip of my tongue before looking back up at him.

"Another present? And my birthday isn't for another two weeks. You are just too good to me."

"Consider this the gift that just keeps giving. Yours to unwrap whenever...fuck!"

The phone ringing interrupted his teasing. I started to get up to answer it but he waved me back down. Hmm, phone fellatio, my favorite game. Torturing Brian while he tried to carry on a conversation. With any luck, it would be Lindsay. Keeping him hard while he talked to her was always a challenge. Mel made it almost impossible but she was unlikely to call him here. Ted presented another challenge, but Cynthia...piece of cake. I think he got off on seeing how long it took her to guess what we were up to.

I was just getting into it, tonguing around the head, when Brian's hand reached down and touched my cheek.

"Stop for a minute, Danny. I'm listening to a message from the front desk. It's important."

His hand moved to my hair and started stroking it absently. I sat up and watched his face. This looked bad. God, can't we catch a fucking break?

***************************

(POV/Brian)

I listened to the message playback, feeling as though I'd been kicked in the gut as the import sunk in. I reached out and stopped Danny, automatically running my fingers through his hair to comfort him, and me. I pressed the receiver tight to my ear so he wouldn't hear the message until I heard it through first and could decide how to best break the news to him. Damn, he'd been so happy tonight.

"Danny, this is Emmett. I'm sorry for not calling you back on the cell but I kind of wanted to make sure you were with Brian when I reached you or you get this message and I've had to have my phone off a lot the past couple of days. Shit, I'm not explaining this well. I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation again, but, well, I think you'd better come home. Mary Pat doesn't want you bothered and they're doing everything possible, but, oh damn it, there's no good way to say this, little Briana is pretty sick. Jamie can give you all the particulars when you get in, call his cell if you want, but they don't know I'm calling you and may get mad but fuck it. I'm kind of taking this on myself. Actually, John knows, and he kind of agrees with me, or at least I think he did, but it'd hard to tell with him. Fuck, I'm rambling again, sorry sweetie. Anyway, they say she's just running a fever and it's a kid thing but I'm really worried and I thought you'd rather make the decision yourself about coming home. If it were up to me, I'd say get back here as quickly as you can. She's asking for you and they just can't seem to make her better, and well, you know how she is, no one else will do for her except her Uncle Daddy. She's at Pittsburgh Medical Center. Now, don't panic Danny. Like I said, they're probably right, it's not like I have kids or anything but I just thought you'd rather be here instead of so far away. Mary Pat and your brothers, well, most of your brothers, are going to be mad as hell at me because they think you need this vacation. And I know you do too, baby, but I also know that you'd want to be here for your little girl."

I closed my eyes as I replaced the receiver, careful to hit the save button in case Danny needed to listen to it himself. Thank God Emmett made the call, was my first thought, right after the selfish one, the one that wondered why this had to happen at all. Well, maybe my first thought was why couldn't Emmett ever simply leave a concise message, but that thought was so fleeting I didn't even bother counting it. Emmett was Emmett. At least he did make the right decision, and had the balls to carry it out. I opened my eyes and met Danny's worried gaze. Biting my lip, I thought quickly of an excuse to get him out of the room so I could start making plans. Forcing my voice to sound normal, I spoke calmly.

"Would you do me a really big favor, please? Would you mind running downstairs and grabbing me some cold diet sodas from the bar? The fridge is out here and I have a headache that is screaming for caffeine. I don't want to wait for room service." He looked at me with disbelief. As an excuse, it was pretty weak. I smiled faintly.

"Please, Danny. As soon as you get back, I'll explain everything. I have to make some phone calls. I need you to trust me and just give me a few moments to gather my thoughts." He nodded and without any argument, leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss before throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt to go down to the lobby bar.

I quickly called Cynthia and told her to make arrangements for us to take the first flight out to Pittsburgh. After she confirmed there was a flight leaving in three hours and booked us tickets for it, I arranged for a car to take us to the airport in an hour. Next, I called Daphne and got the word on Briana. After she got over her surprise that I knew about it at all, she told me what was going on. Briana had been having an unexplained high fever for several days, coupled with vomiting. They weren't having any luck treating or diagnosing it so they were thinking of doing a spinal tap.

Yeah, I would say Danny was needed at home. What the fuck were they thinking, not telling him?

I called down to the front desk and arranged for our checkout. According to Daphne, Mary Pat was falling apart. She was both blaming herself because Briana was so seriously ill, and yet denying that things were bad enough for Danny to be called home. She justified not even telling him by pointing out to the others that doing so was tantamount to bringing him home, which I had to admit was true. But that was still his decision to make. Reading between the lines, it seemed that Jamie and the others were deferring to MP in large part because they too wanted to believe that the little girl would be okay. I told her there was no need to tell her Danny was on his way. We would get there when we got there and he didn't need to deal wth his overbearing family in the meantime. The flight would take at least fourteen hours. By the time we got there, things would either be better or much worse. In the former case, I would run interference for him, and Emmett. In the latter case, his presence would be needed beyond a doubt. I wondered if Mary Pat had taken that into account when deciding not to call him home today?

Danny came back into the room, carrying several bottles of diet coke and a bucket of ice. He glanced at the suitcases I had out on the bed as he handed me a bottle and a glass of ice. I placed them on the bureau, then pulled him into my arms.

"You're needed at home, Danny. We're heading back "

He looked up at me, eyes wary.

"Brian, I don't understand. What's wrong? When you said you had a headache, I thought maybe it was something related to your work. Now you're saying it's me who is needed back home? What was that message? Just tell me, please." I pulled him closer as he started to raise his voice.

"I'm trying to tell you. I need you to calm down though. We have a long trip ahead of us and there's nothing we can achieve by getting upset. We're being picked up for the airport in a little under an hour. I have us booked on the first flight out but we have plenty of time to pack what we need, anything we forget or don't have room for now can follow. For the moment, shift those bags and sit down. I'll tell you everything I know."

Danny didn't ask any more questions, but moved mechanically, withdrawing into himself. I hesitated, waiting for a sign that he was ready to listen. Maybe I was just chickenshit and stalling.

He sat looking up at me, visibly agitated, long fingers tapping on the bedspread. Then his eyes shifted away and swept over the room. They landed on his beautiful guitar and softened for a moment. I could see him striving to regain his control. He clasped his hands in his lap and asked quietly.

"I don't understand, tell me why we are leaving in such a rush? What could be so bad?" Suddenly, something clicked behind those green eyes and he looked at me, jaw set. "Is someone dead? Matt? His heart? He had another heart attack, didn't he?" His voice was eerily calm. Danny in coping mode. God, I forgot how bad he got when he was like that. He was like me.

"No, no one's dead. But we need to go back because Briana's sick, she's in ...:

"No." The word was quiet but hard. Uncompromising. He wouldn't negotiate on this. I sat by his side and pulled him into my arms, holding him tight. He was shaking and it reminded me of the night I found him dancing in his studio late at night. He just kept saying "no" over and over.

"Danny, listen to me. I'm going to take you home and you're going to take care of Briana. This is probably just Emmett over-reacting, hell, Mary Pat didn't even think you should be called, but Briana is asking for you and I think Em is right. If Briana is sick and wants you, you probably should head back now rather than in a couple days. There's no time for you to fall apart, kiddo. You have to be strong for her, but if you want, I'll be strong for you, okay? Now, do you want to pack first? Do you want to get dressed for the trip? Tell me what you want."

His eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I don't know, I can't...Brian, I can't lose her. She's all I have of Angel and Mama. She's my baby as much as if she were from my body. She couldn't be more mine. You know that, don't you? I don't know what I would do if she were to, if she..." His body continued to shake as he spoke numbly. I kissed him to stop the panicked flow of words.

"She isn't going anywhere. You aren't going to lose her. I won't let that happen, okay?"

What a stupid thing to say, I thought, but no sooner were the words out than he relaxed against me, his shaking subsiding.

"Get dressed. Our e-tickets will be waiting for us at the airport. Now I want you to eat a light snack, okay?" He looked at me, ready to object but I stopped him with an upheld hand. "Just enough to keep you from getting a headache. That's the last thing you need. It's a long flight and you never eat on planes. A car will meet us at the airport and take us straight to Briana at the hospital. So dress in something she'll like. She's as much a fashion queen as you are. You can talk to Jamie and get an update on the way to the airport if you want to, but I suggest we just focus on getting there, okay? I'll pack while you dress and eat and anything we overlook or don't want to deal with tonight they can send to us later. Okay?"

He nodded. We stood up together. Muscular arms snaked around my bare waist and held me, as the dark wavy hair rested on my chest.

"Thanks, Bri," he mumbled. "Mo gra.. I don't know that I could deal with this without you."

I ran my hand through his hair, rubbing my thumb over his cheek.

"You don't have to find out because I'm here with you. Always."

Less than forty-five minutes later we were in line for the plane, Danny clutching his guitar and my hand. I hoped to God, I would be able to keep my promises to him.

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