Better Friends and Lovers

Chapter 30 - Part 1

Author's Note:  At the end of this chapter there is a link to the Christmas Challenge story called "Patching Christmas Back Together".  Chronologically it fits in here before the rest of Chapter 30

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

(Setting: Hotel Suite, New York City; Sunday Evening; POV/Brian)

I walked into the darkened bedroom. Only the lights from Times Square, shining in through the crack in the curtains, gave any light to the room. Danny, who usually sprawled across the surface of any bed he was on, was curled up in a ball on the edge of this one, knees drawn up protectively to his bruised stomach, arms hugging one of the spare pillows to his face.

I recognized that pose from a long time ago and knew that Danny, who almost never cried, had been smothering his tears in the pillow he was clutching so tightly. He probably didn't want any of his concerned family and friends to hear and rush in to comfort him to the point of insanity. He'd spent less than an hour out with the gang earlier. After doing his part to reconcile the warring factions and rehabilitate Justin's reputation, he'd made his escape. Restoring Justin's status as resident ray of sunshine took some doing after Jamie related more about the events from Friday night. Doc Jock didn't hold back on exactly how much of a sick bastard Simon was. The trouble was, as cathartic as Jamie and the others may have found the rehashing of events, it had been painful for Danny. Fortunately, once Emmett returned from visiting Miguel in the hospital, he proved helpful in sidetracking the conversation several times when it strayed into especially painful areas. He was also the one who was able to insist, in his typically over the top way, that Danny return to the bedroom for "just a teensy little nap, no hanky panky now." With only a token protest, Danny allowed the tall queen to usher him out of the room. Em even got him away from the others without any fuss by assuring everyone that they'd see him later. Just as blithely, when "later" did arrive and some of them wanted to wake him up, Em assured everyone that Danny was far too tired to be disturbed, specifically declaring in a surprisingly firm tone that the "poor boy needs sleep more than he needs more chocolate cake right now, Debbie."

Em's cheery assertiveness freed me up to be my usual nasty, insulting self to get the others to leave. Emmett was immune to my snideness by now and while Debbie got mad, she got over it eventually. Best of all, she took Jennifer and Justin with her when she stormed off in a huff. Brandon wandered off to check out some clubs, taking the baby hustler with him, and Jamie and Daphne escaped into their own room. Daphne hadn't been able to let go of her own O'Keefe all weekend. I envied her the ability to openly show her relief that he was still alive by touching her man non-stop, as I teased her about it. Jamie had ignored the pain it must have caused his knife wound to indulge her by keeping her on his lap whenever they sat out among the gang.

Once the suite cleared out, John sat down in a large easy chair with a sigh, no doubt ready for his own nap. Emmett stretched out on the vacated sofa and gave me a questioning look.

"Well, what are you waiting for? He's been in there by himself for a good couple of hours...about time you went in to give him some TLC," he ordered, although in a subdued tone. Even his flame was flickering by this point. The weekend had taken a lot out of everyone.

"Kinney doesn't do TLC," John remarked dryly. "But then, I don't think Danny would accept it if he did."

"Oh Brian does, on occasion...and Danny would, from him. They just have their own versions of it," Honeycutt told him with a knowing tilt of his chin. I debated smothering him with one of the accent pillows but decided it wasn't worth the time it would take. That time would be better spent on Danny. So I left them without dignifying either one with a reply, ignoring the chuckles that followed me out of the room.

The sight of that curled up figure on the bed, however, was enough to wipe all humor from my mind. I hoped Simon's death was a cold, miserable one, and that he'd been conscious as he drowned slowly in the cold waters of New York's harbor. The coroner's report said his neck was broken, probably in the crash; it would be a shame if he had such a quick end.

"Danny? You okay?" I asked even though I knew he wasn't. The memory of Danny as a fifteen year old boy, coming to terms with his homosexuality, and crying for the life he would never have, a life of being "normal" like his brothers, hit me so strongly then. Now, as then, when he rolled over and raised his perfect features to me, only the bright sheen to his green eyes and damp lashes betrayed him. His voice was even, though harsh from the throat damage, as he whispered, "I'm fine. Fell sleep, I guess."

I crawled up on the bed behind him and pulled him close, keeping my movements as gentle as possible. I didn't want to put pressure on his bruises. I stroked his cheek with my thumb, rubbing in the dampness that I could feel but not see.

"It's okay to be sad, you know. Someone you cared about died. George was..." Danny made an ugly noise. He shook his head. I tried to soothe him, to motion for him not to talk, but he grabbed my hand.

"Let me get this out." He spoke softly. Whispering was harder on his throat than regular talking; he'd explained that to me last time he strained his voice. But as a result, his voice just gave out at times. Rather than have him waste it arguing with me, I gave in and listened. If Danny talking was more important to him than protecting his voice, he was pretty anxious to get out what he had to say.

"I was wrong...so wrong about George, about it all. Everyone got hurt because I trusted George...misjudged Edward. Never thought he would kill people. George knew...didn't tell me. Warn me. I was so...arrogant. Jamie...John...Miguel...they almost died. Would have been my fault. And you." He caught his breath. "You almost died. All my fault." He paused again. "Even Justin."

Fuck. I knew he was feeling guilty about things getting fucked up but I thought it was mainly over George dying. It probably still was, despite his denial. He'd looked up to and trusted the older man for years and probably couldn't cope right now with that loss, so he was focusing on the guilt he could deal with. Either way, I wasn't going to let him bear that unjustified burden. It was all Simon's fault, and the rest of us were just the pawns of that crazy bastard. We all made our own choice to be there Friday. Justin most of all.

"Danny, Miguel took a crazy chance, and you saved him, you and Juan, by anticipating that trap. If you hadn't insisted on Jamie and John going to bail him out, he would be dead. Sure, Jamie and John got hurt but they knew they were taking a risk, and you asked them to take precautions. Jamie admitted to me they weren't as careful as they should have been. Hell, he was more concerned with buying candy and didn't even notice they had a tail. The three of them were being tailed from a convenience store for two blocks and never noticed until right before they got jumped. Had they been more aware and called for the police sooner, they wouldn't have gotten so hurt. They relied too much on their size and strength, Jamie confessed as much, and they were taken by surprise when the bad guys pretty much matched them in size and ability. Considering the number of guys they were fighting, though, your brothers did pretty damn well. Jamie got cut up a little, and that one knife wound was a little serious, but nothing crucial was hit. And John, he suffered only scrapes and bruises. At his age, too, practically forty! Never tell him I said this, but the man is pretty fucking amazing. Makes me almost not afraid to get old." I grinned at him.

Danny gave a slight smile at that. Any reference to the eternal internal competitions between the O'Keefes had to be good for some comic relief or matters were beyond dire. I realized that he had missed out on a lot of the debriefing that I'd gotten while he was in the hospital. I decided that maybe skipping over the gory details out of consideration for him had been a mistake, but telling him when it was just the two of us, when I could monitor his reactions, was far better than doing it in a room full of exclaiming family and friends. I shifted so I could wrap my legs around him and cradle him against me, with one hand gently caressing his chest, my other hand stroking his hair. He sighed and wriggled his back to settle closer against my chest, his ass up against my crotch.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you. Those bruises look like they hurt like a motherfucker."

"No...it's nice. It's...good even." I thought he was going to say something more but he simply tipped his head back and kissed me lightly. We hadn't spoken yet about what I'd seen happen to him in the room with Simon, what the bastard had tried to do to him, or even what Justin had tried to do. I wasn't sure how traumatized Danny was by everything, and of course, his damaged vocal cords limited the amount of talking he could do at any one time. All I could do was take it slowly. The last thing I wanted to do was rush him and add to his trauma. But I wanted him. I needed to feel close to him, to reinforce that we'd both survived. Holding him in my arms like this, it was taking every bit of self control I had not to roll him over and grind my aching cock against his, and even to plunge into his heat. Of course, I felt like ten kinds of pig for feeling this way. My lover had just escaped being raped by a maniac who viewed him as a sex object. He was just hours out of the hospital after being detoxed, and treated for a brutal beating that must be causing him six kinds of hell every time he moved. Yet, despite having had a front row seat for it all, or maybe because I had a front row seat for it all, I needed his body as close as possible to mine. Who needed Dr. Goodfuck to explain this one? I was fucked up. I forced myself to ignore my libido and the feel of Danny's firm ass against my cock and focused on telling him the details he'd missed out on hearing.

"George was the proverbial cavalry a couple times Friday night. He saved the three of them in Jersey City. I learned from John that George told them in the car heading back from Jersey that he'd intended to warn you, once he found out about the ambush planned for Miguel, the man had no time to do anything but go to Miguel's rescue. Keep in mind, George thought he was the only one who could help Miguel in time. He didn't know you were sending John and Jamie. He'd hoped to get back to the gallery before Edward made a move against you. Edward was a master at using everyone's best intentions...and their weaknesses, against them. He knew to play on George's guilt over placing your welfare over that boy Silver in the past. Simon was pretty confident that if George knew Miguel was being attacked, he wouldn't let harm come to him if he could prevent it. By the same token, he was counting on George not blowing the whistle on his whole game and bringing in the police, even if they would have listened, which was by no means guaranteed. George wouldn't want to see your name dragged through the mud, or Justin's show ruined by the bad publicity if he could keep the lid on everything. He assumed you would be playing it relatively safe and trusted your brothers and me to keep you safe. He didn't plan for you to send your brothers after Miguel. George had hoped that if he could stop Miguel's attack, he could rein Simon in when he got back here, before Simon had a chance to leave with you."

Danny nodded at that; something similar had happened years ago when he'd been attacked before. I'd learned from John that Luke and George had come to an agreement about Simon's removal from the country for a time. I continued.

"To give the devil his due, Simon planned for most contingencies. If any police had shown up in Jersey City, Miguel would not have been attacked there, but perhaps later, at his apartment after the show. When Jamie and John showed up, his gorillas called for reinforcements, but without advising him, which left Edward short-handed later on in the gorilla department when the second ride of the cavalry began. Additionally, the presence of Juan here in Miguel's place threw Edward off, but he made a recovery, throwing you off by grabbing me earlier than he planned. That stopped you from leaving and separated you from the others as you looked for me. I was stupid as it never occurred to me that he would take such a blatantly illegal action to a third party. I thought I was being a hero for once and distracting him from you."

Danny leaned back and kissed me again. "Thanks, but I would have done better to have stayed by your side like a groupie." As he continued to look at me worriedly, I gave him a wry smile back. "Don't worry. I'm not suffering from 'what if's.' I point this out only to show you that you shouldn't either. I don't think any of us realized that since Simon wasn't planning on staying in the States, he had pulled out all stops. As it turned out, George did return in time, but it was the intervention of the girl Cyprian, who gained us the crucial minutes. She was able to let the cavalry in and she freed me. Edward never dreamed that Miguel thought to plant one of his people in the gallery months ago and she quietly played a waiting game. At each step, Simon seemed to be one step ahead of us, but he seriously misjudged how some people act when it comes to making important choices."

Danny tilted his head. "What do you mean?" His fingers intertwined with mine where they rested on his cotton clad hip. His jaw, dark since he hadn't shaved today, was distractingly scratchy against my cheek.

"He underestimated the love your brothers feel for you, which made them keep fighting to get here, no matter how injured and sore or just fucking bone tired they were. Nothing was going to make them believe you were safe or give up until they saw you with their own eyes, despite what they were told by Simon's doormen at the gallery. Similarly, they'd never believe you'd go off for a drink without seeing for yourself that they were back safely from their little trip to Jersey City. He underestimated the courage and brains of two guys like Miguel and Juan, writing them off because of their ethnic background, which was stupid of him. And he totally left someone like Cyprian out of his scheming. That girl hid in a closet for hours until she had the chance to help her friend Miguel, and by extension, his friends. To Simon's snob way of thinking, they were non-entities who wouldn't dare mess with his plans and they'd be incapable of it if they tried. He learned to his cost he was wrong."

Danny's only response was to twist around more so he could nuzzle my neck, his beard sending shivers of arousal through me that I tried to ignore. He licked his way down to the center where my collarbones met. I bit back a moan. Fuck, he looked hot like this, his hair loose on his shoulders and that day's growth on his jaw turning his almost pretty looks into something rougher, more darkly masculine. I cleared my throat. Even so, my voice came out a bit breathless due to the long talented fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh. I continued with my story even as I spread my legs a little wider to encourage his efforts.

"Most of all, he underestimated you, green eyes, and how fucking noble and brave you are. No matter how little deserved your forgiveness might be, you manage to forgive and use your strength to help someone else..."

"We are not going to discuss Justin Taylor now," his husky voice commanded as he raised his hips to give his questing fingers access to my cock, which by this point was pressing demandingly into his back.

"No, we're not," I agreed. "But…" I found myself looking up at him as he leaned over me and worked on removing my jeans and wifebeater. So much for trauma induced celibacy. I should have remembered that Danny dealt with stress and upset in a similar manner to mine. But where I used to seek out anonymous sex, he sought relief... in me.

"Are you...can you," I paused, unsure of how to ask my question without upsetting him, knowing his objection to being pampered but also being unwilling to hurt him.

"I need this, Bri. I need to feel you in me, to be in you, too, after, if you want, to remember that sex is love, and pleasure, and being with someone whom I choose and who wants me because of who I am, and fuck, just to remind me that we're still alive, that I didn't fuck that up."

His voice gave out by the time he finished that speech but it was enough. No more questions. I needed it too. I slipped the soft jacket from his shoulders and in the semi-dark room, it was easy to ignore the deep purple marks that covered his torso and pretend they were just more shadows from the approaching night. He arched his chest toward me and I leaned up to capture a nipple in my mouth while I kneaded his ass with the hand that I'd slid past the waistband of his pants. I cupped the swell of his asscheek, my fingers caressing down the crease to the top of his thigh. He had such a sweet ass, small but each cheek so perfectly formed and defined.

"Mine, only mine," I murmured as I licked my way across to his other nipple, slipping his pants down to cup his other cheek, and letting his full cock spring free. He shimmied slightly to get the pants the rest of the way down, then sent them sailing off the bed with a kick.

"Mm. Fantastic as you feel on me chest...why do I sense...you aren't talking about... me lovely nipples," he gasped as he bent his head down and pressed closer, grinding his freed cock against mine. Fuck, I was hard but he was harder. He had to be in a hell of a lot of pain from his injuries but he must have been shutting it off somehow, as he was as turned on as I was. Still, I tried to keep my head and slow things down. He was far too bruised, with strained muscles everywhere, for a vigorous session to be a good idea no matter how enthusiastic he was. I knew from past experience that he couldn't be trusted to stop if he were hurting, so I had to use some sense, for both of us. Trouble was, it wasn't easy.

"Fuck me, Bri, now." He reached over for the night stand drawer, and pulled out the lube and condoms. He tossed one at me even as he finished pulling off my jeans, which he sent sailing after his clothes.

"Danny." As I spoke, he shot me a look that dared me to stop at risk of losing a body part. I ripped the condom open with my teeth before continuing, winning a dimpled smile of approval, a smile that didn't make it to his eyes, which remained desperate. I pressed him down by his shoulders and kissed him, a long, slow kiss, our naked bodies side by side. He felt hot against my skin. After a long moment, I lifted my head and looked into those beautiful, haunted eyes of his.

"If you need it, I'll fuck you, but I need you to do something for me first. I need you to make love to me. I need to feel you in me, to be in you too, to remember that sex is love, and pleasure, and being with someone whom I choose and who wants me because of who I am, and yeah, just to remind me that we're still alive, that I didn't fuck that up either." I waited as his own words coming back at him sank in and the haunted, desperate look faded, to be replaced by a tenderness that almost took my breath away. The realization of what this man meant to me and how fucking close I came to losing him when Simon stood there with that gun on him hit me like a truck at that moment. It made me literally shake. I couldn't ever put anyone ahead of him again. I caressed his cheek.

"Danny, I waited a very long time for someone who loved me just for me, someone who didn't want me to change, someone who wouldn't leave me. Now, when I've found you, to almost lose you...it scared me badly, Danny. I need to make love with you to remind me that dreams can come true, even when you've almost given up on them."

He took a shaky breath. Then another, trying his hardest not to cry. But at least this time, I was pretty sure they were good tears, and I was feeling an unaccustomed moisture in my own eyes as well. I leaned over him protectively, careful to keep my weight off his bruises but maintaining as much skin to skin contact as I could as I waited for him to answer.

"Mo grá," he finally replied softly, "then we will make love together. Tá grá agam duit."

"I love you, too, mo aingeal," I whispered back to my dark angel. There was no more need for words. We kissed, slow, leisurely kisses at first, then harder and deeper as we grew more sure that this was real, and not a dream, that it was the nightmare that was over, not us, not what we had together. Stroking, caressing, building our desire; each familiar touch was made new again by the knowledge that we came so close to losing everything. This was yet another beginning for us. I took my time preparing him, his legs up on my shoulders as they were his first time with me. As carefully as I watched his changing expressions, I couldn't help but see the flash of fear in his eyes when I first breached his hole with my finger, though he quickly masked it. I pulled away under guise of getting more lube and kissed him for a few more minutes. I took my time caressing his balls, moving ever closer to tease around his entrance. Eventually, he relaxed enough, and I finger fucked him, slowly at first, and then faster as he gave into the pleasure, his head tipped back, and his soft gasps making me harder than ever.

I leaned down to capture his moans even as he bucked up against my hand. I felt such tenderness toward him at that moment, overriding the lust. There was also a feeling of triumph that I could overcome the damage Simon had done to him. Lorm had hurt his body physically, but Simon had done so much damage to Danny sexually. Time would heal the bruises and sprains but I would be the one to heal this damage.

I'd always taken a lot of crap for my "promiscuous ways" over the years. But all my fucking around was worth it if it gave me the skill I needed to pleasure my lover now. Danny's fragility required all of my control and much vaunted performance ability all the more because he would never admit to being fragile. He needed me to take care of him. I put on the condom and entered him slowly, holding his intense gaze. I wanted every stroke of my cock to bring him such ecstasy he wouldn't feel the pain elsewhere in his body, that all he would think of would be where our two bodies came together. I looked down, absorbed by the sight of my cock sliding into him, his flesh stretched taut around me, my balls striking against those smooth globes of his ass, his gorgeous cock rising up between our stomachs. I loved to watch myself entering him, to see our bodies join together in such a primal way, to feel each other's responses so closely, and share each other's heat. When sex is this fucking good, there's nothing like it.

He moved his legs down to my waist and used his thighs to thrust with me. We started moving together in earnest then, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and his powerful calves pressing down on my ass as we rocked back and forth, my cock going deeper with each push, hitting past his prostate with each stroke. I reached down and grabbed his cock, hard and dripping. With just a few short strokes, I felt his come spill over my hand as he shuddered against me, his face pressed tight against my shoulder. My own orgasm followed.

I pulled out slowly, bending down to lick away the come from his abs and chest. He laughed as I smiled up at him, licking the extra off my fingers, one by one.

"Did you want some?" I asked, grinning, remembering his claims about the medicinal value of spunk on damaged throats.

He shook his head, his long hair falling in his face. I brushed it back and kissed him again, sharing a bit of his taste with him after all. He lay back, sprawled out like a debauched angel. The signs of his beating were still there, but I took pleasure in his splayed position, so much more like my Danny, with his arms out above his head and his legs spread wide, covering two thirds of the bed. I'd have to move the arms and legs to make room to sleep. He'd no doubt kick me in his sleep a few times in the night, and I would wake up with a face full of long black hair, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

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

(Setting: Pittsburgh, Danny's Townhouse; Third weekend in October; POV/Hunter)

"So, what's the gossip around the gayborhood?"

Danny came back into the room from seeing Julie out. She was taking Briana to dance class and then on to another cousin's house for a sleepover. I never knew little girls had so many sleepovers. I definitely would have discovered my interest in boys sooner if guys got to sleep with other boys as much as girls did. Em said that growing up down south; there were always a dozen boys to a room so it was no wonder he knew early on that his fairy light shone bright. Of course, get caught looking at the other boys, and you risked getting beat up, he added. Danny had scoffed at that, saying the straight guys are all looking too, they just don't admit it. Considering all the time he'd spent in locker rooms, he probably knew what he was talking about. When I said as much, he laughed and told me that there were as many if not more queers in sports uniforms than in ballet tights. Go figure.

He was looking at Brandon and me now, eyebrow raised as he crossed over to the sofa and threw himself down in a corner of the sofa, away from Emmett. It was a sign of how different he was these days. Before New York, his head would have been on Emmett's lap. He also would have been half dressed once his nieces left, a habit of his that I happened to love.

I paused, trying to think of a way to avoid answering, or to spin the stories so they sounded better. Emmett was quiet for once. He must have heard the same bullshit at those upscale parties he catered that I'd been hearing around the diner. Brandon glanced from one to the other of us, then rolled his eyes.

"Pussies," he drawled. He turned back to Danny. "There's the usual crap, new guys in town trying to establish themselves as the latest stud du jour, which is futile when we all know that I'm the hottest available stud...."

Danny laughed as Emmett squawked in protest.

"Now Em, he did say 'available.' I can let the lad claim the title away from Brian with that qualifier. While admittedly, you could give him a run for his money, me darling, you have to face it, you're too much of a romantic ever to hold the stud of Liberty title. It takes a certain hardness of heart and yours is too sweet."

Danny leaned over and gave Em a peck on the cheek. We all kind of breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived. No sooner did Em stop preening over his kiss than Danny settled back in his seat and pinned Brandon down with his killer smile and a look that said cut the bullshit.

"As I'm sure you well know, what I'm really wanting to know, King Stud, is what are they saying about me? And darlin' Justin, of course. I'm assuming those are the stories that my dear pussy friends here are too nice to tell me, but I'm also assuming, since you have the requisite hard heart to be a stud I can count on you never to be nice."

"Isn't that the truth," Em muttered.

Brandon hesitated, and actually for once looked unsure of himself. He even looked to me as if for guidance. What the hell was I going to be able to do? He was the brainy lawyer. Or almost lawyer. I was just a smart mouthed kid. Danny had been hanging out in his townhouse since getting back from New York, avoiding everyone while he healed. Of course rumors got started once the stories trickled back from New York. Justin's show closed in one night, with police tape around the gallery the next day. Hard to keep that kind of thing quiet.

Brandon took a deep breath, then told it all, still in his bored monotone, finally ending with a summary.

"So, basically, the stories range from you being horribly beaten and scarred, not to mention psychologically damaged, either due to raping Justin or being raped by Justin, or you died rescuing Justin, or he died rescuing you, or both of you were gang banged by a group of terrorists and then ritualistically disfigured. My personal favorite has you rescuing Justin but then being kidnapped by a group of blond Amazon lesbians and turned into their love slave. That one has a sort of poetic justice to it...of course, I'm biased; I started that one."

Danny smiled slightly at his last comment but otherwise maintained a thoughtful silence during the recital. "Why such wild stories?" he asked quietly.

"You've kind of been out of sight for a while now, baby, ever since getting back, in fact," Emmett explained. "People are curious. Your brothers aren't talking and the rest of us have been brushing off questions with a simple you're fine, which no one wants to hear, but most people don't ask us. Brian just growls at people who ask after you and Debbie, well..."

"Deb cries, or bites her tongue and is so obviously trying not to say anything that...," I chimed in, only to be interrupted by Brandon, who added, "that people assume that what she is holding back is even worse that anything she could say, although in Deb's case, I'm not sure if that holds true. She can do a lot of damage with a few words. Like, she'll start to say something before she remembers not to, and it will be something on the order of, 'oh, his poor body, those marks,' or, 'to think of our Sunshine doing that to poor Danny.' So, it isn't hard to figure out the source of the worst of the rumors."

"The fact that everyone knows that Justin's been back in town for the past week or so, since the police let him go up in New York and hasn't been seen out and about hasn't helped either," I pointed out, annoyed as ever at blondie. "Ben tried getting him to go to lunch at the diner with him, to talk about maybe taking some classes next semester at Carnegie Mellon if he won't consider re-enrolling at PIFA, but he won't go out in public either, I mean...."

There you go, Bruckner-Novotny, just put your foot right in that sizable mouth of yours. Emmett and Brandon were both glaring at me.

"Where's he staying?" Danny's tone was perfectly casual and he ignored the comparison of Justin to him. I knew what he was really asking. Danny didn't give two shits where Justin was living, as long as he wasn't staying at Brian's place.

"Not the loft," I blurted out before either of the other two could say it.

"What isn't the loft?" I almost groaned. Nice to know my timing was impeccable as always. Of course Brian would come in right at that moment, followed by John O'Keefe and, surprisingly, my dad, Ben.

"Get comfortable first and then you can get caught up in our gossip session," Danny suggested, avoiding the topic easily since Brian's usual habit was to shed his work clothes as soon as he came in the house. John headed for the kitchen with a nod to the rest of us. Em kept plenty of easy to get snacks on hand for the guy who had the metabolism of a teenager. Or a hummingbird on speed. I got up to help him forage. They all looked exhausted.

"Where were you today?" I asked Ben quietly, giving him a quick hug on my way to the kitchen.

"We'll tell you in a bit, if Danny doesn't mind you guys listening in. I could use a cold drink if you're waitering." I nodded and went into the kitchen.

John glanced up from his scrutiny of the refrigerator as I entered. I tried to look innocent. "Need a hand? Looks like a full blown snack time is warranted. Ben asked for a drink of something, and knowing Brian, he'll want a beer, or should I get him something harder? I can fix you something too."

John smiled faintly. "A beer is all I need. You'd probably better fix Brian his stronger drink of choice if you know it. It looks like Em has snack trays all ready. He knew where we were going today and so I guess he was expecting us to come back hungry and needing to talk and was prepared. Lots of cut carrots for Danny, I see. I'll take these if you take care of bringing the drinks. Thanks, Hunter."

I stopped him before he went back through the door with the trays.

"John?" He turned, giving me that O'Keefe one eyebrow raised look that they all have perfected. "Is everything okay with Danny? I mean, it's all over, right? He's safe now? There's no reason for him to have to stay in here anymore, is there?"

John considered the question before answering. "Everything's good for Danny now. At least, it soon will be. He's just needed a little time to heal."

I felt like there was more to it than that. John must have seen the worry in my face because he set the trays down on the counter and took a step closer to place his hands on my shoulders.

"Hunter, you're a good friend to Danny, for all that you're a lot younger. My son Johnny has told me a bit of your history, and hell, you probably know better than anyone that the last thing a man needs when shit happens is everyone reminding him of just how bad his luck is and all the reasons he has to quit. It doesn't seem like you ever quit. Danny's never quit either, no matter how tough things got, and hell, he never had it anywhere near as tough as you did. Feel free to remind him of that if he gets to whining out there in a bit. Danny copes best when he is forced to pull himself together and move forward. There are some nasty things being said around town, things that are enough for many men to hide away from the gossip, or even to run away, but not my brother. What he needs is to get his ass out that door and go out to one of those clubs that you guys go to and dance that skinny ass of his off. As his good friend, I hope you help him do just that, because the news we have to give him now is likely to make him want to hide more than ever."

I tilted my head way up to meet John O'Keefe's look dead on, and said as firmly as I could, "With all due respect, sir, that is one fine ass on your brother, and it is sacrilege to call it anything but perfect."

He laughed and swatted my own skinny ass before picking up the trays again and continuing out to the living room.

By the time I got back to the others with the tray of drinks, Brian had pulled Danny away from the corner and had taken his place, settling Danny between his long legs. Ben was sitting across from Brandon and John was sitting in a chair that he'd pulled over from a different grouping. I sat on the floor near Ben after setting the drinks down on the coffee table. I handed Brian his Jim Beam on the rocks, which he downed fairly quickly. Good thing I brought the bottle too. Danny accepted a fruit juice, as did Ben, while the others all had beers. Being good, I simply had a coke. Danny and Ben would prefer I had something healthy but as long as I didn't try to sneak a beer, neither of them would give me grief.

"So, who's on first?" his hotness asked, as he leaned forward to pour a second drink. "Are you youngsters going to share why my loft was the subject of intense discussion when we came in, or do we get to tell about our joyful day?"

"Who's on first, what's on second," Brandon murmured, causing Emmett to giggle. Danny grinned as Ben added, "And I don't know's on third."

"Great, we have sunk to the comedic level of third graders," Brian grumbled as he grabbed some carrots and started feeding them to Danny. "Three Stooges is definitely what we have here."

"Speak for yourself, that skit was a classic, and it was Abbott and Costello, not the Three Stooges, actually," Ben told him. He had that "professor" look on his face so I jumped in before Brian could skewer him with sarcasm, and before we all had to listen to a twenty minute dissertation on early twentieth century comedic teams, and their homoerotic overtones.

"So, speaking of three guys, tell us about your day. Where did you three go together? Let me guess, there was a sale on big and tall men's suits at Armani and somehow you managed to get Ben to go so he could trade up from his usual poor professor tweed look?"

John gave me that raised eyebrow look again. "If he were my boy, Ben, I'd smack him, although if he weren't so disrespectful, he'd almost be funny."

"That's our littlest hustler, always almost funny," Brian snarked. Ben looked at him reprovingly for the hustler crack, but I just grinned. Brian's remarks never bothered me. I would take Brian's insults over anyone else's well intentioned pity any day.

"No smacking," Danny reminded his brother, with a lazy smile. "Dad did enough of that, didn't he? It's a wonder you older ones ever sat down to a meal with the sore asses you perpetually had from being strapped. Sure glad I came along when he was too old for ass whuppings."

"You should be, with the mouth you had on you, you never would have survived," John agreed. Ben, the pacifist, was looking shocked by this revelation. "Dad was from the Old Country, Ben, spare no rod, spoil no child. My father was a firm believer in his belt as a discipline tool for his sons. Danny was the only one to escape, but that was mainly because he was so damn little compared to the rest of us. I think Dad was scared to beat him. God knows it wasn't because he didn't deserve it."

Danny protested, "I wasn't that small, it was just that Jamie was so big, I looked smaller by comparison. And you're all talk, because if ever there were kids who were an argument for bringing back beatings, it's those two younger boys of yours. They're completely out of control."

John winced; I felt bad for him. It wasn't like Danny to hit below the belt like that. John's two younger sons were brats but the guy was trying to get somewhere with them, with no help from their witchy mother. I suspected that Danny didn't like the reference to his father's beatings in front of Brandon and Ben. He didn't have the same acceptance of his dad that John did, but that went both ways, from what he'd told me. His dad never accepted him. Still, it was just another sign of how on edge he was that he would say something nasty about John's sons out of the blue like that. Danny looked for a minute like he might apologize but instead he just moved on. Probably a good idea. You never know with the O'Keefes when the joking will blow up into a nasty fight out of thin air. One comment going just too far was all it took most of the time. The Novotnys were the same way.

"Anyway, enough digressions. I like Ben's clothes, I love Hunter's sense of humor, and I love Brian, especially if he keeps feeding me carrots. I even love you, John and your bratty children. Now can we please get to the telling of what you three were up to today?"

Of course we couldn't yet. With Danny's oblique apology, the teasing opened up again on all fronts and had to go on for a good twenty more minutes. I couldn't help grinning like an idiot as I sat and watched. It was great to see Ben relaxing and joining in on the joking. Danny's brief lapse aside, the edge that the jokes always had in the old days wasn't there with Danny and Emmett around to rein Brian in. John and Brandon could both be as cutting as Brian, and match him if he got nasty, but instead, with this many smart men in the room, they tended more toward a competition for wittiest than nastiest, with Em providing the lighter touch. I had to admit, for all that he was the least educated, Em had a native intelligence that allowed him to get off some zingers against the others that was more than a match for their advanced degrees.

Finally, Danny left Brian's side and came to sit next to me on the floor.

"Hey, you're looking pretty happy. You slip something in those cokes you're sipping?" He nudged me with an elbow. "Or does it just make you happy to hear me mocked mercilessly by this group?"

"Not really either. Just glad to have everyone back, hanging out here again, I guess. You want me to go get you a piece of Deb's chocolate cake to wash those carrots down with?"

He gave me a searching look, then smiled, his dimples showing. God, I loved his smile. I still had quite a crush on him, to tell the truth, which I think he knew but was nice enough to ignore. Thank God, if he made a big deal out of it and were ever to "talk" to me about it, I would have to run away to the circus or the foreign legion or something from embarrassment. Brandon gives me that knowing look of his sometimes when he catches me staring at Danny, but I can deal with that. In fact, I was kind of glad he noticed it. My crush on Danny provides a pleasant distraction from my unrequited lust for Brandon.

"I shouldn't let you wait on me, but I really would love a piece of chocolate cake. And some milk? I guess it's somewhat in the nature of recompense for Debbie's big mouth causing so much gossip, she's been keeping me supplied in really good chocolate cakes," he said with a grin. "But make the others eat those lemon bars she insists on sending over here...the chocolate is mine. It's medicinal."

"You got it."

By the time I got done, with Em's help, serving the second round of snacks, Brian finally gave John a serious look.

"Okay, counselor, now that Danny has been fortified with chocolate, you want to get into the details of today's meeting with the estate and probate lawyers?"

"Estate and probate lawyers?" I looked at Ben and felt a flash of fear. "Why would you be involved with that? You're okay, aren't you?"

Ben quickly reassured me that he was fine, reaching down to clasp my shoulder with his big hand. I was all ready to feel foolish but Danny put an arm around me and mock glared at his boyfriend.

"Good one, Bri, scare Hunter to death, why don't you? Fuck, can you imagine if Michael had been here? We'd be performing CPR, well, one of us would be...should be...." He looked around at the others with a hopeful air, as though looking for a volunteer. Ben just shook his head and tried not to laugh while Brandon and Emmett starting making excuses about why they never learned CPR. My other dad's tendency to overreact was legendary. The way he acted every time Ben had the sniffles was neurotic. Sure, we're positive, but in truth, Ben was a hell of a lot healthier than Michael, who would probably die from clogged arteries and hypertension long before AIDS ever got Ben.

Brian was rolling his eyes while John waited patiently for everyone to settle down again. He got up for some more lemon bars and brought Danny another piece of cake while Brian apologized. Kind of.

"Sorry, I forgot the drama queen gene ran strong in young Streetwalker. The estates in question weren't Ben's, you shining light of Carnegie Mellon's freshman class." Brian curled his lip at me and Danny threw a pillow at him. "The wills read were those of Edward Simon and George Main, aka, Lord Peter George Linton, Viscount of Mainwaring, or somewhere or other. Ben was invited to the reading of the wills because he is named as a trustee, and is a nominal beneficiary, as it turns out."

"Oh my God, a trustee? Really? For who?" Emmett squealed.

John frowned. "I don't think it would be proper for me to say for whom the one trust is for, not without that person's permission. What we can say is that Simon left the bulk of his estate in such a way that if it could not be determined who died first, it would go to his heirs, primarily George and Danny."

I felt Danny stiffen. I pushed him a bit toward Brian, murmuring to him under my breath, "I'm okay now, so you don't have to snuggle with me anymore, go on, back to your own man now, scoot."

"Scoot?" He looked at me, giving me the raised eyebrow. I tried to give that O'Keefe one eyebrow look back at him but I knew it didn't work for me...they both go up. So I just grinned. "You don't want me saying scat, now, do you? That isn't one of your kinks, is it? I learned never to go using words like that loosely, if you know what I mean. So it has to be scoot, off with you, back to Brian so you can protect me from him."

Shooting me a grateful look, which I knew was for the silliness that covered his upset and need to return to Brian as much as for recognizing that need, he gracefully got to his feet and went back to the sofa to recline against Kinney. Brian snaked his arm around his waist and put his face down against his hair. From above Danny's head, I could see those hazel eyes looking at me approvingly.

"But what if I turn down his money? We discussed this, John. I don't want Edward's money and I don't want to profit from George's death." Once he was settled again, Danny questioned his brother softly.

"I know we did, but you also gave me power of attorney to make decisions for you and Briana, Danny, and there are several issues to discuss, which we can do now or later. Simon's will makes George's portion contingent on you not refusing your share. If you do, it all goes to a cousin, the same one who inherits George's title. Which," John gave Danny a look to stave off further interruptions, "would be fine with you, I know, except for the fact that George's will is complex, and not all of it was within his control due to part of his estate being entailed. He set up several very beneficial trusts with the non-entailed portion, which Simon's money would help greatly in effecting. It was George who named Ben as a trustee for a certain person, and set aside a sum for his education and maintenance until the Trust is ended, which won't be for over ten years at this point. He provides for all of Simon's "angels" who otherwise would be left high and dry by Simon's death. Some of these young men have not been used to making their own way in the world and could use the transition assistance."

"Fuck," Danny said.

"Exactly," Brian agreed with a frown. "Basically, as it was explained today, if you turn down Simon's money, or take it only to give it away, you violate the terms of the will and George's money is forfeit to his cousin. George did not leave you money, but he did leave money and certain properties to any children he might have, with you as the trustee."

"Double fuck."

John looked at Danny. "The Linton title is one that can only be inherited by a male, and there is certain property that can only pass to the nearest male heir, which is apparently George's cousin, a son of Simon's mother's brother. Did you know George and Simon were related? A couple times over, if I read the family tree right. That's why there's a mutual heir. So English."

John and Brian both made faces, which was pretty funny actually. There were times when Brian was really Irish, and it came out especially strongly when he was around the O'Keefes. Brandon wasn't impressed.

"Yeah, like the Irish don't marry their cousins all the time...that's why the O'Keefes all look like a walking billboard for consanguinity." I wasn't sure but I thought that Brandon's fancy word was merely a fancy term for cousins marrying. I saw Danny whispering as much to Emmett, clearing away a furrow of confusion from the big guy's brow. Brandon made an impatient face at their side conversation, like this wasn't Danny's business more than his, I though indignantly. Brandon directed another question to John, asking, "But if George didn't leave money to Danny, but only to any children he had, how is this significant to Danny, other than his naming Danny the trustee? The guy didn't even have kids, did he?"

At this question, John looked uncomfortably toward kind-hearted Ben for a rescue, who looked at Brian, who looked at Danny, who looked at the floor. Emmett was the one, who, after watching the glances bouncing around the room, finally broke the silence.

"Well, you know, I always thought that George had the look of a soldier. That thousand yard stare of his, you know? It gave me the shivers. Anyway, it always struck me that if I were your sister, Danny, I wouldn't lie to you about Briana's Daddy on such teensie, little details. I either wouldn't tell you anything at all, or I would have told a really big whopper, like the Daddy was Brad Pitt. In fact, I've always found that the best way to throw people off the scent is to give them the truth. So it seemed to me that if she told you that Briana's Daddy was a soldier buddy of Luke's, I would bet that at least part of that was true, and that the reason George always took care of you and Angel was because he was friends with your brother Luke, probably originally going back to Luke's early military days, because they weren't all that far apart in age, were they? Maybe she said he died, because he did in the sense that something happened that made him change his name and stop being Lord Peter Linton and become George Main, employee to his own cousin. And maybe he got to be a bit too friendly with Angel one time when you and Luke weren't around and then neither Angel or George knew how to tell you so they just agreed to forget about it and go back to the big brother, little sister roles they'd had before. She probably never even told him he was the daddy because she didn't want him to get grief from you and your brothers, you know what you all can be like, and she certainly didn't want crazy Simon going nuts on him."

John and Danny were staring at him in shock. Emmett looked back at them innocently. "Well, it was kind of there to be seen in that stubborn chin of that little princess of yours, Danny, once I considered the possibility. I saw the resemblance when he came down to the Benefit last July. You were so friendly to him and he was watching you and Briana so closely but never when Simon was around him. But I didn't know how to say anything to you all about it. Of course, back then, I didn't know he was some English lord. I thought he was the butler, or bodyguard or something. It's really just like something out of 'All My Children.'"

"Honeycutt, you're amazing, you know that? Didn't you ever think to say something to me?" Brian was staring at Em, all peeved.

Emmett hit him with a surprised look. "Tell you before I said anything to Danny? Of course not!"

Brandon made an impatient noise. "So, Briana, Danny's niece, slash adopted daughter, is heir to a fortune, if Danny doesn't turn down Simon's money, right? And either way, she's part of English aristocracy."

"Basically, yes." John nodded.

"Plus, there are all these poor victims, or shall we say, prior recipients of Simon's attentions, who are to be rehabilitated via trusts set up by Saint George, or rather, Lord Peter, but again, only if Danny does not turn down Simon's money?"

"Again, that is the essence of it." John was looking faintly amused by Brandon's recap.

"You don't have to admit this, although of course wills do become a matter of public record, but I'm guessing that the main recipient of this largesse, whose name you didn't care to mention, is a local artist with the initials JT, which is why our good Professor Bruckner has been named a trustee? Could Brian also be a trustee and that's why he was called to the reading of the will?"

By the uncomfortable expressions on John, Brian and Ben's faces, Brandon had nailed it. Danny's expression was blank while Em's face was as open mouthed as mine felt, which reminded me to close my trap. Damn. Blondie was getting set up with a trust fund. Didn't it just go to figure? Plus, he would love the fact that Brian would be one of his trustees; it would be almost as good as Brian giving him money directly. Since he had Ben pretty much wrapped around his finger, he would be in clover unless one of them grew some balls when it came to dealing with him. I hadn't realized that there had to be a reason for Brian to be there at the will reading. I was thinking of his connection to Danny, but being an "almost lawyer," Brandon saw through these things better. John was the one there seeing to Danny's interests. Ben's involvement, as a kind of surrogate father to Justin made sense, and that George guy was smart to plan it, but naming Brian as a trustee also? That was really fucked as far as Danny would be concerned.

"Brendon, can it." Brian snarled as Danny gave John a defeated look.

"He's got me, doesn't he? Edward must have been counting on me not to want to see George cut out of his will when he drafted it, but the way it works out, I'm just as trapped. He wins."

"He is dead, and doesn't have anyone or win anything, Danny, least of all you," Brian pointed out fiercely.

"You don't have to say yes to it, Danny," Ben quietly reminded him. "You don't owe anything to any of those young men."

"As Briana's guardian..." Danny began, still looking at his brother.

"As Briana's guardian, you owe it to her to provide for her, but you are a reasonably wealthy man in your own right, Danny." John sent one of his "shut up, this is the lawyer talking looks" at the others to get them to stop interrupting and let him handle Danny's anxiety and questions. Brian looked belligerent while Ben looked sheepish, but neither spoke as John continued.

"Briana will never want for material goods so that doesn't have to impact on your decision. She will inherit a significant amount from Angel's estate, largely thanks to your efforts in preserving the value of the Dark Angel trademark, which maximizes what Briana will receive from her mother's modeling residuals. Additionally, Briana also will have an inheritance from the Linton estate regardless of what happens with the Simon money. The added money from the Simon Estate would benefit Briana, I can't deny that, but primarily it would help Simon's abandoned angels, over whose trusts Ben was given primary authority. Miguel was named as a secondary trustee for some of them. Apparently George finalized revisions to his will in the week before Justin's show. He'd been working on changes since the Benefit, according to his lawyer." John paused and took a drink.

"One thing his lawyer did clear up, Danny, is that under George's prior will, you had been the heir to his non-entailed estate. At least for the last several years. It used to be you and Angel and he changed it after her death. So, contesting this will wouldn't benefit the cousin even if he had a basis for doing so. If George were found to have no children, it would have gone back to you as the contingent heir of the non-entailed estate. But Simon left medical documentation of a paternity test that looks fairly conclusive. Also, there was enough of George's blood at the crime scene to run new tests and it was confirmed, he was Briana's father."

Danny looked up. "Wouldn't I have had to have consented to those tests?" His voice was dangerously low. Uh oh, I thought. John met his brother's look steadily.

"I consented. I felt there was only so much time when this window of opportunity was available to confirm who her father was. I used the power of attorney to enable the sample to be taken from Briana so see if there was a match. If I did wrong, it's on my head Danny, but I did what I thought was best. Someday she's going to want to know who her father was. We thought we lost the ability to ever answer that question when Angel died. I didn't want the answer to be lost to us again. Otherwise, physical resemblances or not, we might always wonder if this was yet another trick of Simon's. I didn't want to rely on his paperwork."

Danny looked at John for a good couple of minutes without saying anything, and all the rest of us kind of tried to breathe really quietly. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded. "You were right. But I don't think I would have done it."

"That's why I didn't tell you," John agreed, twisting his mouth in a wry smile.

"So," Emmett asked in a cheery voice to pick up the heavy mood, "any other interesting news from the will readings?" John seemed relieved to change the subject and discussed all the rest of the details of the will terms. The most significant to me was that Ben was given a bequest to use for research into ways to help gay teens, something he's always wanted to do. The cool guy Miguel and his twin were both given money to help set them up in their careers. He even left money to that barfly Pete.

"For all the bad choices George made in his time, Danny, you have to give the guy credit. He did everything he could to make amends, and it was a hell of a lot more than most men would have done. He could have just walked away. He stayed for your sake and..."

"And he died for me too. Now all I have to do is accept his fucking blood money...I get that, okay?" Danny's face was white.

I could see John start to say something but then bite his cheek and just pick up his beer for another long swallow instead. He sat back and looked up at the ceiling. Awkward silence, anyone? I tried to come up with something to break it but I was fresh out of witty sayings. Em went to the kitchen to refill the snack tray, a sign that he too was running out of ways to ease the tension. Brian and Ben seemed afraid of making matters worse.

Brandon leaped into the breach. I was impressed. At least, I was until I heard his topic.

"Since it will become a matter of public record anyway, you may as well tell us what the terms are for Taylor's trust. Let's face it, he's a real sticking point. He would be for me, I know. Bequests of a set amount can be paid; it is a long term trust that needs big bucks. I mean, besides losing Kinney as his babysitter, excuse me, 'trustee,' how much would Taylor be affected if Danny tells them to piss off?" He gave that deadpan look of his in response to John's glare. "I'm just going to look it up in the New York public records online if you don't spill the beans."

John can really give a killer glare, as bad as Brian's. I was impressed. But Brandon just stared back at him, as unfazed as ever. "What? Did you want me to act like I was too stupid to know that? What kind of third year law student would that make me?"

Danny intervened before John could answer that one. Or jump up and throttle the blond, which looked like an option he was considering.

"It's okay, John, I'm used to Brandon. As annoying as he is, at least he always says stuff like that in front of me rather than going behind my back. And he's right, isn't he? It's mainly Justin I would be affecting if I turn down the money from Edward's estate? I mean, let's face it, the other Angels have settled themselves more, haven't they? Stephen has some kind of annuity, even if it isn't great, and Pete would always have a place with Arthur. But for Justin...there's no one else to provide for him in such a way for so long, is there? Justin didn't have time to get his golden parachute. But if this is a usual trust, I'm assuming, and you correct me if I'm wrong, I'm not the law student here, there would be money for his use, but it's controlled by the trustees to ensure that he spends it on things like school, his art training, travel, whatever would be in his best interests. In other words, he can't squander it on wild living. It's ideal for Justin really. But you never really said. Who is Justin's trustee?"

John, Brian and Ben all looked at each other. It was my dad who finally answered, in his gentle way. "Brian and I are named as co-trustees, Danny. We'd have to agree on what disbursements to make and how the money is to be spent for his best interests."

"I've already told you, Ben, I'd defer to you on those issues. You obviously are better at raising fine young men. Look at young Hunter here, why just the other year he was...."

"Don't, Brian. No more wisecracks about Hunter," Danny snapped, startling everyone as he sat up, away from Brian. "There is a world of difference between Hunter, who had no choice about what he was forced to do as a child, and what your ex lover did as a grown man. Justin made his own decision to whore himself out to the highest bidder rather than work for a living. No one forced him into it. And now it pays off triple diamonds because he not only gets everything he ever wanted paid for, but he gets to have you tied to him for the next ten years. What more could he fucking want?"

Dead silence followed that comment.

"More cake anyone?" I asked brightly.

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

(Later than evening; POV/Danny)

I came out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me. I wasn't sure if Brian would still be around or if he would have taken off. I'd excused myself fairly soon after my outburst earlier. I could tell from Brian's expression that he was pissed off but I wasn't in the mood to try working things out right then. My head was killing me, so my excuse for leaving the others wasn't a total prevarication. I still felt sore when I moved around too much, despite the exercises I'd been doing every day to keep up my flexibility. I knew I shouldn't complain. Miguel had it far worse in terms of a recovery and had only gotten out of the hospital last week. And George was dead. I still couldn't deal with that so I just pushed all thought of it away most days. Talking about his will kind of made that hard to do, which didn't help my bad mood. How do you accept receiving a large sum of money as a result of someone dying to save your life? Maybe I should call Justin and ask him for some tips?

As much as I wanted to be mad at George for all his secrets, I kept running into reasons why I couldn't. But the anger was the only thing keeping me from falling apart from guilt of his dying. Dying to protect me. Like Brian could have. There was a thought to keep me up nights. I could remember Brian throwing himself over me when the gun went off. I'd been half out of it lying there but the terror that went through me at that moment was chillingly intense. It was another favorite on my personal nightmare highlight reel.

It took me a moment to realize that the bedroom wasn't empty. Someone was waiting on the bed for me. But it wasn't Brian. I forced a smile onto my face for Hunter. I fought the urge to dart back into the bathroom, reminding myself that I was being stupid. This was just Hunter, a kid who'd seen me naked dozens of times during the course of post work-out and rehearsal showers and in changing rooms. It wasn't like I'd ever been shy about my body before. Nonetheless, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an old soccer jersey. Then, trying not to give in to my panic, I forced myself to remain in just the towel, tossing the clothes on my reading chair. I gave him a wry smile.

"Hey, does this mean you're still willing to put up with me? Did everyone else leave?"

He lounged back on the bed, crossing his legs deliberately, and giving me one of his leers, which looked so comical it served to relieve my tension a bit. In fact, I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh. I'm never quite sure with Hunter when he is going for the laugh and when he really might be trying out his powers of seduction. I would hate to hurt his feelings and I well knew how quickly at that age one pretended that something was a joke when it might be the most serious thing in the world. My own older lover taught me that lesson in self preservation when I was younger than Hunter was now.

"If you trust sitting next to me when you aren't fully dressed, you sexy thing you, come over here and I'll massage your head for you and tell you the plans for tonight," he offered.

I gave him a considering look. I was still somewhat in the pissy mood that had made me leave the gang earlier after mouthing off about Taylor, which comments had put an end to the party, but I knew that Hunter would pretty much put up with anything from me and wasn't someone who you had to keep a front up for. Plus, I felt like I owed him for causing that scene when he'd been so happy. Compared to all he'd been through, hell, all that he still had to deal with, I had no basis for ever bitching, but I was bummed that Brian had left even while I was upset over his being named as a trustee for Justin. So much for having a queen out. Of course, he wasn't doing anything different than I would have done if our positions were reversed, but I still felt slighted. I really felt that I had a good reason for my sulk. This fucking trusteeship meant that for the next half dozen years at least, Brian would be closely involved in Justin's life, with the prick having a ready made excuse for contacting Brian for every little thing. Sure, Justin could call Ben, but I knew he wouldn't. It would be Brian he'd turn to for toilet paper every time he ran out. He could wrap Brian around his finger, and it was Brian he'd want back.

Still, none of this was Hunter's fault. With a glance at the clothes on the chair, I made myself walk over to the bed in just the towel and lie down on my stomach, my head resting on my arms. I really did have a headache from stress so I did my best to relax as Hunter worked his magic, untangling my hair, and massaging my scalp. I was spoiled, I admitted it. Em had taught Hunter and Brian how to do the scalp massages that were practically the only thing that reliably relieved my headaches these days. The kid brushed my hair out in long even strokes, which went a long way to relieving my pent up tension. For once, he was quiet as he worked, not chattering away a mile a minute as he usually did.

I wasn't in any rush to talk about plans for the evening and if it weren't for my anxiety levels being higher than normal, I'd have managed to doze off, I think. I still was only able to really relax around Brian and Emmett. But Hunter should have been the next logical choice, I told myself. He was completely non-threatening and all teasing aside, there really was nothing sexual in his touching me. It wasn't like Brandon being in the room. That is what I told myself but I stayed on edge. I wondered how long I should wait before suggesting he stop. It couldn't be too soon as normally I teased for more time when getting a massage...if I didn't fall asleep.

After finishing with the brush, and using his strong hands to massage my scalp for awhile, Hunter finally spoke.

"You know, you were kind of an ass to Brian earlier."

I started, surprised. I hadn't been expecting that kind of comment, certainly not from him. Emmett tended to call me on my diva episodes on a regular basis, but Hunter was blind when it came to my flaws. I mean, I knew he had a crush on Brian too, but I kind of thought the one he had for me was stronger. At least, he always took my side when it came to a dispute between the two of us. The little voice inside my head pointed out that he did that because up to now, I'd always been the one in the right and Brian had been the pig-headed one on disputes witnessed by Hunter. Nonetheless, I tried to defend myself.

"But, what I said was..."

"Was uncalled for," he said firmly, continuing his massaging, his strokes matching his tone. "If I, or Ben for that matter, thought for one second that Brian was serious with his comments, you know we'd be giving him some serious shit on it. Besides which, if he was the kind of person to be that much of an asshole, you wouldn't love him like you do. But more than you possibly could understand, Brian really knows the kind of shit I've lived through. And before you get your thong in a twist, oh gorgeous one, I'll admit you might have an idea of what the seamy side of life looks like. But Danny, you've never had to worry about living on the streets. You've never had to worry about going hungry if you didn't make enough money. There was never a time when you really had to say to yourself, do I let that guy fuck me, and eat today or don't I? And you're asking yourself that question on a day when you haven't eaten for a while, and you're fucking hungry. You always had family you could turn to. I could always see it in his eyes. Brian knows what it's like to ask that question. He didn't have any big modeling contract when he was in college to supplement his soccer scholarship and pay for books and great clothes, or older brothers to slip him pizza money. I wouldn't be surprised if he blew a few older guys to get a nice dinner bought for him when he was at Penn State. Brian knows what it's like when it's your own family members who star in your worst nightmares."

I turned around and leaned up on my elbows to stare at him. He looked back, his gaze as fiercely honest as ever, searching my face for any hint of disgust or judgment, an old habit of his. If anything, I was disgusted with myself. I never thought of how Hunter would take my freak-out over my experience, what he would think it said about what I thought was too much for someone's "dignity" or self worth, or whatever the fuck it was that my psyche was having trouble with. I never thought about how Brian might be taking it, despite what I knew of the hard times he'd been through. Fuck, all I'd been thinking of was myself. His voice softened as he watched the expressions running across my face. If there was one thing Hunter excelled at, it was reading people. Sometimes it was scary how well he could read your thoughts.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that you ever put me down, nor am I saying that Brian was a real hustler, like me, you know. Everyone knows Brian worked his ass off to be a great ad exec but I never heard that he did it literally. I'm just saying that he knows what it takes to be a survivor. He may have had to do a few less than savory things to help him get to where he is today, that's all, things that you don't know if you would do unless you're in that position where you don't have a lot of good choices. When you turned down Simon, again and again, you had other viable options. Sure, it would have been a lot easier to say yes and be his boy toy. I'm not disrespecting the choice you made and the cost you paid, I'm just saying it wasn't like you ever were going to starve as a result. And again, I'm not saying that starvation is anything like what blondie was facing up in New York. His was pretty straightforward also, he had plenty of options that weren't being a boy toy and he took the easy road. Or, what he thought would be the easy road. Yet, I can imagine that pride would have made it pretty hard for blondie to ever come home and take Brian's money again, so once he got to New York and found out he couldn't survive, not the way he thought of surviving, he may have seen it as starvation, and Simon probably seemed like a lifesaver. Is that at all like me? Not in this reality, if you ask me, so I agree with you there." He grinned at me but I was too caught up in this perspective of relative hustling, I guess you might call it, even to try a smile. I nodded though, to encourage him to go on. Giving me another of those shrewd looks, he did.

"See, even though I don't think that everyone's reasons for their actions are equally 'good' on some cosmic scale, I'm smart enough to recognize that the choices people make aren't always as black and white. This is why Brian and me, we're smart and we survive, even if he survived a bit better than me. I think he recognizes that too. So, we can kid each other but we never draw blood. The truth is, you wanted to strike out against Brian today for your own reasons, ones that had nothing to do with me, and all to do with blondie. I can dig that, but if you're going to use me, at least be honest about it. Because as far as I'm concerned, Brian can say anything he wants to me. He's never treated me like I'm not as good as he is, and that's what matters. You never did either. It was one of the things I liked best about you when I met you...well, that and your gorgeous body." He gave me that leer again, but it switched to a glare. "But if you ever pull that kind of poor Hunter shit again, for your own reasons, or worse, for real, then we're going to have some problems."

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Fuck. He was right. I sat all the way up. I tried to word my apology the right way, no easy task. This really was my day for fucking up.

"Hunter, I didn't mean to use you, and I never meant to treat you as any less than me, or... fuck, I just keep screwing things up. Will you accept my apology and promise not to do it again?" I ran my hand through my hair.

He looked over at me, then quickly averted his eyes from the slipping towel after just a brief glance. I couldn't believe I forgot my undressed state in my concern for him. I quickly adjusted the towel, then pulled one of the pillows over for good measure, my hand shaking just a little bit. It really was cold in the room. Despite that, I could feel my flush spread. Seeing it, he rushed back into speech, his voice husky with emotion.

"Oh, don't look like that. It isn't the end of the world. Of course I accept your apology. I only meant for you to feel a teeny bit ashamed, not fucking mortified, so stop blushing. I love you, you know that. You could walk all over me and I'd just ask for more."

"All the more reason not ever to treat you badly or use you," I pointed out quietly, allowing him to think that my upset was all due to our conversation. A good part of it was, but in truth, I was also ready to jump out of my skin simply because I was sitting there almost naked with him and had just been reminded of his consciousness of my body. Which was ridiculous. This was Hunter, a kid ten years younger than me who would never dream of aggression against me and if he did, I could handle him easily. Yet, on some level, I was afraid. I couldn't forget what it felt like when my body wouldn't respond to my commands as I tried to fight Edward's blond gorilla. Moves I'd mastered years ago were beyond me and he toyed with me in that fight, deliberately increasing my frustration, as much to build my fear as to cause me pain. The pain I could take, it was the terror of my body not doing what I wanted it to do that was the true torture. I had nightmares about that still. I worried about the drug not being out of my system, of it causing the same reaction if I ever had to fight again. But I didn't tell anyone this; it made me too vulnerable.

I tried to concentrate on what Hunter was saying back to me but all I wanted to do was jump up, grab my clothes and run back into the bathroom to get dressed. I forced myself to breathe slowly.

"No argument here, I'm all for being treated well. And most of the time, ninety nine point nine percent of the time, in fact, you treat me better than pretty much anyone I know, except maybe Ben, who's a saint. Guess that means you aren't one after all? Damn. Cancel the halo. But as for everyone else, Michael means well, but let's face it, his actions are all pretty self-centered and he still looks like he wants to either wash his hands after touching me or check to see if his wallet is still there. He's there for the big gesture, like running away with me that time, or standing up to the school, but on day to day things, he's either jealous of the time Ben spends with me, or jealous of the time I don't spend with him, or wishes it were just the two of them without a teen around. You've really done a lot for me this past six months, with the music and school and everything. Hell, even the karate was smart, as it has helped my muscle mass, Ben says, and it provides a means for self defense."

Some self defense, I thought. Hunter, the eagle eye that he was, must have seen something in my face, because he pounced on the opening, and smoothly moved to his next topic. "If I didn't think we were real friends, I wouldn't dare confront you like this. I would think I'd be out of line. But I'm kind of trusting here that despite you being, well, kind of the Homecoming King of this little group, and me being the Littlest Hustler, as Brian calls me, that I can talk to you as an equal. So maybe we can talk some more, about some other things?"

I looked him in the eyes, those unflinching blue eyes that had seen a lot worse than I had, and I was pretty damn sure I didn't want to hear what he had to say. So, despite all the guilt he'd primed me with, I tried to brush him off lightly.

"You mean we aren't done yet? What more can there be to talk about? I admitted I was a jerk to Brian, and I'll tell him as much as soon as I see him. You gave me a lot to think about and I really appreciate it. We established that you love me and in case I didn't say it, I love you too, and I promise to try harder to be perfect but let's face it, Hunter, I'll probably continue to fall somewhere between Ben and Michael on the sainthood scale...."

He twisted his mouth, folded his arms and just waited. I shut up. He couldn't do that whole sardonic, one eyebrow raised expression that we O'Keefe males learn at puberty, but the kid had this kind of wounded dignity that worked much better when he needed it. I gave up trying to sit there any longer with just the fucking towel. I told myself I had nothing to prove and besides, it was cold. Yeah, and that's why sweat was beginning to form on my lip and forehead. I got up and shrugged casually. I wasn't going to be able to avoid this uncomfortable conversation but at least I would be clothed, damn it. Physical armor, if not emotional.

"Just let me throw on some sweats and then you can have your say. I'm not making any promises, other than to listen. You're probably the only one, you know, who could get away with this, brat, pushing me when I'm already in a bad mood, but I'm willing to admit I owe you and I pay my debts." I forced a smile to seem like I was kidding. Like I would ever be letting him press on if I didn't think I owed him for earlier.

"Maybe I'm the only one with big enough balls to ask?" he smirked, visibly relieved at my capitulation.

I smiled a genuine smile this time, wondering how my brothers and Brian would react to that comment if they heard it. Yet, there was an element of truth to it. Hunter had a certain fearlessness...Brian called it a death wish...that enabled him to rush in where big tough guys feared to tread. This certainly was one of those times. I wondered if this was his idea or if one of the dozens of well meaning friends and family sent Hunter to do the dirty work of confronting me. They'd all been tip-toeing around me for weeks, afraid to upset me, worried that they might bring up something that would trigger memories of that night. What did they think their treating me with kid gloves was doing? Even John, who never babied me, and actively mocked anyone else doing it, was acting like I was some kind of invalid. Every time I saw that look in their eyes, that cautious, worried look, I was taken back to that moment when they found me naked on that bed, helpless...unable to do anything to defend myself...waiting to be raped. Worried sick over Brian and even worried over what the fuck Edward was going to do with Justin once he was done with me and didn't need him for leverage anymore. I've told them I don't remember much and it's true. I don't remember the details of the events, but I remembered the emotions with gut churning clarity.

"It sucks to have had no control, huh?" Hunter's voice interrupted my thoughts and it took a lot of self control not to jump. I was still standing in front of my dresser, arms braced on the top, staring at the finish like it held the answers. God knew I didn't have them.

"How much do you know?" I bent to put the sweatpants on, turning so that neither Hunter nor the mirror got more than a side view. I was becoming really neurotic, I decided, if I was now avoiding mirrors, given how many of the fucking things I owned. Emmett teased me about it, called me Narcissus. Brian loved them, naturally. Averting my eyes, I forced myself to drop the towel and stand naked for a moment before stepping into the pants. In truth, even with Brian, I'd been avoiding being naked in daylight. Rationally, I knew my self-consciousness about my body was an understandable reaction to the "trauma," and should go away in time; I've taken enough psychology courses in my time to be able to figure that out. But knowing something intellectually, and actually believing it and acting on it are two very different things. I knew I was safe with Hunter, but I was this close to panicking merely by virtue of being undressed in the same room with him. Hell, there was nowhere I felt safer than with Brian, yet even with my lover, I waited until it was dark to take off my clothes. I could let him touch me, but I didn't want to see him looking at me as Edward had. I'd encouraged Edward's fetish with my body that night; fuck, I was desperate to do anything to buy time, so I vogued as much as I could in the condition I was in, and let him stroke my body. The memory made me sick. I still had nightmares of his eyes staring at me, those fingers tracing over my stomach and chest. I think I hated that even more than the more intimate touch, as he was just so damn possessive when he did it, like I was his doll or something. And I willingly subjected myself to that touch.

Even now, with the marks from the beating almost gone, I still can't drop a fucking towel without breaking into a sweat because I don't want someone admiring my body. Me, the guy who used to walk naked around locker rooms and dressing rooms all the time. It isn't like I've ever been a prude. I've been in my share of backrooms even if I don't like them. Hell, I danced on national television in a fucking thong that barely covered my cock and balls. But now I was flinching over an eighteen year old kid seeing a flash of skin?

I'm pathetic, that's all there was to it. I pulled on a soccer jersey and walked back to the bed. Flopping down on it, I looked at my protégé with a smirk. I could do this. If I could fool Brian for weeks, I could certainly fool Hunter well enough to get him off my back, I told myself.

"Okay, young grasshopper, have at me. What do you want to talk about? Besides the immense size of your testicles, that is?" I gave him my cockiest smile. I wasn't awarded the Triple Threat Award at Penn State for nothing; my acting is every bit as good as my singing and dancing. Guilt and pride could make me listen, but it only went so far. Pride also demanded that I not reveal too much and keep what I could of Hunter's respect. I was willing to use my "acting skill" to protect whatever dignity I had left, which didn't feel like much these days. Acting skill, right. That was Angel's term for lying. She perfected the art of creative deception to family and friends as she spiraled out of control. The recollection wasn't pleasant but I pushed it aside. My situation was completely different, I told myself. This wasn't like Angel.

Hunter hadn't answered when I asked what he knew, so I was guessing he knew everything that had happened. More than me, then. But I could tell from his suddenly tentative expression that he was reconsidering whether it was a good idea to bring any of it up with me at all. Well, if I could discourage him, I was going to do it. I looked fine, didn't I? I was fine. As he continued to hesitate, I jumped into the pause, talking easily.

"I love that you're worried about me, Hunter, even after my being a jerk with the diva moment earlier and ruining the get together. I do think it's ballsy of you not to be afraid to bring your concern right out in the open, as everyone else has just been acting weird around me but not saying anything. That's one of the reasons I asked about the gossip, I was trying to figure out what was going on with everyone. But seriously, I'm fine. I was kind of battered up in New York and admittedly a little shook up. I was letting my body heal and also, I wanted to spend time with Briana and work on my music. It hasn't been all that long, you know, since I got back, but...." My voice petered out. Fuck, I really did sound like Angel making excuses after one of her lost weekends. Did I want to be like that?

I watched him watch me. Damned if he didn't raise one eyebrow at me. Goes to show practice makes perfect.

"Cool, so you're okay with coming out with us tonight?"

"Tonight?" Thank God for a deep voice...it minimized the chance of embarrassing squeaks. It was close though.

"Fuck yeah, tonight." I continued to look at him blankly and he gave me one of his smart ass looks. "You know, tonight, that thing that comes after the day part of today."

I rolled my eyes at him. "It's kind of short notice, Brian's probably tired from working and then having that meeting...."

"Nah, it's just what he needs and besides, it's Friday so he can sleep in tomorrow. Tonight's a good time to relax, hang out with friends, go out. Since you're not having any problems coping with that loss of control, or what Oprah would call post traumatic stress, and you've just been staying close to home for three weeks to let your tan fade, along with your bruises...which excuse I don't buy, but we'll let that go, then you have no problem heading out to the clubs with a bunch of us tonight, right?"

Hunter's steady blue gaze looked me right in the eyes. Wonder why I ever thought he liked me? I took a deep breath. Then let it out. We sat there staring at each other while I searched my mind for an excuse not to go out to the clubs. Before I could come up with one that wouldn't be as pathetic as the truth, which was that I was afraid, he ended our staring contest. Turning away from me and stretching out on the bed, arms folding under his head, he looked up at the ceiling as he spoke quietly.

"You know, I kind of envy you this place. It's got everything you could want. Your music, your dancing and workout space. Your cat. The only people who come and go are people you like. The first time I got fucked, I was twelve. My mom's boyfriend did it. She was at work. There was no place I could go to lick my wounds afterward, no place to be alone that was safe. Our neighborhood wasn't exactly the kind of place you would hang out in alone as a twelve year old. Wasn't long after, when I told her what happened, that mom had her brainstorm about me hustling and adding to the family finances. And before you ask why didn't I go to a teacher or someone like that for help, believe me, I knew enough about what happened in family services in our area. If I was going to get fucked, I figured I might as well get paid for it. Eventually I got smart enough to start holding some of the money back from Mommy Pimpest. But, I didn't ever have anyplace you could call safe until Ben took me in. For the longest time after he did, though, I had trouble believing I really could close a door and lock it, or that there would be enough food the next day, or that I wasn't going to have to put out for one or both of them eventually. You know? I was sure that there was a catch somewhere, because no one was nice to you for nothing. At least not in my world since I'd been twelve. But, you aren't twelve, are you?"

"My God, Hunter..." I looked at him, appalled. "I didn't know." I searched for something to say, some words of comfort but stopped. What the fuck could I say? He'd had it right earlier. I had no conception of what real problems were. His brutal honesty shamed me out of my efforts to give him anything less than the truth. I just sat there with my arms around my knees and looked at him, not really sure of what to do next, but for the first time in weeks, more worried about someone else's emotions than with hiding my own. It felt strangely comforting to have back that feeling of wanting to help.

He looked at me, an incredibly sad expression on those mobile features of his. It wasn't a look I'd ever seen on him before. "I saw you look over at me when you first came into the room, Danny, and before you hid it, I saw the fear. I know that look because it's one I used to hide behind every minute of my life and I hated it. I would see it on the faces of the others when a new trick came up, and you wouldn't know if he was going to be okay, or if he would be someone sick, like that Rikert guy, someone who would be into hurting a kid. Me, I learned how to hide it, behind this smart mouth and my ugly mug, which was a good thing, because normally, the ones who get off on pain like seeing your fear. But, I hated seeing you, someone I've always seen as so perfect, so strong, and fearless, be afraid of anything, much less me. I always thought people like you were untouched by the uglier side of life and I was okay with that. I've been working it out in my head as I've been sitting here, and I guess it wasn't until now that I realized how unfair that was of me. I was guilty of doing kind of the same thing to you that I accused you of doing to me. Being judgmental, holding you to a false standard. I think that's maybe what you're afraid of people doing if you leave here. You don't want to see them looking at you like you've changed, like you're less somehow than you used to be, like you're not as perfect. Which is total bullshit, by the way."

I started to shake my head in denial and he stopped me. "No, wait, let me finish. I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I was wrong earlier to act like you didn't know what real problems were. Everyone's problems are real. I don't know what it's like to be you, to have your pressures, much less the kind of expectations on me that you've always had on you, to be the best at everything. Hell, if I manage to make it to the diner on time for my busboy shift I've met all expectations for the day. Sure, there are times when I think that your life seems golden. Great jobs, great car, clothes, looks, never a bad hair day, and we won't even talk about the hot lover. But I also know I never worked my ass off at anything like you did from the time you were Briana's age, so it isn't like you don't deserve all of what you've achieved, and more. Well, maybe not the hair, that's genetic, although you do take good care of it." He grinned at me from beneath his own unkempt hair. I smiled back half-heartedly.

"So, it doesn't take the IQs of two geniuses like us to know that loss of control to someone like me, who never had all that much control, is one thing. I'm a weed, you yank me up and toss me away, I just grow somewhere else. I'm resilient that way. For someone like you, who's fucking strong, you're more like some rare bird of paradise type flower or an orchid. Loss of control has to be a very different thing. The shock to your system must be harder to take. Sucks either way, but the acclimation factor is different, you know?" He grinned at me and this time I did return the smile.

"That is a terrible metaphor," I told him, punching him lightly. "I refuse to be a fucking orchid nor will I accept that you are a weed...though your hair does look like a dandelion head half the time...good hair days are not serendipity, you know, combs do have something to do with it."

He stuck his tongue out at me and I laughed. If nothing else he was cheering me up. I still wasn't crazy about the idea of going out, but I wasn't feeling panicked any longer. I tossed my brush at Hunter.

"Feel free to use it," I suggested. "You too can be a bird of paradise."

"Somehow I doubt it," he responded ruefully. "There's a reason why hair challenged gay men like Em and me love brushing yours...it's prettier. All thick and wavy, not thin and stringy like ours." I looked at him in surprise and he turned red. He rushed to change the subject, tossing the brush aside.

"Anyway, since you hate the flowers, let me try another analogy. I'm an English major now, I can do this for hours. There's also the Jack London factor. We're all wolves and the pack just loves to see an alpha go down. When Ted lost his job, as I understand it, everyone was worried about poor Teddy. How were they going to help him? They didn't see him as another wolf worth attacking. Hell, he could become a drug addict and they were supportive. But let Brian, the ultimate alpha, lose his job, due in no small part to blondie's stupidity, naturally, and even though Brian helped everyone out by sticking it to Stockwell, a lot of people were really gleeful that he was broke. Brian Kinney, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. The other wolves circled around, smelling blood. Of course, they'd all still kill to be with him on that mattress on the floor but that is beside the point. To blondie's credit, he did get the jerks to ante up some money to help pay Brian back for taking down Stockwell so he could start up Kinnetik, but for the most part, he had to bust his ass all over again. One little fundraiser and they all went back to their lives and left Brian to make it on his own." He shook his head, disgusted then pointed his finger at me.

"With you, the fickle pack of wolves loved you being the new alpha in town, showing up Brandon, winning the King of Babylon contest at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, being like a superstar at the Benefit, knowing Cher and all that supercool stuff. But they will also love to see you reduced to normal mortal. Less than mortal would be even better. It makes them feel better about their pathetic selves. That's why they've been circling around, waiting to rip you to shreds. Why else would they be eating up all the gossip? Shanda Leer was hurt and no one expected him to do anything but sit and lick his wounds for months. He couldn't even testify against the guys when they caught them. But you, you've been this too good to be true gay man, and they're all frothing at the mouth to find out that it was a facade. But, for perfectly selfish reasons, I don't want you to be defeated by this. I want my hero back. I want you dancing around half naked...or preferably, completely naked, with impunity, showing every fag in Pittsburgh that neither blondie nor the entire country of Denmark nor a Tribe of Amazon Lesbians, and especially not some old sick stalker, could ever take you down."

"But what if he did?" I asked, my voice as low as it goes.

"I still see you alive and well, and as far as I saw, you're as hot as ever," Hunter quickly answered. He leaned closer and I stopped myself from moving away. "I believe that you're stronger than that, Danny, stronger than anything Edward Simon or blondie could ever do. And I completely can't believe that you're going to take away from this HIV positive teenager his biggest reason for believing that anyone can achieve anything, and that no one and nothing can beat you if you don't let it." Hunter repeated back to me one of my Saturday morning mantras from our karate lessons.

I closed my eyes. "Damn, you don't play fair, do you?"

"Nope."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. I could do this. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go out to Babylon tonight. Brandon and Emmett are upstairs. By the way, your new designer clothes are being loaned out to those two. Brian had to run over to sign some papers at Kinnetik but said he would be back to take you to dinner if you would go with him. I text messaged him earlier and accepted the invite. You were in the shower for quite a while, you know. Your brother had a date with his ex-wife and said to tell you he'd talk to you tomorrow unless they stop by Babylon tonight and catch you there. That would be pretty funny, Johnny's mom is a lot of fun, hard to imagine her ever married to John. But it's even harder to imagine those two at Babylon, don't you think? Ben said he hoped you felt better and he would call you tomorrow as well but that was when he didn't know you'd be going out tonight." Hunter gave me a big grin after delivering all that without taking a breath.

"So, why don't you put on a fashion show for me and show me what hot outfit you're going to wear for your re-entry into gay nightlife and then we'll discuss how you're going to cope with the gossip."

I opened my arms and he readily moved over to give me a bone crushing hug.

"I think if you'd stop man-handling my lover, I'll take it from here. Spin control does happen to be one of the things I do best, remember," a voice from the doorway pointed out dryly.

"Not to mention man-handling," Hunter shot back at him, totally unfazed. He gave me another wide grin. "My cue to leave. See you later, hot stuff. Guess you'll have to dress yourself after all. I'll text you two later about plans for tonight." Hunter jumped off the bed. He wasn't usually so quick to make himself scarce simply because Brian showed up, but it probably was a good idea in this case. He gave me a wink before slipping out. Brian closed the door firmly behind him.

Brian stood there looking at me. I bit my lip, wondering how to proceed. I fixed my sight on a point above his shoulder and just launched into it.

"I know you think saying sorry is bullshit, but I'm..."

"Stop." He came over and sat down on the bed next to me. "Don't. You don't have to say you're sorry to me. It isn't that it's bullshit to wish you didn't say something, or to wish that you did something differently, fuck, I know that, but it's bullshit when people think that saying sorry makes it all better when they know they would make the same choice again, or when they keep doing the same thing over and over again. That isn't what you ever do. You don't have to worry about being sorry with me because I know that if you do something, you have a reason. You may later change your mind about the reason, or realize you were wrong, but at the time, it's what you're feeling and that's fine with me. Even when what you're feeling is mad as hell." He tipped my head toward him and gave me his tantalizing smile. "I kind of like the nasty, manipulative bastard side of you, makes us more equal, you know?"

I felt a grin tugging at my lips. "Yeah, but I shouldn't have dragged Hunter into it."

Brian looked thoughtful. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Seems like the manipulative little brat used it to good effect and guilt tripped you into some concessions he wanted. Am I right?"

I grimaced. "Of course you're right. The kid could be an O'Keefe, if we ever came in blond, that is. Seems I'm going out tonight. But it would help, Spin Meister, to have a plan to deal with all the stories that are floating around. I don't think just growling at people is going to cut it."

Brian leaned back against the headboard and pulled me close, one of our favorite positions. He didn't make any comment about the way I was over-dressed, for which I was grateful.

"Does Hunter really insist on it being tonight, or do you think he would agree to tomorrow if I tell him it is my idea?" Brian asked casually.

A wave of relief passed over me. I tried to answer equally casually. "I kind of promised tonight but as long as the delay is coming from you, I think he would be okay with it. Why?"

Brian pulled my head back and kissed me. I held onto him, my hands resting lightly on his shoulders as our lips met, our tongues darting out to taste each other, neither of us taking it past the long, slow kiss. Eventually he lifted his head to answer me. I almost pulled his head back down, but I was eager to confirm that I really was getting a stay of execution.

"One, because one more day won't make a rat's ass difference as the gossip goes but it will give you that much more time to prepare yourself mentally. I can tell you're already drained from today's bullshit. Take the time tomorrow to go to the spa with Em, get waxed, tanned, deep conditioned, whatever the fuck it is you two do there. I spoke to Alphonse while I was gone, on the off chance you would be willing to head over there and he promised me that he would see no one else but you and Em. He'll take care of you himself and his assistant will do Em, so you won't be alone, but there won't be strangers around. I'll come by too if you want."

Brian said all this matter of factly. We'd never talked about my "issues" but I guess there was no need; he knew me well enough to know what they were. Hunter may have made me face them but the kid was right when he said that on some basic level, Brian knew what this felt like and instinctively knew how to help. I rested my head down against his chest, nuzzling my face against his neck. Looking my best would help me face the crowds. He smiled slightly and continued in the same businesslike tone.

"Two, I have some plans for smoothing the way, taking some of the pressure off of you. I kind of thought you might be ready to make your re-entry into the social whirl, or such that it is, around here, and contacted your buddy Lane, who has been calling me to check on you."

"Etienne? He's been calling you?"

"He was worried when he heard through the gay grapevine about Simon's death, and of course, about George, and with your phone being forwarded, he called Cynthia who passed him on to me. He told me to pass on his love, blah blah blah, but also to say that if there was anything he could do, he'd be here on the next plane. He's been on call since then, so tonight I'll call and take him up on his offer. He can serve as a distraction to the vultures tomorrow night. We'll have him come in with us and make a splash. I'll leave it to the two of you to plot and direct the details. Three, if you're willing, I'd like to kill two birds with one stone, and end all of the gossip, but only if you're in complete agreement. You're the top priority. Which would mean for number four, we have Miguel..."

"Wait, go back a step." I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him. "What exactly was number three?"

Brian's arms tightened around me. Normally a nice feeling, it was a bad sign in this context. I shifted so I could look him in the eyes.

"You're trying to sneak something in on me. And it isn't about Etienne, which is a good idea. I'll be glad to see him and he will be a distraction for everyone at Babylon, they're such sluts for a celebrity. He'll play to it too, if I ask him to. But you don't like him, so for you to willingly subject yourself to him..."

"Did it occur to you that maybe I can put what's best for you first?" Brian looked innocent. I wasn't buying it.

"All the time. But that isn't it, is it? And four had to do with Miguel." I thought for a minute, searching his face. "Taylor. You want us to help Taylor too, don't you? Fucking hell, Brian."

I moved away from him. He didn't try to hold onto me as he would have before, but I was glad he didn't because I didn't trust my reaction if someone, even Brian, tried restraining me when I really wanted to move away. I got up and paced. He just stayed quietly watching until I calmed down. Finally I turned back to him.

"What do you have in mind? Do I have to talk to him? Dance with him? Take him to the back room? How far do I have to go to convince everyone that Justin and I are best buddies?"

Brian just sucked in that gorgeous bottom lip and waited on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, long legs stretched out, hazel eyes looking at me patiently. No judgment in them for the childish temper tantrum I was throwing. It struck me that it would be a much better way to conduct this conversation if I were on the bed with him instead of storming up and down the room, flinging accusations. Heaving a sigh, I walked back over.

"This time does warrant an 'I'm sorry,' I'm thinking, based on those rules for saying sorry that you explained earlier. My temper has been totally out of control lately, and for that, I am truly sorry. You're trying to help, and I appreciate it. Seeing Etienne again will be nice. Talking about the movie will be a good distraction from all the...it will be good. The score is completely done and mixed. One benefit of my staying locked in here is I've been very productive." I smiled at Brian, and saw him respond, a grin tugging at his gorgeous mouth. Ah, the benefits of dimples. To think I used to hate them when I was younger and didn't know how to use them to good effect yet. Of course, Mama always used to swear I knew how to use my dimples to get my way from my cradle, but I can remember beating up kids who teased me about them in grade school and going one whole year trying not to smile so they wouldn't show. It wasn't until I was older I learned the fascination they had for some people. Like Brian.

He ran his thumb over my cheek now, as I sat next to him on the bed. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to do, or would find embarrassing. You've done more than enough for Justin and I agree that you owe him nothing. No doubt he would be welcome to stay a hermit for all you should care. I'm not even sure I care anymore."

Liar, I thought, but left that one alone. Brian continued to caress my face, moving his hand back to comb through my hair at times, as he spoke softly, "But for your sake, to end the rumors, I think the two of you have to appear to get along. The assholes all think they know what happened. Brandon was smarter than me in this instance. By circulating even more ridiculous rumors, he made a mockery of the gossip mongers, but now the best way to end the bullshit is to show both of you looking fine, and while not best friends, hell, you never were that, at least show that the two of you can be civil. Or even cheerfully obnoxious to each other. But not that either one of you is the other's victim."

Brian watched me carefully as he said those last words. Of course, that was the crux of it. Was I going to let myself be a victim, much less Justin fucking Sunshine Taylor's victim? "I was stupid, and let him drug me, Bri." I couldn't look Brian in the eye as I whispered the fact that was one of the most shaming facts to me. How many times had Brian warned me never to let myself be drugged by someone? I should have known better. I did know better.

"Danny, you trusted a drink that he gave you, and no doubt you told yourself that it was safe to do so, after all, he was 'Brian's Justin' and would never do anything to actively harm you. Try to take me from you, sure, but to physically harm you would seem outside the realm of possibility. Both conceptually and practically. We all were focusing on Simon as the risk, that we never ever considered Justin as one of his tools for inflicting harm. He was, and I believe still is, a basically decent human being. He goes after what he wants with a single mindedness that can be ruthless, but he is not cruel."

Again, I had my doubts, given some of the stories I'd heard, but I kept my silence. This was Brian's turn and I would listen.

"None of us gave weight to the circumstances under which he had been living. Apparently his paradigm for acceptable behavior had shifted exponentially while living down that rabbit hole. You've been beating yourself up for making a mistake and 'letting' yourself get drugged. It was a fucking sealed bottle, Danny, I saw it and I heard Simon brag about it. There was no way you could have known. Even I would have taken a drink like that from Edward himself, much less Justin. And while the ugly fact is that Justin did know the water was drugged, you didn't know. So, what do you do with that fact now? Do you accept that he was just stupid, and thought he could play a nasty prank on you and have his wicked way with you, in hopes of causing trouble between us, never intending the consequences that did occur, which I'm fairly sure of, since they included his getting hurt. Or do you think he planned to put himself in the position of being Simon's pawn, and alive only incidentally as part of your rescue? Oh, and not raped and brutalized because you once again were the hero? If that was Justin's plan it was a really bad one."

"I didn't care for it myself," I agreed dryly.

I surprised a laugh out of Bri. He tilted his head. "Well, do I try to browbeat 'sunshine' into coming to the coming out party or not? It's up to you, and quite frankly, I don't foresee it being all that easy. He's in the middle of a major pity party himself."

Ah, that hurt. I raised my eyebrow. "How dare he have a pity party? Doesn't he know that's my gig?" Brian grinned and hugged me. This time the kisses lasted longer before I lifted my head.

"You must be feeling fairly confident that young Hunter paved the way for you if you can make cracks like that last one. I've not been having a pity party...not much. I've been dealing with...things." Brian plucked at my jersey. I flushed.

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly. "Danny, it's going to be okay. Miguel and Juan will be there to keep Justin out of your hair. They're down for the will reading anyway and wanted to see you and Emmett. I told them maybe we could do lunch someplace quiet, away from the gayborhood, not the diner, but not here either, okay? Just to get you out first. The morning is for your spa time. Etienne will meet us here to head over to the club together, with Em, Brandon, Hunter. Daphne, Jamie, Miguel and Juan will come in with Justin. Ted, Blake, Mikey and Ben will be there already for whoever gets there first. I know that a lot of your musician friends want to be there too. They've been calling the office and leaving messages. We can drop the word around and they'll stop by after their shifts are over at their various clubs to give you moral support. Gabe and the other dancers, Greg, and those guys, none of them have been part of the gossip by the way, they all have been asking after you. They've mentioned wanting to be around when you come back to 'put these gossiping queens in their place.' So, if you're ready, that will be tomorrow. But it will require you to be able to be out there dancing and strutting your stuff, you know. Not flinching. If you can't do it, then we just start slow, with the lunch and some quiet dinners and save Babylon for another time."

I looked around my bedroom. The late October sun was still coming through the windows, giving plenty of light. Slowly, I pulled my soccer jersey over my head and tossed it aside. Standing up, I watched Brian as he watched my hands go to the waistband of my sweatpants. I only paused a second, or three, before pulling them down and stepping out of them. I swallowed nervously as I stood in front of him then closed my eyes and focused, trying to recapture the confidence I used to feel before heading out on the runway in the tiniest bathing suit D&G could imagine. I was beautiful, damn it, and Edward couldn't take away my pride and enjoyment in that. I threw back my shoulders and tilted my hips forward.

"Like what you see?"

"Always...come here." The lightest of pulls brought me down on top of Bri and his strong arms wrapped around me, his hands roaming across my bare back and ass, the denim from his jeans rough against my thighs and his wife beater soft against my chest. I pressed against him.

"You're the one who's over-dressed now," I murmured into his mouth.

"Fuck, Danny..."

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

(POV/Brian)

I sat up in bed watching Danny sleeping after we made love. It was still too early to go to sleep for the night but he wasn't sleeping well a lot of the time so needed these cat naps. We'd probably get up and watch a movie later. I debated heading out to the kitchen for some food but there was something comforting about just holding him while he slept. Keeping him safe. He really was the most incredibly beautiful man. I hated that he seemed to have lost his pleasure in that. It was always something we both took for granted, a natural part of him, like his voice or his athletic ability. When he first stripped for me, I thought maybe I'd pushed too hard. He looked so vulnerable and unsure of himself when he took the jersey off, and it was worse when he took his pants off. I wanted to cover him up, protect him. It seemed wrong to see him as a sexual person when he looked so frightened.

But then, it was like he drew from something inside himself, some inner fire lit up. The old Danny came back, and I was rock hard within seconds. It's like he sends out pheromones or something. Despite his brave performance though, he still grabbed his jersey afterward, mumbling he was cold. It was big enough to be a nightshirt and I wondered if it was his or an old one of his brothers. Luke's maybe? Whatever he needed, for as long as he needed. Eventually he'll get back to himself. Now that I felt sure that he was heading in the right direction, he could have all the time he needed.

Danny complements me. He's my equal, and more, but we aren't the same. He's tougher than me in so many areas, but in others, he's so fragile it scares me. I think Hunter sees both sides of him, and it's why the kid is so protective of him. Most of my life, sex was just sex to me. If I were forced to do something I didn't want, I'd be pissed as hell, but as long as I didn't catch something like AIDS, I'd move on. Get even if I could. Hell, I have been forced. It wasn't like my gym teacher...well, that's a memory lane I don't ever choose to walk down. But even as an adult there have been times at parties, orgies really, where things have gotten out of hand. Things happened that were not completely consensual. Would have been nice to have known some of Danny's martial arts. But you push it out of your head and move on, lesson learned. Hunter is like that. He was forced to do a lot of nasty shit at way too young an age. If he were to think about it, he'd go insane, I'm guessing. Maybe I seem cruel to joke about it, but to me, the only way to cope with that kind of shit is to treat it like a fucking cosmic joke. Like cancer. If I had spent time thinking about what was happening to my body and all the shit the doctors did to me in the name of treatment, I'd probably have off'd myself. Hunter gets that. Thank god for that, because he's a decent kid who didn't deserve the crap that Danny's loving god served up to him.

But Danny isn't like us. He believes in people, and in God, the one with the capital "G", and yeah, he believes in romance. He's not into romance like Justin was, flowers and candles with a picnic on the floor. He believes in it as holding something of yourself back, saving it for that one person who makes your life complete. If that had been taken from Danny against his will, he would have been really...I don't know how to describe it. Something would have been broken in him that might not have been fixable. It's not that he wouldn't have gone on, he would have, but the romantic in him that has survived so much would have been lost. As it was, with all that has happened, it was hanging on by a thread.

I brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. The same quixotic spirit that made Danny throw himself between two huge opposing players on the soccer field to protect me from injury led him to throw himself between Justin and Simon's minion. While Danny wouldn't have wanted anyone to be harmed, I knew he did that in large part because of what Justin meant to me. It occurred to me that George was probably the same type of person. Willing to do anything to protect someone special to his lover. I wasn't sure if Danny had put those pieces together yet, and I wasn't about to do it for him, especially since John hadn't raised it and I was damn sure John had figured it out. But Danny still hadn't coped with George's death and I wasn't about to give him something new to deal with about Luke, whom he had worshiped like a second father. But it was pretty clear, from hints John had dropped, as well as some things the cousin from England said, that George and Luke O'Keefe had been more than very close friends. Luke had never set off my gaydar, the few times I'd been around him, but I did remember that he was as sexy as hell. It made sense, really, that George spent all those years with Simon not out of loyalty to a madman or to a cousin, but as a way to protect his lover's family from his own crazy family member.

What I had trouble understanding was why, if he was gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck he was, Luke never admitted it to Danny. Hell, he was one of the ones Danny had to confront when he was just sixteen. As I remembered it, Luke had been one of the ones Danny feared telling the most. His big, brave, green beret brother. The family hero. Danny was so afraid that Luke would be ashamed of him like his father was, and relieved when Luke, what the hell had his reaction been? There were so many of them it took me a minute to search my memory; I almost woke Danny up to ask him. That would have been hard to explain, I thought. Hey, Danny, no particular reason, but do you remember how your brother Luke reacted to your coming out over a decade ago? Anyway, as far as Joey and Jamie, I was there for them and they weren't so bad. John was pissed off and didn't talk to him for weeks until Michelle calmed him down. Matt and Mark talked to him at length about it, taking him for long walks he told me, asking questions about children and was he sure he wanted to give up what they had. But, they responded with kindness at least, mixed with confusion.

But Luke, Danny told me that Luke had laughed. That was it. Luke had laughed, much to the annoyance of the others. After reassuring the other brothers that he realized Danny was serious, he told them that he didn't see what the big deal was. "It just gives the lad a larger pool of people to fuck. Trust our Danny to figure that out. Always said he was the smartest."

Perhaps that should have been a clue right then as to where Luke's head was. Yet, Luke never suggested that he was anything other than one hundred percent heterosexual. Fifteen years older than Danny, he was mentor, father figure, hero. How different might Danny's life have been if Luke had come out to his family the way his littlest brother had? But then, maybe Danny wouldn't have needed me as much as he did.

Pulling my man closer, I closed my eyes. After all this time, I should know better than to second guess fate. If I hadn't left Babylon when I did that night, would I have seen Justin under that street light? If I hadn't gone to the prom, would Hobbs still have attacked him? If I hadn't chosen that particular trick to blow me, would my cancer have been found in time? If I hadn't tried to be everything I thought Justin wanted, would we have gone through with the commitment ceremony after all...and would we have lasted longer than any of the other times we lived together? If I hadn't taken Daphne to the Westin for her birthday, would Danny and I ever have hooked up? My life seemed to turn on so many fucking flukes, lucky and unlucky, that the night at Simon's, when we all could have died and didn't, just seemed like par for the course. I decided to catch some rest while I could because there was no telling what tomorrow would bring.

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

(Setting: Danny's Townhouse and Babylon; Saturday Night; POV/Brian)

"Danny, you almost ready to go?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Emmett called back from the bedroom, "perfection cannot be rushed."

I snorted at the closed door. "Fucking southern faggot."

The Frenchman chuckled.

"Indeed, I doubt that you should blame the good Emmett for the delay. I can remember so many times that we would be late because Danny had to change his outfit eight or nine times, and each time, it would require he fix his hair again. Whenever he is nervous, he must fuss over his raiment. At least he has Emmett to assist him or we could be waiting much longer. One thing is of a certainty, however, the wait will be worthwhile, as you can be assured that when he does emerge, Daniel will have achieved perfection."

I tried to look pleasantly at Lane. He was here at my invitation, after all, to help Danny. But I didn't like the guy. I especially didn't like his way of always bringing up his past with Danny. Yeah, you were lovers, I know, now drop it. He's mine now. I tried to make nice with the man.

"Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. It's nice of you..."

He waved off my words. "It is a pleasure always for me to see Daniel. Of course I would want to help him now. I was horrified to hear about George's death...not so much about Edward Simon, of course. That man was evil. That he tried to harm Daniel yet again...incredible. I always told Daniel that he took Simon too lightly, that the man was insane, but he did not believe anyone could be that heartless. He feared him, yes, but still could not resist pulling the tiger's tail, to show he was not afraid, if you know what I mean? And George. It is a pity. A waste of a good man. But now you are smart, as always, Brian, to look to Daniel's reputation. It can not be spread around that he has lost his nerve, his joie de vivre. Not when his career is poised to take off. The small part he filmed for me in September, he steals the film in his fifteen minutes! I have a new script for him, and I know he will be swimming in offers when this movie is released."

Ah, no wonder Lane was so ready to come out here when I called. It wasn't that he still harbored hopes of rekindling things with Danny, but as I'd suspected before, that he expected Danny to become a hot property and wanted a part of him. Danny's bit part in Lane's action movie, that of the doomed young soldier who sacrifices himself for the squadron in a flashback and is the inspiration for the present day heroics of the team of mercenaries, was the highlight of the movie. Once focus groups pointed out that the movie went downhill after his part was over, Lane added some scenes and re-edited the movie so that the "flashbacks" continued throughout the film. Thus, the young soldier was given a romance with the leading lady and she spent a lot of time thinking about her lost lover. Much to Danny's amusement and the true leading man's annoyance, Danny was being featured in the advertising as one of the romantic leads for the movie. Of course, the firm in charge of advertising for the film had something to do with that decision, as well as the fact that Danny looked a hell of a lot better in the promos with his shirt off than the old guy who played the other lead. Sex sells.

Finally, the bedroom door opened. Lane and I both looked over expectantly...and Emmett came out.

"What, no applause?" He grinned at us. "Just kidding. Let me now present to you, the multi-talented, absolutely gorgeous star of stage, screen, runway, dance floor..." Danny stood behind Em and leaned against the door jam, rolling his eyes as the ridiculous fairy paused and tried to come up with even more nonsense to spew.

"You are going to let me out of the bedroom sometime tonight, right?" Danny purred in Em's ear as the pause dragged out too long.

"Ooo, what a straight line," Emmett cooed back at him.

Meanwhile, the two of us in the living room were silent, staring appreciatively at the perfection that had been achieved.

Danny was wearing a loose cut, cream colored, raw silk shirt, open to his waist, which showed off his tanned, cut abs, and chest. The sleeves were rolled up, displaying his biceps and muscular forearms. The pants were creme colored also, a soft brushed suede, and were cut so low they rode below his pelvis and barely covered his ass. His hair was worn back in a braid. Soft leather boots and jade jewelry completed the look. Totally fuckable.

"Well?" he asked.

"Makes me want to play Indians and Indians," I told him.

"Oh goodie, that's what we were aiming for!" Emmett squealed as Danny smiled.

"The creme with your dark hair and tan looks lovely, Daniel," Lane told him warmly. Danny walked over and after only a slight hesitation, submitted to a hug and kiss.

"Je suis heureux de te voir, Etienne."

I made a noise as Lane started to chatter back in response to Danny's simple comment that it was nice to see him. They glanced over.

"English would be nice," I said mildly. "For Emmett's sake?"

"But of course," Lane quickly agreed, with a smile and nod to Emmett. "Hello again, my friend Emmett. I was just offering my deepest sympathy to the little one here over the death of his friend George, but I know he would not want to talk any more of such things now. We shall head out to Babylon, oui? Brian has been checking his watch every two minutes so I know he is eager to dance with Daniel. May I hope you will dance with me, dear Emmett?"

Emmett looked like he had died and gone to heaven.

"Let me just go powder my nose and we can leave in a jiffy," he promised.

Lane excused himself to make a phone call, stepping into the kitchen for privacy. I pulled Danny close. After a long hot kiss, spent holding those slim hips close to mine until I could feel his cock pressing firmly against me, I lifted my head

"You ready?"

He laughed and pressed our foreheads together. "I think you've ruined the line of these pants, actually, so no...maybe we could delay our leaving a little longer? I can tell Etienne and Em we'll meet up with them there?" His voice was hopeful.

"I don't think so, much as I'd prefer a night in with you to another night with the masses at Babylon. You do look fantastic, by the way. I didn't see this stuff on the runway so you must have gotten it from their private collection? Lane is right, it suits your coloring and is completely different from your normal dark colors. All eyes will be on you despite Mr. Oscar winner I suspect...can you handle that?"

I got the dimpled smile back at me. "This is from their upcoming stuff, still on the drawing board. I'm glad you like it. And I think you're capable of garnering a few looks yourself, Brian Kinney. Those 501s and that black wife beater with the designer shirt haven't failed you yet. Etienne will draw his own crowd, he always does. It's kind of fun to watch, actually, now that it no longer affects me. I think men believe that cock size is directly proportional to nose size."

"What's that about cocks and noses?" Emmett was back.

"Ask Etienne," Danny told him with an impish smile as his hawk nosed former lover re-entered the room.

"Come on, let's move this party on out," I ordered as Emmett looked at the Frenchman speculatively.

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

The ride over in Lane's limo was pleasant. A call to Daphne revealed that their little team was almost on their way as well. She reported that Justin had taken about as long to get ready as Danny had, with Juan serving Em's role as cheerleader.

"Jamie's going to deserve some type of medal," Danny commented, "for services above and beyond the call of duty as a boyfriend and a brother after tonight. Justin is barely civil to him at the best of times, so I can just imagine how much fun he's having now, with his fiancee playing nursemaid to her little best friend while he gets to hang out and get ogled by hundreds of horny gay men."

"Jamie loves admiration of all types, he'll manage," I told him. "Besides, Cynthia is coming tonight. He can always flirt with her if he gets too lonely."

Danny frowned. "No, he can't. That wouldn't be right. Not as an engaged man. It wouldn't be fair to Daphne."

I looked at him, surprised. Sometimes he had the weirdest ideas of propriety. He could flirt with Daphne, and she could flirt with me, but Jamie couldn't flirt with Cynthia? I decided to let it go. Maybe it had something to do with his perceptions of availability and genuine interest. Which, thinking about it, made sense. I would be more pissed at him flirting with Lane than with him flirting with Cynthia.

We pulled up in front of the club. Lane's giant of a driver opened the door for us.

"Break a leg, Mr. Danny." The big man grinned and clasped Danny on the shoulder.

Danny gave him a hug in return. "Thanks, Eli. You'll be coming in after you park the limo, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be keeping an eye on you, as Mr. Lane asked. So dance pretty for me in those little pants." The giant winked. Danny seemed cheered by the thought. It never failed to amaze me how many protectors Danny seemed to pick up. This one looked to be close to seven feet tall and well over three hundred pounds of muscle. I seemed to recall that he helped Danny out once before during the Babylon Benefit rehearsals.

Lane was shaking his head. "Thank you, Eli. Please do exactly that. Keep an eye on Danny and of course, myself, and make sure the crowd stays polite."

"We do have well trained security," I told him, slightly miffed.

Lane smiled. "I'm sure you do, but Eli is a studio necessity for me, an insurance requirement, you understand, whenever a movie is still unfinished. His keeping an eye on Daniel is merely a personal matter; they have an old connection you understand." He held his hands out. "I don't interfere with these things. An extra pair of eyes keeping watch over Daniel in such a crowd, could it hurt?"

He had a point. Looking at the Frenchman's face, I suspected that insurance requirements or not, if the shit hit the fan, Eli was under orders to get Danny to safety. I suddenly liked the man more than I had before. He may have gone too far before in his efforts to get Danny back into his life, and bed, but I believed he truly cared for him. Stephen Lane might be a selfish bastard, but Etienne Lanier loved Danny O'Keefe and would probably do anything to keep him safe and happy.

The thumpa thumpa music washed over us as we stepped into the club. Danny tensed for a second as heads, turning in their usual way to check out who just came in, immediately reacted to seeing him.

"Steady, mon enfant, you are on," Lane whispered. Chin up and shoulders back, Danny walked down the steps of the new wide entrance into the club, holding my hand. We headed straight out onto the dance floor as planned, Lane and Emmett following. As we started dancing, Brandon and Hunter, who had decided it would be better to be part of the crowd already here, came over, filling in some of the open space that had opened up around the four of us. Ted and Blake soon joined them. Two of Danny's dancers from the summer whose names I didn't know came over and after giving him a quick hug, joined in the close group forming around us.

So far so good. There was no sign of Justin yet. My ear for gossip was telling me that the tenor of the conversation around us was positive although I wasn't catching any of the specific comments yet. After a couple of songs, Danny switched over to one of the real dancers and I was able to move to the edges of the floor with Ted. Cynthia joined us, with a Beam for me. Good. Time to catch up with gossip and quench my thirst. That real dancing shit was hard work.

"Okay, staff, report. What's the buzz in the ranks? And where is Justin?" I quizzed them in a low voice. "You first Cynthia, although Schmidt took enough breaks from dancing he should have a full briefing ready."

"Just getting info for you, boss, anticipating your needs," he protested. "It isn't like I'm here trying to enjoy myself with my boyfriend." Cynthia and I just laughed at him. Ted hated dancing; he would probably want battle pay for doing it at all. I looked at her and raised my eyebrow.

"It's exactly what you would want, Brian. Danny is hotter than ever, the two of you look great together, to the teeth gnashing of some, and the sighs of the romantics. The stories that have had him cowering in his home, or in a hospital or mental ward, or wherever else they had him have pretty much been debunked. The choice of almost white clothes has him looking so sexy, yet sweet, also seems to be working on a subliminal level. Most people are now scoffing at the idea that he could have done anything to Justin, although a few are still asking, 'but where is Justin then.'"

"Pretty much what I heard, Boss. Even, and I hate to say this, from your best friend, despite Ben's strong efforts to convince him of the truth, and Hunter's almost coming to blows with him. Michael is still making comments to the effect of, 'well, something must have happened between the two of them, and if Danny didn't do anything to Justin up in New York, why isn't Justin out there dancing?' That is the worst of what I've heard. Most people seem to figure that maybe Justin just doesn't want to have anything to do with anyone down here anymore, same as before you all went to New York for his show. That's the spin Hunter's been pushing and most people accept it. It has the advantage of truth. Justin hasn't been here for months so why anyone should be looking for him to come now is ridiculous, except for Michael and Debbie, who never gave up on you two getting back together for some reason."

Before I could answer there was another stir at the door. Justin was making his entrance, dressed all in black, framed by his identical twin escorts, also in black.

"I must say, as an entrance, that isn't bad," a deep amused voice whispered in my ear. "There's just something about twins, you know? But I'm not sure about the black, do you think he has the looks to carry off a bad boy motif?"

"Perhaps he intends it as irony?" I suggested, relieved that Danny's reaction was one of amusement. Miguel and Juan certainly seemed to be playing it up. I bet Juan were wishing he had a long mustache to twirl, or maybe six shooters. His bright smile lit up his face as he surveyed the crowd. His twin exuded a totally different attitude; Miguel tossed his head back in a challenge as he returned the stares unsmilingly. Standing behind them, Daphne was biting her lip nervously, poor kid, while Jamie had one of those patented O'Keefe expressionless looks on his handsome face.

The music had stopped and we were across the suddenly empty dance floor from the group at the entranceway. Justin's eyes met mine, and he just stood there, frozen, as first Juan, and then Miguel tried to move him forward.

"Come on, sonnyboy, you can do it," I murmured. I could feel Danny's gaze on me and flushed. Old habits die hard. I deliberately turned and asked Ted if he knew when the Liberty Travel campaign would be ready.

"Brian, don't be an ass. I'm not going to freak if you help him," he said quietly. Ah, but you'll mind, I thought. I felt Danny's arm squeeze mine and then he gave a big sigh.

"Never say I don't love you," he grumbled as he headed across the dance floor toward the men in black.

Just as Danny decided to take matters into his own hands, some clown decided it would be funny to play the theme music from "High Noon." Juan laughed and gave Justin a teasing push forward so that he was able to meet Danny, if not midway, at least a couple steps into the room. Danny, using his voice skills, was able to pitch his comments so they carried to at least the edge of the crowd...which was enough. By the end of the night, everyone would know that Danny O'Keefe and Justin Taylor were on the best of terms.

"Hey, about time you got here, you ready to dance? If I can tear you away from your twins, that is, or they can join us. I've always wanted my own set of twins, you lucky thing."

I couldn't hear Justin's answer but he did manage one of his big smiles. Danny motioned the Martinez brothers over and yelled for the DJ to switch to something they could dance to or they'd be kicking his ass to high noon. That got a laugh from the watching crowd. Quite frankly, I would make sure Ted had a talk with that DJ anyway. But, with that, the big moment was over. All that angst and it was done with a few steps across a dance floor.

I watched the four of them dancing as I sipped my drink. In a few minutes I would go retrieve Danny. He had smoothly moved from Justin to Juan after the requisite couple of minutes dancing to show the crowd that the two of them were obviously on good terms. Brandon and Lane joined them and the six of them danced well enough to entertain the masses. Danny, Brandon, and Juan Martinez had real dance skill and made the other three, who were merely good dancers, look professional. Together, they were so good most of the other people just stood around and watched.

For all that I set this all up, that was the extent of my role tonight. Fortunately I realized in time, before I fucked things up, that it was important that I not be the one to take those steps over to Justin or even watching his back. He had new friends to help him, and old friends to guide his steps, but I had to let him go. I would always love Justin, and I was fortunate that I had a new love who understood and accepted that. But for Justin's sake, for my sake, and most of all, for Danny's sake, I could no longer be the one helping him find himself on the road to manhood.

Link to Patching Christmas Back Together which chronologically follows this chapter.

Return to Better Friends and Lovers