For Love of Justin

The Kindness of Strangers, Emphasis on Strange

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Brian managed to run a sub-six minute pace to the tan brick house he recalled seeing in the woods about a mile and a half back along the road; a remarkable feat considering the dead weight of the blond in his arms and the now pouring rain that made keeping his footing difficult. The wonders of adrenaline, he thought, glancing down at the pale face pressed against his chest. The blue eyes were still shut so even the cold water beating down on him was not reviving the boy. Brian tried to quicken his pace as he drew closer to the house's well-kept lawn. He ran up the driveway and leaped onto the porch; at least they were finally out of the rain.

"Hello, is anyone home?" he called out loudly. He laid Justin down onto a padded bench located near the screened door that led to the inside of the house. It was dark inside, but he could hear the sound of a television set playing somewhere in the recesses of the home. He rapped briskly on the door's metal frame, as he maintained a constant pressure on the doorbell, all the while keeping a worried eye on the fallen runner. Justin showed no sign of waking.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming, I'm coming! Where are your manners? What do you think I am? One of those crazy joggers? Give a girl time to get her legs moving, why don't you? " An elderly woman came into view from the dark depths of the house's back room, moving at a snail's pace, leaning on a cane. She peered out at Brian. He didn't give her any time to speak further, but launched into his pitch, hitting her with his most earnest look.

"Ma'am, I am really sorry to bother you, and I apologize for being rude, but this is an emergency. My friend and I, we're from the University, we were out running and he collapsed. I need to call an ambulance right away. Could I borrow your phone or could you please place the 911 call for me?" Brian indicated Justin with a wave of his hand.

"Well, he doesn't look so good, does he?"

"No, ma'am, he doesn't, would you please call 911?" Brian asked again, a little more urgently.

"What do you think is wrong? Looks like he's probably dehydrated to me … how far did you say you ran?" The woman opened the door and came out to peer more closely at Justin's prone form. She was all of about four foot, ten inches tall, and perhaps a hundred and forty pounds, with a deep chest, and bird like legs; she had a hawk-like nose, gray-white hair and a forceful, sharp voice. Great, just my luck, I run into a miniature Bea Arthur, Brian thought, running his hands through his hair. She spoke again, decisively.

"Go into the kitchen and grab a Pedialyte out of the refrigerator, that will get him some fluids and sugar, plus electrolytes," she barked at Brian. "Go on, don't just stand there, you pretty men are all alike, all looks and no brains, you're a dead ringer for my third husband, he was a runner too and didn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain."

Brian didn't want to waste time arguing with her so he ran into the house to get the Pedialyte, and to look for a phone. He didn't see one quickly and decided getting the fluids into Justin was a priority so he decided to take the drink back out to him rather than continue to look for a phone in the cluttered interior of the house. He found the six pack of small Pedialyte bottles in the refrigerator, as promised, and grabbed all of them. When he got back outside, the woman had Justin's head on her lap and was holding it up so that they could try to get some of the fluid into him.

"Come on, baby, try to drink some," the old woman crooned to Justin. She reached out a hand imperiously, and then tipped the bottle Brian handed her just a little bit, dribbling some of the fluid into the boy's partially open mouth. "That's a good boy, a little more now." To Brian's amazement, she seemed to be getting a response out of him. Bit-by-bit, Justin started to respond, until he was consciously swallowing from the bottle. Brian handed her a second bottle before being asked. Midway through it, Justin started to cough.

"Ugh, what is this shit?" With that, he gagged and sat up completely. Brian collapsed onto his knees in relief, and leaned against the porch rail, resting his head on his forearm. The elderly lady was beaming.

"See, what did I tell you? He was just a little dehydrated, and probably glycogen deprived as well! When did you last eat, or more importantly, drink anything, blondie?"

"Uhh, I had a bagel for breakfast, and a coke for lunch, with a soft pretzel." Justin answered somewhat dazedly. He was shivering a bit.

"What the fuck?" Brian exclaimed. The woman looked over at him, eyes twinkling in mock reproach. "I mean, oh shit, I'm sorry, but I can't think of any other words, ma'am." Brian ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration, his vocabulary failing him under the circumstances. The kid had undergone that brutal workout and then started a long run on practically no food or fluids? Was he suicidal?

"Well, that's all right, my fourth husband had quite a colorful way of speaking so you can't say anything to shake me up! He was a minister too, can you believe it? But you can kill this one later, right now I think we'd better get him inside and perhaps into a hot shower and dry clothes, and then feed him. Afterward, I'll see about getting you two a ride back to the college. I think your run is over for today, don't you? My name is Esther, by the way, Esther Krackenbaum, but I prefer you call me Ellie, if you don't mind. I never cared for that last name either, never would have married Krackenbaum if I had realized he would be my last husband! But, there's no telling, now is there?" She smiled at Brian.

"Thank you, that sounds great, uh, Ellie, we really appreciate it. I'm Brian Kinney and this is Justin Taylor. Come on, Sunshine, Ellie is our Good Samaritan for today, as she has really saved our, uh, rears." Brian smiled at Ellie as he picked Justin up to carry him into the house.

"And very nice...'rears' they are," Ellie cackled as she held the door open and watched Brian go in before her, his damp running shorts leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Why Miss Ellie, just out of curiosity, which number husband was Mr. Krackenbaum?" Brian asked with a grin, as Justin nervously huddled closer to him.

"Fifth or sixth, I think, one loses track after awhile," she answered airily.

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After placing a call to Ben's cell phone just to leave word that their run had been cut short by the lightning storm, and that they'd been able to find shelter and a ride back, Brian watched as Ellie force-fed Justin soup and milk, while he sat in her homey kitchen, wrapped in a blanket. Brian drank some water but managed to convince her that he preferred to shower first before eating. Once they both were satisfied that Justin was not in danger of fainting again from either dehydration or hypoglycemia, Ellie showed them to a room upstairs where there was a private bathroom. She also provided them with an assortment of men's clothing from which to get dressed after their showers.

Ellie looked at them with a smile. "It isn't all from ex or deceased husbands; I have twenty-three grandsons of all ages. I also have twenty-two granddaughters and I like to keep plenty of changes of clothes on hand so they can drop in whenever they want. I have an assortment of baby clothes on hand too, for my great-grandchildren, which are now up to sixty five and counting, God bless 'em! Now you two enjoy your showers, and don't do anything I wouldn't do, which leaves you lots of leeway!" She closed the door on their amazed faces. They could hear her lively chuckle as she went slowly down the hall with her cane. Brian shook his head, but was smiling as he turned towards Justin.

"Okay, Taylor, I guess you'd better get into that shower first and get warm, I'll wait for you. Do you think you can manage on your own? You aren't feeling dizzy or anything, are you?" Brian looked at the smaller man intently. Fuck, Justin still had one of the blankets draped around him; sitting there like that with his blond hair flopping into his eyes and those sky-blue eyes, he looked about ten years old.

"I guess so. You're mad, aren't you?" His voice was a whisper.

"You have no idea how mad I am," Brian whispered back. He pulled the kid close and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel the tremors still going through the blond's body. What in the world had he agreed to when he said yes to Ben today? Babysitting a twenty year old who not only needed protection from the outside world, but who had no clue how to take care of himself? Brian Kinney didn't take care of twinks. This was more in Ben's line, not his. But, for some reason, the idea of turning Justin over to Ben did not appeal to Brian. He took refuge in anger.

"Let's get you warm; you're still shaking, for fuck's sake. Don't you know better than to run without giving your body any fuel to burn, much less any water to use for basic metabolism? I know you're an art major, but they must have taught you some basic biology in high school! Ben said you weren't stupid!" Brian growled at the boy as he maneuvered him over to the shower in the nice sized bathroom adjoining the bedroom.

Brian turned on the water, setting the temperature as hot as he thought the boy could take it. Justin was quiet. He didn't say anything as Brian pulled off the blanket.

"Take off your clothes and get in the shower," Brian snapped.

Justin just stood there; arms limp at his sides, blue eyes staring vacantly at the water.

"Fine." Brian started to pull Justin's singlet off, the boy pulled away, looking up at him nervously. Brian sighed and folded his arms. The boy seemed to be suddenly shy of him for some reason. Perhaps it was time to give him some space?

"Justin, you're cold and your muscles are full of lactic acid. You need to get warm. I don't want you to catch a cold, or get a fever. Hell, I need to get warm, too, so if you're not getting in this nice hot shower, I am. You can get your shower after I'm done."

At least the steam from the shower was warming up the bathroom, making it toasty warm in the small room, Brian reasoned. Eventually, Justin would feel the warmth, and hopefully would want to wash the sweat and grime from his body. With that, Brian stripped off his running gear and stepped into the bathtub, with its sheer plastic shower curtain. He stretched out his arms luxuriously, enjoying the hot water cascading down his body. He soaped up and started scrubbing away, momentarily forgetting his audience as he cleaned away the salty dried sweat from the day's run.

Justin was watching, mesmerized. He had never seen such a beautiful man as Brian Kinney, much less seen such beauty fully exposed and so close. The coach's eyes were closed as he shampooed his hair. Justin removed his own clothes as though in a trance. He stepped into the shower behind the taller man and started massaging the other man's back as the shampoo cascaded down it.

Brian froze, his eyes still closed as he continued to let the steaming water rinse the shampoo from his hair. He could feel his cock responding to the presence of Justin in the shower with him. Fuck. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew what he should do. Ben asked him to help this kid and trusted him to do the right thing. While Brian and Ben did not see eye to eye on very many things, Brian had a pretty good idea that Ben would not think that fucking the kid in the shower after he had collapsed on their first run today was the right thing to do, even if he managed to convince him that Justin had made the first move. Thinking about it honestly, Brian wasn't even sure he could convince Ben that his undressing in front of the boy and climbing into the shower did not somehow constitute making a move on him. He could just picture the noble professor's expression when he tried explaining. For some reason, he would rather have one of Debbie's wallops than see Ben's disapproving face. Plus, for his own reasons, the idea of being a coach and taking advantage of someone who was essentially a student entrusted to his care, however informally, while they were in a shower, was distasteful to Brian. He had an unpleasant flashback to his own early teen years and that was enough to take care of his hard-on. He turned to face Justin.

"What do you think you're doing?" Brian tried to keep his voice calm but it came out harsh. He winced inwardly when he saw the shocked expression on the young man's face. Did Justin have to look so damn young and vulnerable?

"I, uh, I thought…." He stammered, red-faced.

"You thought you would make me your latest trick?" Brian took refuge in the kid's carefully nurtured reputation for being a one-time only kind of guy. Thank God for Ben's gossip this afternoon! He would hoist Justin on his own petard. Brian had certainly been a victim of his own reputation often enough to know how it could turn around and bite you in the ass, and not in a positive way.

"What do you mean?" Justin sounded bewildered. He tried ineffectually to cover himself with the washcloth. Brian started to wash him briskly. May as well take advantage of his presence in the shower to get him warm and clean. The hot water was turning his fair skin bright red so he didn't think he would be able to take much more time exposed to this temperature. Brian squirted some of the shampoo onto the blond hair and started to work it through the fine strands as he continued to talk sharply.

"I heard all about your reputation, one time only, no names, no repeats. I appreciate that you may have been interested in an "old" guy," Brian made sure he put verbal quotes around the "old," no way did he mean that to be taken too literally, but he was winging this, and rejecting hot guys was not something he had much practice at, "but I do not fuck around with the athletes I coach." Brian reached back to The Front Runner for inspiration. He vaguely recalled the stud coach there using a similar reason for rejecting the really hot runner when he hit on him. Of course, the stud in question hadn't been the front runner. But it had been the best looking one, which had to count for something, and as Brian recalled, the question of impropriety was why the coach fought his attraction to the front runner for so many pages. Time to bring out his copy again; how many years had it been since he first read it? Fifteen? Twenty? Brian finished cleaning the kid off; anything more would have been purely recreational. He pushed him out of the shower, turning the water off.

"Get out and get dry." Justin stood there dripping. Shit. Brian grabbed a towel and started to rub him down hard. Tears were coming down the pale cheeks. Brian grabbed the sweatpants he had brought into the room with him and pulled them on quickly. He then pulled the towel-wrapped boy into a tight hug.

"Justin, I'm sorry, but right now, neither of us needs a quick fuck. Well, maybe we do," he gave the boy his tongue in cheek smirk, "but what you need more is a coach, and maybe a friend. And a quick fuck is all it would be; a fuck in a shower to relieve the stress and tension of the run and the day. I would like to be your coach, and yes, possibly even your friend, hell, I haven't had a running buddy in a long time, and never one of your caliber. And you sure as hell need someone to take care of you. Ben is a good coach but he doesn't know shit about the kind of running and training you should be doing. I checked out your stats. You're good but you could be great. Forget all the gay stuff, you could be a world-class runner; and the reason you aren't yet is because you crash and burn and that's because no one is looking out for you. After seeing today how you don't even know how to take care of yourself with the basics of drinking enough water before running a long one, I can see why. No right wing fanatic homophobe will have to take you down; you'll take yourself down."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into Brian's shoulder.

"Sorry's bullshit. Most of the time. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry, too. I should have checked before letting you work yourself that hard. Next time I'll go over that with you, I forgot how new you are to running. Most runners of your caliber would have run in high school or through most of college and they would have been taught the basics. You didn't and you weren't. No problem, you'll learn it quickly enough. I'll teach you Kinney's Remedial Running, 101." Brian gave his tongue in cheek grin and this time was rewarded with a small smile in return.

"But, as running buddies, not fuck buddies, okay? Otherwise, you'll break my heart; I'll get all clingy and start calling you all the time, wanting to hang around you and spend every waking moment with you. It'll be a fucking mess, you know?"

Justin gave another half-hearted smile. "Yeah, I can see where that would be a pain in the ass."

"You have no idea. So, we stay pals, right?"

"Pals. Running buddies. You got it. I'm so glad you didn't mind my making the obligatory pass," Justin said, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders.

Brian grinned at him, genuinely amused. He had to hand it to the kid, he learned fast.

"Nah, like I said, I was flattered. You're just lucky I didn't take you up on it. Of course, I was helped by the fact that I don't generally keep condoms in my running shorts-sometimes, but not always."

Justin flushed. He clearly hadn't even thought of the need. Brian laughed, player my ass, he thought, the kid was a virgin if ever there was one. He watched as that bubble butt left the bathroom; Justin had left the towel gaping in the back. Brian was going to need to stay and jack off, he decided, before he would be fit to go down to eat soup with their hostess. As soon as this coaching assignment was over and not one day later, that ass was going to be his, he vowed.

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