For Love of Justin

Let's Run Away, I'll Take You There

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"Get those knees up, Wilson! Come on, Chanders, pick up those splits, you're running like a damn girl!"

Brian smirked as the dark haired girl breezed by him on the track. Daphne managed to pass some of the slower men on the team as she increased her pace in instant compliance with his demand, albeit not without flipping him off as she ran past him. George was one of those she tried to out kick, but he managed to dig deeper and find another reservoir of energy to stay just slightly ahead of her. Justin, of course, was far ahead of the pack, drifting along with his effortless looking form that somehow translated to incredible times.

Ben walked along the edge of the track to stand next to Brian, his own stopwatch and clipboard out. He shook his head, amused, when he noticed Daphne giving Brian the one fingered salute.

"Nice to see you maintain that coach/student distance, Brian. Do all of your runners give you the bird when you encourage them?" the tall man asked mildly, his small grin belying his serious tone and words.

"Yeah, well, you know me, always the strict disciplinarian. And if only you would give in on my request for a whip, I could achieve wonders out here," Brian replied, straightfaced.

Ben laughed. "Actually, you're already achieving wonders at the longer distances, even without the whip. Those double work-outs are doing the trick. I expected Justin to thrive under some special training, but Chanders and Wilson are becoming break-out runners as well. Next year is shaping up to be amazing. With the times dropping like bricks after only a month of working with you, and no injuries, knock on wood, I'm thinking of taking some of the team to some road races next month, just informally, see how they hold up under the competition. What do you think?" The big man looked over, questioningly.

"I think I never knock wood. Wood is good." Brian allowed himself a small smile as Ben groaned at the joke. He continued, "but racing is always fun, too." Brian was careful to be noncommital in case any students were listening in on their conversation. He wanted to talk this idea over carefully with Ben but now wasn't the time or place. He needed to keep a sharp eye on Justin, who tended to overdo his splits if not watched. Like now.

"Taylor, slow down and do the split I gave you or get punished!"

"That's probably what he wants," one of the runners who had finished earlier could be heard saying to a few of his teammates. "He probably wants the big, bad coach to spank him." There was the sound of coarse laughter from the group, which stood over to the left of the two men. Ben and Brian looked at each other.

"I'll go say something," Ben offered. He was growing concerned over the divisiveness among the members of the team, which seemed to be splitting into the gay/gay friendly contingent versus the homophobic straights. He didn't like that orientation was becoming such an issue, but he wasn't sure of the best way to handle it.

"Nah, allow me," Brian said, his face impassive, the expression in the hazel eyes hidden by his Prada sunglasses. He raised his voice to carry over to Justin who was approaching the curve in the track closest to the catcaller, thus easily carrying to them as well.

"Hey, Taylor, you know there'll be no hard throbbing cock tonight if you don't do as I say, and then I'll just have to fuck one of these other guys who are so into my methods, instead!"

Ben groaned at Brian's idea of handling the situation, but as Justin rounded the curve, he flashed his big, sunshine smile in Brian's direction. Obediently, he dropped his pace down to the speed at which Brian had ordered him to run.

The other men's reactions were mixed. Some of the ones who had laughed at the first comment laughed even harder at Brian's, making a few bawdy comments in return to the handsome coach, which Brian acknowledged with his lazy grin. Those were the guys Brian knew weren't a problem; they were just engaging in the usual late practice horsing around. A couple, however, scowled, then muttered to each other and moved away from the larger group. They were among the ones who were beginning to give him concern. He returned his eyes to the track, but spoke softly to Ben.

"Hobbs and Pilcher, can you see them?" Ben casually glanced over to where the two had moved. They had their heads together and were talking intensely, every so often glancing over at the track.

"Yeah, do they have you worried?" Ben frowned heavily. Brian's light touch worked well with the runners in the gray area, he was jock enough to be able to read the situation and know how best to handle it. Although Ben had spent his fair share of time playing sports, both organized and pick-up, his years in the P.C. University environment made it difficult for him to adjust to playing field and locker room dynamics.

"I don't do worry." Brian's tongue was planted firmly in his cheek. He marked down Daphne and George's split times as the two finished up together, laughing. He couldn't help smiling; he couldn't recall ever looking over at George after a run and not seeing him laughing. The red haired young man really exemplified the joy to be found in running.

Ben persisted, not willing to just let the incident go. "Well, what is it you do when we mere mortals worry?"

Brian didn't answer immediately. He was concentrating on his two joking runners as they passed Hobbs and Pilcher. Hobbs clearly must have said something to them, as George's face suddenly turned as red as his hair and all signs of amusement fled. The two of them stopped and Daphne was engaged in a heated exchange with Hobbs while George seemed to be trying to pull her away. Justin must have seen the trouble from the track, as he was now sprinting over to his friends' aid.

"What I do is act, and now looks like the right time, come with me," Brian said to Ben, yelling to Justin even as his long strides were taking him over to the altercation, "Taylor, get back on that track and your assigned splits. You're not needed here. And you four, freeze." The last bit was directed to the quarreling foursome. Lowering his voice, he smiled at Ben, "come on, this may be fun."

Ben shook his head slightly, but followed Brian's lead. The two pairs were faced off, glaring at each other. Daphne and George stood shoulder to shoulder, while Hobbs' buddy sidled away slightly as the coaches approached. Trying to distance himself from the trouble after he helped get it started, Brian noted with contempt. Coward squared, that one. Not going to work, Brian thought, if he was going to talk the talk, he was going to be made to walk the walk.

"What's the problem here? And when I say freeze, Pilcher, I mean freeze. You have trouble with the English language?" Brian loved playing bad cop to Ben's kinder, gentler, coaching style. They'd discussed it early on and come to an agreement that Brian was free to handle discipline among his runners, as long as he didn't overstep any reasonable bounds. Brian had smirked when Ben laid down that rule, but in truth, he only treated the runners the way he remembered being treated in his running days, a mix of Paris Island and Lord of the Flies.

"I'm not doing nothing, Coach," Pilcher replied sullenly, looking down at his running shoes.

"Ah, clearly we do have some trouble with the English language here, so I'll excuse the failure to remain where you were," Brian commented dryly, the gibe flying right over Pilcher's head, although Daphne and George stifled giggles. Hobbs flushed dark red, and apparently decided to take Brian on.

"Funny one, Coach, but why don't you stop picking on us and tell your ha ..." Hobbs paused; the gleam in Brian's eyes made him think better of coming right out and calling Daphne a hag, especially in front of Ben. He continued, "your favorite here to pull in her claws. We didn't do anything and she's the one who decided to start making threats."

The two men looked skeptical but turned to Daphne, who was ready to explode at that charge. She knew better, however, than to speak out of turn with Coach Kinney. Instead, she bit her lip and waited for her chance to tell her side.

"My favorite, huh? Go figure. Someone please tell my mother, she'll be thrilled to hear the news. Of all these fine young men, you're my favorite Chanders?" Brian raised an eyebrow as Daphne and George grinned widely. Ben kept his expression serious, but it was a bit of a struggle. Brian Kinney favoring a young female? Wouldn't that open some eyes at Woody's? George spoke up.

"Well, I was trying for favorite, Coach, but she was just too fast for me today. And you know how Justin doesn't always listen, so I guess that leaves Daph, if we're talking running. We are talking running, aren't we?"

"That's what we're all here for, at least that was my understanding," Brian agreed. "Maybe Mr. Hobbs is here for another purpose? What do you think, Coach Bruckner, is Ms. Chanders your favorite today or do you have someone else in mind? Maybe one of these fine runners, who stopped early, unable to keep up with the distance work-out?" Several of the other runners had gathered near, so this was a good time to make a statement. Brian clearly tossed the ball into his court, so Ben went for it, folding his arms across his muscular chest.

"You're all here to run. Anyone who doesn't understand that, who isn't willing to focus on becoming a better runner at these practices is not needed. He or she can leave, and if the inclination to run for Carnegie Mellon should return, there will be try-outs for the team in the fall. But there will be no places held open, any runner wanting out of these practices will have to make the team again, no preference. And as far as any runners who will let personal prejudices get in the way of this being a team, that type of attitude doesn't belong and won't be tolerated."

"I'm on scholarship, you can't kick me off the team for mouthing off ... just for saying something to this fag and his black hag!" Hobbs blew up, his fragile hold on his ugly temper gone.

"That's it, you're on suspension, Hobbs, for insubordination to a coach and language that violates the school's tolerance policy. And as far as your scholarship, maybe you'd better check out the conditions, one of which is to demonstrate conduct becoming an athlete of this school at all times. Now, we haven't even gotten into what happened here because of your inflammatory behavior which I am forced to report to the athletics committee. Do you want to tell us now what transpired between you and Chanders and Wilson? You can speak first." Ben spoke in his usual calm baritone, but he was tense; the last thing he wanted was counter-charges of the same nature being brought against two of their best runners, yet he foresaw that happening if Hobbs faced losing his free ticket.

Hobbs looked at Ben uncertainly, his anger cooling as the reality of how this altercation had escalated, and the consequences to him, sunk in. Kinney was one thing, but ticking off the "real" coach had been a bad move. He dimly suspected that Kinney had deliberately baited him into losing his temper, but he was well aware that such a charge wouldn't go far before the athletics committee that dealt with this type of charge. Kinney may be just some part-time coach, it really wasn't clear what his status was, but he was being viewed as a God due to the results he was producing with the team. Hobbs twisted his mouth unpleasantly as he debated his next move.

"Maybe we should let Chanders or Wilson tell us then, since you're gathering your thoughts," Ben spoke pleasantly but relentlessly. He might play the good cop, but one with an iron core. Ben could be easygoing with the runners, but there was a line over which he didn't let them cross. Hobbs crossed it and he knew it. Faced with evidence of not only homophobic attitudes, but even overt racial bigotry, Ben wouldn't think twice about removing the offender. He didn't care how talented a runner the offender might be, and he'd take on any university body that suggested otherwise. There was enough pressure brought to bear on his runners from the outside, he wasn't going to permit it to exist within the team. Ben gave Hobbs another moment to speak, then turned to the other two. Pilcher, he ignored for the moment, figuring he could deal with him better later when he was alone and didn't have Hobbs to take his lead from.

Brian stood by his side, quietly observing, one hand on his hip, the other banging his clipboard absently against his hard thigh muscles. The increased running he'd been doing was having some nice side effects, he'd noticed. His legs were thicker with muscles than they'd ever been in college, and his stamina in the backroom, always impressive, was becoming legendary. George was so busy staring at Brian's legs, he didn't hear Ben; either that or he was blocking the whole scene from his mind, so it was up to Daphne to speak. She looked from one man to the other, trying to determine how they wanted this played. Did they want her to downplay it, or relate the actual comments made that so upset George and inflamed her. She opted for real, again growing angry as she recalled the ugly words that had been tossed at them as they'd walked by. She didn't notice that Justin was walking up behind her, having just finished his longer work-out. She launched into her account, eyes flashing as she looked at Hobbs.

"George and I were walking past when he called over to us, well to George mainly, saying that it was a shame that those fag bashers only got one faggot that time, and that maybe next time they'd spill a few more defective brains on the ground, getting some of them over on Liberty Avenue."

"You fucking bastard! You want to see brains spilled, how about yours, you fucking cock sucking, son of a bitch ..."

Justin was suddenly on top of Hobbs, sheer momentum helping him knock the bigger, heavier teammate to the ground. He had his hands around the larger man's head, and was trying to slam it against the ground. Brian and Ben were so shocked it took them a moment to respond, but then Brian was lifting the furious, screaming blond off his target, while Ben held Hobbs back from retaliating. Much to the irate former football player's surprise, he couldn't break the easy-going coach's hold on him, which felt more like a steel vise than human arms. And Coach Bruckner didn't even appear to be straining.

Brian, for his part, had a difficult time restraining Justin, who struggled wildly to break free of his grasp. He took a few steps away, with the shorter young man held suspended against his chest. He counted on the fact that Justin wouldn't want to do him serious damage, as a good kick back and up was all it would take to win the boy's freedom. As soon as they were relatively alone, Brian shaking his head to keep Daphne and George from following, he tried to calm the flailing runner down.

"Hold on, it's just me now, steady there. Come on, baby, you're going to hurt one of us, stop it. If I drop you back to the ground, will you promise not to hurt me or run back over there?" Brian spoke low, his lips close to Justin's ear. The young man nodded and Brian lowered him to the ground, placing him in a sitting position.

"You don't understand, he's an asshole, he needs to be taught a lesson." Justin had stilled his movement but was almost crying at this point, his breathing ragged as he tried without success to compose himself. Brian was crouching next to him, his long arms still wrapped tightly around the sweaty body that shook with fury. He was intensely conscious of the intimacy of their position, and despite the circumstances, couldn't help noticing how good Justin felt, sweaty and trembling in his arms. He had to fight off the urge to lick some of the sweat from his collarbone, focusing instead on the other man's eyes. He tried to speak lightly, to lessen the tension.

"What don't I understand? That Hobbs is an asshole? What, do I look stupid all of a sudden? Of course I understand that. What I don't understand is throwing away your scholarship on a fighting incident when Ben and I between us practically had Hobbs off the team. Ben suspended him right before you came up. So calm down, why don't you, before I have to bitch-slap you and tell me what triggered this?" Brian tried smiling at him, tightening his hold on the blond.

The brilliant blue eyes looked at him, unshed tears making them even brighter than usual.

"This isn't funny, Brian, don't you dare laugh. I've seen brains splattered on the pavement, not at Liberty Avenue, but in the hallway of the fancy hotel where the end of year formal was held for PIFA. I always see them, every time I have a nightmare, every time I walk down a hotel hallway, every time I hear the crack of a bat. I can't even go to fucking little league games anymore. And that bastard can make jokes about it? You know why, don't you? Because the guy who did it didn't even get jail time, he got a slap on the wrist. Manslaughter, they called it, accidental manslaughter. Like you can hit someone in the head repeatedly with a baseball bat and have it be an accident."

"Shh, hush, baby, I understand now, I'm sorry, I didn't know the details. I knew you got hurt but that was it. No wonder you hate hotels. We'll take care of Hobbs and Pilcher, I promise, but for right now, we have to take care of you. You can't take matters into your own hands, nor can you go jumping gorillas twice your size. The surprise factor will only take you so far." Brian lifted his chin to look him in the eye. "You're wiped out, you're upset, and you have to eat, so we're grabbing the rest of your merry band and getting the fuck out of here. You can run away with me, sound good?" Justin nodded but didn't speak; he was still trying to get his breathing back to normal.

Brian stood up and motioned for Daphne and George to come over. One of them had gone and gotten Justin's new sweats to dress him in while they waited. After making sure that George and Daphne were okay, Brian had them stand guard over their friend while he walked back over to the others. Most of the runners were clustered nearby, exchanging nervous looks as they wondered what was going on. Ben was still talking with Hobbs and Pilcher, trying to elicit their side of the story. If there could be such a thing, Brian thought with disgust for the two runners who'd been trouble since his first day. Pilcher was just a follower, but the worst kind, stupid and willing to follow any lead given by his idol, the handsome, athletic Hobbs. Brian motioned for Ben to step over to him.

"I hate to leave you with this mess, but I need to get my three musketeers out of here. Are you okay handling it or shall I call Theodore to come over to take them back to Ellie's house and I'll stay with you?"

Ben waved him off. "No, I'm fine Michael is meeting me here in half an hour, so it's just as well that you head off. This will cool off more quickly when these two aren't posturing for your three, plus, if you're gone, it won't give Michael the chance to get upset all over again over you coaching in the first place. I think I'll get further with Hobbs tomorrow. I also want to talk to Pilcher alone and I want to address the rest of the team that has seen this, before I dismiss them from practice for the day. I may as well deal with this problem now that it's out in the open. Maybe this is a wound we should have lanced sooner."

Brian shook his head. "No, I think this would have blown up no matter what you did. I suggest you save the team discussion for when my guys are present. Also, keep in mind, Justin and George are probably not the only gays on the team, and some of the others listening, in the closet or not, will need to know which side you're on."

His friend looked at him, then cocked an eyebrow in classic Kinney fashion. "I may not be as in your face as you, Brian, with my orientation, but believe me, there will never be any doubt whose team I'm on. That doesn't mean I'll be unfair to the straights, either."

"Be fair to them, fine, but fairness should stop when they start making veiled threats against our boys, Ben. You asked me to come out here and help protect Taylor. When the joking goes beyond sexual innuendos and into the area of violence, that's when worrying does no good, that's when I say we act. Worrying about it is bullshit, doing something to prevent it isn't. That jerk just triggered a flashback for Justin, and if my intuition is right, his reference to brains on the ground was deliberate and intended to cause harm. We're coming up on the second anniversary of when he saw his friend's brains on the ground before the attackers went after him. I'd like to know if Hobbs has been reading up on it lately, as it's a pretty odd comment to make out of the blue. Or worse, whether he was friends with the attackers, he's the right age. That ‘last time' he was talking about was probably the incident two years ago, and the faggots he mentioned were Justin and his boyfriend, the one who didn't make it. You thought when we first met that the incident was a little over two years ago, but it seems it wasn't. Not quite. It was two years ago this month." When Ben looked at him in surprise, Brian said simply, "I looked it up."

Once again, Ben was shaken by how much he didn't know. He'd been given the information about Justin Taylor by the head track and field coach. He'd assumed it was accurate and thereafter was concerned primarily by the current threats, which had stopped with the ending of the formal season and Justin's name no longer appearing in the papers each week. He sighed heavily.

"You take them, get them settled down and happy again. I'll deal with this. And then I'll go bang my head against a wall for an hour or so." Brian nudged the sensitive big man roughly.

"Nah, no need to do that. With your loving partner picking you up, you'll suffer enough, as he complains to you for the hundredth time about how I treated him the day he found out about the coaching, and why do I have to coach anyway, isn't it bad enough that you're doing it, and what can we possibly see in running around anyway, and ..." Brian's imitation of Mikey's whining tones was dead-on. Ben was torn between laughing and groaning.

"Stop! It's bad enough when he does it, I don't need you to warm me up for it. Go, get out of here, I'll call you later." Brian's antics had restored Ben's equilibrium, such that he was his usual rock of tranquility when he turned back to the team. He sent a reassuring smile towards the group waiting nearby.

"Brief team meeting in ten minutes. Grab your showers quickly then meet me on the bleachers, men and women, please. Chanders, Wilson, Taylor, you're excused to go with Coach Kinney. We'll be meeting again tomorrow to discuss what happened today, I just want to speak with the team briefly to quell any gossip before then. " In a quieter voice, Ben added to the sullen pair standing near him, "Pilcher you can stay until I check further into your involvement. Hobbs, your suspension starts now. Clean out your locker. Don't come back until after you and I meet and discuss a suitable course of action for you. We can decide then whether or not the athletics committee needs to become involved."

Hobbs didn't argue any farther. He stormed off the grassy area that fronted the cinder track. He looked back just once, sending a look of such hatred towards Brian where he stood with his trio, that the usually blase` man actually felt chilled by it. He shrugged and headed to his jeep with his charges in tow.

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"Michael, we've been over this a hundred times," Ben was exasperated with his partner. He didn't show it, his expression remained as calm and pleasant as always, but he was tired, stressed and worried. All he wanted was a hot shower and then some dinner. But Michael was on the warpath over yet another perceived slight from Brian and nothing was satisfy him, or shut him up, until he fully aired his grievance. Ben wished that Brian would be nicer to Michael, or meaner, but this in-between status was hard on Michael, which meant that it was hard on Ben as well. Ever since Brian had started helping Ben with the running team, Michael's old insecurities had flared up worse than ever. Now, added to his feelings of neglect by his "best friend," was an obsessive worry that Brian and Ben were becoming too close. Brian ignored it, saying that Michael caused his own pain. He pointed out that he had his own life to live as his defense on the first complaint, and on the second, insisted that the fact that he and Ben weren't tricking with each other was enough; they didn't have to coddle Michael and dignify his suspicions by denying them.

It sounded good, and Ben didn't really disagree with Brian's points in theory. It was just that he didn't have the requisite cold streak to allow his partner to be so distressed without trying to fix the problem. He learned to his dismay that reasoning that Brian was providing a valued service to young runners didn't work with Michael, and denying there was anything going on between Brian and him just led to further complaints, like tonight.

Michael looked at his handsome lover, and crossed his arms, his face set in a petulant scowl.

"Well, I just don't understand it. You say that all Brian is doing is helping you out with the running, which by the way, you didn't even discuss with me first even though he's my best friend. Thanks to you two keeping secrets, I had to find out by accident when I happened upon him and those kids going running together. And if there's nothing funny about it, why did he just run away from me instead of stopping? I was left standing there on the sidewalk like an idiot, yelling after him, while he took off with Gus in that odd looking stroller. I was left with that giggling girl on crutches, who I'm sure was making fun of me. What kind of way is that for a best friend to act?"

Ben thought it was a very prudent way to act, if Brian had wanted any chance of getting his run in that morning. But he wished the timing had worked out better. Michael's seeing Brian with the runners, added to the information he'd managed to pry out of an unsuspecting Daphne, had led to a very painful scene between the three of them later that weekend. Michael had been belligerent as to his assumed "best friend" rights, while Brian was, well, Brian. Part of Ben wished he had gone with his initial instincts, and not agreed to try keeping Brian's involvement with the running team secret from Michael. Another increasingly strong part of him resented that the man he loved had this need to be involved in every aspect of his life. An even bigger part of him was beginning to resent more and more the interest that same lover took in every facet of his boyhood friend's life. Michael had been pressing for a bigger commitment from Ben, but he knew he couldn't make it as long as Michael continued to spend more time and energy on Brian than he did on their relationship. He loved the small, dark haired man, he really did, but more and more often, he found himself thinking that his love would never be enough to satisfy Michael. No matter what, he wasn't Brian Kinney and never would be.

"Ben, are you even listening to me? I've been talking to you for the past fifteen minutes and you haven't said a word!" The whining had escalated to a full blown tirade. Ben rubbed his face wearily.

"Yes, Michael, I've heard every word," he answered patiently. If not this time, then one of the many other times you've said whatever it is you're saying, he added to himself.

"So, what do you think? There's something fishy about that Taylor kid, don't you think? He comes out of nowhere and suddenly Brian is taking him everywhere with him? He even got him a job at Kinnetic and has him helping Lindsay and Mel out with Gus. And what's with this running with him every morning? Did you know they do that? Brian and those other kids, every single morning. Mom has seen them all a couple of times when she goes in for the early shift. She thinks it's cute, but I just think it's fishy. You're the coach and you don't feel the need to practice twice a day with the rest of your squad. I think you should put a stop to it, don't you?"

"No, Michael, I don't. Now please, can we just fix some dinner and eat it in peace, without talking about Brian Kinney or Justin Taylor, or the running squad for one night?" Ben snapped finally, emphasizing his words by slamming powerful arms down on the table.

Michael blinked. Then:

"Well, I don't know why you're yelling, I'm the one who should be mad, not you. After all, when my boyfriend and my best friend go behind my back and...."

Ben stood up, turned, and walked out of their apartment without another word.

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Brian pulled up in front of Ellie's house. Justin had been quiet during most of the ride, just giving monosyllabic answers to Brian's attempts at small talk. He'd sent the other two off to pick up some take-out food and they would be following later in Daphne's sister's car, which she had borrowed earlier that day. They'd already mentioned to him that Ellie was away on one of visits to her grandchildren, so they had the house to themselves. All three of his wonder runners had ended up moving in Ellie, and the elderly woman couldn't be happier. When she got to joking with George, it was hard to tell who was younger, Brian had told her, causing her to let loose with her deep, full laugh. She'd confessed to him that she'd been lonely before moving the young people in, and the extra money paid for their room and board came in handy. In addition, the three young people were taking care of a good deal of maintenance that had gone by the wayside once the last grandchild had moved away. So, all in all, it had proved a benefit to everyone concerned.

Unbeknownst to Justin, Brian had supplemented what he was paying Ellie for his rent. Once he became employed at Kinnetic, however, Justin had gone to Ellie and insisted on paying more than he ostensibly was being charged, since he'd found out it was less than what George and Daphne were paying. Not wanting to receive money from both men, Ellie had confessed to Justin that Brian was subsidizing him, leading to the first argument between the two men. It was finally resolved by Brian arranging with Ellie for him to pick up half the food costs for all three runners, them paying for the other half, and doing the work for the rent. Since neither of the other two was swimming in money, this arrangement worked out well for them also.

Brian hoped to be able to have a little private talk with Justin about what had happened at practice. Although they ran together every morning, and Justin now had a summer intern job in Kinnetic's art department, they rarely had private time together. This was usually by Brian's design as he still didn't trust himself with the younger man, but the afternoon's meltdown had him concerned enough to break his self-imposed rule about being alone with temptation. Thus, while the other two were to shower at the school and then go on the food run, he'd taken Justin directly back to the house.

Since the night they'd come barging into his building, concerned about Justin, Brian had grown fond of the other two members of his Three Musketeer squad, as he jokingly called them. George was a constant source of amusement, with his cheery, unquenchable spirits, while Daphne was a free spirited, strong-minded young feminist. She was probably the first woman since Lindsay that he could honestly call friend. Mikey's mom, Debbie, was like a second mother to him, and he loved her, but her protectiveness, not to call it over-protectiveness, prevented them from being too close. She always blamed Brian for everything that she saw wrong with her son's life. Brian's assistant Cynthia was a close colleague and devoted to his interests, but he remained all too conscious of the boss/employee divide to let himself relax into true friendship with her.

With Daphne, George and Justin, he shared a strong love of running, which formed the foundation of their connection. Brian had recognized in the first two, from that first night when they came barging into his building, a devotion to his wounded bird runner, Justin that cemented his affection for them. George teased Justin like a brother, Daphne fussed over him like a little mother, and Justin, well, he was the heart and soul of their little band. His quiet word could settle George down when he threatened to cross the line from good natured teasing, and his smile and hug could cheer Daphne out of the strongest anxiety ridden funk. Meanwhile, his way with Gus was amazing. He and Mel had reached a quiet understanding on that first night, and Lindsay had adored him from their first meeting. It was the little boy, however, who loved his "Jussen" with everything his little four year old self had in him, and that love was returned fourfold.

"Why don't you go grab a shower upstairs and I'll use the downstairs bathroom. Then we can meet for a beer on the back deck, okay?" So many runs ended at the house in the woods that Brian had started keeping a spare change of clothes in one of the extra bedrooms. He was adamant that he wouldn't be reduced to wearing the rummage sale items that Ellie kept around for emergencies, a second time. That first night was enough to scar him, he insisted to the others, who called him a label queen.

Brian waited for Justin to respond to his suggestion.

"Sure, unless you want to conserve Ellie's water and shower with me?" Justin offered, the telltale pink tinging his cheeks.

"Nice try, stud, but I think I'll just leave an extra five on the dresser for the old girl to cover the water and resist the temptation of your naked ass," Brian laughed. For a moment, he found himself seriously considering taking the blond up on the offer, which he suspected was not entirely in jest. Being good just didn't come naturally to him, he thought ruefully. There was just something about the quiet young runner that pulled at Brian. George was just as attractive in his way, and had made it clear to Brian by their second run that he was interested in anything Brian might want to pursue with him, but it was only Justin who tempted him. George was the type he could trick with, but a one time fuck was not worth messing up their coach/runner relationship. Justin, on the other hand, stirred completely different feelings in the ad man, feelings he wasn't too sure he was ready to explore deeper. He sensed that one time just wouldn't be enough with the beautiful young man. In any event, it was out of the question, on all levels. At least, that is what he kept telling himself.

Maybe he should have that beer now and not wait for later, Brian thought, watching as Justin laughed and ran lightly up the stairs, all of the shadows from the ugly altercation at practice seemingly forgotten. Brian on the other hand, could use a little relaxing. Justin was developing a flirtatious side that he really only let out with "Coach Kinney." As the blond turned a corner and left his line of sight, Brian gave some consideration to letting the whole matter from practice drop, happy to see Justin restored to normal. Thinking back on how violent Justin had become upon hearing Hobbs' taunting, however, he decided to bring it up as soon as they were settled on the deck.

By the time Brian was done showering and dressing, Justin already had prepared a snack tray consisting of cheese, fruit and raw vegetables and opened a bottle of Merlot. Brian walked into the kitchen that led out onto a deck, his chestnut hair still damp from his shower and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Justin smiled back at him, the blush still evident, and answered the unspoken question.

"I thought some wine would be a nice change. I can still get you a beer if you'd prefer." He had changed into a snug fitting white cotton T-shirt and low riding jeans; the shirt nicely displayed his lightly muscled chest while the jeans hugged his ass, showing it to fine advantage as he bent down to look for a corkscrew in a bottom drawer. Brian swallowed, hard.

"No, the wine is a good idea, just remember only one glass for you. You're in training, and besides," Brian added, his tongue in his cheek, "you're such a lightweight more than one would put you under the table, if we had a table out here big enough for you to sink under, that is."

"Very funny. Go out and sit down. I'll bring it out to you."

Brian complied, wondering what the young man had in mind. He should be fairly safe, given that Daphne and George would be along any minute. He stretched out his long legs and leaned back in the deck chair, admiring the mountain view behind Ellie's house. He felt an arm snake around his neck.

"Here's your wine," Justin whispered, his breath warm against Brian's ear. Brian took the glass quickly, but the hand it had been in didn't move away, it merely dropped down to his chest, brushing lightly against his nipple. He caught his breath and leaned his head back to see laughing blue eyes. Justin moved his other arm around and lightly massaged the older man's pecs.

"You must be worn out, two runs and a full day of work," Justin murmured. Brian smiled. The little devil was trying to seduce him, he realized, recognizing moves that he might have used himself, a decade or more ago. Nowadays, his moves consisted mainly of grabbing a trick by his belt loops and leading him into the backroom at Babylon. Still, he could appreciate the effort Justin was going to in his attempt to be subtle. It wouldn't work, but he could appreciate it. At least, he didn't think it would work, he amended the thought as he felt the long strong fingers moving firmly around his nipples again. He bit back a moan. Time to put an end to this, he realized, as he could feel his arousal growing.

"Justin, what do you think..." Brian didn't finish his question, because as he turned his head again to look his young tormenter in the eye, he felt his lips brush Justin's, still moist from the wine. Fuck it, he thought, as he pulled the blond closer, wrapping his free hand into the soft blond hair and deepening the kiss. He reached out blindly to set the wine glass down, then dragged that compact runner's body over the side of the chair and onto his lap, caressing the lean, muscled legs with his now available hand.

"Oh God, Brian," Justin gasped, turning his head slightly to breathe while the older man moved his mouth to the pale neck, licking and sucking his way to the small area at the base of the throat. "Don't stop," he begged as he ground his ass against the hard cock that was pressing against his firm buttocks.

"I don't think I can," Brian confessed, chuckling deep in his throat as he continued his mouth's assault on the blond in his lap, moving back to those full lips and sucking one in; those lips had been tantalizing him for weeks. He had one hand inside the white t-shirt now and was squeezing the small nipple he found, while his other hand moved to the snap on the waistband of those low-riding jeans.

"Please, can we..." Justin moaned as the one talented hand continued to move against his chest, rubbing first one nipple then the other, and the other hand slowly slid down the zipper of his jeans, coming into contact with the blond's swollen penis.

"We can't, but I'm afraid we're going to," Brian assured him with another chuckle. One part of his brain was intent on pleasuring the blond, while another, much quieter part tried desperately to remember all the reasons why this wasn't a good idea. He got Justin's jeans completely open, freeing his stiff member and revealing the soft blond hair at its base, while the white t-shirt was bunched up under his armpits, exposing the rosy nipples to the night air.

"I want to touch you too," Justin whispered, his breath coming in short gasps. He had his arms still around Brian's neck, and access to the rest of the bigger man's body was blocked by his own smaller one spread across it.

"We can't stay here. Fuck it, I need to have you," Brian growled into Justin's mouth. Sliding one arm under the smaller man's knees and the other around his back, he stood up without breaking their kiss. Alarm bells were going off in his head, warning of the irretrievable nature of the step he was about to take, but he found himself completely unable to stop. He shouldered open the screen door leading from the deck and started to walk into the kitchen. Just then, he heard the sound of the screen door on the front porch banging shut. Damn it, not again, he thought, almost laughing with frustration. The two musketeers to the rescue, this time sans lesbian and toddler.

Those two have either the world's worst or its best timing," he groaned to Justin. George was calling out form the front room.

"Hey, where are you guys? Plotting the demise of Hobbs and company without us? You better have saved me a beer cos I couldn't get any at the store without my ID, which I left here."

"Gee, and the clerk didn't think you looked over twenty-one," Daphne's teasing tones could be heard coming closer. "Maybe it was that lollipop you had in your mouth at the time?"

Brian quickly set Justin down and nudged him towards the screen door they'd just come through.

"Go back outside on the deck and straighten your clothes, I'll head them off at the pass," he whispered, pressing a final kiss on the blond's lips. "Go!"

Brian willed his own erection to subside, and gave thanks for the long tailed shirt he had on over his usual wife-beater; it provided him with some coverage. He quickly buttoned one of the buttons and leaned on the kitchen counter as the other two burst into the room, still teasing each other.

"Hey," he greeted them casually. "What's for dinner?"

"A mix," Daphne answered with her big smile. "Thai, just like the handsome coach man likes, and a couple of pizzas, for the growing boys."

"And what about the growing girl?" Brian asked, proud that his voice was perfectly normal.

"I get to share from everybody's plate," she announced gleefully, causing George to protest. He looked around the room.

"Hey, where's Jus? I need help fending the bottomless pit off of our good food. She's welcome to snitch from the Thai, that healthy stuff makes me want to puke anyway," George said with a grin, as he continued to look around for a sign of his buddy.

"I ate him, you took too long," Brian told them, causing a round of giggles, which threatened to turn into a discussion of the people eating people stories they'd each heard.

"Don't get started, you two," Justin said from the door leading to the deck. "I refuse to have cannibalism discussed at my dinner table. We WASPs just don't discuss such things."

"No eating your young along Country Club way?" George asked.

"I didn't say we don't do it," Justin clarified with his own grin as he snatched a slice of pizza from the box the redhead still held. "We just don't talk about it." He sneaked a peek at Brian, who returned the look ruefully. Sucking in his bottom lip, Brian made up his mind.

"You know, it just occurred to me that I have to take care of something back in town. Why don't you keep the Thai warm for me and I'll just run back to the office to handle it, then come back here to eat while you three work on dessert?" Brian started to move towards the front door.

"I have a better idea," Justin said, wiping his hands and mouth on a paper towel. "I'll go back with you and we can pick up something good for dessert on our way back."

Their eyes met for a long moment while Brian weighed his next move. The other two watched the by-play between the coach and the star runner silently, sensing the tension between the two. Finally Brian smiled.

"Come on then, baby, let's run away together, leaving these two to eat all the food. I'll take you with me, but if I get caught up in something, we could be pretty late getting back with dessert," he warned.

"I'm sure we can manage,"Daphne assured them with a big grin, "don't hurry back on our account. Just be sure that when you do come back, you bring something chocolate."

With that, the two men left, hurrying out to Brian's car together. Brian knew he would probably regret this in the morning, or even sooner, but for right now, seeing the big smile Justin was sending his way, he had no time for anticipating regrets. His sole interest was in continuing what they'd started out on the deck, without fear of interruption. He wanted the slight blond by his side, and he wanted him now. There would be time enough for talking later.

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