Drips

Justin was doing some wondering as the guys configured themselves on the floor of the loft facing the fake fireplace. Brian seemed a little bit perturbed. It wasn't like Brian not to tell him if something was wrong so Justin was wondering. Justin was not in the habit of wondering about anything for long.

"OK, Brian," he asked, "What's the problem? Did I do something? If I did, just tell me."

"So you can weasel out of it, I guess," Brian had to smile. "No weaseling necessary this time. You didn't do anything wrong - that I know of, that is."

"Well what you don't know can't hurt you," Justin joked back, hoping to raise his boy-friend's spirits. It didn't work.

"You're usually right, Baby," Brian replied, squeezing Justin to reassure him. "But not this time. What you don't know can be a real pain in the ass."

"Brian," Justin probed. "You're right. What I don't know now is really bothering me. I can usually read your mind, but not tonight. Something's wrong and I can't figure out what it is. You say it doesn't have anything to do with me, but I still want to know what it is. I'm sure I can fix it."

"Yeah, I guess you can," Brian answered him. "You can fix anything."

"You're confusing me, Honey," Justin persisted. "Now cut it out. What's bothering you? I don't like it when you're not happy, and I'm not giving up till I know what's the matter."

"The phone call," Brian told him.

"What phone call, Bri?" Justin wondered. "Not the call from your mother?"

"What other phone call did we get?" Brian retorted.

"I don't get it, Bri," Justin said. "Your mother was very nice on the phone. She talked to both of us and she was very nice. How could that bother you?"

"She asked you to fix her drippy faucet and you said you'd go over tomorrow and do it," Brian informed him. "You said it was a very simple job."

"I don't get it, Brian," Justin went on. "You can't be mad because I'm going to fix your mother's faucet and I told her it was a simple job. It is a simple job."

"She asked you to do it," Brian complained. "She didn't ask me."

"Honey, that was probably because she thought about it while she was talking to me," Justin protested. "Maybe it would be better if you went over and fixed the faucet if you'd rather."

"That would be a good idea," Brian admitted, "But I don't know how to fix faucets. I don't know how to fix anything and she knows it."

"That's not your fault, Brian," Justin pointed out. "Nobody would know anything if somebody didn't show them. My dad could do anything and he wanted me to know how to fix stuff for when I got married…." Justin stopped abruptly but it was too late.

"Or moved in with some superannuated sex pervert who can't fix anything," Brian groused.

"Now just cut it out, Brian," Justin demanded. "My dad got to like you after he got to know you. He said you were a great guy. You know he said that. You heard him say it."

"He didn't get to know me," Brian responded. "What really happened was that he realized what a great kid you are even if you are gay, and he figured he had to put up with me."

"Brian Kinney," Justin smiled at him. "You're looking for sympathy, and you've come to the right place. I'll see that you get all the sympathy you want, but first I think I'm going to yell at you. OK?"

"Go ahead and yell, Sunshine," Brian urged him. "I'm just a big drip. That's what I am."

Justin had to laugh. "But you know what, Bri," Justin told him. "I can fix drips. They're easy. You're not a drip but if you were, you'd be the very best drip I ever fixed. I never loved any of the other drips I've fixed, and I do love you."

Brian ran his hand through the kid's hair. "Mikey's right, Baby," he marveled. "You are a boy wonder. You've got this drip fixed already. Nothing can bother me for long when you're around, even if I am a drip."

"You said I could yell at you, Brian, and I haven't so far," Justin warned him. "But if you don't quit calling yourself a drip, I will really yell." And he returned the hair mussing trick, brushing Brian's hair down into his eyes and then pushing it back.

"You win, Twink," Brian gave in. "I'll just have to live with the fact that I can't fix anything and you can."

"Do you remember what a mess I was in after the stuff at the prom, Mr. Kinney?" Justin asked him. "I'd still be a mess if it hadn't been for you. Nobody else could have got me through that. Not the doctors. Not my family. Nobody but you. If I can fix anything today, it's because you fixed me."

"How did I do that?" Brian asked him.

"You loved me," Justin told him.

"So did your mom and dad, and the rest of your family," Brian countered.

"Not like you did,' Justin insisted. "Nobody ever loved me like you do."

"And nobody ever will, Baby," Brian told him, pulling him just a little bit closer.

Brian was surprised at Justin's response. "OK, Bri," he said. "Enough of the mushy stuff - till later, that is. I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to go out to the kitchen and we're going to take the faucets apart and I'm going to show you how to fix a drip. And then you're going over to your mother's tomorrow and fix hers, and I'm not going to go with you. You're going to tell her I got held up at school or something and so you came instead of me."

"You think I can learn?" Brian wondered.

"Would I be crazy in love with a guy who couldn't learn to fix a leaky faucet?" Justin answered.

"OK," Brian decided. "But none of that mushy stuff till after we work on the faucet."

But that turned out to be easier said than done. "Shit," Brian yelled as he tried to turn on the lamp over the sink and was greeted with a brief frightening flash but no other light."

"It's the switch, Bri," Justin diagnosed, "And I don't know anything about switches. I really don't"

"Sunshine," Brian laughed. "Pick up a switch at the hardware store tomorrow and come home and replace that switch, and then we'll go over to my mother's and fix her drip."

"And if I need help with the switch?" Justin wanted to know, flashing an arch smile.

"Oh " Brian laughed, "Old 'Short Circuit' Kinney will be here to help all right."

"Brian," Justin told him. "You are not a drip and you are not a short circuit, now cut it out, damn it."

"Well what would you call me then?" Brian pressed the question.

"A live wire," Justin concluded. "But maybe a live wire who needs a little sympathy right now. Wanna get mushy?"

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