Rage Over Hollywood

Chapter 10

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When Brian awoke it was to find he was alone in the bed. Trying to roll over, it felt like his head was splitting in two. "Fuck me," groaned.

"Not anytime soon, I'm thinking," Justin deadpanned as he walked out of the bathroom fully dressed.

Brian closed his eyes tightly against what seemed like overly harsh light in the room. "What the fuck hit me?"

"The equivalent of a full bottle of Beam combined with God knows what else," Justin answered, feeling no sympathy. "At least from what I've heard. I wasn't there, remember?"

Brian's brow furrowed as he tried to recall the night's events. He did remember Justin leaving angry. Or was he the one who'd been angry? "How'd I get home?" he asked.

"Michael drove you and Ben followed in their car," Justin replied. "They got you up the stairs and I managed to pour you into bed."

It was all coming back to him. The drinking, the anger and last but sure as hell not least, the reason for that anger.

"I need a shower," he grumbled, slowly making it out of bed. He noticed he still wore his underwear and huffed a small laugh. "Guess Sunshine didn't want to get fucked."

Justin's eyes narrowed. "I doubt you could have found it let alone got it up. And I'm not one to take advantage of a situation."

"Since when?" Brian murmured as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Justin stood looking at the closed door for a moment before shaking his head and going down to the kitchen.

By the time he was showered and dressed, Brian was feeling marginally better - physically, at least. A few Tylenol and a cup of coffee completed his attempt at a hangover remedy. Justin was sitting quietly on one of the stools just watching him, but Brian wouldn't look in his direction.

When it became obvious Brian was going to continue ignoring him, Justin released a huff of frustration. "At least tell me what I did."

Brian raised an eyebrow but still refused to look at him. "Who says you did anything?"

"You're fucking pissed at me, Brian. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. What I want to know is why? What did I do?"

Brian stared into his coffee cup for a moment before draining the contents and turning to put it in the sink. When he moved to walk past Justin without responding, the younger man grabbed his arm. "Brian! Talk to me, God damn it!"

Brian wrenched his arm away and turned his full rage on the other man. "Why?" he shouted, only inches away from his lover's startled face. "What fucking good would it do? Huh? You're going to do what you want anyway!"

"Do what?" Justin asked, genuinely confused. "What, Brian?"

"You're going back," Brian said, his voice now deadly quiet.

Justin stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"To fucking California," Brian snapped impatiently. "You're going back."

"What has that got to do with last night?" Justin demanded. "You knew all along I was going back. It didn't seem to be a problem before."

"First, people weren't getting fucking stabbed before, and second, it's always been a problem. But it's been *my* problem. And God knows that doesn't matter as long as Sunshine gets what he wants."

Justin resented that implication and felt his own anger begin to boil. "Fuck you, Brian. You said you wanted me to take this job. That it was a good opportunity for me."

"An opportunity to get yourself killed," Brian retorted. "Haven't you been paying attention? It's a fucking war zone out there with this God damned movie!"

Justin was silent for a minute. "You want me to quit."

"What I want is for you to have enough sense to know when enough is enough!" Brian shouted. "First the security guard, then the art director. What? You want to be next?"

"I won't fucking run away like some scared faggot," Justin stated angrily.

"Since when?" Brian sneered. "Isn't that what you do best, Sunshine? Run away when things get too rough?"

Those words hurt and Justin had to fight the tears threatening to spill. "Fuck you," he ground out in a harsh whisper. He turned toward the bedroom, but Brian grabbed his arm.

"Don't fucking walk away from me," he warned.

Justin whirled around, roughly pulling his arm from Brian's grasp. "Why not?" he shouted. "Isn't that what I do best?"

Brian's jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to say something, but Justin was in his face.

"You think I like what's happening out there?" he demanded. "You think I like hearing that people I work with are laying in a hospital bed just for being even remotely involved with this movie? I don't, Brian! It fucking sucks! But if I walk away now, I'm as much as telling them that what they nearly died for wasn't worth it!"

"Is it?" Brian demanded angrily. "Is any movie worth someone's fucking life, Justin? Is it worth yours?"

"This is important to me!" Justin shouted back.

"And what about what's important to me?" Brian yelled. "Am I supposed to just sit back here and hope you make it through this fucking thing alive? Or lie in bed and wonder if you'll make it to work the next morning without some asshole jumping you with a knife? One bat to the head might not have been enough for you but it was fucking more than enough for me!"

Two faces drained of colour simultaneously as the words came out. "Fuck, Justin," Brian breathed, his anger suddenly gone as he stepped toward his lover. "I didn't…."

"I shouldn't have said that," he tried again as he reached out to wrap his arms around the man rooted to the floor before him.

Justin resisted at first, flinching from the very touch he'd always found such comfort in.

"Justin."

The word was spoken so brokenly that it released Justin from his momentary state of shock. He allowed Brian's strong arms to envelope him even as his own sought to cling to the man he loved.

They stood like that for a long time just holding each other in near desperation. When, at last, Justin tried to pull away, Brian let him, searching he younger man's face for something. He wasn't sure exactly what.

"I'm OK," Justin assured him in a quiet voice. "God, Brian, why didn't you tell me you felt like this?"

Brian let out a weary breath. "I don't think I did," he admitted. "Not until Richard. I just don't want you to be the next casualty."

The hazel eyes were glassy and Justin reached up to touch his cheek. "I won't be," he promised softly.

"You don't know that," Brian argued in a strangled voice.

"Yeah, I do," Justin assured him. "I'm quitting."

Brian closed his eyes. "You can't give up your dream, Justin," he said tiredly. "Not for me, not for anyone."

"It was never my dream," Justin informed him. "The comic was Michael's dream. Working on the movie was a great opportunity and good experience for me, but…" He paused for a moment. "But hearing you say you want me to stay is closer to my dream than Rage ever was."

The stark sincerity in those words brought a lump to Brian's throat. Drawing the man closer to him, he leaned in for a deep but tender kiss. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were a mixture of hope and sadness. "Do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Let's give it a day. Wait until your emotions aren't so close to the surface and we'll talk about it again. It's too big of a decision to make under these circumstances."

Justin smiled knowing full well that his weren't the only emotions too close to the surface. But Brian was right. They needed to talk about it without yelling and screaming at one another. At this point, he was pretty sure he'd already made up his mind, but was fully aware that after they'd had a chance to calm down, things could be different. "I can do that," he agreed.

Brian stroked his cheek lightly. "I should probably check in at the office," he murmured. "Are you sure you're OK with…" He didn't want to mention the bashing again. Hell, he didn't know that he'd ever forgive himself for bringing it up the first time.

"I'm fine," Justin assured him with a small kiss. "Go to Kinnetik. Scare some people. It'll make you feel better."

Brian allowed a small smile at that. "Later," he said, his voice full of promise as he entwined his fingers with Justin's.

"Later," Justin repeated back.

Without taking his eyes from the blue ones that watched him, Brian brought his lover's hand to his lips and kissed the palm gently.

Justin's smile was one of affection as the other man slowly backed away toward the door, not letting go of the hand he held until the last possible second.

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After eating lunch, he returned to what he'd been doing since Brian had left, thinking about everything that had been said between him. While he'd always suspected Brian would miss him while he was gone, he hadn't realized how truly worried he was over the recent events. He knew that Brian never would have brought up the bashing otherwise.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out how to fix things. He knew he wouldn't miss the job in L.A. if he were to quit. From the very beginning, it hadn't been all he'd thought it would be. Sure, it had been exciting to work in a big studio and interesting to be privy to the behind the scenes work that went into a movie, but the novelty had quickly worn off. More than once, he'd thought about packing it in and coming home, but he wasn't a quitter. He'd resigned himself to finishing what he'd started, no matter how unhappy he was. Truth be told, the injuries Victor and Richard had suffered had only strengthened his resolve to see the project to its conclusion.

Apparently at Brian's expense.

Suddenly, quitting wasn't the issue. The job didn't mean that much to him, but he wasn't sure Brian would ever believe that. A month from now, maybe less, Brian would be feeling guilty about asking Justin to give it up. It didn't matter that he hadn't really asked; Brian would still see it that way. He'd believe that, by expressing his concerns, he'd forced Justin to make a choice and he'd be beating himself up over that in his usual Kinneyesque way.

And if past incidences were anything to go by, it wouldn't be long before his guilt turned to an anger that manifested itself in some new, creative means of pushing Justin away. He'd as much as promised Justin he'd try not to do that in the future, but neither of them had been able to predict the circumstances they now found themselves in.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a no-win situation. If he went back to L.A., Brian would take that to mean that the movie was more important to Justin than he was. If he stayed, Brian would think it was because he'd been weak and expressed his concerns. He'd be reminded of that supposed weakness every time he looked at Justin and it would eat away at both of them until there was nothing left.

Neither option made for a very happy future together.

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Brian arrived at the loft to find Justin cooking dinner. "Hey," he said tentatively, unsure what kind of welcome he'd receive. He'd spent every spare moment during the day thinking about what had happened that morning and he was sure Justin probably had too.

The genuine smile he received from his lover was a welcome relief. "Hey."

Brian put his briefcase down on the counter and moved to look over the other man's shoulder. "What's for dinner?" he asked, slipping his arms around the trim waist and planting a warm kiss on the blond's cheek.

"Grilled chicken with parmesan sauce," Justin replied. He stirred the sauce, then left it to simmer while he gave his lover a proper welcome home kiss.

When they pulled apart, Brian licked his lips. "Mmm.. even sweeter than usual."

Justin smiled sheepishly. "I picked up some ice cream for dessert."

"Don't tell me. You had to try it to be sure it was a suitable chaser for chicken and parmesan."

"Something like that," Justin said, scrunching up his nose.

Brian couldn't hold back a smile. That particular trait was one he found irresistible, though he'd cut off his dick before admitting it to anyone. "How was your day?" he asked, hoping the morning's incident hadn't resurrected bad memories.

Justin noted the trepidation in the other man's eyes and thought it was a good time to put that particular fear to rest once and for all. "Brian, I'm not going to fall apart every time it comes up. It's not like it's out of my mind until someone mentions it. I thought about it a lot when Michael and I were doing the comic and when…" He paused briefly, knowing it wasn't a welcome subject. "And when I was hanging around with Cody."

Brian rolled his eyes. Justin's tactful choice of words made it sound like they were sitting around the local pizza place discussing movies instead of prowling the streets looking for trouble. At the same time, he knew Justin realized how serious it had been and was only making it sound otherwise for Brian's benefit. Not one to beat a dead horse, he said nothing.

"And I never would have been able to work on the movie if I'd been ready to freak out whenever it came up. You don't have to protect me from it, not anymore. Trust me, I'm fine."

Brian looked into the endless blue eyes and saw that Justin spoke the truth. There'd likely always be a lingering sadness there when the subject came up, but Brian knew his lover well enough to realize that it had more to do with what he couldn't remember than what he could. The teenager who'd shuddered at the sight of a bat was gone and in his place was a brave, strong young man who refused to let the actions of one homophobic asshole rule the rest of his life. Brian had never been as proud as he was at that moment.

And he'd never loved the young man more.

The thought hit him like a Mack truck and his eyes widened slightly in something akin to panic.

"Brian?" Justin's expression was one of concern. "Brian, what's wrong?"

Shaking his head slightly, he managed a wry smile. "Nothing," he croaked, his throat suddenly tight. He swallowed once and tried again. "Nothing. I'm just … I'm glad you're fine."

Justin smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "You're not so bad yourself," he murmured with a wicked smile.

Brian laughed and slapped his lover's denim-clad ass. "Food first. I haven't eaten all day." He kissed the other man lightly and went into the bedroom to change. When he returned in jeans and a white t-shirt, Justin was putting the food on the table.

Brian opened a bottle of wine and they settled in to enjoy a quiet dinner.

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Once the last of the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher, Brian grabbed Justin and pulled him close. "I believe someone mentioned dessert," he whispered hotly into the younger man's ear.

Justin shivered at the sensation but pulled back to look into his lover's face. He wanted so much to tell Brian that he'd made his decision, but he had promised to give it until tomorrow. There was no way he wanted Brian thinking that he'd made his choice hastily.

And he wasn't altogether sure how well that choice would be received. The last thing he wanted at the moment was another argument.

Taking his lover's hand, he backed slowly toward the bedroom, a sexy smile lighting his features. "Dessert is served," he whispered seductively.

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