Eternal Triangle

If Only In My Dreams

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March 22, 2007-Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

"Ma, I'm here!" Michael yelled as he opened the front door.

A slightly harried-looking Debbie emerged from the direction of the kitchen. "About fucking time, Michael. I need you to set up the table for dinner."

Michael grimaced as he took off his coat and tossed it over the back of the couch. "Sure, Ma. How many chairs do we need?"

"Well, let's see…" Debbie paused, then used the carrot she'd been peeling like a conductor's baton, waving it through the air as she spoke. "You and I are here, of course, and the girls said they'd be bringing the kids. Ted and Emmett are coming, and Emmett mentioned he might be bringing a date as well." She mentally ran through the list again, then exclaimed, "Oh, and I forgot - Brian and Justin will be here too."

Quickly counting the names in his head, Michael confirmed, "So, that's eleven, right?" At Debbie's agreement, he meandered through the house, collecting various mismatched chairs to add to the ones that went with the dining set. Plates, cutlery, glasses and napkins were added to the table in a haphazard manner; once he was finished, he flopped into a chair and cleared his throat.

"Uh, Ma? I need to tell you something."

Debbie glanced over from the sink, asking in a concerned voice, "You okay, baby?"

Michael grinned, mussing his hair fretfully with his hand as he carefully planned his words. "You know I've been rather depressed since Ben died - things don't seem to be working out for me very well right now."

Wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she hurried over, Debbie pulled out a chair next to Michael and took his hand in her own. "Is it money, Michael? Because if it is, I have a bit set aside from that policy Vic left me."

"No, Ma, money-wise, I'm all right. The shop's doing just fine." Michael lowered his eyes so his mother couldn't read the lie in them as he continued, "I've been… lonely, that's all. I've been thinking about getting away from Pittsburgh; take a vacation up in the mountains."

"Honey, that's sounds like a great idea - a change of scenery might do you some good." Debbie patted his hand. "When are you going?"

Michael's face turned dreamy as he thought about the cabin he'd rented. Once he got Brian up there, he could prove to him that they were meant to be together. "I'm leaving on Wednesday. I've got the place for a month, although I might not stay the whole time."

"A month? Shit, Michael, who's going to watch the store for that long?"

"Tommy's capable of handling the reorders and stock, Bobby and Charlie will come in during the afternoon after school, and I'm sure Brian won't mind if Ted keeps an eye on the books while I'm gone. Don't worry, Ma, it'll work out fine."

Debbie looked doubtful, but for once, she kept her thoughts to herself. The idea of Michael going off by himself wasn't the greatest, given that he'd been so depressed lately. Still, she was relieved that he appeared to be letting go of the thought of having a relationship with Brian. "Alright, if you say so, baby. Why don't you go watch some TV - I've got to finish dinner."

Michael retreated into the living room and began idly flipping through the channels, finally settling on an old Judy Garland flick. He stretched out on the couch, tucking a pillow under his head and drowsily watched the movie. As the sounds of the dialog meshed with the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen, he slowly drifted off.

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Brian was thoughtful as he slid the loft door open. While there were many questions that required answers, he still owed Justin an apology for his outburst that morning. Quietly asking Justin to gather the information he'd collected about his dreams, Brian went to the refrigerator and grabbed two beers. Walking over to the sofa, he handed one bottle to Justin before making himself comfortable.

"Justin, about this morning - it seems I overreacted." Leaning over, Brian tapped a finger against the journal lying in Justin's lap. "This shows me that I was wrong."

Justin gave a sheepish grin to the other man as he admitted, "It's okay, Brian. I should have explained the dreams to you a long time ago. This just goes to show that we both need to work on our communication."

"Why didn't you tell me what's been going on with you?"

Staring down at the journal, Justin shrugged. "I figured you would have thought I was either crazy or on drugs. Hell, I even thought I was losing my mind." He opened his sketchpad and idly flipped through the drawings. "I just… just… I couldn't have coped if you had made fun of me about this, Brian, not on top of everything else.

"You mean the situation with Michael?" When Justin nodded at the question, Brian gently removed the sketchbook from his grip and laid it on the coffee table. Taking Justin's hand in his own, he slowly caressed the palm with his thumb. "Justin, I want you to promise me something." Grinning at Justin's puzzled look, he added, "You need to give me your word that if something's bothering you, anything at all, that you tell me as soon as you are able. In return, I swear that I will take everything you say seriously."

"Everything?" Justin asked teasingly.

"Don't be an ass, Justin - you know what I mean. If we're going to make it this time, we need to trust each other."

Justin pulled their joined hands to his lips, kissing Brian's knuckles softly. "I do trust you, Brian. And there's nothing more I want than for us to be together." He hesitated, unsure about his words, then said, "This is our last chance, Brian."

Brian's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Jumping to his feet, Justin began pacing the floor. "Marilyn told me that, as far as she could see, we've been given two chances previous to this lifetime. If we don't get it right now, we're fucked, and not in a good way, either." He faced Brian and challenged him. "There has always been a third person screwing around with our relationship, and that's got to stop. Michael will destroy us if he gets the chance."

"What do you want me to do, Justin? I've already talked to Mikey - now all's we can do is wait." Brian hunched forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, the beer bottle dangling precariously from his hand. "I don't want to fuck up our friendship, but I don't want to lose you, either."

Justin knelt between Brian's knees, cupping his lover's face with his hands, and forced him to meet his eyes. "Brian, I need to know - if it comes down to it, if you end up having to make a choice - who will you pick?"

"Don't ask me that, Justin. Just - don't"

Justin closed his eyes. "Well, I guess that answers that." He climbed to his feet and stared down at his lover. "Fuck you, Brian."

Brian sighed; why did this relationship crap have to be so difficult? "I didn't mean it that way, Justin. I just don't… I don't want to be forced into making that decision."

"Looks to me like you will be, whether you like it or not." Justin's face softened when he saw the pain in Brian's eyes. "It won't be me forcing you, Brian - just remember that, okay?" He crossed the loft to the steps, stopping with one foot resting on the first stair. Glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin, he asked, "So, what were you saying about finishing that blowjob?" He laughed merrily when Brian leapt over the back of the couch and chased him into the bedroom.

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The phone rang as Brian slipped on his boots. Calling out into the bedroom, "Hurry up, Justin. We need to get over to Debbie's," he walked over and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Brian? Brian Kinney?" a husky, masculine voice asked.

"Yeah."

"This is Marilyn. You and Justin left before we had a chance to talk."

Brian shrugged. "Sorry about that." He crossed to the kitchen counter, rummaging through some papers as he looked for his lighter.

"Listen, I need to see you - there's something I have to tell you about Justin's dreams." Marilyn sounded worried.

"I don't have time right now. We're on our way out."

"Tomorrow then?"

"No, I'm leaving town on business - won't be back until Thursday." Brian grabbed his wallet, sliding it into his pocket then picked up his jacket.

Marilyn sighed on the other end. "Brian, Justin's in danger."

The words brought Brian to a halt. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"Have you finished reading his diary? There's a pattern of danger in the entries, if you're willing to see it."

"Bullshit. No matter what you - or Justin - say, Mikey's not out to get him. He wouldn't hurt a flea." Brian had to believe that of his friend.

"Scoff if you like, Brian, the signs are all there." The frustration was evident in her voice. "Come see me on Friday. Oh, and Brian? Keep an eye out on your friend, for Justin's sake." With that final warning, Marilyn disconnected the call.

"Fuck!" Brian tossed the phone down onto the couch. All this hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo was quickly getting on his last nerve. "Justin, get your ass out here now! I'm leaving."

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Marilyn absently chewed the lipstick off her lower lip, lost in thought. After the two lovers had left her shop, she'd done a reading with her tarot cards. All the portents showed that something bad was going to happen, but if Kinney didn't believe her…

Shaking her head sadly, she closed up her shop and went home. It was too bad; she really liked young Justin, and Kinney? Well, he was a legend around Liberty Avenue. The gossip queens bandied about the story of how the blond twink had tamed the stud - everyone just loved a sweet, romantic tale.

It would be a shame if this one ended up in tragedy.

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Michael stomped up the stairs, muttering under his breath. Two hours of watching Brian pay attention to Justin - Christ, couldn't they keep their hands off each other through one lousy dinner?

Entering his old bedroom, he opened the closet door and started pulling out various cardboard boxes. Finally, on the very bottom, he found the one for which he'd been looking. He placed it on the twin bed and tugged the tape off the top. Digging through his grandfather's old keepsakes, his hand touched a small wooden box.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and slowly opened the lid. Inside, the dull gleam of blued metal caught his eye. Reverently, he caressed the barrel of the old pistol, an Army issue Colt 45, then slowly drew it out, gasping slightly at the sheer weight of it.

He would need to get the gun cleaned and serviced, and have someone show him how to use it, but just the idea of having it near made him feel better. Being city born and bred, he'd never had much experience out in the country - God only knew what could happen out there.

After counting the number of bullets that were stored in a small cardboard container next to the pistol, Michael put everything away and closed the box. Carrying it downstairs, he grabbed his jacket and quietly opened the front door. Once he'd hidden the box inside his car, he returned to the house, hoping that no one had noticed his absence.

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March 26, 2007-Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Justin rubbed his eyes tiredly as he contemplated the sketch he'd just finished for Brooke's window display. Deciding it was fine the way it was, he arched his back into the chair, stretching the muscles that had cramped up while he'd been working. A quick glance at his watch, and he reached for the phone, dialing the number absently.

"Hello, Canterbury Tales, Brooke speaking," a crisp voice answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Brooke, it's Justin. Sorry to call so late."

"Not a problem, my dear boy. I was just locking up." Justin heard a loud crash, then some softly muttered cursing. A second later, Brooke said breathlessly, "Sorry about that. I forgot those bloody boxes were sitting near the door."

Justin asked worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine - it was just an old man fumbling around in the dark." Brooke chuckled at his own clumsiness. "What can I do for you, Justin?"

"I just got through with the design for your new window display. Would it be okay if I dropped it off on Saturday instead of tomorrow? Brian's been in New York on business since Monday, and he's getting in later tonight."

Brooke teased lightly, "You mean to tell me that my windows are less important than spending time with your lover? I'm shocked!" They both laughed, then Brooke continued, "Saturday will be fine, Justin. There's no hurry. Why don't you stop in around noon, and we can have lunch together. I have some more ideas about places for you to visit on your trip."

"That sounds great, Brooke," Justin enthused. As he was about to ask Brooke about what he could provide for their meal, the loft door slid open and Michael walked it, leaving the door gaping open behind him. "Uh, Brooke, I need to go. Michael just came in, and I need to see what he wants."

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm sure it will be, Brooke." Justin watched his visitor for a moment. Michael was acting strangely, standing in the middle of the room and looking around with a weird expression on his face. He'd been carrying what looked like an empty duffle bag, and he dropped it on the floor near the kitchen bar. "I gotta go. See you on Saturday."

"Be careful, Justin," Brooke warned.

"I will. Bye." Justin placed the phone back in its cradle and rose from the desk, walking over to stand in front of Michael. "What's going on, Michael?"

Michael ignored the question as he continued to glance about the loft. He finally met Justin's eyes and asked, "Is Brian home yet?"

"No, his plane doesn't get in until near midnight. Why?"

"I need to talk to him." Michael moved closer to the bar, running his fingers lightly over the kitchen counter. "I didn't think you'd be home tonight - I figured with Brian gone, you'd be out at Babylon."

Justin shook his head over the fact that Michael would never change. "I was working on some sketches. I'll let Brian know you stopped by to see him." Michael nodded absently, but made no move to leave. "I was planning on taking a nap before Brian got in, so if you wouldn't mind?" Justin motioned at the door, inviting Michael out.

Michael said softly, as though forgetting that Justin was in the room, "There's a lot I'm going to change here. Brian won't mind some of my Captain Astro posters hanging on the wall, and we should probably add a small room, so Gus can have his own space when he visits."

Staring incredulously at the man, Justin thought to himself that Michael had finally lost his mind. "What the fuck are you talking about, Michael? You're not moving in here. I'm living here now, with Brian."

Michael looked over at Justin, a slightly crazed smile on his face. "He loves me, you know. He's always loved me - you're just a trick that never realized he wasn't wanted."

Justin blinked at that statement. Michael's odd behavior was beginning to make him nervous. "Time to go, Michael."

"Yeah, I think it is. It's definitely time for you to go. With you gone, Brian and I can finally be a couple, like we were supposed to be from the beginning."

"For crying out loud, Michael, get it through your head. Brian and I are partners; he wants me, not you!" Justin growled out in a frustrated tone.

"NO! You're wrong about that - he loves me!" Michael thumped his chest with his hand in emphasis as he yelled. "You need to get the fuck out of here, NOW!" He took one step closer to Justin, clenching his hand, then suddenly swung his fist at him.

Jumping back to avoid being hit, Justin tripped over the empty duffle bag. He stumbled then lost his balance, cracking his head on the counter edge. Crumpling to the ground, he laid there unmoving, the gash on his temple streaming blood.

Michael dropped to his knees beside the unconscious figure. "Shit, oh, shit! Brian's gonna kill me for getting blood all over the loft." Ineffectively wiping at the small puddle, he looked around the loft frantically. "Brian can't find him this way when he gets home."

Getting back onto his feet, he hurried into the bedroom and opened Brian's toy chest. Dildos, blindfolds, beads - all were tossed aside as he searched through the box for a set of handcuffs. Finally coming across a pair near the bottom, Michael haphazardly tossed the discarded toys back into the box. "We'll have to get rid of all these, of course, since they've been used on Justin." Sitting back on his heels, Michael smiled as he daydreamed. He could hardly wait to go shopping with Brian to buy a completely new collection of sex toys.

Clasping the handcuffs tightly in one hand, Michael then returned to kneel at Justin's side. Several possible hiding locations ran through his mind, but he dismissed them one by one, until he recalled the small utility closet. It was outside of the loft, so he doubted Brian would even think to look there.

"Come on, Boy Wonder, let's get you comfy." Michael slipped his hands under Justin's shoulders and dragged him through the still-open door and out onto the landing. "Fuck, you're heavier than you look!" After opening the closet door, he pulled the quiescent figure inside, allowing Justin drop to the floor with a dull thud. One end of the handcuffs was secured around a sturdy looking pipe that ran from floor to ceiling, the other Michael clicked around Justin's right wrist.

A pang of guilt hit Michael as he stood looking at the unconscious man. A bruise was rapidly forming on Justin's temple, and his face was ashen looking. Michael quickly shook off the remorse - the twink would be all right until he and Brian returned. Michael would release him then and send him on his way.

Pulling the utility room door closed behind him, Michael walked back into the loft. Once the drying streaks of blood were cleaned up from the floor, he picked up the empty duffle bag that he'd brought and packed several days worth of clothes for Brian. He doubted it would take too long to persuade Brian that they loved each other.

One last thing needed to be done. Michael moved over to Brian's desk and searched through the paperwork there until he found a handwritten note, stating Brian's arrival time and flight number.

Michael was smiling widely as he gathered up the duffle bag and secured the loft. Deciding he was too excited to wait for the elevator, he ran down the stairs and out to his car. Tonight would mark the beginning of his happily-ever-after, and he couldn't wait to begin.

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Brendon slowly ran one finger down Josiah's pale chest, marveling at how his lover's skin glowed in the flickering firelight. He leaned his head down, flicking one pink nipple lightly with his tongue, and moaned at the whimper the motion elicited from the squirming man underneath him.

"Please, Brendon. Love me… make love to me…" Josiah breathed, tugging his lover's head until he could capture Brendon's mouth in a fiery kiss.

"Always, my love… always…"

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Brooke stared at the phone for a while after his conversation with Justin had ended. He had a bad feeling that his young friend was in trouble. Finally coming to the conclusion that nothing could be done about it right then, he jotted down the number displayed on his caller id then wearily climbed the stairs to his apartment.

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"Blaise, come here and look at this!" Jerome's excited voice called to his lover.

Looking over from the horse he was currying, Blaise smiled faintly at the expression on Jerome's face. The simplest things thrilled his young partner. He laid aside the brush and walked over to where Jerome was kneeling, crouching down beside the other man.

Jerome beamed up at Blaise as he pointed to a delicate looking flower that was peeking up through the snow. "Isn't it beautiful. I just love the spring."

Blaise barely glanced at the flower - he was more taken with how Jerome's blond hair glistened in the weak winter sun. He reached a hand over and carded his fingers through the bright locks, murmuring, "Yes, absolutely beautiful."

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Brian tapped his toe impatiently as he waited for the carousel to spit out his suitcase. It had been a very long day, with back-to-back meetings and a dreadful flight home, filled with crying children and obnoxious loudmouths. He was exhausted. He just wanted to get home, take a shower, eat something and fuck Justin, and not necessarily in that order. He pushed the number for Justin's cell phone, muttering under his breath when it went directly to voice mail again. 'Where the fuck is he?'

His bag finally emerged from the back, and he swung it off the carousel with one hand, then headed rapidly in the direction where the 'Vette was parked. Pausing beside the car, Brian tried to call Justin one more time, then tossed his phone angrily into the passenger seat. He stored his suitcase in the back then climbed into the vehicle.

As he paid the parking attendant, his phone shrilled. Picking up without bothering to check the caller id, he barked, "It's about fucking time. Where the hell have you been?"

"Uh, Brian?" asked Michael tentatively, his voice filled with tears.

Brian sighed; he just wasn't in the mood to deal with Michael's drama tonight. "What, Mikey?"

"God, Brian. Help me, please," Michael begged.

Slowly pulling out onto the highway, Brian asked, "Mikey, what are you talking about?"

"I… I rented a cabin up in the mountains, and now… now I don't think it was a good idea. I'm so unhappy, Brian. I brought… I have my grandfather's Colt pistol here with me, and I keep thinking I should just… should just end it all. All the pain would be gone." Michael's sobs rang through the line, alarming Brian.

Brian pulled over to the shoulder and urgently queried, "Where the fuck are you, Mikey? Please, don't do anything stupid. I'll come and get you."

Michael quietly gave Brian directions to the cabin. They hung up, after Michael solemnly swore to his friend that he wouldn't do anything with the gun until Brian got there.

Brian maneuvered the 'Vette back onto the highway, exiting at the first side road. He had to go in the opposite direction to get to Mikey, and he needed to get there fast. The speedometer needle gradually edged higher, as Brian's foot pressed relentlessly on the gas pedal.

Picking up his cell phone, he called Justin's number yet again. When it once more went to voice mail, he left a message, telling his lover what was happening with Michael. After disconnecting, he laid the phone down beside him, and silently hoped Justin would be willing to speak to him after this little escapade.

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Justin's body shifted restlessly as he lay in the hot, dark utility closet. His eyes fluttered open for a brief second, then he moaned from the pain in his head. Closing his eyes again, he wondered where Brian was as he slipped quietly back into unconsciousness.

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Michael looked around the cabin with satisfaction. The place was probably a bit rustic for Brian's taste, but it was secluded and quiet - just perfect for two lovers beginning their journey together.

He quickly stored away the groceries he'd purchased in town, placing several bottles of expensive champagne on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Going outside, he fetched several largish logs from the woodpile in the back, then brought them back in and placed them near the fireplace. There were hundreds of white candles set strategically about the great room, ready to be lit when the time was right.

Walking into the bedroom, he opened the closet door and smiled at the sight of his and Brian's clothes hanging side-by-side. Everything was just the way he'd planned - the only thing needed to make the situation perfect was Brian, and he would be arriving in a couple of hours.

Michael gingerly pulled the Colt 45 from the drawer of the bedside stand. Although he'd practiced handling it during the past few days, he still didn't feel comfortable around the gun. Laying it on top of the small bedside table, he pulled the quilts back on the bed, then stripped off his clothes. Climbing under the covers, he wearily closed his eyes, willing the next few hours to go by quickly, so Brian could hold him through the night.

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You can dance

Every dance with the guy who gives you the eye

Let him hold you tight

"I came to find my lost youth."

You can smile

Every smile for the man who held your hand

'neath the pale moonlight

Justin glowed up at Brian as they danced to the music. "God, I can't believe you came tonight. Thank you," he whispered breathlessly as he tugged Brian's jacket off his shoulders.

Cause don't forget who's takin' you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

So darlin', save the last dance for me

"It was the best night of my life!"

"Even if it was ridiculously romantic."

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