Phone Tag

Ted picked up Justin’s phone and called the loft. Brian answered after the second ring. “Where the fuck are you?” he barked. “I’m fucking horny as hell, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, dear,” Ted mimicked falsetto, trying not to let the bubbling laughter seep out as he pursed his lips together.

“Fuck you,” Brian snarled.

Ted pounded his fist on the table, unable to contain his delight. Brian was going to have a stroke when he found out he’d just propositioned him. Ted closed his eyes and imagined Brian flopping and twitching on the floor. Better yet-- Brian waking up in a hospital room, watching Ted fuck the orderly in the next bed. Christ, this was the best thing to happen to him since rehab.

“You are so romantic, Brian.” Ted chortled. “I don’t know how Justin can stay away.”

“Theodore.” Ted could feel the sudden chill over the line. “I would swear I saw Justin’s number on the caller ID.”

“They say eyesight is the first thing to go with old age,” Ted replied drolly.

“You should know. What the fuck are you doing with Justin’s phone?”

“He left it at the diner when he changed after his shift. Tell him I’ll bring it to Deb’s tonight. By the way, happy birthday.”

“Hey, Ted.”

“What?”

“Got meth?” Click.

Ted slipped Justin’s phone in his pocket and ordered another cup of coffee. He leaned back in the booth and listened to the bustle of clattering dishes and the dish of chattering queens around him.

It was good to be back.