Mikey Doesn't Like It

"Again?" Michael asked. "What is it you think I’ve done before?"

"Interfere in my relationships."

Justin listened from the landing and knew he should go back to Brian’s room, if his lover saw him he would be really upset, but something kept him rooted where he was.

Michael laughed. "What relationships? The only guy you’ve fucked more than once was that doctor. And then he wouldn’t leave you alone because he thought it was more."

"It was." At least it might’ve been if their lives hadn’t been running in opposite directions.

Michael snorted. "I know you, Bri--"

"No, you don’t. That’s the problem. And I don’t know you anymore either. My best friend wouldn’t behave the way you are now."

"And how is that?" Michael spat.

Brian rolled his eyes. "You’re jealous."

Justin was shocked. After Brian spent the whole weekend in New York avoiding Michael, he never thought he’d be so blunt.

Michael’s face flushed. "I am not."

"No? Then why did you come here when Ted told you I would be with Justin this weekend?"

"I needed to know you were okay," Michael stammered as the color drained from his cheeks.

"Ted told you I was fine."

"You wouldn’t talk to me. You didn’t return any of my calls. I called everywhere and you ignored me!"

"Because I was angry," the detective admitted. "You treated Justin like shit when we were in New York."

"I did not!"

"You took every chance to make him feel uncomfortable or insult him, and when that didn’t work you resorted to crank calling our room or interrupting our plans. And you hurt Vic, Michael. I heard you tell him it was his fault we weren’t together."

"I didn’t mean it, he knows that! I just wish I still lived here, the way it used to be."

"It wouldn’t have made a difference, you know that," Brian said firmly.

Michael nodded sadly. "Yeah, I know, because of the Boy Wonder with the bionic leg."

Brian frowned. "Michael--"

The other man just waved him off. "Just go, I’m sure he’s wait--" Michael grudgingly glanced upstairs to the bedroom and glared at the blond at the railing, "—spying from the top of the stairs."

Justin blushed when Brian looked up. "I wasn’t! I just…You disappeared," he offered lamely.

"I needed to talk to Mikey for a minute," Brian replied. "And you need to call Emmett about some meeting today. Go do that and I’ll be right up."

"Okay," the blond agreed, but he didn’t move.

Brian saw him wringing the belt on the robe in his hands. "Justin?"

"I want to know why Michael’s been calling me," the artist blurted before he could second guess himself again.

"What? Why would I call you?" Michael stammered.

Brian glanced from his lover to his friend and back again. "What are you talking about?"

"The ‘wrong numbers’ and hang ups I’ve been getting. I thought they were…just that, but now I think it was Michael."

"Brian are you going to let him get away with this?" Michael screeched.

The detective held up his hand to silence his friend. "Justin, you got those calls before you even met Michael."

"I mean since we got back from New York."

Brian’s eyes widened. "Why didn’t you tell me before?"

The artist tried to shrug nonchalantly, but Brian could see the tension. "I didn’t want them to be anything else. I hoped it was just a coincidence like you said."

The detective didn’t like the bitterness in his tone, especially directed at him. "So why do you think it was Michael?"

"Brian!" Michael protested.

"You said yourself he’s done it before and he just said he called everyone looking for you after you were hurt. That was the night I got a bunch so I was just want to know it was him so I… so I know."

So he knew it wasn’t Eric. Christ, how was he ever going to get rid of this shadow? But he needed to get rid of another pest first. Brian watched his friend carefully. Justin hadn’t made an airtight case against him but it had some validity.

Michael visibly squirmed under the detective’s scrutiny. "How could I call him? I don’t have his number," the man insisted.

"You’re not supposed to have a key either, but you still got in," Brian countered.

"My business card," Justin told them. "I gave them out at the party."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Good deduction, Angel, now would you mind giving us a minute?"

The cold glint in Brian’s eye told him it wasn’t really a question so Justin reluctantly nodded and went back to the bedroom.

Michael’s smirk at watching him leave was short-lived when he saw Brian’s scowl. "I didn’t--"

The detective suddenly pushed him back against the wall. It didn’t hurt him, but it made sure he had his complete attention. Brian glared into his friend’s surprised eyes, locking their gazes. "Listen to me very carefully, Mikey. Are you listening?"

The other man nodded.

"No more fucking around, got it?"


"You have no idea what you’re fucking with here so leave him alone. Am I clear?"

"Crystal. You believe him instead of me."

Brian would’ve laughed at his view of the situation if it didn’t make him so frustrated. "You have to admit right now he’s got more credibility."

"How?" Michael cried indignantly.

"You’ve been lying to me since you got here."


"Where’d you get the key from? I know it’s not Ted’s."

Michael looked away, knowing he was caught. "I made a copy of the spare you gave me over Christmas. I don’t understand why you were such a prick about it," he accused to deflect the blame. "I had one to the loft before."

Brian sighed. Yes, he’d been a prick because he didn’t want Michael to think it meant anything. Not that it had helped at all obviously. "You don’t live in the Pitts anymore," Brian explained again. "Ted and Danny both live less than five minutes away. Why do you need one? So you can let yourself in like last night?"

"Yes, if I need too," Michael persisted. "I had to get your attention."

Brian couldn’t stand the pleading look in his eyes and took a step back. He was suddenly uncomfortable with their close proximity. "I’m not doing this anymore," he said exasperatedly. "We’ll be leaving in about an hour so take a shower or whatever you need to do and decide where you’re going. And don’t forget to leave the key on the counter before you go."


By the time Brian got back upstairs Justin had finished his shower and was on the phone with Emmett. Brian thought he felt a chill coming from the other man and grudgingly showered by himself. When he came back out the artist was at the window, obviously lost in thought.

"Hey," the older man said softly as he wrapped his arms around his lover. He stroked the artist’s hip through the thin robe he was wearing again.

Justin leaned back against him but didn’t respond.

The detective set his chin on the artist’s shoulder and kissed his neck. "What’d Emmett want?"

"There’s a buyer from London in town this weekend. Lindsay sold him some of my work while I was in the hospital. He’s interested in more and wants to meet me this time."

"Of course he does," Brian smiled against his cheek. "Have you set a meeting yet?"

"Emmett wants to do lunch with a tour today and try to get him interested in some of George’s collection as well, I guess he’s big with Amnesty International, but Lindsay’s balking because she’s supposed to go to Philadelphia today and she thinks she should be with us."

"Why?" Once again, Lindsay was fucking up his life. If they had to push the meeting back until she got back, their weekend would be shot. But if they went ahead with the lunch (thank you, Emmett) they could still be at the bed and breakfast by supper.

"She’s in charge of George’s collection and I think she’s afraid we’re trying to push her out again. Especially since we haven’t been getting along lately."

"Maybe it is time she moves on," Brian suggested.

"To what? There aren’t any teaching positions open in the area and she hasn’t been able to put enough time in the studio to get a show together. I know Mel’s practice is finally taking off, but I don’t want them to be short again if anything happens."

"It’s not your job to take care of them, it’s mine."

"Right," Justin snorted. He felt Brian stiffen and turned, quickly adding, "I know you would, but Lindsay wouldn’t let you."

Brian nodded. "So what’s the plan then?" he asked to change the subject. "Are we still getting outta here? Mikey should be ready to leave soon so we are free to hit the road whenever you’re ready."

This time Justin went rigid. When he mentioned Michael. "I guess."

Brian tipped his chin up so the blond couldn’t look away. "He won’t bother you anymore."

"If you say so," Justin replied sarcastically.

Brian struggled to keep from lashing back. He just had to remind himself the blond had been through a lot and was allowed some slack. "Justin, if you had told me everything I wouldn’t have dismissed it," he said evenly.

The artist tried to feign disinterest, turning his attention to his clothes. "You were right anyway, I just blew it out of proportion. I don’t think Michael meant any real harm."

Brian sat down on the bed and pulled his lover onto his lap. "Doesn’t matter. You have every reason to be guarded. And I never meant to make you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I really thought it was just a random call or two. Now I want you to tell me everything."

"It’s not--"

"Tell me," Brian ordered.

Justin sighed and leaned against his shoulder. "It started just after Christmas, the first one was at home."

"What exactly happened?"

"I answered the phone and I could hear someone breathing on the other end, but they didn’t say anything. After a few seconds they hung up."

"Then what?"

"The next morning it happened again, but I was at the office."

"Did they call your office phone or your cell phone?"

"The office phone."

"Okay, what else?"

"After that I stopped answering any calls I couldn’t identify with caller id because it just creeped me out. When I didn’t answer the phone there were a few hang-ups on the machine, but nothing really suspicious."

"At home or work?"

"Mostly work, but one or two at home, I think."

"Okay, then what?"

"We went to New York. The last few days since we’ve been back I’ve had a few hang-ups again, but nothing more, until the other night. I thought I heard my cell phone ringing when we went to bed but didn’t bother with it. When I checked it yesterday, I had three or four hang-ups in a row. And it was the same thing this morning."

"Had you ever gotten hang-ups or wrong numbers on your cell before, I mean during the last two weeks?"


"And you think that was Michael, the last few days, calling your cell phone?"

"Yes, at least I hope it was." He sat back a little to see Brian’s reaction, but he couldn’t read the detective’s face.

"What about the other calls?"

Justin shook his head, averting his eyes. "I don’t know."

Stop holding back. "But you suspect Eric."

"I don’t know," the blond repeated, but Brian could feel him tense.

The older man held him tighter. "Okay, Angel, we’re gonna find out."

"Do you believe me?" Justin asked, holding his breath.

"Of course."

"What about Michael?"

Brian lowered his forehead to the artist’s shoulder. "I think you could be right, but we have no way of proving it now. There’s been no actual crime committed so I can’t just start yanking phone records. However, if it was him, he’ll stop because he knows we know. He was just being stupid, but like you said, he didn’t mean any real harm. If they continue, it’s a good chance it’s… someone else, or maybe still just a coincidence. But one way or the other, I will find out, and if your crazy fucking ex is back in town, he’s not getting anywhere near you." He looked into the blue eyes staring down on him. "Okay?"

Justin nodded, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension left. Did he dare hope Brian was right this time?

The detective was relieved by his nod, but he could still see doubt furrowing his brow. At a loss for what else to do to reassure the young man until they had more to work with, he momentarily let his own emotions spill over. "You’re mine now," he added fiercely. "I won’t let him hurt you again."

The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise, searching for some sign of where that outburst suddenly came from, but then he decided he didn’t care as long as it was genuine, and he believed it was. He flung his arms around the older man’s neck, squeezing him almost desperately. "I know."


Michael stood outside the room, listening through door that Brian left ajar. He’d only come up to say good-bye, but ended up eavesdropping when he heard the men talking about the phone calls he’d been accused of making. In his mind, he had a right to know because Brian obviously hadn’t told him everything that was going on. But as is usually the case, once you know, you wish you didn’t. Brian’s sudden declaration to the younger man was like a knife in Michael’s heart. Part of him wanted to flee or interrupt, but the other part that had to know, hoping he misunderstood, won control. He carefully nudged the door open slightly wider so he could see the two men.

Justin stood from Brian’s lap where he was sitting on the bed and the robe the artist had been wearing suddenly fell to the floor. Brian pulled him back down on the bed and removed the towel around his own hips as he lay down next to him. They were stretched out face to face on their sides as limbs tangled together. Justin’s injured leg was carefully set over Brian’s thigh as they pressed closer to each other.

Michael stifled a gasp as he saw the extent of the scarring on the artist’s leg. But what was more disturbing was Brian’s obvious tenderness and caring for the other man. Michael didn’t want to believe what his friend had said, but it was hard to deny he had feelings for the blond when watching them together.

After listening to them fucking the night before, shit they made a racket, Michael was still able to convince himself Brian was just using the kid to get off, to stroke his ego because he was nearing forty. After all, Michael did remember what Brian was like when he turned thirty. But watching them now…

"If we don’t go now, we’ll never get out of this bed," Justin said regretfully, trying to pull away. However, he didn’t fight much when Brian’s lips refused to be displaced from his neck.

"You’re point is?" Brian replied huskily, trailing hot kisses over the artist’s collarbone.

"I won’t be able to sit through my meeting," Justin panted.

"If I can manage to walk after you fucked me through the mattress last night--" Brian started.

Michael’s mouth gaped open in disbelief. He never imagined Brian ever…

The artist blushed. "I meant I won’t be able to concentrate. The more I get the more I want."

"Not a problem." Brian suddenly rolled off the bed and knelt at the left bottom corner of the mattress. "Put your ass right here."

Never needing to be told twice, Justin quickly scrambled over to the edge and rolled onto his belly. He straddled the corner in front of Brian as he knelt on the floor with his left leg and extended his right leg out on the bed.

Brian watched the blond position himself, only kneading the firm globes presented to him, until Justin was settled. He leaned forward and kissed his right hip. "Okay?"

"Yes, pl—oh fuuuuck…" His plea obviously wasn’t necessary as Brian’s tongue slithered over the puckered opening as soon as he said yes. The older man rimmed him voraciously and Justin keened. "Brian…" The blond’s hand reached back, struggling to touch the other man, and Brian caught it, entwining their fingers together.

Michael blanched and stumbled away from the door, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t even know that man in there, his supposed friend, and yet he suddenly wanted him more than ever. This was the man he’d been waiting for all these years. Anger and grief flooded through him as he remembered all the shit he’d been through with Brian, always telling himself it would be worth it in the end. Once Brian was ready they would be together. But obviously he wanted someone else. Someone he just met a fucking month ago. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be!

But it was, so what could he do about it?

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