Overstepping

They kissed hello as soon as Steve heard Brian's footsteps in the entryway. He'd been gone almost two weeks and though they had talked almost every day it was hardly the same as holding a warm, solid body in your arms. They kissed one another, breaking apart slightly with Steve still kissing Brian's cheek and the side of his neck. He was caressing Brian's back through the silk/wool blend of the suit jacket, stroking the long muscles along his spine. He spoke gently as they held one another.

"How was the trip?"

"Fine."

"Are you hungry? I can cook something or we can order in if you…"

"No, I'm fine. I ate on the plane. I'd just like a hot shower then maybe a small snack or something." Carefully disengaging, Brian walked upstairs to the master bedroom while Steve went to the kitchen to see what he could find. He knew Brian wanted some time to decompress. That was to be expected. He'd wait til later to find out how it had all gone, the meetings with the clients and the feelers to the potential new account execs they were trying to hire away from other agencies. He could wait.

First he wanted to make sure that Brian was comfortable, fed and could relax and rest for a while. That was what he needed.

Later they could reconnect, talk, make love. They always did when one of them came home from someplace. This time was no different.

It was more than forty minutes later that Brian came back down, wearing an old pair of jeans and one of his old long sleeved tees. It wasn't his normal look anymore and Steve was slightly surprised to see his choice of clothing-sort of like anyone would react to seeing an old friend walk in wearing clothing from back when they were in high school. It was almost like a walk down memory lane.

Well, no matter. The clothes were probably comfortable.

"Hungry?"

"I'll make myself a sandwich, don't bother to get up."

Steve followed him into the kitchen anyway. Of course, Brian could make himself a meal, but they hadn't seen one another in almost two weeks.

Brian worked in silence. Very obviously something was bothering him. Finally Steve put his hand over Brian's as he sliced a tomato.

"What's happened?" Knowing Brian, it could be anything. He might have lost an account, he might have had his laptop stolen, he could have hated his room or his rental car, someone might have spilled something on his Armani-anything.

Just so long as it wasn't…

Brian went on with his slicing, not even bothering to look up. "Do you want a sandwich?"

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

"Who was it?"

"What difference does it make?"

"It matters to me."

Brian got out the loaf of bread, stalling for time, going to the fridge for cold cuts.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does." Silence. "Who was it, Brian? One of the bartenders? A client-did you at least get the account? The kid who delivered your room service? The flight attendant?"

He opened his beer, more stalling. "It was Justin."

Steve looked at him in complete disbelief, hurt, anger, betrayal.

Justin.

Fucking Justin.

Justin who had been a Goddamned ghost in their lives together since the day they'd met and Steve hadn't even known his name yet, just that he was there in the background. Justin, Brian's first love. The boy who could do no wrong, as far as the rest of Brian's 'family' was concerned. J. Taylor whose paintings hung in half the rooms of their home. Sweet Sunshine who should have been Brian's one true love, as he'd been told countless times. Fucking Justin who had lied and manipulated Brian since the day they'd met and which no one else seemed willing to acknowledge.

"He was in LA?"

"I stopped over in Denver on the way home."

For the love of God.

"Which would explain why you felt the need for a shower?" Brian didn't answer. "How long has this been going on? Every trip?" Well, what could he expect? Brian had done the same thing to Justin when he and Steve had first connected. It was almost a pattern, if you wanted to look at it that way. Isn't that the conventional wisdom? If you have an affair with someone, expect them to have another one after you're together.

"This is the first time we've hooked up since you and I moved in together."

Steve stood upright, away from the counter he'd been leaning against, his hands at his side. "And even if that should happen to be true, would you care to tell me why?"

"He called me. He was in trouble."

"And far be it for you not to help a friend."

"He is a friend, you know that."

"And he was horny, so he called you."

"Peter has been hitting him."

"So you had to kiss it to make it better? For God's sake, Brian, he has a family, he has other friends. There must be abuse hotlines and lawyers in Denver. He tracked you down in LA to have you rescue him?"

"I was the one he called."

"So you made him feel better by fucking him for an afternoon then leaving?"

Brian looked at Steve, at their kitchen and the living room beyond it, the city below them through the windows, as though he was a director in some surreal film. This was surreal, this wasn't happening.

He was throwing away the trust and love and happiness he'd wallowed in for over a decade now and he felt as though he was a spectator looking in through the glass.

In their dozen years together, Brian had never seen Steve really angry, really furious before. He was always calm, always soft-spoken, always kind. They never argued. Well almost never. Brian could count their disagreements on one hand and even then they hadn't been serious enough to rattle anyone's cage.

This was different and he knew it.

Why the fuck had he told Steve?

Why had he needed to let Steve know that not only had he screwed around but that it had been with Justin and that he had flown a thousand miles out of his way to do it? To prove that he was still desirable to other men? To prove it to himself? To make Steve know he had options?

Justin, the one man Steve was insecure about him being with and the only one where the feelings might actually be justified.

"So is that it? You've changed your mind and want him this week instead of me? Will you change your mind back next month? Maybe Justin and I could work out joint custody. You could spend half the year here and half in Denver. Maybe it would be easier if we all moved to Utah."

Well, he had reason, after all. Brian observed his anger, knowing he was the cause. It was odd, in its way, he felt detached from what was happening, as though he was just a disinterested bystander and he found himself composing a commentary in his head; "He appears angry, but you'd have to agree that he's justified in his feelings, don't you think? Over to you…"

"Are you going back there or is he coming here?"

"Excuse me?"

"I think it would be best if you were the one to actually move out. I'll stay long enough to clean out this place and sell it. Half of the profits will be yours since we own it together. I can move to one of the other offices, or you could if you prefer. That way we won't have to see each other all the time."

He looked at Steve as if he were speaking Urdu. "I don't want to end this. I don't want to lose you."

"And I'll be fucked before I put up with this bullshit from you."

Brian just stared. In all their years together Steve was never vulgar. He rarely swore. He never got angry.

"You want me to make a choice?"

"What did you think would happen? That I'd stand back until you got this out of your system? You set yourself up for this. You seem to need more than you're getting here and I'm not your piece on the side-nor will I put up with you hopping a plane to Denver whenever you have an itch that needs scratching. Either promise me that this was a one off or get out tonight and I'll have your things sent."

"Hey, look, Steve…"

"Don't. You obviously told me about this so that you would have to decide on one or the other since you had to know that I wouldn't accept this from you or anyone. Fine. Since you told me about this I assume that you've already made some sort of decision." He waited a moment. "Well?"

For one of the only times in his life, Brian was stopped. He was on a cliff and he had to decide-now-if he wanted to jump off or not. Usually he was the one who was doing the pushing.

"Yes?" Steve was waiting for his answer.

"I don't want to lose you."

Steve gave him an appraising look, like the kind he would give to an employee who had promised to do better and get to work on time from now on.

"Call Justin, or write him. Break it off. Tell him whatever you want, though the truth would probably be appreciated. Make it clear that you won't see him again."

"He's going through a bad time, if I do that he'll…"

"Fine. Tell me where you'll be staying, in the meantime; get the fuck out of my house."

"Steve…"

He picked up the house phone that was by the kitchen door, his eyes on Brian. "Yes, good evening. Would you please have a cab for Mr. Kinney? He'll be down in a couple of minutes. Thank you." He replaced the receiver. "Now get out." Steve walked out of the room; Brian heard his footsteps on the stairs and then the bedroom door closing.

Getting his leather jacket back on and picking up the suit bag and the carry on he'd had with him on his trip, he left the home he'd shared with Steve for almost a dozen years.

He checked into the Plaza, just a few blocks up Fifth Avenue and tried to figure out how to unscrew his life.

He called room service to have his clothes, dirty from his trip, cleaned and settled in for the night.

The next morning he was at his desk by eight AM, pretending to catch up on whatever he'd missed over the last week or so and almost pulling it off. With any luck Steve wouldn't come into the office that day. He usually only showed up a couple of days a week, so if he was lucky…

In fact Steve was walking to the Brownstone that housed the New York branch of Brenner/Vanguard at that moment. Normally he'd either take the subway or a bus. If he was late he might take a cab but this morning he opted to walk the forty blocks.

He'd known something was going on when he hadn't heard from Brian in two days. That wasn't like him. Normally when one of them was away they would touch base every night, but Brian hadn't called, hadn't e-mailed. He'd been worried, but had just chalked it down to the ridiculous schedule Brian always insisted on setting for himself.

When he'd seen Brian walk into the duplex he'd known something was wrong. His walk, the expression on his face, his demeanor was all off. He'd even guessed that Brian had slipped off the fidelity wagon and much as that hurt, Hell, Brian was only human and these things happened now and then.

It hurt, but they'd work it out, get past it. In the scheme of things, one slip in a dozen years wasn't that big a deal. Not really.

But with Justin.

Well, yes. That was a deal.

Sure, of course he'd known that Brian still was concerned about him, worried and that he'd followed Justin's career and as much of his personal life as he realistically could for years now, but Steve honestly believed that it was simply out of friendship and maybe some sense of obligation. He was fine with that, more or less. Steve had even smiled at Jennifer's wedding a few years ago, gone to Justin's various openings, said nothing when Brian wanted to hire him to illustrate this or that campaign. He'd kept his mouth shut and let it all go.

But this-no.

He wouldn't, couldn't accept this.

He felt like a fool telling Brian to make a choice, but that's what it came down to, again, just like it had a dozen years ago when this had all started. One or the other, he couldn't play both sides. Even if Justin could accept that, Steve wouldn't.

And the pisser was that he'd thought, he'd honestly believed that they were doing well together. Sure, they had all the trappings, the homes and the money and the successful business. They had the respect of their friends and their peers, they shared interests and hobbies and all sorts of memories by now. And most importantly they loved one another. There was a bond, a connection between them that went immeasurably beyond the material end of things. They loved each other. They had a history together. And they even had great sex regularly-it all seemed good.

They almost never fought or argued.

He thought they were alright.

He used his key to get into the building. It was still too early for the place to be opened. The lights were on, someone was here.

Of course.

Brian always got there early or stayed late when he had things on his mind. He went straight to Brian's office, the door was open, Brian at the desk.

He sat in one of the client chairs. They just stared at one another, each waiting for the other to start.

Finally Steve just spread his hands. "Well?"

"I didn't plan it."

"And that's supposed to make a difference? You're neither stupid nor naïve-nor am I. You know how I feel about this. I won't accept this from you-or anyone for that matter."

"Steve…"

"It's fairly straightforward. Either you tell me that it won't happen again or you don't."

"You're serious. You'd end it over…"

Steve stood up, headed for the door. "I've been around this block once before with you, remember? Twelve years ago I was the quick fuck you ended up deciding to stay with. You tried to play both sides then and didn't get away with it. I'll be Goddamned if I'm going to spend every lunch hour wondering whom you're with. You want me, fine. You want Justin, that's fine too but you can't have it both ways and I'm not going to cool my heels for another year while you flip a coin." He was in the doorway. "You let me know by the end of the day."

Brian tried for cool. "That's a bit fast, don't you think?"

"Considering that you've had over a decade to make up your mind, not really. Besides, a man in your position is used to making decisions, aren't you, Brian?"

Brian looked at the painting on the wall opposite his desk. It was a large oil Justin had done a few years ago and which he'd shipped to the office as a thank you for throwing a couple of commissions his way. It was bright with bold strokes, conveying a sense of power and confidence. Brian had loved the thing on sight. Steve had insisted he didn't mind at all. And in all truth, he probably didn't because he knew that he and Brian were solid.

The thing was that he honestly hadn't gone to Denver to fuck Justin. He really had stopped there simply because he knew Justin was upset and having some problems. That really was why he was there. The sex-well, it had just happened.

Sometimes it just happened, Steve knew that.

Peter, the man Justin was living with had hit him because he thought Justin was flirting at some party. They had gotten home and argued; things had escalated and had ended with Justin having a black eye and a bruised rib.

When Brian had driven up to the house he shared with the good doctor Justin had sworn that it had never happened before, that he was sorry for calling Brian and upsetting him, that it would never happen again.

He had been upset, but now hat he'd had time to calm down he saw it for what it was, just a lover's spat and not that big a deal.

Really.

It was great, fantastic that Brian would detour his trip home to see him, but it hadn't really been necessary. He was fine. It had blown over.

They had eaten lunch, talking the whole time about their lives and how they were both doing and somehow they had ended up in the Jacuzzi in the room with all the plants and the windows that looked out to the mountains. Justin had talked about his life, his work, how he was basically happy and how he'd moved on after the thing with Brian had ended and Eric had died. Things were basically going well. His paintings sold, Peter was doing well, his practice was growing.

Sometimes Peter was tired or annoyed when he'd come home and find that the laundry hadn't been picked up or the dinner hadn't been started or that Justin had forgotten to gas up the car, but usually things were pretty good.

Brian had told him that things were going well. He and Steve were happy and the agency was doing well, they had won four Clio's the month before and their client base was building enough that they might have to either expand or refuse new accounts for a few months.

The afternoon was comfortable if you ignored the reason why Brian was in Denver in the first place.

Peter was hitting Justin and Justin was rationalizing it.

This time he had a black eye. Next time he could have a broken leg.

Brian had said as much and Justin had started by saying Peter had been sorry, that it would never happen again. In a while he had begun to cry, quietly, swearing that he loved Peter and that it had been his own fault.

Brian had reached over, put an arm around Justin, let him cry himself out and hadn't been all that surprised when the comfort became sex.

Probably Justin hadn't been surprised all that much either.

After they had gotten out of the hot water, wrapped towels around their waists, Brian had gotten dressed when he realized that he would miss his flight if he didn't go and that had been it.

They had parted with Justin simply thanking him for coming, assuring him that it would be fine and he shouldn't worry. Brian had promised to stay in touch and that Justin could call him any time, come to New York if he needed to get away. He would always have a place to stay.

Peter didn't come home while Brian was there.

It wasn't that big a deal and why the flying fuck had he told Steve about it almost as soon as he'd walked in the Goddamned door?

He came up with all kinds of pop psychology answers-that he wanted to be caught, that he felt unworthy of being loved, that he was challenging Steve to throw him out, that he needed to see how far he could push Steve, that he wanted to end it, that he was self destructive, that he was insecure and needed to prove Steve's love was strong enough to overlook or get past what he'd done.

Whatever.

Maybe he just needed to shoot himself in the foot.

He didn't know, other than that he and Steve had told each other everything for a dozen years. Whatever had happened to him, good or bad, Steve knew and this was no different. Besides, part of him believed that somehow Steve would find out anyway so he might as well be the one to break the news.

Who knew why he had done it? What difference did it make?

Sitting there he went over his options and there weren't all that many.

He could call Justin and hear again the bullshit that Justin knew Peter was his true love and they had patched things up and everything was wonderful-until next time.

He could pack his shit and transfer to the San Francisco office and start over.

He could write his memoirs.

He could tell Steve that he'd been a complete and total asshole and that he was sorry, throw himself on Steve's mercy and swear that it would never happen again because if he didn't he would lose Steve. And he loved Steve. He loved Steve more than he had ever loved anyone.

OK, maybe Justin was the reason why he was capable of having someone like Steve in his life and he owed Justin big time for that, but Justin was then and Steve was now and Steve was the one he wanted and that was just a damn fact.

Fuck it, just face the music.

The employees had begun arriving, several wishing him a 'Good Morning'. Hell, he would have preferred to have the place to themselves for this.

He walked down the hall to Steve's office telling his assistant that they weren't to be disturbed, and then closed the office door behind him.

"It won't happen again."

Steve swiveled his chair from where he'd been looking out the window. "You sure?"

"You have my word. It won't happen again, with Justin or anyone else."

Steve didn't seem happy or relieved or any of that. He wasn't even still angry, to look at him. He looked incredibly sad. Brian stood with the desk between them.

Steve looked over at him. "You hurt me."

Brian nodded. He knew that.

Steve turned to look out the window again.

"Please, come with me. We'll take the day off. We'll do whatever you'd like." No answer. "We can see that new exhibit at the Guggenheim you were talking about, just the two of us."

"Is it because he's younger? He's thirty, I'm fifty. Is that the reason? Are, would you rather be with someone who's…" All of Steve's fears and insecurities came out in that simple sentence. It was what he had always thought would happen, that Brian would tire of him, leave him for some beauty.

Brian crossed over to where Steve was sitting, still looking out the window. Reaching down Brian took his hand, pulling him to his feet, his arms going around his waist.

"If I wanted a kid or a drama queen I could have one. And so could you. That's not what I need. You know that as well as I do. I want you."

"Still?"

Brian kissed him, kissed him like a lover, gently and carefully. "As long as you'll put up with me."

"Do you still find me-desirable?"

A slow smile started. "I can show you how much."

"My hair is starting to gray."

"So is mine. We're two of a kind, haven't you realized that yet?"

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