Secrets

~ One ~

Thanks to Mothafunkybat (God, I love her name) who knows more about good champagne than I do. And, of course, to Beth for her beta.

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"Brian? There's a call for you on line six. She wouldn't give her name but she said she's an old friend of yours from high school. Do you want me to get rid of her?"

It was September twentieth. He'd been half expecting the call.

"No, I'll take it. Close the door on your way out." Cynthia did as she was asked. "Yes?"

"Brian? Will you be here tonight?"

"You know I will. Seven?"

"Yes, seven. I've been looking forward to this."

"So have I. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Good, don't forget to bring the wine and please don't be late-please?"

"That hurt."

"No doubt. Be here on time."

He huffed a smile. "Yeah, sure."

If any of his friends had heard him they would have wondered what had gotten into him. His voice was all wrong, at least for him it was. It was quiet and gentle-the way he spoke to Gus when the child was upset about something or Justin when he was having one of his nightmares. There was no edge, no sarcasm. It was-different.

September twentieth, this year it happened to fall on a Wednesday. The weather was still warm and today it was nice out. The celebration was going to be held outside.

At four he left the Vanguard offices, incredibly early for him. Without explanation he had taken his briefcase and his laptop and walked out. Normally he would still be working at seven or eight, even on a Friday it was common for him to be there after everyone else had left. The crowd of employees hoping for an early escape by the elevator exchanged glances. Mr. Kinney could be a real prick if you crossed him somehow and his nasty comments were the thing of local legend. Saying nothing he joined the group for the ride down, getting out at the garage. There were a few "Have a good night" comments, but no one had the nerve to talk to Brian and he barely noticed. Well, if he did notice, good. It looked like he didn't care that he wasn't the only one leaving early.

He had promised that he would bring the wine, which he hadn't bought yet, and he still had to pick up the present he'd ordered. He also wanted to get back to the loft for a quick shower and a change of clothing.

An hour and a half later, errands accomplished despite the heavy getaway traffic, he slid the loft door open to Justin's crappy music. Dammit. He hadn't wanted to deal with this right now.

Justin was sitting at the desk, working-or doing something anyway, on the computer. "Hey, Brian, you're early-what's up?"

Shit. "I just decided to make it an early day." He kept walking, putting his briefcase on the counter as he walked past, going up to the bedroom and into the bathroom. Justin heard the shower start. Odd.

He closed down the computer, turned off the oven so dinner wouldn't get scorched and made his way up to the bathroom. Stripping, he opened the stall door, startling Brian, causing him to jump slightly. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Hardly the response Justin had expected. "…I thought I'd help you wash your back."

"Thanks but I'm done." Avoiding Justin's touch Brian moved past him out to the bedroom, towel in hand.

Really odd.

Justin got out of the stall as well. He wasn't even wet.

"Brian? Is something wrong?"

He was getting dressed in casual but decent clothes, jeans, one of his better designer tees. He looked, well, he looked hot because Brian always looked hot, but mostly he looked classy, preppy. It was like he was trying to tune down his sex or something.

"No."

"I have dinner cooking, it should be ready in a couple of hours. I thought maybe we could pass the time…" He was next to Brian, his hands lightly running up his back under the soft fabric.

"Not now." That was all he said, he simply dismissed the invitation out of hand, turned to the closet, pulled out a weekender bag and started putting clothes in. What the fuck?

"Are you taking a trip?"

Answering with obvious reluctance he looked at Justin. "I'm going to dinner then I'm going to New York. I'll be back late Sunday."

This was the first Justin had heard of it. "Whom are you going with?"

"A couple of old friends."

"Do they have names?"

"Pat and Jamie."

Justin had his pants back on, he just nodded. 'Pat and Jamie', whoever the fuck they were. So that was it. Fine. Screw him. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Expecting Brian to not screw around was like expecting the sun not to rise in the morning. Saying nothing he went back to the computer, rebooted it and didn't acknowledge Brian when he offered to kiss him good-bye.

Fine, whatever.

Brian tossed the bag onto the passenger seat of the vette and pulled out. Fuck it. He'd straighten it out when he got back. The twat had to clue into the fact that the fucking world didn't always revolve around his pretty blond head.

Forty minutes later he was pulling into the driveway. The trees were still in full leaf and they formed an archway above the car that was already there. He pulled in behind the Audi convertible and got out just as the front door opened.

"Dear God, not only are you here, but you're half an hour early-this is one for my diary"

"Bite me, bitch."

"I already did and you liked it."

Brian half smiled and leaned down to be kissed. Pat was tall, almost five ten, but she still had to stretch to kiss him.

They had been friends since they'd been kids. They had lived next door to one another until the Kinney's had moved to Irwin when Brian was fourteen and even then they had stayed in touch, remaining close, sharing everything that happened to one another both good and bad. Pat knew he was gay and had probably known before Brian figured it out himself. She didn't care. He was her brother, he slew dragons for her and she did the same for him. They had even managed to get together after the move. One or the other would either convince a parent to give them a ride or they would hop buses and meet somewhere for the day.

People seemed to think that they made a good pair. They were both tall and slender, for starters. Their coloring was similar and they were both smart. Pat had even run cross-country in school before it became too difficult to get away. Both families were Catholic. The main difference was that Pat's parents had been everything that Jack and Joan Kinney hadn't been. Where the Kinney house had been cold and abusive, the Weller's had been warm and close knit. Where Brian's parents had ignored their children when they weren't hitting them, Pat's parents had been supportive and kind. Most people seemed to think the two youngsters were siblings and Pat's family joked about them getting married when they grew up. Brian's parents told him that boys should play with other boys or people would think he was a pansy.

The youngsters had thought that someday they'd get married too, for a while anyway.

"Let me help you with this stuff-Brian, I asked for wine, not Piper-Heidsieck."

"Champagne is wine."

"At a hundred dollars a bottle. That is so you."

"Whatever."

The house was large but not overpowering, set on a good sized wooded lot, it was one of those modern glass and wood things with unexpected angles and decks, which over looked a small stream.

Brian paid the mortgage.

"So how's it like being a partner? Is it what you wanted or not?"

He paused, unsure if she was talking about his job or Justin. "It's good, so far. Busy. Long hours, but it's good."

"You're happy?" She was putting the bottle in the fridge.

He stood, leaning against the counter, watching her. "I am."

She smiled at him. "Good. It's about time-past it, in fact."

He helped her get things ready, the two of them talking in the sort of shorthand that develops when people have known one another most of their lives.

He put his bag in the trunk of her car and carried out the other two. They were ready to go. Almost.

"Is this still a secret or did Jame figure it out yet?"

"I think it's still a secret, the details, but you know we always do something-she's been hinting around trying to get me to tell her what the plans are."

"You spill?"

"Not me, did you?"

"The last time we spoke she tried to get it out of me, but I stonewalled her. How many tonight?"

"Just us three." He looked surprised. Usually there were more than that, usually there were dozens. Pat shrugged. "I decided to keep it small-we're leaving almost as soon as she gets here and it was getting too complicated. I think we should just eat out and leave for the airport from dinner."

"Fine." He didn't care about the food and it would be easier.

Brian pulled the not quite chilled champagne back out of the fridge, popped the cork on the bottle and poured them each a glass. They toasted themselves. They did this every year-it had become a tradition of sorts, just the two of them.

Pat and Brian were best friends, not in the way Michael thought of his relationship with Brian and not the way Brian was friends with Justin. They knew each other, they understood one another and they liked each other. Brian and Pat both had seen the other at their worst and it was OK.

Michael didn't know about Pat, not really, nor did Debbie or the rest of the 'family'. Brian had the habit of compartmentalizing his life and after the Kinney's had moved he simply never talked about his old friends with his new ones. The same held true for Justin. There had simply never been a reason Brian could see to ever bring the subject up so he never had.

When he and Pat spoke it was in private or through their e-mails. They knew one another's cel numbers and used them. It was also a help that they were both independent and had never lived in one another's pockets. They spoke when they had to and occasionally when they just felt like it, but months could go by and it was fine. They'd pick up wherever they had left off.

They were close. They were each other's their best friend.

And they had the bond.

They heard front door open and in seconds Brian was enveloped in a hug that threatened to crack ribs. He kissed the top of her head.

She was a young girl, a young lady, really, in her mid teens, tall, slender and a beauty. "Dad, God I missed you!"

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