Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 23

"Wake up, Sunshine," Brian said. His dozing partner didn't move. Christ, he could sleep through a fucking earthquake, he thought, torn between amusement, envy, and frustration. Frustration seemed to be the emotion that was winning out. "Justin, wake the fuck up," he said, in a louder voice, prodding the younger man with a finger.

Slowly, Justin opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to allow his eyes to focus on Brian's face, which he noticed with trepidation was suffused with something perilously close to anger. "What's wrong?"

Good fucking question. It took effort for him not to lash out at Justin. After all, he's the one who woke him up. "You're changing. I'm changing. And it's not just because of the fucking cancer. Want to tell me exactly what you and Miranda talked about?"

Justin hesitated. On the one hand, the session between him and Miranda was private; on the other, Brian was paying for it. "I guess I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know," Justin said, in a small voice that reminded Brian of the days when Ethan had been in the picture. And that just wasn't tolerable.

Brian stood and towered over Justin. "That's bullshit. I haven't asked you for much since we got back together. Honesty and for you to tell me when you're freaking out about something."

"Et tu brute."

"Fuck you, Justin," Brian bit out. "I had a right to freak out about the cancer thing. It was my balls after all. And we're not fucking married."

Justin gave him a considering look and then sat up. "Have I said that I wanted that from you? That I wanted that degree of commitment from you? When is the last time I even suggested such a thing?"

Brian looked away and Justin bit down on his lower lip. Answer me. Answer the fucking question, Brian. When Brian looked back at him, there was an unreadable expression on his face. "What do you want?"

Sighing, Justin stood and walked over to the upright dresser. Opening a drawer, he withdrew the small jewelry box. He lifted the lid and withdrew the pendant Brian had given him the night they'd reconciled. He wondered if Brian remembered that night with the sort of clarity he did. For he assigned more importance to seemingly mundane things than Brian did. He met Brian's eyes and saw something akin to fear in the older man's eyes. "Put it on me."

"No," Brian said, turning away and walking down into the living room. He went directly to the drink cart and picked up the new bottle of Beam. He really didn't understand what had crawled up his ass and died but he knew that he was incredibly pissed at Justin. And he knew it came out of the blue. The emotional shit usually did and it hit him with the force of a Level 6 tropical storm. His fight or flee mechanism was kicking in and usually he'd just hit the baths and that wasn't an option. He didn't want to fight with Justin but at times the blond just pissed the fuck out of him. So he uncapped the bottle of Beam and took a healthy swallow, knowing that Justin was staring at him with that disapproving expression on his face.

Justin sat on the top step looking at his brooding lover. What the fuck is up with him? All this because I inadvertently and unintentionally called him Daddy. Brian's moods were not foreign to him but he never dealt with them well. Ironically, the only people who did seem to deal with Brian's moods well were Lindsay and Michael. And fuck if I'm going to call them, Justin thought. After all, if I can't handle Brian now, what chance at a future do we really have?

He looked down at the cowry shell pendant he still held as gingerly as if it were a baby bird and wondered just why Brian had bought it for him. The other man had never told him after he'd dropped the bombshell about them being partners way back when and Justin hadn't pressed. But now he wanted to know with a desperation that bordered on pain. So he bit down on his own instinct to get away from Brian and walked down to meet him. He could see the pain in the dark eyes and wondered just what nerve he'd hit by the words. God knew he hadn't tried to piss Brian off but somehow he just did. "Brian," he said, softly, "please talk to me."

"No."

Okay, so he's not going to make this easy on me. But I'm the one who opened this little can of worms so it's up to me to fix this. "I know you're changing and that scares me. It scares me because I got used to you being one way and now it's like your whole ideology is shifting on its axis."

"You're the one who wanted me to change. So fucking deal with it," Brian said, taking another healthy swallow and avoiding Justin's eyes. I don't know who the fuck I am anymore, he thought desperately. What scared him more was that he was suddenly seeing shadows around Justin, like the image was an out-of-focus picture.

Okay, I deserve that. It didn't make the words sting any less knowing that he deserved them. And any time Brian waged a full assault on him was painful. The man was a master at emotional warfare even when he didn't intend to do so. And just because his emotions didn't often manifest outwardly, Brian still had them. "Is it because I called you Daddy? Brian, I'm sorry. It just came out. I don't really think of you as a paternal figure."

At that Brian turned to him and set the bottle down with a clatter. "The hell you don't. I'm the one who saved you from your homophobic prick of a father. I'm the one who taught you everything you know about being the best homosexual possible. I taught you the joys of rimming and what it means to be the best little bottom possible. So yeah, I've been a paternal figure of sorts. And that just creeps me the fuck out."

"Okay. I thought we dealt with the age shit a long time ago. You're always going to be older than me. And I'm always going to be the twink in the community's eyes but I didn't think that mattered to you."

"Neither did I," Brian said, sadly. "I even call you Sonny Boy. Everybody talks about how I had two sons the night Gus was born. Do you know how that feels? No, I'm not old enough to be your father but in terms of experiences I might as well have been. You don't understand what it's like to experience all that I've taught you on your own without anyone to guide you or to keep you safe or to tell you what's a dangerous situation. All the shit I've gone through is enough for someone your mother's age. Do you know I had a fucking ulcer at the age of 10?"

Justin was startled at the words. He'd known Brian's home life had been bad but he didn't think he really wanted to know just how bad. And suddenly something that had always lingered at the periphery of his thoughts was voiced. "What happened to you in that locker room, Brian?" It was something he'd always wondered and never asked for fear of his lover's reaction. God knew that Brian was never predictable.

"Don't want to talk about it," Brian said, voice cold. He picked up a glass and poured a healthy amount of Beam into it before taking a sip. "Don't push." He really didn't want to talk about it. Hell, he'd only ever given Michael the glorified version of events because he knew Michael couldn't handle the darker realism of what had really happened. He knew Justin was stronger and tougher but he still didn't think his lover could handle it.

Withdrawing, Justin returned upstairs and retrieved a t-shirt. "If you don't want to talk about it," Justin said, from the top of the stairs, "that's okay. But don't shut me out entirely."

Slowly Brian nodded. He picked up the bottle of Beam and carrying it and the glass returned upstairs. He sat down on the side of the bed and looked down at his hands. "I told you that first night that he loved it. That I went into the shower fully clothed and sucked him off." Brian could still smell the scent of the Lever 2000 soap he'd used and the faint acidity. "But that isn't the whole truth."

Justin remained silent. If Brian was going to do this, he had to do it in his own way, without any prodding from him. "He grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to deep throat him, and I gagged. He laughed at me, at my naiveté. I knew less than you, Justin. That first night, you at least knew more about fellatio than I did at fifteen. But you quickly mastered the technique and how to stave off my orgasm until we were both ready. Once you did, you became accomplished at it."

That was one of the highest forms of praise he'd ever heard from Brian even if it was in a backhanded manner. But he still didn't respond and Brian sent him a glance that he couldn't quite read. "He fucked my mouth without any regard and I realized that I really didn't know what I'd walked into. When he began to shoot, he pulled out and came over my face and lips. And then he laughed again, calling me his little cum boy and his bitch. He asked me if I wanted to know how to take it. At that point I was scared shitless but I was turned on despite everything. My dick was hard as a rock and he knew it. The bastard fucking knew that I wanted it even though emotionally I wanted to run."

Justin realized that things could have been a whole lot worse his first time if he hadn't found someone like Brian. Brian, at least, had taken the time to prepare him and hadn't done anything he hadn't wanted him to do. And they'd talked and taken their time. Brian had guided him through nearly everything and he'd wanted nothing more at the end than to reciprocate on Brian. So he could hardly imagine just how terrified the young Brian must have been. All the emotions and physical reactions he was having must have scared him to death even as he was turned on.

"What happened?"

"Sure you want to know?"

Well, hell no, he didn't but he knew that he was getting a rare glimpse into Brian's past. The past that Michael saw through rose-colored glasses. This was Brian through a glass darkly and Justin could accept that. So he nodded slightly. Brian chuckled slightly, the sound dark and nearly evil. Well, sonny boy wants to know so I might as well tell him, Brian thought. But I need a fucking cigarette for this. What he really wanted was to get so high that he'd never come down. It didn't occur to him that his depression was kicking in and the black moods that he always carefully kept Justin away from were becoming patently apparent to his partner.

So he slid off the bed and retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his night table. "My chinos were soaking wet, and the head of my dick was just barely visible. He pulled me roughly towards him and roughly pulled down my pants and briefs in a move that was hardly practiced. There was no finesse, no passion, just a show of power. He admired my cock and then spat upon two of his fingers. He turned me around and shoved me up against the shower wall." Brian's voice progressively got lower as he began to remember the story with more clarity. "He shoved two fingers up my hole, roughly scissoring them back and forth, to open me up. Then I felt his cock ram into me. There was no intent for him to bring me off. I was purely a receptacle for his pleasure. When he came, he pulled out and told me to come back every afternoon after soccer practice."

"Brian," Justin said, horrified by the story.

"My dick was still hard and so I jerked myself off. Then I took a shower. I'd never felt so used in my life. Not even when Pop would use his belt on me or the cat. Pop was drunk most of the time but he still knew how to deliver a blow. I can still hear the belt singing through the air before it made contact. I took the long way home, my ass still burning, and ended up at home. Pop wasn't home yet from the union and Mom was in the kitchen cooking. I think Claire was at a friend's house. Anyway, I took another long hot shower, scrubbing every inch of my body. Yeah, I knew I wanted dick but I hadn't taken into account the ramifications of my action. And I couldn't tell anyone."

"What about Debbie?"

Brian sent him an incredulous glance. "Debbie had her own shit going on and I told Mikey a completely different version of what happened."

"Brian, you were raped," Justin said, his own voice nearly a whisper. He couldn't imagine what that had felt like.

"No, I wasn't. I was a stupid kid who got exactly what he wanted, just not the way he thought it would happen. I went into that shower knowing that I was going to get fucked."

"It was rape," Justin insisted.

"No, it fucking wasn't," Brian hissed. "Don't fucking say that to me. I was not raped. And if you breathe a word of this I'll never speak to you again."

This time Justin did not think it was an idle threat. He simply nodded. "What happened after that, Brian?"

"Haven't had enough? Still want the gory details?" Brian taunted, vitriol clear in his words. Christ, wasn't that enough?

"No," Justin said. He had had enough for one day. Too much emotional shit and they were both wracked with it.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Be careful what you wish for, sonny boy," he said, voice harsh. Cause you just might get it, he added silently.

Take him as he is or let him go, Justin thought, remembering Miranda's words in the session earlier that day. Take him as he is, reverberated in his head. He knew that meant taking the darkness and morbidity of Brian's thoughts along with the intense sexuality. He loved Brian, truly he did, but sometimes he wondered if Brian's darkness was why he was drawn to him. Cause everyone knew that Brian was hardly ever sweetness and light but few saw the true darkness. Justin moved closer to him and felt the bed shift as Brian moved away. Well, fuck me, he thought. "Don't," Brian said. "No more talking."

For the first time, Justin understood just why he and Brian didn't do the talking thing that often. It hurt too much. "Remember the day we found Jason Kemp in the dumpster behind the diner?"

Brian nodded, wondering where Justin was going with this line of thought. "Yeah, we came back here and you totally wigged out on me."

Justin didn't remember it quite that way but he wasn't going to argue with the man. So if he thought that was wigging out he could have that. "Remember when you were choking me?"

"Yeah, you got hard. And I fucked the shit out of you. You liked it, liked succumbing to the power I have over you."

Okay, nobody ever said Brian didn't have a healthy ego or a strong dose of narcissism and arrogance, but even for him that was over the top. "I think I understand better now why you have to have that sense of control. Why you always have to be the one on top."

There was more to his need to top than just control issues but he wasn't willing to go into them now, and he admitted to himself that he might never be ready to tell Justin everything. He didn't want to remember so why in the hell would he want to share those thoughts with his lover. Justin still had an idealized view of him even though he saw the real Brian more often than any other person. "I like being on top. I like taking you to the brink and hearing you beg me to take you over the cliff."

"You want to punish me sometimes, don't you?"

"Where are you going with this, Sunshine?"

Justin took a deep breath and said, "The night we fought when I wanted to fuck you, I got hot, watching you go to the breaking point. When you hit me back, I felt something."

Brian stared at him, eyes unreadable. Surely he's not going where I think he's going with this. I'm not my father. Dammit, I am not Jack Kinney. "You felt me lose control and do something to you that I swore I'd never do. And it's not because you haven't pushed me to that point before. You have, Justin. When things went down with Ethan, I wanted to hit you. I wanted to punish you for betraying me." But I walked away.

"So why didn't you?" Justin asked, voice trembling a bit. He knew he was going over the edge but he didn't care.

It was Brian's turn to sigh. "I don't like hurting you. And the choking thing was because I was trying to show you just how bad it can be to trust someone blindly. I didn't hit you that night because I knew that I'd just be pushing you out the door that much faster." Into the fiddler's open, waiting arms. Justin had gone anyway so his plan had backfired.

"How do you know that?"

Brian lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before responding to the question. He turned to Justin and said, "Because you don't like it when I hurt you. You were turned on but you were also terrified. Do you think I've forgotten the look in your eyes when I did that? Just a slight variation in where I placed my thumbs and you could've gone into the ground."

"You wouldn't have done that."

"No?"

"No."

"Why?"

Justin stared at him and then shook his head. "Because that's not the type of man you are."

Brian laughed shortly. "You think you've seen my dark side, Justin. Yeah, I'm changing but that doesn't mean that either one of us are going to like those changes. And I meant what I said about the will and the DPA and the money. I've even got you down as my medical power of attorney in case something should happen to send me to the hospital. Maybe, just maybe, I'm growing up."

"And me?" he asked.

"Sonny boy, I don't know."

Justin had always thought that Brian was the perennial Peter Pan; the boy who always wants to live in Neverland. Now he saw his lover as a man who was changing because he'd seen his mortality challenged. That was enough to change anyone. The question now was whether or not Justin loved him enough to face the darkness of Brian's heart and stay on the path, or diverge from the path he'd wanted from the first night he'd met him. But those issues were not going to be resolved tonight. The question now was whether he was strong enough to face the darkness that lay ahead. And he just didn't know. The fact that he didn't know scared the shit out of him.

They sat there in silence for long moments before Brian moved. He had grown weary of the silence and increasingly remorseful for his bad temper so he stood and walked down to his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hey, it's me. I need you. Come to the loft. The code is 7183."

Justin heard the words and understood the significance of Brian's code, the years of each of their births.

Brian waited a moment and then said, "Later." He hung up and saw Justin at the top of the stairs, looking like a puppy who'd just peed on the rug and was waiting to be kicked. He couldn't stand the guilt and he was tired of fighting. This was why he didn't talk. Fuck.

"Michael?"

Of course he'd think that. Debating whether or not to let his partner squirm like a fish caught on a hook, he finally just shook his head. Not worth the drama. Enough for a lifetime, he thought. "Miranda," he finally answered.

Justin raised an eyebrow. Whatever he'd been expecting it wasn't that. "She makes house calls now?"

"Don't start," Brian warned, his temper fraying. Let it alone. Just let it alone. He was going to owe her big. She'd sounded pissed at the interruption.

"You know why you're pissed off?"

He shrugged. He was suddenly sure that Justin was going to tell him. "Because you can't fuck me into complacency. We're talking when you'd rather get high or fuck someone else."

Well, he agreed with the first and last part of that statement. "Right now I don't want to fuck you," he snapped. "I want to hit you for being a twat. We're in deep shit trouble here, Justin." Anytime I feel like hitting someone or something I know it's bad. And that's why I called for reinforcements.

Justin walked down the stairs, his blue eyes wide. He felt fear and he'd never been afraid of Brian, not even when he was choking him. He'd always had the trust and that outweighed the uncertainty. So he knew this was bad; they were approaching a dark place.

Before he could respond, the buzzer sounded and Brian crossed to the door to open it. "Did you call her as your friend or our therapist?"

"Does it matter?"

It kind of did but Justin only shook his head. He was silent until he heard the elevator car arrive at their floor and Miranda step out. They needed her help because he really didn't like the place they were going. And he really didn't want to go to the point of no return. "Kinney," she began then took a good look at him and stopped cold. "What's wrong?" Because it was patently obvious that there was something very, very wrong.

"Ask the drama princess."

She directed her gaze at Justin and saw him flinch in obvious discomfort. "I left a lover in my bed to come see you two. So tell me what the fuck is going on. Now."

Well, Justin thought, I can see how she and Brian are friends. She takes no prisoners and that was something he would have said. In exactly that tone of voice, he realized.

"I called him Daddy."

Oh shit. "Brian?"

"I told him part of the real story about the coach."

"The rape?" She asked, unprepared for the heated glare Brian directed at her.

Mindful of his earlier warning, Justin did not concur with her assessment. He avoided looking at Brian, not wanting to see the man's expression. "I wasn't raped," Brian bit out.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, you were, but she knew that would go over like a lead balloon. Brian's eyes were a dark grey and she could see the anger in his carriage and mien. He was like a powder keg, primed and ready to blow. And she knew that Justin wouldn't be able to avoid the shrapnel. "So you told him part of the story, Brian. That's good."

"No, it's not. He wigged out."

How the hell did you expect him to react, Kinney? He loves you. We all do. "And?"

"Then we started talking about violence and a whole bunch of other shit."

"How are you feeling, Brian?"

"Pissed off, hurt, and trying my damnedest not to get physical."

Not good. Not good at all. She turned her attention to Justin and said, "Justin, do you have someplace to stay tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Pack a bag and go."

"But-" he began, then saw Miranda's expression. She was deadly serious. "Okay."

He disappeared up the stairs into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later with a duffel bag and his messenger bag. He was torn between going and staying; after all, it was his questions that had brought Brian to this point. He met Miranda's eyes and she nodded silently. But he said nothing to Brian as he left, seeing the hooded expression in his eyes that worried him.

When the door slid closed behind Justin, she moved towards Brian. "Brian," she said, stopping when she saw his eyes darken a fraction.

"Is he gone?"

She nodded, realizing just how dangerous the path she trod upon was. "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Not really," he said, going to his bedroom and returning to her with a silver case.

"What's in that?" she asked, cold with fear even as she voiced the question. She really didn't want to know.

Rather than answering her, he simply handed her the case then went to stand in front of the windows, his back to her. Lighting a cigarette, he thought about how quickly things had gone to shit between him and Justin. Lately, it seemed that his temper always quick, had become a hair-trigger. Fuck, this wasn't what he'd wanted.

Miranda opened the case, her blood pounding in her ears. Shit. Inside, were carefully sharpened tiny blades. She looked at Brian and saw him rubbing the fine scar on the inside of his wrist, almost absentmindedly. She remembered when he'd gotten that scar and why.

"Suicide?" she asked, voice faint. She'd known that she was right to be concerned even as she'd let him walk out of her office that last session. Why would he do this? Why now? This wasn't just about the cancer anymore. Something was really bothering him and she felt sure the young blond had something if not everything to do with it. "Brian?"

He turned back to her, face dark and said, "I think he wants me to hurt him. When things are good, one of us always finds a way to fuck it up. Usually it's me. When he called me Daddy, I went cold, Miranda. Like I'd gone naked into a snowdrift. He pissed me off."

"Why'd you tell him about the coach? Why now? I'd think dealing with the cancer would be enough for the two of you." They'd deal with the violence issue later. That, in itself, scared her. The one thing Brian did not want was to be his father. He'd worked too hard to distinguish himself from Jack to have Justin bring it out in him now.

"Because he asked. Every time I tell him about my childhood or my past it tears him up. And I shut down cold on him."

"Self preservation."

Brian nodded. "Yeah. He's the only person besides you who knows the truth about the most famous shower scene since Psycho."

His tentative joke didn't have the desired effect. Miranda didn't even crack a smile. "Michael?"

"Michael couldn't handle it." He had thought Justin could; he saw now he'd been wrong.

She could believe that. She'd never really liked Michael and the feeling was mutual. But she knew it was significant that he'd called her and not Michael. He'd needed her. "Why'd you call me? And not Lindsay? Or Michael?"

"Lindz is dealing with her own shit. And I don't want to tear Michael away from his hubby." He spoke wryly and then avoided her eyes as he searched for the right words to answer her real question. "Right now, you're the only thing standing between me and those blades. It was good you sent him away. Don't want him to clean up my mess. Don't want to put him through that."

Damn. Damn. Triple damn with a fucking on top. "He loves you. Desperately and deeply. Everything is going right."

"The fuck it is. I'm a one-balled wonder who can't fuck his partner. Everything's fucked up."

"Don't throw him away, Brian. Don't toss this chance aside." She was practically pleading with him now.

"Why do you care?" he asked, the plaintive note in his voice rendering her soul.

She repressed a sigh. The man was intensely frustrating. "Because," she said patiently as if she were talking to a child or mentally challenged person, "I have never seen you this happy. You two have a chance, Brian. Don't fuck it up. And I think you need him."

"Why are you blaming me? He's the one who pushed this. I didn't start this fight and lately it seems that all he and I do is fight."

"But you'll finish it, Bri. It's not his fault that he wants more. That's only reasonable for someone in a relationship. And I don't believe he really wants you to hurt him. I think he was trying to make a point. It bothers him too much to see you hurting. And he was deeply upset by the fact that he'd hit you."

Putting his head in his hands, he said, "I really blew this one, huh? So how do I fix it?"

"Eat a little crow. Apologize for having a drama queen moment."

"I'm not a drama queen," he protested. Then he said, "This totally sucks."

She couldn't help smiling. He sounded like a little boy. "And not in a positive, life-affirming way. As to that, Brian, it'll just take time. And he's willing to wait. He's remarkably patient." Then her tone turned more somber as she said, "The blades, Brian?"

It was the last thing either of them wanted to talk about. She knew that he'd had episodic depressions that were dark and took him to places he didn't want to go. She also knew that he was going through the five stages of dying even though the cancer was gone.

"I'll be okay, Doc. Scout's honor," he said, the familiar smirk curving his lips.

"You were never a scout, Brian. The scoutmaster wouldn't have had a chance against your powers of persuasion. I'm taking the blades. You got anything else?"

"No."

His answer was a little too quick and a little too pat for her comfort but she wasn't going to press it. "Brian."

"Seriously, Miranda, I'm okay. Drama queen moment over. Now go home to your lover. How old is he this time?"

She glared at him. "Twenty-five. Asshole." Secretly she was relieved. If he could give her shit about the age of her latest lover, he was feeling better. Still she hesitated. She didn't like leaving him alone. "Brian, I love you."

"Love you too, kid. Now go home and have hot breeder sex."

"He's really good with his tongue," she said, quietly and saw Brian pale.

"Don't want to hear about it."

She laughed and then left. After he closed the door behind her, he picked up the phone and dialed the apartment.

"Hello," Daphne said.

Hell, he thought. Daphne was tougher to get past than the hounds that guarded the entrance to the Underworld in the Celtic or Greek myths. From the chill in her voice, he doubted his usual charm would work on her.

"It's Brian."

"No shit," she said.

"Can I talk to Justin?"

"No."

"C'mon, Daph, I know I fucked up. It's important. Is he there?" Great, he thought, now I'm reduced to pleading to speak to my own lover. How fucked up is this?

He heard her sigh and then hand the phone over to his pissed off and hurt lover. He could practically see the pout on Justin's face and the hurt in the blue eyes. "Hello."

"I'm sorry." Great, I didn't stumble over the words. Step 1 accomplished.

"Sorry's bullshit. What do you want?"

Okay, he's not going to make this easy, Brian realized. "I really hate it when you use my own words against me." He could practically hear the sigh coming. Time to try a different tactic. "I had a drama queen moment. I really am sorry."

Now he could hear sniffling and felt like an even bigger shit. He hated it when he was the cause of Justin's tears. It made him feel so low. "Allergies?"

"Uh huh," Justin said, hesitating for a moment. "We'll be okay, Brian. I shouldn't have pushed."

"I get the psychoanalysis from Miranda. I don't need it from my partner too."

Through his tears, Justin smiled at the words. "Sorry."

"I hate this, you know," Brian said, returning to the bedroom and lying down on the bed.

"This, what?"

"Making up over the phone without hot sex or hot phone sex being involved." He went quiet and Justin listened to the steady sound of his breathing.

"Brian?"

"Yeah, Sunshine."

"Want to come over?"

Brian smiled. He did but he also knew that they probably needed this time apart. Ever since Justin had come over with the chicken soup, they'd been practically inseparable. It was enough to make anyone a little tense. "No, I think we need a night apart. Do kid stuff with Daphne. Smoke some weed and get drunk. Watch cartoons. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Justin couldn't help but smile at the fondness the words conveyed. "Later."

"Later."

Brian stood and disrobed and then padded naked into the bathroom to engage in his nighttime routine. When he was through, he crawled into bed. He found himself unable to sleep. Not an unusual predicament for him. Still he found himself moving into Justin's side of the bed, cradling his pillow because it smelled like him. As he finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help wishing that the man lay beside him as well.

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