Finding Your Own Way Back

Chapter 1

When Justin had walked into his office that night, the last thing Brian had imagined was that he'd have ended up fucking his ex three ways to Sunday. On the desk, the floor, and his chair. Inventing new positions they hadn't tried before, ways that Justin pulled him deeper and deeper inside. He eased out and Justin gasped as he suddenly felt the emptiness, wanted the fullness he craved when Brian was inside him.

Brian rolled away from Justin, tossing the used condom in the waste basket. He glanced down at his chest, realizing that Justin had shot his load on it. If things were different, Brian might've suggested that he lick it off his chest but remained quiet. For once in his life, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. From the moment Justin had walked into his office tonight, the reins had been in his hands, control Justin's. A hundred different emotions and reactions were going through his head. And if he were perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that their reunion hadn't been mere fucking. Something more, something spiritual, something like two halves of a whole melding into one. And that scared the shit out of him, the fact that he might need Justin. The fact that Justin might really be a part of him.

"Jesus," he said in a low voice.

Whatever Justin had been expecting it hadn't been this. Hadn't expected the vulnerability he'd seen so rarely in Brian. Vulnerability he hadn't seen since after the bashing, when they'd both been so raw, laid bare by emotion. "Brian, I---"

Brian turned towards him, sitting up. "Don't. Don't say anything." Anything at all might trivialize the moment, the fact that Justin was once again in his life, in his arms, and in his bed, so to speak. Not to mention he needed time to process what had just happened between them.

Suddenly Brian surged to his feet, seemingly unconcerned about his nudity. Justin was all too aware of his lover's magnificence. He felt his breath catch as he took in the sight of Brian. It was a moment before Brian realized he was the object of intense scrutiny. He met Justin's crystalline blue eyes and smiled a half-smile. He hadn't truly anticipated this turn of events, had thought the younger man would simply ask for his position back. Didn't realize Justin simply wanted him back.

Knowing it wasn't what he wanted to say but struggling to find an easy topic, Brian said, "You seen my tie anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah. I think it landed on the credenza behind your desk." Justin suppressed a smile of his own.

Taking in the disarray of his office, Brian smiled genuinely. Lost in passion, articles of clothing had landed on various surfaces. Typical Justin-Brian behavior. He chuckled and realized that this aspect of their relationship would never change. "You know Cynthia wouldn't tell me who my meeting was with tonight."

"Yeah, I asked her not to. Figured you wouldn't see me if you knew that it was me who requested the meeting." Figured he didn't need to know that Cynthia had been positively gleeful about pulling one over on her boss. Justin secretly thought that Cynthia was half in love with Brian. Seemed he had that effect on the female population as well.

Brian stepped into his Armani slacks, not bothering with underwear, then reached for his shirt, leaving it partially unbuttoned. "You never know, Sunshine. After all I was the one who told you to have some balls."

"I know." Justin fell silent, remembering the kiss. Knowing that it had been more than a simple kiss, more a statement of intent.

Brian didn't say anything, knowing that there was too much to say and not knowing how to begin. He knew they needed to talk as much as he hated the idea. Better to talk than to end up apart again, the victim of a fucking strolling violinist. He didn't know if he could handle Justin leaving him again. Not even Michael knew he'd barely survived it. Had come close to breaking down and telling Justin he wanted him back, on whatever terms the younger man deemed appropriate. Even though it had been Justin's cheating that had caused the rift and not his own detours into the backrooms. Don't, he cautioned himself.

"So, what now?"

Trust it to the twink to break the uncomfortable silence, Brian thought, relieved.

Still he hesitated, and then glanced at Justin. "We go back to the loft." He looked a question at Justin, half-expecting a no.

Justin couldn't quite hide the fact that he was startled. He'd expected Brian to send him home not tell him they were going to the loft. He had no expectations that things would resume as if nothing had ever happened. As if Ethan had never happened. Neither one of them were that good of an actor. "Yeah." He was careful not to sound too happy or relieved. He'd told Daphne that he wasn't sure he'd be coming home that night. She'd given him a wink and warned him to be careful. But she liked Brian too. And she'd had the older man's number since day one.

Brian looked at the teen, realizing that he was looking at a man, not a kid. Justin had been a man from day one. "You have your job back." Now why the fuck did I say that?

Shit. "That wasn't why I came tonight, Brian. I didn't sleep with you to get my job back." God, I hope he believes that. I hope he doesn't think I slept with him just to get the internship back.

"I know. Cynthia didn't give the papers to Gardner. Guess she thought I'd come to my senses." There were reasons Cynthia had lasted as his assistant for five years. Not the least of which was her unwavering loyalty and ability to predict his moods and, on occasion, cover his ass. Brian knew full well he wasn't the easiest of bosses. Or lovers, he added silently.

Justin pulled on his sweater-shirt combination and looked at Brian. "If it's going to be too weird for you having me around I can resign the internship. I don't want to cause you any trouble here."

Instead of addressing Justin's concerns, he simply said, "Let's get out of here. It's been a long day." Even longer night, I hope.

Justin waited as Brian straightened his desk, retrieved his suit jacket, and put several contracts in his attaché case. They were quiet on the ride down to the parking level. Brian was well aware of the tension lingering between the two of them, now that the cloud of post-coital bliss had evaporated. He was glad Justin had come back though he'd been bloody pissed when he'd appeared as an intern. He'd missed him though he was loath to admit it to anyone but himself. Not anyone's fucking business that it hadn't been business as usual for Brian Fucking Kinney.

Scanning the parking garage for the all too familiar Jeep, Justin was surprised to see a hunter green '71 Corvette Sting Ray parked in the spot designated B. Kinney, Vanguard. "Hey, Brian, what happened to the jeep?"

Boyfriend replacement therapy, he thought. Aloud he simply said, "I've always wanted this car. So I sold the jeep."

"When?" Justin was shocked.

Everyone knew how much Brian had loved his jeep. Brian's Fuckmobile, his friends called it. Everyone on Liberty Ave knew Brian Kinney had arrived when he pulled up in that jeep though it wasn't exactly the sexiest of cars. This, however, was a dick on wheels. Looks like he had a little mini mid-life crisis of his own, Justin thought, not sure whether to be pleased or not. Acknowledging that he'd been affected proved that Brian was only human despite his avowals to the contrary.

He casually studied Brian's form noticing that the carefully tailored suit fit him just a little bit looser. Though Brian'd always been lean, there was a little less there than before. Not enough to make him look gaunt or increase his inherent androgyny, but enough that it was noticeable to those who knew him best. Had he been eating? Justin wondered, knowing that Brian forgot on the easiest of days, not to mention the rough ones, preferring to lose himself in Jim or Absolut.

"Get in," Brian said, putting his attaché case in the back seat. He figured Justin wouldn't let the subject of his transportation drop so he was pleasantly surprised when the blond let the subject drop. It was only as they hit the street that he decided to answer, semi-honestly. "After the Carnivale. I took a percentage off the top. The car was my reward." But I'd lost you, Sunshine.

"I never did thank you for that."

"You did me a favor. I was kind of surprised when you didn't tell me to fuck off."

Another small, sad smile. "Yeah, well, I missed you."

Me too, Sunshine. Me too. Then Justin continued, "Michael sure was happy to see I was gone. Told me I'd taken advantage of you and that I was an ungrateful little shit for leaving you after all you'd done for me."

Fuckin' Michael. Never will learn when to keep his big fuckin' mouth shut. Brian felt his irritation rise, but the focus wasn't Justin. He was pissed at Michael for butting in where he didn't belong. "You didn't. You weren't. There weren't any locks on our doors. You only did what I told you to do: got your needs met." Hoped that Justin didn't sense the hurt that lay underneath the blasé words.

"But I---" Justin started.

"You mind if we table this for a little while? Maybe until we get home?" Can't do a major conversation while driving.

"Brian, what's wrong?"

Fucker. Always so goddamn perceptive except about some of the most important things. Brian sighed. "Justin, I know we have things to talk about. Hell, I'm even willing to talk about some of them tonight. I just need some time to think."

"Okay." And he fell into silence for the remainder of the ride.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking garage at Brian's building. Justin felt a sense of nervousness he hadn't felt since that first night he'd come home with Brian, a kid scared shitless about his first sexual encounter with the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. Wondered if Brian had ever felt that way or if he'd simply gone into things with his eyes wide open. He wondered if Brian had ever been scared or if he'd simply embraced his life without a thought to consequence.

"You OK?" Brian asked, sensing something wasn't quite right.

"I'm fine," Justin said, following him to the freight elevator.

"I can still take you to Daphne's if you want," Brian offered, knowing that he wanted Justin to stay.

"How'd you know I was at Daphne's?"

Busted, he thought. "I had Cynthia pull a copy of your resume and cover letter. Nicely done, by the way. Very professional." He knew full well that he'd helped Justin with that letter, helped him format his resume so that he could sell himself. Brian Kinney wasn't an advertising god for nothing.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I recognized her address. Not a very safe part of town, is it?" Brian hadn't wanted to accept the sense of relief he'd felt when he'd realized Justin had ended up at Daphne's. More relieved than he was entitled to feel.

Justin didn't rise to the bait. It was well known that Brian didn't live in the best area for all of his money. "No, but it's cheap."

Brian hit the stop button on the elevator, a sudden action that had the old elevator grinding to an all too sudden halt, throwing him into Justin, so close he could smell the clean scent of Justin along with semen and cologne and shampoo. "Tell me now if you want to go home. I won't be pissed." Disappointed maybe, but not angry.

"I'm staying."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Brian's mouth covered his own. Brian pushed him back against the wall, his tongue mapping the inner regions of Justin's. Felt a familiar tug and saw Justin's hands making short work of the buttons he'd left undone in the haste to leave the office. Saw the flash of white against the darker tan of his skin and hissed. He stopped just long enough to say, mouth hot against Justin's ear, "Last chance, Sonny boy. I want to fuck you all night long. Just not in the elevator." He wanted him in the bed, writhing underneath him, calling out his name in the throes of orgasm.

Brian's hazel eyes were dark, almost black. It had been a long time since Justin had seen him nearly insensate with need. If one could bottle Brian and sell him as a sex drug, they'd make a fucking billion. "I'm coming and staying," Justin said, aware of the significance of his words. He was aware of Brian's reaction as the man's hand slammed down on the go button, throwing them into motion again.

"Christ, Brian," Justin whispered.

Brian bent down to retrieve the attaché case. The elevator came to a halt and they stepped out onto the landing. Both were well aware of the last time they'd stood outside these doors. Brian making a point not to remember, Justin lost in regret. Regret that he hadn't stayed, hadn't fought more for their relationship ---whatever the hell it was. Brian fumbled for his keys, realizing with aggravation that he was nervous. And Brian Aidan Kinney didn't do nervous. That was for other people, people who were weaker. People who weren't Brian Fucking Kinney.

Finally unlocking the door, he slid it open, motioning for Justin to go inside first. That in itself was a first. Usually Brian remained in control from start to finish. Something about tonight was different. A subtle change had occurred but Justin's couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Brian seemed different.

"You want a drink?" He asked, as he moved towards the drink cart.

Justin watched as Brian poured himself a double Beam, took a deep swallow, and then turned back to him. "Are you hungry?" Fuck, this was hard and not in a positive, good way, he thought.

"A little." It was a running joke that he was always hungry. It helped to ease the tension that ran through the loft.

"This OK?" Brian asked, hating that he was nervous. This was Justin after all. And then it dawned on him, this was Justin. And he wasn't running back to Ethan. He was really here, not some $300 an hour impersonator. Here within his grasp.

"Yeah, fine."

Before either of them could say anything else, Brian's phone rang. Sending an apologetic look Justin's direction, Brian said, "Hello."

Pause.

"Mikey, this isn't a good time." He looked at Justin. "I'll talk to you tomorrow at the diner. Yeah, breakfast."

Breaking the connection, Brian turned the ringer off and to Justin's amazement did the same thing to the answering machine. That was something he rarely if ever did. Closing out the outside world.

"What if Lindz needs to get in touch with you?"

"She can wait. Or try my cell phone."

Justin sat down on the sofa, realizing that Brian had seemingly thought of everything. "Can I have a beer?"

Draining the tumbler of Beam, he nodded. "Heineken or Dos Equis Amber?"

Justin smiled. His lover always would have expensive taste. Brian would never change. "Dos Equis."

He looked out the window, feeling his pulse begin to even out. It was difficult being in such close proximity to Brian. A bit uncomfortable too which was odd considering that it wasn't too long ago that Brian had fucked him into near unconsciousness three times at the office. He'd be surprised if he didn't have rug burns on his ass.

"You sure you're OK? You're so quiet it's starting to freak me out." Brian handed him his beer.

"Just a little strange being here," Justin admitted, taking a draught from his beer.

And so it begins, Brian thought. Having a feeling he'd have reason to regret it, he sat down on the sofa next to him. "Why?" For the first time that night sex was not his priority. Justin was.

"Because of what happened with the fiddler?" He knew he had a name, even knew what it was but he'd be damned if he'd call him by name. To name the enemy gave him power.

Justin wasn't able to hide the pain and hurt like Brian. But Brian had had decades to develop that particular mastery. He had needed to hide behind the curtains. "Yeah, because of Ethan." Pretended not to notice the brief lightning flash of pain in the depths of Brian's eyes.

"You want to do this on an empty stomach?" Because he sure as hell didn't. He didn't want to do any of this, but knew it was necessary.

"No." I don't want to talk about Ethan or how I hurt you.

Justin knew they needed to talk. He was just surprised it was Brian's choice to talk. The older man had never given him much of an opportunity to emote, preferring to simply kiss or fuck him into complacency. Seemed Brian had finally come to the realization that wasn't the way to go. Justin knew Brian had feelings but he kept them locked up so tight that his friends were likely to forget or deny that they even existed.

Brian looked at Justin with a strange expression on his face and he realized that Brian must have been talking to him. Justin glanced at him sheepishly. "Sorry, Brian. I think I missed what you said."

"Not important. I'm gonna order us some food."

While he waited for Brian to order, Justin took the time to glance around the loft. Brian had made a few changes, most noticeably the Mies van der Rohe coffee table and replacing the familiar blue neon tubing with a single fixture backlit with an orange glow. He liked it though he'd liked the way Brian looked when the blue light hit him just right, liked fucking underneath it.

"Food should be here in about forty minutes," Brian informed him. His words were rewarded with a luminous smile. The smile couldn't but warm Brian.

The feeling quickly faded as the expression on Justin's face darkened. Uh oh, Brian thought. To avoid the inevitable, he said, brusquely, ignoring the expression on Justin's face, "I'm gonna go take a shower. There's cash in my wallet. Just make sure the delivery guy didn't forget my sesame noodles."

Despite his suddenly mercurial mood, Justin smiled. There would be hell to pay if Johnny, the delivery guy, forgot Brian's noodles. "Yeah, I know."

Brian turned away, heading towards the bathroom, when he suddenly turned back. His words came as a surprise, "I know we need to talk. And I have things I need to tell you and I need you to hear them." His voice was quiet and he knew that he was going to have to be honest if he didn't want this to be fucked up again. Even if he couldn't define what this was.

He didn't think he could stand it if he lost Justin again. It fucking sucks to be this emotionally tied to someone, he thought, realizing anew that it was why he always kept his heart under such tight control. He wondered when the trick had become something more and knew if he carefully examined things that it had been that first night, when he'd let Justin name his son. He wouldn't have taken a mere trick with him but somehow the beauty of the young blond had touched him in ways that he'd thought impossible. Justin had reminded him that he had a heart.

Justin, sitting on the sofa in the living room, heard the water turn on and wondered had there not been a pending food delivery if Brian would have invited him to join him. That, of almost anything, had been among the things that Justin missed the most. Ethan's shower had been tiny and cramped, just room for one person. Of course, he'd also missed Brian in other more important ways. Missed how Brian would talk to him about art and make subtle suggestions that actually made things better. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Brian did care about things and had an artistic eye. Missed how Brian instinctively knew when he was going to have a migraine. Missed how Brian protected him at Babylon when the crowd got too much. Missed just being with Brian more than he'd thought possible. Shit, how could I have thought that Ethan ever loved me more than Brian? Justin thought.

Lost in thoughts, he heard the intercom buzz and then crossed to the intercom, saying only, "Come on up. Sixth floor." He assumed it was the delivery guy. An assumption he'd soon have cause to regret.

Brian stood in the shower soaping himself and couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was doing. He was nearly thirty-two, after all, and was beginning to acknowledge the ramifications of growing old. Older, he amended. He turned the water off with a savage twist of his wrist.

It hadn't taken a genius to see that he was hurting over losing Justin. Lindsay had insisted that he could get him back but he had his pride. Michael had said he must love the kid when he knocked him out at Lindz and Mel's anniversary party. Hell, he'd even admitted it to Deb. Admitted it on the floor at Babylon when he agreed to those fucking ridiculous rules. Rules he had agreed to for the sake of a blossoming relationship. Rules he had agreed to because he'd nearly lost Justin and it had left him broken. Dismissing thoughts of the past, he reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

Not much point in getting dressed, he thought. He returned to the bedroom and stopped short when he heard raised voices.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

And in an instant Brian realized that Michael had stopped by. Michael was the king of unannounced visits but he couldn't have picked a worse occasion to do so. Michael must have realized that something seemed off with his best friend and decided to investigate. Goddammit. Brian had hoped to have a little bit more time with Justin. Just the two of them without outside forces stepping in to fuck with them.

He hesitated, waiting to see what Justin's response would be. "I'm here with ---."

Michael's tone was venomous and came as a complete surprise to Brian. "Here to fuck Brian over again. You ungrateful little twat. He should never have let you move in. Shouldn't have saved you. Hell, he even paid your tuition at PIFA. How'd you talk him into doing that? You've been nothing but trouble since day one. Your dad could have fucking killed him. You walked out on him in front of over five hundred people. It would have been easier to just say fuck you."

Brian closed his eyes. And a lot more private, he acknowledged. Shit, shit, shit. Don't do this, Michael. Don't make me choose. You won't like the choice I'll make. He dropped the towel to the floor and pulled on a comfortable old black wife-beater and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd never wear out of the loft, had probably never even see the light of day. Realized that his choice of attire was not likely to be of much comfort to his best friend but, at the moment, that was the least of his concerns. Realized that he looked like he'd just been fucking, like it was that first morning all over again. Only this time Justin wasn't a naive seventeen-year-old kid and he wasn't in any hurry to have him out of his loft.

"Mikey," Brian said in a low, cold controlled voice. He walked down the stairs, deliberately coming to stand between his best friend and Justin.

"Brian, what the fuck is he doing here?" Michael had noticed the position Brian had adopted, standing between he and Justin, his stance putting him closer to Justin. How can he take this lying, cheating twink back? Michael would never understand Justin and Brian's relationship, would always want Brian for himself, even when it was crystal clear that Brian wanted Justin. That on some fundamental level, Brian needed Justin. It burned him that it wasn't him, would never be him.

"So many ways to answer that question. Here's one: Who I fuck is none of your goddamn business unless it's you I'm fucking." Knew that was hitting Michael below the belt but Brian was in no mood to salve his friend's insecurities. "And I offered. You turned me down." He pointed out.

"Brian," Michael's voice changed into a whine. The whine had been cute at fourteen but at nearly thirty-two it was downright creepy. "He's just going to take advantage of you again. Now that the fiddler's out of the picture. He's just here because he got hurt." Never mind the fact that he knew that it would have destroyed their friendship if they'd slept together. That they'd have both resented each other and it wouldn't have solved anything.

"No, " Justin began, looking at Brian. "I'm not here because of Ethan. Ethan was a mistake."

"So Brian's a consolation prize, your rebound fuck. How long are you going to stick around this time? Just until you meet a nice artistic guy who paints you pictures and tells you he loves you? Gives you flowers and chocolate? How long until you leave him again, heartbroken and disillusioned?

Justin was speechless. He'd known Michael disliked him but he'd thought he'd gotten over his initial feelings. Christ, didn't he know that he wasn't going anywhere? It took a moment for him to realize that Michael knew about his complaint about the lack of Brian's romantic side. Then he regained his power of speech, "Brian's first prize. Too many people in his life have made him feel second rate. I'm not going to be one of them. Again. Brian's not a rebound. And whatever is between he and I is between us, Michael. It really doesn't concern you."

Michael glared at him, white with suppressed anger. "The hell it doesn't. You're using him. You're a fucking whore. He's not your personal dildo. I'm his fucking best friend."

Having had enough, Brian turned to his best friend, seeing that it was time to make things crystal clear to Michael.

"You may be my best friend, Michael, but Justin is still in my life. You don't have the right to come in here and verbally abuse him. Not in my-our home." Not anywhere. Not ever. How fucking dare you?! "And I'm the one fucking him, not you," he pointed out. "A lot. I'm good at it," he said, the taunt deliberate.

"Brian." Michael began to protest. Then it dawned on him what Brian had said, Our home? What the fuck is up with that?

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