Finding Your Own Way Back

Chapter 2

"Fuck off," Brian's tone was dangerously low and very tightly controlled. Justin could see the muscle twitching in his jaw and knew that in an instant Brian would reach his flashpoint. He'd just never seen it directed this obviously at Michael. "Get the fuck out, Michael."

Michael knew it was bad when Brian called him by his given name. He also knew that he'd pushed his best friend a little too far. "You're making a mistake," he said, as he headed towards the open loft door. "You'll see that I'm right." That was his parting shot.

Brian followed after him and said to Michael's retreating back, "Call first the next time. And Michael, if you do this again I want my fucking key back. Got it?"

Stunned, Michael could only nod. Justin was as surprised as Michael but for different reasons. "Asshole."

Brian slammed the loft door so hard that a framed picture jumped in place. He turned to Justin with a murderous glint in his eyes. Justin tensed, ready for a verbal blow because Brian would never hurt him physically, at least not outside of rough sexual play. "How long has this been going on?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Sunshine. You got a fucking 1500 on your goddamn SATs. How long has this been going on?"

Sensing it was better he answer than play nonchalant, Justin said, "He told me that I was an ungrateful little shit and I should leave because I was no longer part of the family. Said that I'd used you."

Fuck. No wonder the kid's been scared to talk to me and been posturing like he has, Brian thought. Michael's been busting his balls ever since we broke up. "Since before the Rage party?"

"Yeah. Michael saw me with Ethan when we were putting up the posters for the party and put two and two together and got ---."

"Five." Brian supplied, his anger beginning to abate a little. "Goddammit, Justin, why didn't you tell me?"

Justin smiled sadly. "I've got to learn to do things on my own. I didn't want to come to you crying 'cause Michael was being an asshole to me."

"Christ. Son of a fucking bitch," Brian cursed. Then he looked at Justin. "You should have told me."

"Have to fight my own battles. And it really hasn't been that bad."

An arched eyebrow was the response to the last comment. "I know you can handle it yourself. Michael has no reason to treat you like shit." Even if he is jealous and my best friend .

The last thing he expected was for Justin to laugh so hard tears sprang to his eyes. "Bri, he's loved you for sixteen years. He's watched you behave in ways that he didn't know you could behave. And he saw me walk out on you at a party you'd thrown in our honor, for me. Michael has a few reasons to be pissed."

"But what happens to us stays between us," Brian protested.

"We're not Vegas. And Liberty Ave. is a small town, Brian. You think I didn't hear the whispers after Ethan and I broke up when I turned up in the backroom? Look it's Kinney's Little Boy Lost. Wonder if the King of Babylon knows that his twink has come home. Christ, Brian, you'd have thought Rage died when JT left him."

Brian grimaced. That hit a little too close to home. But even when they'd been apart, he'd stuck to one rule: the no kissing rule. It just hadn't felt right kissing anyone other than Justin. Why bother when you've had the best? He'd heard the whispers too. Knew that Justin wasn't exaggerating. People knew that he and Justin were together, knew when not to fuck with them. He'd known when Justin returned to the backroom but it had still been a shock to see him fucking the shit out of the young Latino, knowing that they were both wishing that they were with each other. Hell, he'd gotten off on that, seeing Justin in control, driving his cock in and out of the young trick, watching his strokes become more shallow. It had been the incentive for his own orgasm, watching Justin's body shudder as he came. "I've never said you were my property, Justin." Never would. Too fucking medieval.

"I know that, Brian. But you know it eliminates a lot of problems when the guys know that I'm with Brian Kinney."

"Didn't think that mattered to you." He paused, then said, with a lingering trace of hurt, "Being with Brian Kinney, that is."

Justin sighed, a sound that reminded Brian of his own. Made him wonder what else his young lover had picked up from him. Didn't exactly make him happy thinking that some of his less desirable traits might have rubbed off on Justin. The last thing the world needed was another Brian Kinney. "Of course, it mattered. You've always mattered to me."

"Is that why you went to Kip and blackmailed him into dropping the suit?" Brian asked, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

"Fuck," Justin said, quietly. He hadn't expecting the opening gambit to be about Kip Thomas, of all people. "Who told you?"

"I figured it out all by my little self," Brian said, sarcastically. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Justin leaned back against the sofa, close enough that Brian could touch him. He turned so he met Brian's hazel eyes with his own. "You'd have been fucking pissed. You didn't want me around back then and you would have assumed I'd done it out of some misguided attempt to grab your attention, to keep you indebted to me. I knew how difficult it was for you to ask Mel for help. I knew that your career was on the line. And I just wanted to do something to help you."

"I didn't need your goddamn help. Yeah, I would've been pissed. Do you know how dangerous that was?" Underneath the anger was a thin layer of worry and, yes, fear. "What if he'd gone to the cops?" Then a new thought occurred to him and he asked, "Did you fuck him?" He wasn't sure which bothered him more the thought that Justin had gone to Kip on his behalf without concern for his own safety or the fact that he might have been fucked by his two-time bad mistake. For some reason, the mere thought made his stomach turn.

Justin simply looked at him. "Brian, I was seventeen and so in love with you that I couldn't see straight. And you didn't exactly want me around, saw me as a convenient fuck. I knew the risk I was taking. I didn't think he'd go to the cops, want to admit that he'd picked up an underage trick." Then, he quietly said, addressing Brian's last and most important question, "No, I did not fuck him. He gave me head, a very brief, bad blow job that meant absolutely nothing. I've jerked off with more finesse than Kip had. But, then, you should know that, seeing as you fucked him twice."

Brian sat back, then suddenly stood, walking to the drink cart. He picked up the bottle of Jim Beam, then looked back at Justin, saw the expression in the clear blue eyes. He gingerly set it back down. For some reason, he didn't want to do this drunk though he knew it would numb the pain. He wondered briefly how Justin could know him so well and yet not know him at all. Wondered why Justin thought he was only a convenient fuck at that point. Because I never gave him a reason to know different. Even after I took him home on his eighteenth birthday. I never made a point to let him know that he'd stopped being a trick a long time ago. That he was more than that to me.

"You want to know the truth, Sunshine?" Christ, this would be so much fucking easier if I was drunk or high.

Brian paced the length of the loft, finally coming back to stand in front of the refrigerator, staring at the closed door as if it were Pandora's Box and it was just waiting to be opened. Before he could say anything, they heard the buzz of the downstairs intercom. Saved by the fucking bell, he thought, irreverently.

He cast a look in Justin's direction, saw the guarded look in Justin's blue eyes. But he didn't say anything, merely crossed to the intercom, and buzzed the delivery guy up. This was familiar territory. But he remembered the last time they'd eaten together, the tension between them so volatile Brian had thought he'd explode. But of course he'd made that stupid fucking speech about how there were no locks on their doors, how they were each free to go, how it was an open relationship. He'd never guessed that Justin would be the one to walk through the door. Had thought he was enough for the young blond despite not being able to give him the one thing he had wanted so desperately. For Brian to tell him he loved him. And Brian did, he just couldn't verbalize the words.

He rifled through his wallet, finally pulling out two bills that would cover the cost of the food and a generous tip. Wondered briefly if he was going to have to start stocking real food again. The contents of his refrigerator had returned to pre-Justin days: poppers, guava juice, soy milk, beer and an avocado. He heard the knock on the door and slid the door open, handing the two bills to Johnny, who noticed the blond on the sofa, wisely not saying anything. "Thanks, Mr. Kinney," Johnny said. His English was improving.

Brian nodded. "Sesame noodles are in here, right?"

Johnny nodded. Then turned to walk down the stairs. Brian briefly watched him descend then slid the loft door closed. Alone at last. He wondered if there'd be any more interruptions that evening. He knew that the instant Michael had left he'd been on the phone to Emmett and Deb, complaining about Brian's perceived slight.

"We gonna eat at the counter?" Justin spoke quietly, the words intruding into Brian's thoughts.

Expression stormy, Brian said, "There's an extra blanket in the closet. Why don't you get that down and we'll eat on the floor." Words spoken deliberately and eyes met as understanding dawned. Eating dinner on the floor and fucking on the floor of Brian's office were significant to both of them, for far different reasons.

Wisely Justin didn't say anything. He just walked up the stairs to the bedroom and slid open the partition that enclosed the closet. He was surprised to see that Brian's expensive couturiere items were still pushed to one side of the closet, and that there was still space on the floor for extra shoes. Shit, Justin thought, absurdly touched. He retrieved the blanket, not noticing the framed picture that was suddenly revealed.

"You want another beer?" Brian spoke from behind him and Justin nodded.

He returned to the living room and set the blanket down on the floor. "You want utensils or do you want to try eating like a grown-up with chopsticks?" Brian teased, from where he stood at the door of the fridge.

"Fuck you, Brian. You know it's hard for me to eat with chopsticks because of my hand." Yet another legacy of the attack, Justin thought bitterly.

"Sorry. Sorry." Brian had forgotten. He hadn't spoken the words to injure or wound. "I'll get you a knife and fork. And plates." I'll be damned if I get duck sauce on the hardwood floor.

It was a few minutes later that they were reclining on the floor, Brian's lanky form taking up more room than Justin's smaller one. "You know, this is the first time we've done this." Justin spoke softly, not wanting to throw the mood of the evening off.

"Yeah, I know." He paused, before saying, "Hand me the noodles, please."

Justin handed him the carton of sesame noodles, feeling the electrical charge as their fingers brushed each other. Brian took a bite of the noodles, watching as Justin dug into the carton of sesame chicken. Now or never, he guessed. "Do you want to talk now or after we eat?"

A look of amazement crossed Justin's face. Brian smiled wryly. "I hadn't forgotten, Sunshine. I did make a promise." Which I never do.

"Your call." Words chosen deliberately. It didn't escape Justin's attention that Brian looked wounded. And when wounded he tended to strike, quick and viciously, like a snake.

Brian smiled. "Christ, we have a dysfunctional fucking relationship. It's no wonder everybody wonders what we're doing together." He looked at Justin. Then continued, "But we know. And that's the important thing. We know why we're together."

"Are we? Together, that is?"

Pause.

"I don't know," Brian admitted. "I do know that I'm happier when I'm with you. Somehow you just brighten my days. And this place is fucking lonely without you in it. I got a note from Lupe asking me when the young Mr. Taylor was coming home. Do you know what it's like to be with someone and then have him just walk away?"

Yeah, I do. I know what it's like to have someone walk out on you because they feel the walls closing in around them. Did he just admit we were together, because it sure didn't feel like it at that party. Felt like we'd never been further apart. It was a long moment before Justin could bring himself to speak, "Brian, I want a second chance on us. No rules. No boundaries. No expectations. Just whatever you can give."

"Fuck me," Brian said, as his hand darted out for the carton of sesame noodles. Had it ever occurred to Justin that wasn't what he wanted? That maybe he wanted more from the second time? That playing all the time didn't necessarily make him the happiest?

He saw the confused expression on Justin's face. Then hurried to explain, "I kept all the rules, Justin. You know, I never thought I'd be the one to take them seriously. But I did. I kept the no names, no numbers policy. I can't say that I held to the "no fucking the same trick twice" rule but I did not kiss anyone else. It just didn't feel right. And, hell, I guess I always thought you'd come back through that door eventually. Just needed to find your own way back."

"Brian, I never meant to hurt you. Ethan threw a lot of pretty words my way. Gave me a fucking ring that didn't mean anything. I'm not asking you for that. He asked me for forgiveness."

"For what?" Brian scowled. He'd hated seeing Justin with that ring. Not because he'd wanted to give the teen one but because he knew it was a hollow symbol if the meaning didn't exist. Plus, it felt as if he'd been stabbed with an ice pick.

"He fucked one of his groupies," Justin felt his face color. "Then he came to our door one night with a dozen roses. Christ, I felt like a fucking idiot."

Brian couldn't help it, he began to laugh uncontrollably. "What the fuck is so funny?" Justin demanded.

"Violinists with groupies," Brian choked out, over his laughter.

"Yeah, I know. Fucked up, isn't it?"

Brian nodded. "Just a little bit. So why didn't you? Forgive him, that is? You forgave me all the time."

Justin set down the carton of sesame chicken. Moved a little closer to Brian, so he could look directly into the man's hazel eyes. "I never forgave you. You never did anything I had to forgive. You never lied to me. You're not gonna tell me I deserved it? That it was some turn of the karmic wheel?"

"No. Justin, you deserved better than that. He promised you something. I will never lie to you." Brian hesitated. "You sure, you want to do this again? I'd understand if you just walked out that door."

"I know who you are. I know the Brian Kinney Operating Manual. I just forgot for a little while. The question is: can you forgive me?"

"Sunshine, we all make mistakes." Kip, the hustler, Chicago. Christ, the list goes on and on. "But you learned from it."

Justin nodded. "Yeah, I learned what I really wanted. Who I really wanted."

"Taking a chance, aren't we?"

"I think you're worth it."

Brian took another couple bites of sesame chicken then set his beer down. "The night you wanted to have your picnic I was an asshole." He waited for Justin to say something, but the teen just looked at him, waiting patiently for him to go on. "Michael had called me earlier that day when I was supposed to give a pitch. He told me that Ben had collapsed in the middle of a lecture and he needed me to come down to the hospital. I left the office, had Gardner reschedule the pitch, and met Michael at the hospital. He thanked me for coming and I reminded him that it was him who sat with me for three days in the hospital corridor, waiting for some news on whether or not you were gonna make it. He missed his flight with David to Portland to come sit with me." He looked at Justin. "Michael was there for me at a point where I didn't know if I was going to make it if you didn't pull through."

"You never told me," Justin said, in a near whisper.

"Never got the chance. When I came in that night, I needed to unwind. So I was unnecessarily snarky. You wanted to have some romantic time with me and I couldn't deal with it. I just kept remembering sitting in that hospital waiting for some news that your mom would decide she'd parcel out to me. So I bailed on you."

"Pain management."

"Yeah, pain management. Bet you didn't know that I was there every night. I'd watch you sleeping, see you caught in some nightmare, hear you call me, and I couldn't do a fucking think about it." He remembered losing himself in a blow job, knowing in the back of his mind he'd really wanted Justin. That it was Justin's mouth he'd wanted on him.

Justin's breath caught. Brian was there? "You were there? Outside my hospital room? Christ, Brian, why didn't you ever say anything?" Do you know how many nights I thought I could hear your voice or smell your cologne, and thought I was going fucking crazy?

"Cause I couldn't do anything to fix it. Justin, you needed something I couldn't give. Your mom knew though. It's what she wanted to talk to me about that day outside the town house."

Justin remembered. He remembered how angry he'd been when he and Daphne had been shunted off into the house, like two disobedient children so the adults could talk. He and Daphne had watched from the window as Brian had turned and looked back at the house from his jeep, before driving off. He'd seen how broken Brian looked. How vulnerable. They'd needed each other back then despite everything that was working against them.

"Mom knew?"

"Yeah, Jennifer knew. She also knew that I didn't want anyone to know, even you. Especially you." Cause it was a clear signal that I love you.

"Any other surprises?"

"A few. Help me put up the food and we'll talk some more." This isn't as painful as I thought it would be.

Justin picked up their plates and the set of intricately carved chopsticks, following Brian into the kitchen. They put the cartons in the fridge silently, Justin noticing the meager contents, making a silent note to go to the market. Then Justin hand-washed the chopsticks setting them carefully in the drain board. "You didn't forget," Brian remarked.

"No. They're beautiful, Brian. And too delicate to risk in an overheated environment where they might shatter."

His words meant to encompass more than the chopsticks.

Brian stopped and turned to him. "Justin, you have to know that it's not gonna be easy. I can't promise you monogamy. I'm just not built that way. If I bail on you sometimes, you've gotta know it's not because I don't care."

"I know. So are we going to tell everyone or play this closer to home until we've figured things out?"

"Michael kind of put the kibosh on keeping things quiet. But I'm okay with waiting a few days before we take the Brian and Justin show on the road again. Spending some time together outside the backroom won't hurt either of us." He was kind of looking forward to becoming intimately reacquainted with the blond before returning to Babylon.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a miracle. Brian Kinney saying that he's willing to forgo the backroom of Babylon," Justin teased. He stole a look at Brian, relieved to see that his lover's expression was amused rather than pissed. "And what about work?"

Brian tensed. That was one area where they'd have to be extremely careful. "Cynthia knows and she can run interference. But technically I'm your boss so at work you're gonna have to remember to call me Mr. Kinney and not call me on things you might here at home. I don't want your internship to be jeopardized because you're fucking the boss---"

"I'm fucking business," Justin said, then remembered the circumstances the words had last been spoken.

"No, you're fucking me." Brian gently corrected. Then continued, "There's just a thin line between business and Brian. Justin, you've got to remember that the person I am at work isn't the person I am at home. I have to behave in a certain fashion in the professional arena."

Justin snorted. "Uh huh. So the arrogance, cockiness, and charisma are a work thing? And fucking the clients?"

A smile, slow and gentle with the promise of wicked things crossed Brian's face. "No, those are all me. And they're part of the reason you love me." Turned more serious, "And I haven't fucked a client in a long time."

Justin hadn't spoken the words in months. Even to Ethan. It just hadn't felt right saying them to the violinist even though Ethan was fairly effusive in his expression of his feelings. To hear Brian say it was startling. Even more startling was the fact that he seemed accepting and hadn't ground the words out like it hurt him physically to do so. Has he really changed? Or does he just want me back so he's willing to change into what he thinks I want him to be?

"Hey, put the gerbil back in its cage," Brian's words jolted Justin out of his thoughts. "So do you want to keep talking or do you want me to fuck you into the mattress sometime tonight?"

Justin smiled, a smile that reminded Brian why he'd been dubbed Sunshine by Debbie. "Chicago. Then you can fuck me into the mattress. Or I can fuck you into the mattress."

It had been a long time since they'd exchanged that kind of sexual repartee with an inevitable follow through. "Maybe, baby, I've got you." Brian said, earning another smile.

"You really can't do James Gandolfini, Bri."

"What do you expect from an Irishman?" Then he turned serious, "Can you turn off the lights and set the alarm?"

"Code still the same?"

"Yeah. And I didn't change the locks so your key should still work. You are coming home, right?" Brian asked. Even if Justin wasn't it wouldn't change anything but he'd thought the younger man would want to come back to the loft. He didn't have fond memories of living in cheap, cramped apartments. It was why he'd nearly sold his soul to get the loft, and been so relieved when it was finally his.

Justin hesitated, knowing that Brian would catch on. "Uh, I think I should stay at Daphne's. Her roommate moved out to live with her boyfriend and she's having a little difficulty with the rent. And it's close to PIFA."

"I see." It was clear from the expression in Brian's eyes that he didn't.

"Brian, it's not that I don't want to live with you. You know I do. It's just that I think it's good for us to each have our space. I mean you don't want me to be here if you bring a trick home. And there are nights when you have to work late and---" His words were cut off by a brutal kiss that had Justin reeling, struggling to catch his breath.

"You will spend four or six nights here, right? And you'll cook because man can't live on take-out alone." Then Brian realized what he was saying. It sounded like he wanted Justin back for superficial reasons. Or as his wife. Whatever the fuck. That wasn't the case.

"You won't starve. Maybe I'll cook my jambalaya for you sometime this week."

"Remind me to take my Pepcid." He looked at Justin, expression turning serious. "Did the tricks really bother you that much?"

"You want an honest answer?"

A curt nod.

"Not so much the tricks. Just walking in on you fucking someone else. Like when I returned from---"

"Vermont. Christ, Justin, you wouldn't even let me explain. But it's my fucking home. And why is it different here than in the backroom? Or in the baths?"

If Brian couldn't understand the difference they were fucked, Justin thought. But he said only, "Exactly. It's your home, Bri. That's part of the reason it doesn't feel right me just moving straight back in. Whatever is gonna happen to us, the loft is yours not mine."

"I worked my ass off to get it, Justin. To prove that I wasn't gonna end up like my old man."

"Hey. I'm not criticizing or complaining. Just pointing out that it is your home. Not saying that it should be anything different."

Easing down a bit on his temper, Brian said, "No more Hotlanta's, then. Or zucchini guys. At least unless they're previously cleared by both of us. And how about I make damn sure that I change the sheets after a trick. I spend enough on dry-cleaning without constantly worrying about the cum stains."

Surprised, Justin could only nod. It was a huge concession Brian was making. A signal that Justin was more important than the seemingly endless stream of tricks. Brian opened a drawer and removed a carved wooden box that looked antique. Curious, he watched as Brian carefully lifted the lid and then removed a gift-wrapped box. Brian hadn't ever really given him a gift, at least not in a way that merited any sort of presentation.

"Don't overreact," Brian said. That was like telling Mount Pele not to erupt. But amazingly enough Justin was silent. "I got this for you in Chicago. I never really found the right time to give it to you. Things were so goddamned strained between us after the trip." Then Ethan happened, he thought bitterly. He remembered how he'd never forget walking into the empty loft. It had hurt more than he'd anticipated that Justin had gone on to Vermont without him, albeit alone. He'd known then that Justin would be fine on his own. That one day, the blond might simply decide he'd had enough and walk out the door for good. At the time, he hadn't been concerned about self-fulfilling prophecies.

He handed the box to Justin, then gestured to the sofa, a clear indication that he didn't want to do this standing up. "Brian, you didn't have to do this."

"I know." But I wanted to. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me even if I can't say it to you.

Adopting their familiar positions on the Italian leather Moda sofa, it was Brian's turn to wait. Justin carefully un-wrapped the box and lifted the lid. He couldn't suppress his gasp as he saw what was nestled inside. It was a pendant. The pendant was a platinum cowry shell on a fragile silver chain. "Brian, it's beautiful."

Yeah, it is. So are you, Sunshine. But he simply nodded. Caught Justin's eyes and saw a look of ineffable sadness in them. Then Justin asked the inevitable question, "Why don't you wear your bracelet anymore?"

Brian felt a bit relieved, he'd been expecting a question of a more probing nature. Michael had asked him but he'd blown it off, not sure that his best friend would really understand the motivation. Justin would understand. He'd understood why Brian wore the bloody scarf close to his skin as a reminder of what had happened. He'd get this. "I've worn that bracelet for over ten years. When John stole it and accused me of fondling him, it became tainted." Not to mention it was a part of his fuck-me armor. But he continued, "You were one of the few people who believed in me. Even though we weren't together you had enough faith in me to know that I wouldn't have done what John accused me of. That despite everything that has been said about us, I'm not a pederast. You came to return it and tied it on my wrist, and all I could think about was you touching me. It wasn't about the fucking bracelet. It was all about you. I wanted you to come inside so naturally I reminded you of Ian. And you left. I couldn't bear to wear the bracelet anymore. Besides, don't you think I'm a little too old for it?"

Justin laughed. "Never too old. You're Peter Pan, Bri." Then he turned serious, "I've always believed in you. You've always been there for me even when you didn't have to be, like coming after me in New York, like coming to the prom. You may bitch and moan but you care about your friends."

"You're more than just a friend, Justin. No matter what happens between us, I want you to know that you can always come to me. I'll always be here for you." Somehow Justin had made it on a very short, select list of people Brian would sacrifice his pride for: Lindsay, Gus, Michael, and Justin. Though lately it seemed Justin came before Michael. Maybe I am growing up, he thought and strangely enough the thought didn't terrify him as much as it used to.

"Bri, I need you to know that I'll always be there for you. That no matter what, if you need me I'll be there."

"I know that." He leaned closer to Justin and brushed a soft kiss on the blond's lips, breaking away before he was consumed with passion that he couldn't restrain. Then he said, "I need to tell you about Chicago, don't I? And why I didn't join you in Vermont." Christ, I need a fucking drink. Hell, I need the whole bottle. He'd never even told Michael what he'd had planned for him and Justin in Vermont. Had figured that it was between them, nobody's business but his and Justin's. Just like when he told Justin about the White Party it would be between them. And he'd never gotten the opportunity to discuss it with Justin because things were bad and then the hustler and Ethan had happened.

"We don't have to talk about Chicago tonight, Brian. Not if you don't want to." Justin knew the toll this was taking on his lover.

Talking was never easy for Brian, it left you too open to hurt and pain. Justin wanted time to revel in the fact that Brian had bought him a very meaningful gift. It was a seemingly out of character thing for Brian to do but strangely enough it fit it with the times he'd come home to find his art supplies replenished or a new computer graphics program installed on his computer. Simple, practical, yet loving things that Brian had done for him without an overflow of emotion or expectations of praise. Things that were indicative of how Brian felt even if he didn't say it. Why didn't I recognize that? Justin wondered.

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