Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Author's Chapter Notes:

Justin discovers what Brian has done. Will he be thankful, angry, or somewhere between? 

 

Heading back to Kinnetik a few minutes later, Brian pursed his lips together in disappointment as he flipped his phone shut.  So much for Plan A; he had completely forgotten that tonight was his son's school play - the one he had promised he would attend. He was glad in a way, though, that he had called Lindsay and she had reminded him, because otherwise he wouldn't have shown up; he knew how terribly disappointed Gus would have been if that had happened.  It had totally slipped his mind in light of all the other events unfolding.  It was bad timing in a way for him to go.  But perhaps it was just as well, he decided.  Using his son as a softening cushion between him and Justin - in case a certain blond became irritated - or worse, infuriated in reaction to his getting involved at PIFA - wasn't exactly fair to Gus.  And since when did he have to hide behind a little boy, anyway?  His little boy?

 

He sighed.  He had no doubt that it probably would have helped, however; his son was a regular, little charmer.  And at least if Gus had come over for dinner as he had been planning - and if he could have talked Justin into joining them - he knew Justin wouldn't have raised his voice toward him; not in his son's presence.  He knew Justin cared too much for his son to upset him.  And yes, it might have bought him some more time until he could hopefully explain why he had interceded on his behalf.  In the end, though, he would have still had to explain it anyway, so maybe it was for the best.  He would just have to hope that Justin would understand - AFTER he blew up at him.  He winced at the thought. 

 

Glancing down at his phone, he noted the time.  4:00 p.m.  His son's play started at seven. He had last parted ways with Justin about two hours ago; that should have given him had plenty of time by now to go pay that asshole Marcum a visit and give him a piece of his mind.  He wondered where he was, then.  Was he already at the dean's office, speaking with CJ about the change in his internship?  Was he on his way to see him at Kinnetik, instead, to tell him in no uncertain terms what he thought of his ‘helping?' Should he call him and see?  Knowing his friend, he was fairly certain that CJ would have followed through quickly with his plans to have his assistant call Justin and summon him to his office, but so far he hadn't heard anything either way.

 

As he entered his company's main lobby a short time later, however - and was promptly called in to put out several fires at once - his attention was temporarily diverted. A certain young man, however, remained uppermost in his mind for the next hour or so as he vowed to contact him before the evening was out. He was dying to know what had happened, and what Justin's reaction was.  Please let it be a good one, he silently pleaded as Ted grabbed his sleeve to lead him into the conference room for another, impromptu meeting. 

 

 

 

Same Time - PIFA Administrative Offices

 

Justin quietly closed the double doors behind him as he entered the lobby of the dean's suite, hefting his art portfolio higher on his shoulder as he peered over at the dean's private office; as usual, the door was closed, so he was unable to discern what was going on inside.  Dean Smythe's assistant had called him unexpectedly about 30 minutes ago and had asked him to come here, preempting any need for him to call and try to see Dean Smythe on short notice.  He had been determined one way or the other to come over here and speak with him, appointment or not.  Was there a connection somehow, then, or just a big coincidence? Had Marcum made good on his threat, and called the dean to fabricate some sort of untruthful story about him?  Was he about to be kicked out of the grant program - and have his dreams thrown out along with it?  Just who would the dean believe?  He recalled Marcum's hate-filled words to him earlier, and his face flushed with anger.  He might be a ‘nobody' in the man's eyes, but he was determined to make the dean see the truth.  He HAD to; he had no other choice.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a clearing of the assistant's throat.  "May I help you?" 

 

Justin swallowed his nervousness and walked closer to the woman's desk.  "Yes.  I'm...Justin Taylor. I received a call to...."

 

Sarah nodded with a smile.  "Yes.  Mr. Taylor.  I was the one who called you.  Please have a seat over there for just a moment, and I'll let Dean Smythe know that you are here."

 

Justin nodded as he walked over to a trio of antique, stuffed chairs and sat down on the nearest one, clasping his hands tightly together.  He felt like a kid in grade school about to meet with the principal over an infraction in class, and he felt his pulse racing in anticipation. What was about to transpire with Dean Smythe - and his ability to convince the man of his sincerity - could very well determine his success or failure in staying in school.  Daphne had gone to so much trouble to help get him enrolled here, and it was only here that at last he had felt like he was headed in the right direction.  If this opportunity was snatched out from under him now, he would feel desolate and lost.  He pressed his lips tightly together in determination.  No, I won't let that happen, he silently vowed.  He looked up, a little startled, as he heard the door to the dean's office opening then, and the dean himself standing in the doorway.

 

CJ peered over curiously at the young man who had seemingly captured his friend's attention - and possibly his heart. A heart he knew was in there, but rarely allowed anyone to see.  He smiled as he recognized the creative artist who had won the school's prestigious grant.  He had to admit Justin was quite attractive. He looked so young, though, especially considering how much older Brian was. But the artist was obviously talented as well as intelligent, or he would not have received the much coveted grant he was currently using.  So he suspected there was far more to this man than he knew.  "Justin," he greeted his student as the blond rose to stand.  "Good to see you again.  Please come on in."  He extended his hand outward in invitation as Justin walked toward him.  "Sarah, please hold my calls until further notice," he instructed his assistant as she nodded in understanding.

 

Justin walked in ahead of the dean, his mind swirling with questions.  Whatever he wanted to discuss with him, he wanted to do it in private. Was that good or bad?

 

The dean closed the door and faced his visitor.  "Coffee, Justin?" he asked as the young man shook his head.  He clearly appeared nervous in his estimation; that wasn't exactly uncommon when it came to visiting him, though; he knew just the idea of having to visit ‘the dean' tended to make any student a little anxious.  He was determined to help make him comfortable, however, and reassure him.  "Please have a seat," he invited him as Justin nodded and did as he was asked. 

 

Smythe waited until Justin had sat down before he perched on the edge of his desk; he always DID hate to sit behind that imposing piece of wood to face a student, knowing how intimidating it was without the added obstruction.  He made a point of smiling over at Justin as he engaged in some initial small talk.  "How did your first year go, Justin?  Well, I hope?  I know your grades have been excellent."

 

Justin couldn't help flushing over the praise; apparently the dean had at least checked into his transcript from the first year.  "It was great," he told him sincerely, unable to smile himself as he thought about all the challenges he had encountered during the first year. It had been a very busy time for him - but he had loved every minute of it. That is, until he discovered Marcum's true nature.  "The classes I took were extremely helpful, and the faculty really challenged me to do my best.  And I've had exposure to a lot of different media and viewpoints," he added, his voice rising in enthusiasm.  He didn't even want to think about not continuing now; just the possibility of it filled him with a lot of sorrow.  He couldn't go back to the way he had been; he would NOT live his life, wiping down soiled tabletops and cleaning up cornbread crumbs off the floor. 

 

The dean nodded thoughtfully.  "I'm very glad to hear that," he told him.  "I like to hear good things about our students."  He paused.  "That's what makes this so difficult," he added cryptically, making Justin go on alert. 


Shit...it's just what I was afraid of. 

 

"Sir?" he asked softly, trying to prepare for what was to come. But nothing would have prepared him for this.

 

"StrataG and PIFA have severed our relationship, effective today. We will no longer be providing internships through their organization." 

 

Justin licked his lips nervously. Was he about to be severed from affiliation with PIFA, too?  "May...May I ask why, Dean Smythe?" 

 

CJ nodded.  "I will not allow our institution's reputation to be sullied by someone who discriminates against others due to their sexual orientation.  This institute will not condone - or tolerate - such behavior."

 

Justin's mouth fell open in astonishment. Did the dean just say what he thought he said?  "Sir?  You...You know about...?"

 

CJ nodded grimly.  "Yes.  I know about Marcum and his bigoted, skewed attitude. And I let him know how I felt about it, too. PIFA no longer will have any type of professional association with them, effective immediately." 

 

"But...how...?"  Had another student encountered the same problem with Marcum, and told the dean?  He supposed it was possible, but he wasn't aware of any other art students working at StrataG during the summer.  He frowned, until suddenly it hit him; before the dean could say anything else, he knew.  He just knew.  There was no other explanation that made sense. Damn it.

 

"Let's just say that someone clued me in - and I took immediate action, Justin."  Smythe paused as he eyed him with a mixture of sympathy and disgust toward the way he had been treated.  "I'm sorry you had to experience that.  No one should have to deal with that, especially on a professional level.  PIFA investigates our internship partners closely to make sure they are a good fit for our students...but obviously in this case we were caught unaware.  But don't worry," he added quickly with a reassuring smile.  "Your grant will NOT be in jeopardy."  

 

"I'm...relieved to hear that," Justin told him warily. And he was.  He wasn't going to just let it end there, however.  "But how will I fulfill my internship requirement? I thought that either I had to be working or attending classes."

 

The dean nodded.  "Yes, that's correct.  And although I would personally be more than willing to waive that requirement in this case due to the circumstances, I do not have that power. That is something the Board of Directors would have to address, and that can take weeks.  No, you will be working this summer...but for a different employer." 

 

"Let me guess," Justin replied dryly.  "Kinnetik, by chance?" 

 

Smythe had the grace to look embarrassed then, which told Justin all he needed to know.  CJ sighed in resignation; so much for leaving Brian out of it.  Of course, that only tended to tell him that this young man was a very shrewd individual; something told him he might just be every bit Brian's equal in a lot of ways.  "Yes, that's the one," he admitted, seeing no way to deny it.  He was going to find out soon enough, anyway.  "You can start as soon as the paperwork is signed, which should be sometime tomorrow. I would anticipate come Monday morning, you will be reporting to their CEO."

 

Justin shook his head; not sure whether to be amused or irritated - or both.  "You mean Brian Kinney."

 

Smythe half-smiled with a nod.  "That would be him," he verified.  He studied the young man in front of him.  "Justin...You deserve to work there.  You are a very talented artist," he assured him. 

 

"Thanks. But that's not how this came about, is it?" he pressed.  "How DID all this happen, anyway?  He was here, wasn't he?"

 

CJ nodded.  "Justin, he just made the transition a lot easier."  He paused before revealing, "He thinks a lot of you." 

 

Justin reddened in embarrassment.  What exactly did Brian do and say?  "How do you know that?  Just what did he say to you?" 

 

CJ pondered how much to tell him.  He decided in the end that Brian wasn't the only one who preferred to play it straight.  "He told me what happened the other night after the awards banquet.  We...we go way back.   Both of us attended Carnegie together.  I know he wouldn't make something like that up."

 

Justin nodded.  He wondered fleetingly if things would have been different if he had believed Brian in the first place.  But that was irrelevant now.  "I was actually on my way here to tell you what happened earlier today. I...had a little discussion with Marcum myself - and told him exactly what I thought of him.  There's no way I would ever go back to work for StrataG." 

 

Smythe nodded.  "I figured as much; I mean, Brian knew you were intending on going over there to see him."  He studied his student carefully.  "It took a lot of courage for you to do that."

 

Justin's face warmed over the praise.  "I couldn't have done anything less," he told him quietly.  Letting out a deep breath, he told the dean, "So I'm supposed to start at Kinnetik on Monday?"

 

"Yes, provided all the paperwork is signed and returned to me promptly.  I will be sending all of the necessary paperwork over to Brian's office via courier first thing in the morning, and I suspect he will make sure it's handled immediately."  Brian had certainly seemed eager to get Justin on the payroll.

 

Justin nodded.  "Sounds like he has it all arranged, then," he commented, his lips pursed tightly together.  Not that he didn't appreciate what Brian was trying to do - but it still made him uneasy.  It made him feel like he was a ten-year-old who needed his runny nose wiped. 

 

"Justin, I don't have to tell you how impressive Kinnetik's rise in the business world has been.  This will be a great opportunity for you."  He rose from his place on the corner of his desk, subtly signaling that their meeting was over.  "I'll have my office give you a call to confirm when all the paperwork is signed," he told him as Justin, too, rose to stand.  Lightly placing his hand on Justin's shoulder, the two of them walked toward the door.  "Let me know if you have any questions," he told him with a smile.  "And give Brian my regards."

 

A few minutes later, Justin was standing outside the administrative offices, shaking his head over this turn of events.  "Why did I know you wouldn't just stand still and let me take care of this?" he asked out loud to Brian, even though he wasn't there.  He was still somewhat pissed that he had gone to see the dean without his prior knowledge or agreement; at least he would not have been hit blindsided then.  He had to admit, though; Brian had come up with the perfect solution to his problem.  Why did it still make him feel inadequate, though?  And how was he supposed to know that Brian actually knew him, anyway?  "Aaargh!" he growled as he slung his portfolio across his shoulder and headed toward his junk heap of a car. 

 


 

Kinnetik - 6:00 p.m..

 

Cynthia looked up as she sensed a shadow looming nearby; lifting her gaze, she surveyed the slim, blond-haired man standing in front of her desk, his hands jammed into his jacket pockets.  She eyed him politely.  "May I help you?" 

 

Justin nodded as he looked around curiously; to be early evening, it was quite busy inside the offices of Pittsburgh's newest Advertising Agency of the Year.  Just what sort of hours did these people work? He wondered. 

 

He heard the blonde woman clearing her throat to get his attention as he turned back to face her, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment.  "I'm looking for Mr. Kinney," he replied at last. 

 

He noticed the woman giving him an intense stare, as if she were a nurse performing triage to determine his purpose in being there, before she informed him, "Mr. Kinney is about to leave for the day.  I don't believe you had an appointment, Mr....?"

 

"Taylor," Justin told her softly, his eyes drifting to a door nearby with "B Kinney" written elegantly on a brass nameplate.  "Justin Taylor." 

 

She nodded.  "Well - Mr. Taylor - as I said, he's on his way out.  If you'd like to make an appointment, I can see what time he has available." 

 

Justin firmly shook his head.  "No, it has to be now," he told her to Cynthia's surprise.  "Please...Just tell him I'm out here waiting to talk to him." 

 

She frowned, trying to figure out just what this man wanted.  He seemed decidedly out of place here.  But the resolute expression on his face told her he was determined to at least have her contact Brian.  "Okay," she told him at last.  "If you'll have a seat over there, I'll let him know you're here. But don't get your hopes up," she warned him.  She watched as he turned and walked over to sit in one of the nearby leather lobby chairs as she picked up the phone's intercom.

 

"Cynthia, I'm on my way out," was the somewhat abrupt response without any preamble.

 

"I know," she told him softly, trying not to be overheard as she cupped her hand over the mouthpiece.  "But there's a man out here who claims he needs to see you."

 

"Cynthia, what part of ‘I'm on my way out' did you not understand?" Brian growled, as he reached to flip open his briefcase and cram several papers into it, along with his laptop.  He barely had enough time to rush home, shower, and change before heading to his son's play. 

 

He could hear his assistant sigh over the phone as he cradled the phone in the crook of his neck and shut his briefcase, preparing to leave. Her next words, however, stopped him cold. 

 

"His name is Justin Taylor. He's being very insistent about seeing you."  There was silence on the other end for several seconds before Cynthia spoke up again.  "Brian? Did you hear me? What do you want me to tell...?"  But she never got to finish her sentence, as the door to Brian's office suddenly opened, and she observed him standing in the doorway. He wasn't looking at her, however; his eyes were focused on the visitor who stood up in reaction to him.  She watched, intrigued, as the two locked gazes, noticing Brian running one hand through his hand, appearing uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 

 

"Justin." he murmured the name almost as if it were part of a one-word prayer.  He glanced over at Cynthia long enough to state, "It's okay. You can go on home. I'll handle this," before he turned his focus back to the young blond. 

 

As she nodded and gathered up her things to go, she heard him state to their visitor, "Come on in. I've...been expecting you."  She peered over at the look of familiarity on both men's faces before she finally headed toward the door and exited outside, wondering what sort of hold this man had on her normally confident and nonplussed boss.   

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

 

Thanks for all the support. The boys' pivotal conversation is coming up.;)

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