Brian's POV

"Is this okay?" Justin appeared from the bathroom for the sixth time in span of fifteen minutes.

I knew I was the one who took ages to choose clothes, not him. Apparently, things had changed.

"Yes. Just like your previous outfit."

The words barely left my mouth before Justin was pulling his shirt off, scowling.

"Look, Sunshine, you look great!" I tried to stop him from creating a mess in his quest for the right clothes, which he was already wearing.

"You're supposed to say that," he grumbled.

I raised an eyebrow. Really? "Since when do I do or say something I don't mean?"

"But nothing looks good! I mean, look at you!" He made a flourish gesture, before stomping to the open suitcase, flinging clothes around.

I closed my eyes, restraining the urge to yawn or say something sarcastic, he'd probably take it to the heart.

We never had this problem before. It was all new for me to sit around and wait for him to choose something to wear. He was usually the one dressed in ten seconds tops, and waiting for me, scolding me for taking so long.

Maybe it was revenge, though it looked serious. He truly didn't like anything he was trying on.

I had gotten dressed in a matter of minutes—white linen pants and one of my black sleeveless shirts. It was perfect for our night out.

Justin, on the other hand, was completely undecided.

"Could you help me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Christ." I went to him, picking a light blue sleeveless shirt and his cargo pants. The shirt would make his eyes look bluer, and I secretly liked his pants and the way they accentuated his bubble butt. "Put these on." I pushed the clothes in his arms.

"But…"

"No buts. Now. It's already eleven."

"So what? Do they close early?" He eyed me amused, walking backwards into the bathroom.

"No. The entrance is free before midnight—for hot guys."

"Makes one wonder what trolls get in after midnight."

I chuckled, going back to the bed. "Not everyone is hot like us."

"Wait until they make me pay," he called through the closed bathroom door.

Why the fuck would he close himself in there like some virginal girl on her wedding night, I had no idea.

"Don't be a twat. Now get out, and let's get a move on." I wrenched the door open in time to catch a glimpse of his white undies.

He glared at me, zipping up his pants, before tugging at his shirt. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous."

"Wait. One minute, I need to do something to my hair."

Oh, for fuck's sake. I went back to the bed where I fell on my back.

The club was ten minutes away from the hotel, but if Justin decided to have another queen moment, I was seriously leaving without him.

"Done!" he exclaimed, stepping out of the bathroom. I couldn't see a difference between what his hair looked like a minute ago and now, but decided against telling him.

I grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and pulled him out the door. "I aged ten years."

Instead of taking it as a joke, Justin tilted his head to the side, regarding me as I locked up.

"Hmm. I think I see a few age lines." He fingered my temple.

"You don't! You need your vision checked."

"I still got 20/20."

I narrowed my eyes, before stalking to the elevator.

"It was a joke, Brian. You don't have age lines." He hurried after me, apologizing.

We got in the elevator and stood in silence while we descended. I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. I knew my age was showing despite the creams I invested a small fortune in, but they were to make me sleep better at night.

Right before we reached the lobby, Justin took my hand, leaning into me. "You're still gorgeous."

I smiled, kissing the top of his head.

I wanted to throw his words back at him—"You're supposed to say that"—but I knew he was nervous. Though, I still hadn't figured out why.

It was our first time going clubbing as a married couple. Maybe he was afraid I'd want to fuck someone else, but that would mean not being able to feel Justin in all his glory. Nothing could top that experience—being so close to him.

I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize feeling him skin on skin again.

"What's bothering you?" I wrapped my arm around his shoulders as we left the hotel. "You've been acting odd ever since I suggested we go to the club."

Justin stiffened by my side. "It's silly."

"Tell me. I won't laugh."

"Promise?" He glanced up to meet my eyes. His were full of worry.

I nodded solemnly.

"I feel like I need to meet some standards now that I'm your husband. I dress like the poor artist that I am, and I look like a homeless guy next to you."

"Hey, stop insulting my beautiful husband!" I teased, trying to come up with something smart to say.

"I can't. We're such opposites. What would people think? You always look like you stepped out of GQ or Esquire magazine. And I look…well, I look like I've been run over by a train."

"Would you stop putting yourself down? This has never been a problem, or you never mentioned it to me, if it was."

"I always felt like this, Brian, but now it makes me feel self-conscious. A lot."

"You know what I say about what others think—fuck them! All that matters is you're happy—we're happy. Fuck what others think."

"I'm not like you, Brian. I can't ignore how other people look at me." He stopped walking and turned to stand in front of me. "Will you teach me how to dress better?"

I patted his cheek, chuckling. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that since we met."

"WHAT?" He looked positively horrified.

"I never hid the fact that I didn't approve of your clothes, but you liked them. Of course, I always drew the line at your sneakers."

Justin relaxed a little, before resuming walking. "So will you teach me, oh Clothing Guru?"

"Clothing Guru?"

"Yup."

"Are you sure? Because first thing when we get back home is throw all your clothes in the trash. And you're not allowed a tantrum over 'that was my favorite shirt' or 'I had that since I was still wet behind the ears'."

I could see an internal fight taking place inside him.

"Baby steps. Not all my clothes, Bri. I'll need some for when I paint or lounge around the house."

"Trust me on this makeover, Sunshine." I brought him closer to my side, rubbing his arm.

"I want to, but it scares me."

"Change is scary." I kissed his temple. I couldn't wait until I started this makeover. It was all I'd wanted for years—to take over his wardrobe.

We were going to discuss this further when we returned to the Pitts.

"Here we are." I gestured to the club, grinning.

As we approached the short line, Justin pinched my hip. "By the way, I don't have clothes since when I was still wet behind the ears, you asshole!"

I snorted, earning a large smile from him.

Justin was ready to stand in line, but I seized his elbow, tugging him to the door. I knew the bouncer. Nothing changed around here.

I hadn't practiced my Spanish in years, but I still knew the basics.

"Buenos notches, Carlos."

Carlos nodded in recognition. "Senior Kinney." He stepped back, letting us inside.

"Of course, you know everyone." Justin shook his head.

"Why, jealous, dear?"

"Just curious. How often did you come here?"

"Every other year."

We made our way to the bar where I ordered beers to start with. The bartender gave Justin an once-over, which made me want to smash his head against the counter. Mine.

"Card?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, cash." I waved the Euros in front of him.

"No. No. Identification card." He nodded to Justin. "Chico."

Now I really wanted to scatter his brains to the walls. I resisted the urge to ask how old did he think I was if he considered Justin a kid.

I turned to Justin who was busy watching the dancing masses. "He wants to see you're legal. I say you show him. Spanish police is something you don't want to deal with."

"He thinks I'm underage?" Justin gave me an incredulous look, but excitement was dancing on his face.

"I told you—you're hot." I kissed him quickly.

He showed the bartender his ID, and once the man was convinced he wasn't selling alcohol to a minor, he handed us the beers. I told him to keep an open tab, and he smiled, nodding.

On the dance floor, Justin wrapped his arms around my neck, grinding his hips against mine. "Next time we order, can you ask him how young I look?"

"Under eighteen, if he asked for confirmation you're legal."

"You mean twenty-one."

"I mean eighteen. Kids are legal at eighteen in most European countries. I say lucky bastards." I wrapped my arms around his neck too, pressing his face to my neck. "It's not like this restriction stops us or anyone else from starting to drink early."

After kissing my neck, he took a few gulps from his bottle. "I had wine for the first time when I was five."

I snorted. "Every kid dipped their finger in daddy's drink. The first time I drank alcohol, I was thirteen. I stole one of daddy dearest's whiskey bottles."

"I meant what I said. We had guests. Mom left her glass of wine unsupervised." He gave me a bashful smile, taking another gulp from his beer.

"Whoa! You little alcoholic."

"I remember their faces. Mom was freaked, her girlfriends were all over me asking how I felt and pushing me to drink water. Dad was staring at me in shock. Guess what I did?"

"Puked over him?"

"No." He laughed. "I went to the bottle of wine and said more."

"Was it red, at least?"

"Cabernet." He winked.

"At least you have good taste."

"Mom didn't think so."

As I leaned closer to kiss him thoroughly, the music dimmed in volume, and a voice announced it was Cute Asses Get Free Drink Night. Everyone was invited to shake said cute asses as the volume raised once again.

"What was that all about? Damn, I wish I paid more attention in Spanish at school."

"We're getting free drinks tonight. You need to show the bartender your cute bubble butt." I spanked him lightly.

"What?" Justin choked out.

"Cute asses get free drinks. Yours is hot. You can score two free drinks in one go."

He gasped, slapping my hand playfully. "You'd sell your husband like that?"

I pretended to think, making him narrow his eyes. "Anything for free drinks," I said eventually.

His mouth dropped, but he quickly burst out laughing.

The whole time we spent at the club, in between drinks coming our way courtesy to Justin's hot little ass and dancing more than we'd ever had, Justin kept exclaiming how much he loved it there.

It proved I still knew him well enough to know what made him happy. Despite Mikey's words about our honeymoon in Ibiza, our time here seemed to be a hit.

Seeing Justin smile was all I needed to know listening to myself was the best idea I ever had. If I'd asked the others about honeymoon ideas, they'd have tried to talk me out of Ibiza, and I'd have probably caved. Thank God, I only listened to myself.