Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

 

Hot. He was hot. Unbearably hot.

Brian tore off his clothes, tossed them into the hamper and stepped under the cold hard sprays of the shower.

Michael had stood right next to him when he kicked Justin out, and hadn't said a word. Not one word. His supposed best friend. His best friend, who had actually committed the crime himself.

Lies, and more lies.

They were often difficult to be with, but he had thought of Michael and Debbie as his family.

Brian snorted a harsh laugh. They were his family.

They lied to his face, they spied on him, they stole from him, and they talked about him behind his back, bad-mouthing him all the way. Was that why he had put up with them all this time? Because it was all so achingly familiar?

Soap. He had soap in his eyes. His eyes were watering because of the damn soap.

Christ, it was cold in here. He really needed to warm up.

Brian vigorously toweled himself dry and donned fresh clothes.

Time to face the music, Kinney.

Time to go open Pandora's box.

 

Justin knocked on the office door. "Brian? It's me."

He heard footsteps, the key turned in the lock and the door opened. Brian pulled him inside and then locked the door again.

Typical, Justin thought. Brian's hair was damp, so he'd had a shower. He had known Brian would want to change. He now wore a white wife-beater and black jeans.

Justin looked at Brian more closely. The pupils larger than normal, the whites of the eyes bloodshot, the sensuous mouth a grim line - and there was a dark smudge on his cheek. "What are you on?"

"Nothing," Brian said. "Why?"

Justin shrugged. "Go wash your face. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Brian went to the sink and splashed water into his face, snorting an angry laugh. "That's an adequate description. I have. I've seen the ghost of yesteryear. Many ghosts, many yesteryears, actually. All thanks to my good friend Mikey, who lowered the drawbridge to my forgotten youth! I owe it all to him!"

Justin looked around.

The safe stood open, the bunch of purple envelopes that he had seen in the box earlier were already in there. Erin didn't live in Pittsburgh, then? Why else would she write to Brian? What was in those letters that Michael found boring and Brian was intense about? Justin suppressed a sigh. Yes, he wanted to know more about Erin, and what she meant to Brian. But he was quite sure that whatever those letters said, Brian wasn't going to share it with him.

His own fat letter was on the table underneath the safe, together with some jewelry he recognized. Brian had used to wear that silver bracelet sometimes, and those intricate gold cuff-links - all those things had vanished the day the loft was robbed. There was an old baseball glove next to the small pile.

Curious, Justin picked it up and looked at it. It was good quality, almost as good as the one he had had. He was about to put it back down when something small slipped out of it. He just managed to catch it. It was a ring, with a bracelet looped through it. It looked like silver, but it was too heavy for that. Platinum, then.

Justin took a closer look. Inside the ring, there were four letters and a number - ES BK 7-10-88. The bracelet had the same letters engraved in one of the links.

"Is this yours," Justin asked as Brian turned, holding up the jewelry for Brian to see.

Brian took a hasty step closer, reaching for the trinkets and looking at them as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He ran his finger across the bracelet, almost reverently. "I thought I'd lost these forever," he said softly. "Yes, they're mine. Where were they?"

"Tucked away in the baseball glove," Justin pointed.

Brian nodded, undid the clasp and slipped the bracelet on his left wrist. He looked at it for a long moment, then took it back off and put it into the safe, together with the ring.

"Is the glove yours," Justin asked cautiously, wondering why that bracelet had gone on the left wrist, when Brian normally wore them on his right.

Brian turned to him. "Yes. I can't believe that little shit stole it."

He mimicked Michael's voice. "Brian, I need to know your locker combination, in case I ever need to get a book for you or something. Really, Brian, I won't use it for anything else, I swear."

Justin almost grinned. If Michael had sounded like that twenty years ago, he hadn't changed much.

Brian sighed. "I was in deep shit because of him. That glove wasn't cheap, you know. My father wouldn't believe it was stolen right out of my locker. He thought I'd sold it to buy something for my mother." He snorted. "I guess it would've been alright, if I had sold it to buy beer."

Brian sounded younger somehow. Reluctant.

Justin wondered what it must have been like, going home to confess to Jack that the expensive glove was gone.

"What else is in that box, Brian?"

"Let's find out," Brian sighed. He reached into the box. "Photos, by the look of it."

He rifled through the stack. "Jesus, he's been stalking me. Will you look at that!"

Photos of a very young Brian, with Erin and Shane. Brian's portrait had done her justice, she really did look lovely. Brian. Laughing, playing the guitar, dancing. Messing around in the snow. Some more photos of the trio, with a little boy. How cute that kid was! And how Brian held him - just like he held Gus, gently, yet firmly. More photos of Brian, cutting grass and trimming a hedge. Brian, playing football. Mhh, he looked good in that outfit. Very good.

Justin smirked. "Nice hairdo, Brian."

Brian shrugged. "I hadn't met Stephen yet."

"I bet Shane loved running his fingers through your hair."

"Don't go there," Brian sighed.

"You weren't exactly a troll, you know. I'm not surprised they all fell in love with you even then. What do you want to do with the photos, show them to Shane?"

"I will, later. Put them in the safe, please," Brian asked, reaching for a folder.

"I can't believe this," Justin heard him mutter. "Fucking little asshole!"

"What is it," Justin asked, turning away from the safe.

"My term paper," Brian said.

There was more to it, Justin knew. There was a very odd tone in Brian's voice.

He stood next to Brian, running a gentle hand down his back. Tense muscles, rigid spine. The moment he felt that, Justin knew that Brian kept going on sheer resolve.

"Sit," he murmured. "I'll go get you a drink."

Brian nodded, sinking into the chair behind the desk, folder still in hand.

Justin hurried, returning moments later and locking the door again. He put the drink in front of Brian and asked, "What about the paper?"

Brian shrugged, taking a sip of the whiskey Justin had brought for him. "There was this teacher," he said hesitantly. "Miss Clegg. She was pretty, and young. And she was making eyes at me. I kept refusing; politely of course. My dad found out, I don't know how. He said I should do it with her, just to keep my grades."

"I didn't. I still got an A, she was fair like that. Only, the term paper vanished out of my locker. I couldn't prove to my dad that I'd even turned in the blasted paper. He got rather angry with me."

Justin shook his head. "He got angry because you got an A? After he suggested you sleep with her?"

Brian sighed. "Nobody ever accused Jack Kinney of consistency."

Justin stood behind Brian and kneaded his shoulders. "You want to look at the rest tomorrow?"

Brian shook his head. "It's now or never. I need to find out what else dear little Mikey has pocketed."

"Stay put," Justin said. "I'll get it."

He looked into the box. "That's not yours," he said, smiling, holding up a white silk scarf. It was covered with colored hand-prints, one large hand, one small hand and a tiny one.

Brian jumped up. "Yes! Yes, it is. I've been wondering where that went!"

He pulled it out of Justin's hand and, inhaling, pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment. "The fucking bastard," he murmured. "He stole that from the loft."

"When he robbed you?"

"No," Brian shook his head, opening his eyes. Justin saw the telltale glitter of unshed tears. "Much earlier than that. Before I met you."

Brian sniffed, put the scarf into the safe and went over to the sink to wash his face again.

"I thought Erin had wanted it back. Only, we couldn't find it when..." Brian fell silent, heaving a sigh.

Justin looked into the box. Not much left, fortunately. Brian had seen enough ghosts for one night.

He reached for the last but one item. He almost dropped it when he realized what it was - a ring of hair. Dark, smooth, silky, still shiny hair.

Brian took it from him and slipped it into an envelope, which he also put into the safe. "Erin's," he explained softly. "Such lovely hair."

Justin reached for the last item, a cardboard box, and looked inside. "DVDs," he said. "Quite a few. You'll need the computer."

Brian nodded. "Give them here."

"Do you know what's on these," Justin asked curiously.

"I haven't the faintest," Brian admitted, sitting down again and pressing the start-up button on the computer. Moments later, he accessed the first disc.

Justin saw him lose all color, and for the first time ever was scared that Brian would pass out on him. Quickly, he put his arms around Brian's shoulders.

Brian leaned into him for a while, his eyes closed. He had goose flesh on his arms, and was shivering slightly. Justin knew it wasn't because he was cold.

Brian had put the desktop on the screen, so Justin couldn't see what had upset him. Justin held tight, gently pressing Brian's head against his chest.

Finally, Justin murmured, "You want to tell me?"

Brian sighed. "No. I don't want to tell you. But you have a right to know, so I guess I'd better."

Justin felt another slight tremor run through the lean frame, as Brian continued," He had a video camera in my bedroom. The sick fuck."

"Cute," Justin said, disgusted. "Where did he hide that?"

Brian moved away a little, and stared at the monitor. Justin wondered what he was seeing. "Judging by the angle, above the screens separating the rooms. There's a small shelf up there; the screens are a standard size, but the ceiling in the loft is higher than normal, and we needed to make up the difference."

"I'll destroy the DVDs," Brian sighed. "But I'd like to look at them first. Maybe he's taped something else, as well. If there's footage of the kids, I'd like to salvage that. Are you okay with that?"

Justin nodded readily. "Sure. You do what you think is best."

Brian put an arm around his waist and squeezed. "Thank you."

"What for," Justin asked quietly.

Brian looked up at him. "Being here."

"At least now you can tell Erin why you never answered those letters."

Brian closed his eyes, and then looked over at the safe. "Erin is dead."

"Shit," Justin swore. "I'm sorry, Brian. I'm so sorry."

Brian shrugged, sighing. "At least you know why I never reacted to your letter. Do you want it back?"

Justin shook his head. "No. It's yours. Read it, but only if you want to."

Brian seemed to hesitate, but then met his eyes and asked, "Would it have made a difference?"

Justin thought for a moment. "It might have. If you had been able to read it then. Would you have read it?"

"I would have," Brian said softly. "Of course I would have." He stood up.

Justin looked at him. Brian looked exhausted. "Is there any way I can persuade you to go get some sleep?"

"Are you kidding?"

"You don't look your usual perky self."

"Fuck you so much!"

"Love to! No hardship at all. Let's go find a bed," Justin grinned.

Brian drew his lips into his mouth. "If I don't go out there soon, we'll have the Indians and the cavalry come look for us. Besides, the kids haven't eaten yet."

"I'll take them something," Justin offered.

Brian shook his head. "I've already been up there, and told them it won't be long."

Justin frowned. "You're so stubborn. How much longer do you plan on dealing with this shit?"

Glancing at his watch, Brian smirked. "Half an hour, tops."

"Promise. Brian. Promise me," Justin held on to Brian's arms. "You've had enough for one day."

Brian tilted his head. "Had a nice long midnight chat with Jim, have you?"

Justin sighed and looked out of the window for a moment. Startled, he saw that it was still light outside. He could have sworn it was night already. What time was it, anyway?

"You look great. You always do. But you're underweight, and I didn't need to talk to anybody to see that."

Brian nodded. "What did Jim tell you?"

"That you don't have AIDS."

"If I had it, don't you think I would have told you to get checked," Brian sounded offended.

Startled, Justin laughed. "I was so fucking worried. I was so fucking worried about you that it never even occurred to me. Of course you would have told me to get myself checked."

Brian raised an eyebrow at him. "Twat."

Justin nodded happily. "Your twat. Deal with it."

Brian bit his lower lip and drew him into a tight embrace. "No hardship."

Justin returned the hug eagerly.

 

Shane watched as Brian and Justin stepped out onto the patio. They were walking close together, but not touching. Something told him there had been a whole lot of touching before, though. And somehow, he knew that Brian wanted to do more than touch. Judson was right, this was where Brian wanted to be.

Both men looked tense, and alert. Brian seemed exhausted, not that you'd be able to tell easily. It was just in the way he held himself, as though driven by willpower rather than muscles. And maybe it was in the way Justin hovered so protectively.

They stood close to where Michael was sitting, staring down at him.

"So," Ted said, breaking the sudden and awkward silence. "Find anything interesting in that box?"

Justin nodded. "Yes, indeed. A veritable treasure trove, if you're a Brian Kinney aficionado."

"I thought Michael only kept those letters," Debbie said uncertainly, looking at Michael.

Shane looked at him as well, but then looked away. Did the jerk have to hold his spoon like a shovel? And who ate fettuccine with a spoon, anyway?

"Letters, yes," Justin said. "And photos. He's been stalking Brian."

"I thought that was your job," Ted smirked.

Emmett smiled affectionately. "Ah, but Brian always wanted Justin to stalk him. Right, Bri?"

Shane glanced at Brian, who said nothing, but exchanged a quick look with Justin. Justin grinned knowingly. Now that was interesting. He'd have to needle Brian about that later. Much later, when things were back to normal. As normal as they ever got for Brian.

"What kind of photos," Shane asked.

"You, Erin, me, the kid," Brian said.

Shane shook his head. "Asshole," he muttered.

"That's not so bad," Debbie said, sounding relieved.

"Then there's the films from the camera he had hidden in Brian's bedroom," Justin continued.

Debbie looked at Michael, shaking her head. "You really are obsessed with that boy, aren't you."

"The boy is a grown man," Shane said angrily. "And even as a boy, you have a right to your privacy. Is there anything in Brian's life your Michael didn't crawl over and worm himself into?"

"Not much, I'd say," Justin smiled coldly. "Michael really is a worm. There was that term paper..."

Keeping his eyes on Justin as his voice trailed off, Shane marveled that Brian seemed quite happy to let him run the show for now. Wait a minute - term paper?

"What paper? The one our dear misguided Miss Clegg graded?"

Justin nodded, Brian was immobile, his eyes on Michael. Michael didn't look up once; he was digging into his fettuccine like they were his last meal.

Shane shook his head. At least Michael wasn't talking with his mouth full, for a change.

"You don't need that old term paper anymore, do you, Brian," Debbie said. "So it's no big deal."

"It was a big deal then," Shane said. He remembered the bruises he had seen on Brian the next day, and Brian claiming he had fallen down the stairs. Shane had never believed those stories, and often enough, he had found out the truth later.

Jack Kinney always took his many frustrations out on his son.

"Some jewelry," Justin added.

Debbie shook her head at her son. "Really, sweetie. I'm sure Brian would have bought you some trinket you liked, if you'd asked."

"Debbie. He didn't want his own things. He wanted Brian's things," Justin said. "Did you wear them, Michael? The rings, the bracelets? Did you wear any of Brian's things?"

Michael shook his head vehemently. "Of course not. I wouldn't have dared."

"Pathetic," Shane heard Brian mutter.

Justin drew a deep breath.

"You understand me, don't you, Brian? You understand that I just wanted to be a part of your life, right," Michael implored, puppy-eyes finally fixed on Brian.

Brian shook his head. "I don't understand you at all," he said distantly.

"I love you, Brian. That's all you need to know. That's all you need to understand. I've always loved you," Michael said pleadingly. "All you have to do is love me back."

Brian actually took a step back. "I don't love you. Never will."

"You said you'd love me forever. When we were stuck on the turn pike, on our way to New York."

"That was a lifetime ago. A different life. A life where you didn't lie and steal," Brian replied icily.

"When did you go to New York," Dave asked.

"We had to go after Justin. He had Brian's credit card," Ted explained eagerly.

Justin shook his head, laughing softly. He put an arm around Brian's waist. "Right, Ted. That's why Brian came after me. Because I had his credit card. What kind of an accountant are you?"

Brian shared a smile with Justin that easily excluded them all.

Shane smirked to himself.

"What do you mean," Molly asked.

Brian winked at her. "The card could've been canceled with one phone call."

Molly smirked at Justin. "Craig would've stranded you in New York without a cent; you know that, don't you? I guess Brian does like you. A bit."

"A bit. A tiny little bit," Brian shrugged.

"See, you said it yourself. You only like him a little bit. Brian, look at me. Take me! We can be happy together!"

"I'm sure Ben is really glad to hear that," Brian said coldly.

Michael shrugged negligently. "He already said he wanted a divorce."

Justin looked at Brian, his face serious. "Shut up, Michael."

"Just because you won't let go of him, you little piece of blond boy ass!" Michael screeched, jumping up. He sounded a lot like his mother, Shane realized. "When will you understand that Brian belongs with me?"

"Never," Justin said firmly.

"Brian. He's not even your type," Michael whined. "You never trick with blondes."

Ken snorted. "Right. Brian tricks with dark and dangerous, but has relationships with cute blondes. They're so not his type!"

"I can color my hair," Michael insisted. "If that's what it takes."

"Don't you dare, your hair is beautiful as it is!" Debbie wagged her finger at him.

"It's not the hair, Michael," Brian shook his head. "It's you."

"And we have a history. You'll never have that with your boy toy. Think of all the good times we've had together," Michael insisted, as if he hadn't even heard Ken, or Brian.

"Yes," Shane said grimly. "Think of all the good times, Brian. Like when Michael lured me into the toilets, saying you had twisted your ankle, and then locked me in so we couldn't walk home together. You needed Brian with you, didn't you, Michael."

"I always wanted to be with Brian," Michael said. "What's wrong with that?"

Shane stood up. "What's wrong with that? What's wrong with that is that you needed Brian because you had pissed off those thugs, and you knew they were going to ambush you!"

"Shane," Brian said faintly, "be quiet."

"You never told anybody, did you, Brian? Not even Debbie?"

"I didn't tell anybody. Certainly not Debbie. I'd prefer it if you didn't, either."

Shane folded his arms across his chest. "Debbie needs educating. Your so-called friends need educating."

"So you're pissed because my boy once locked you in a toilet," Debbie laughed. "Big deal!"

Shane shook his head. "Those jerks had it in for your son. Only, Brian was with him. And Brian always stood up for icky little Mickey. I wouldn't have. But Brian did. Do you want to know what your son did? Your son, who loves Brian oh so much?"

Shane drew a deep breath, remembering that afternoon. Remembering all too clearly. "I was forced to watch from behind a fucking barred window as five older boys beat up on my brave Brian. Because you know what, Debbie? Your son is a coward. Michael cowered behind that dumpster, and left Brian to fight his battle for him. Alone."

Shane watched as Justin moved even closer to Brian, studying his face. Brian shook his head, his eyes unreadable. Justin nodded and leaned his forehead against Brian's side. Brian put an arm around his shoulders.

"Michael was even too scared to run across the yard and let me out. He needn't have done anything else. He knew I would have helped Brian in a heartbeat, but his cowardly legs just wouldn't carry him across the yard."

"But they would've seen me, and beat up on me, too," Michael moaned.

Shane compressed his lips. "I've always despised you."

"I remember when I was helping Hunter that night, when he got beaten up? You were just standing there, yelling at me not to get involved. I thought you didn't give a shit about Hunter, but now I realize you didn't give a shit about me, either," Ben said sadly.

"There's more," Shane said angrily. It felt like the proverbial dam had burst, and he needed to say these things. Needed to say them now, after more than twenty years, or suffocate on them.

"When they finally left Brian alone, almost unconscious and bleeding like anything, Michael went to phone Jack. Not you Debbie, or my mother. Jack. Then he finally let me out, just before Jack arrived on the scene. And do you know what? Jack took one look at Brian, kicked him in the ribs a few times and yelled at him because he hadn't given as good as he got. After all, tiny Michael had got out of the fray without even a scratch!"

"Shut up, Shane," Brian said weakly.

But Shane couldn't shut up, not anymore. "And then Jack drove Michael home, and told Brian to walk, because he needed the exercise."

Justin moved to stand in front of Brian, looking up into his face for a long moment. Shane could see the tears streaming down his face.

Gently, Brian brushed a thumb across Justin's cheek. "That was twenty years ago. What's the point in crying now," he murmured.

Justin shook his head, put both arms around Brian and pressed his face against his chest. A hand on his nape, Brian pulled him closer into a protective embrace, and mouthed, "Satisfied?" at Shane.

Shane could see that Justin was shaking, and now Brian was angry with him. Not for himself, but on Justin's behalf.

Shane was amazed. He hadn't seen Brian like this before. He took loving care of the kids, not giving a shit what other people thought of his interaction with them. But he had not seen him like that with an adult, not even with Judson. Judson had been right, with Justin it was no holds barred. That was why Justin had the power to cut into Brian so deeply, because Brian was completely open to him. How stupid of Brian, how dangerous!

Quickly, Shane looked across at Jennifer. Could she see it, the difference between Brian being fond of somebody, and Brian in love? She was leaning against Tucker, tears in her eyes.

"That wasn't nice of you, Michael," Debbie said feebly.

"No. Then again, when did Michael ever do nice?" Shane spat. "As soon as he got the story out of Michael, your brother came to pick us up. Vic and my mother took care of Brian, while your sweet spineless son sat at home eating spaghetti!"

"That will do, Shane," Brian said warningly. "Sit down. Shut up."

"Or else, huh, Brian. If that's all there was in that box," Ted said with a yawn, apparently losing interest.

"No," Justin said, his face still hidden in Brian's chest. "There's more. Like a silk scarf, and a baseball glove."

Shane shot a quick look at Brian. "A baseball glove? Not the baseball glove?"

Brian returned the glance, the darkened hazel full of remembered agony.

Debbie laughed. "You never even played baseball, Brian."

"He did," Shane said.

And Brian had been good. Very good. Until the day his father broke his wrist for losing his glove. That had been on a Friday. Brian had had to wait until Monday before he could get out of the house. The school nurse had sent him to hospital to get an x-ray and have the bones set, and later that afternoon, Brian had confided in Erin that she probably hadn't believed his story that he had fallen off his bike. He was worried the nurse might phone his parents, and then there'd be more trouble in store for him. Erin had locked herself in her room for the rest of the day, crying. The next day, she had spoken to the school nurse, and that was the end of that.

Shane had broken his arm at college, and was still wondering to this day how Brian had coped with the excruciating pain for more than two days.

 

He was startled from his memories when two men walked onto the patio. Cops, he realized belatedly.

"Mr. Schmidt? Theodore Schmidt?"

"That's me," Ted said, standing up. "What's wrong, did something happen to my mother?"

Brian raised an eyebrow, and Leda crossed her arms. Daphne shook her head, and Judson frowned.

"What could possibly have happened to your mother? Didn't you take three days off last month to bury her," Brian sounded very calm.

The calm before the storm, Shane thought. Fuck Schmidt.

Ted looked at Brian and shrugged. "I needed some personal time. I'm entitled to personal time!"

"You'll get lots of personal time where you're going," Brian said.

Ted stared at him.

"Mr. Schmidt, you're under arrest. Anything you say..."

"Arrest? Why am I under arrest?"

"Embezzlement," Brian said. "Did you think I'd let you get away with stealing from Kinnetik indefinitely?"

Ted shook his head. "I didn't steal anything."

"You transferred all the monthly salaries into a special account, collected the daily interest and then transferred the money to my employees two days later. You stole two days' worth of interest from everybody working at Kinnetik," Brian said. "And this is the third time it's happened. The first time, I thought it was a glitch. The second time, I warned you."

Brian shrugged. "The third time, you do time."

"I didn't do anybody any harm," Ted insisted.

Emmett shook his head, and Shane saw he had tears in his eyes. "Be quiet, Teddy. Get yourself a lawyer."

Ted looked at Melanie. "Mel, help me."

Melanie studied his face for a long moment, and then looked at Brian.

Brian shrugged again. "It's a free country."

Melanie kept her eyes on Brian, and Shane thought her expression was pleading. "Help me out here, Brian. Tell me what you want."

Justin tilted his head back and looked up at Brian. Brian returned the gaze, and Shane wondered what he saw in Justin's eyes.

His eyes still on Justin, Brian said, "This once, Mel. I'd rather you didn't."

Melanie relaxed. "I can't, Ted. Conflict of interests."

Incredulous, Ted stared at Brian. "You asshole. I should have remembered you can do your own accounting!"

"There are a lot of things you should have remembered," Brian said, a tinge of regret in his voice. "And before I forget - you're fired. Obviously."

One of the cops put handcuffs on Ted. "You'll have to come with me. You can phone for a lawyer from the precinct."

Justin put both arms around Brian's neck and whispered something to him. Brian shook his head.

The second cop spoke for the first time. "Mr. Novotny-Bruckner? Michael Charles Novotny-Bruckner?"

Michael jumped up. "Brian! You didn't tell the police!"

Brian shook his head. "No. I left that decision to your son."

"My son? I don't have a son," Michael protested.

Ben drew a shuddering breath and lifted his shoulders as though he were cold.

"Mr. Novotny-Bruckner, you're under arrest for robbery."

"Just because he stole your mail," Debbie said. "And some jewelry? Brian, you can't do that to your best friend! That's my son we're talking about!"

Brian looked at her without answering.

"Melanie, you have a duty to help Michael. He's your girl's father," Debbie said desperately. "Do something!"

"I'll do nothing," Melanie said coldly. "Michael had it coming. Besides, if he doesn't have a son, I can probably safely assume he has no daughter."

"About time Brian saw the light," Calvin said calmly. "Well done, Brian."

"You also stole mail and jewelry," the cop asked. "Do you admit to that?"

Michael nodded, then said, "You can't send me to prison, Brian! That's not fair!"

"Robbing the loft wasn't fair," Brian said. "Allowing me to believe it was Justin's fault wasn't fair."

"Hold it," Ben said. "Robbing the loft?"

Justin nodded, exchanging a quick look with Daphne.

"I told you you'd set the alarm," Daphne said triumphantly. "I was right!"

"Why did you rob Brian," Ben asked. He sounded drained, and incredulous.

"To get the boy toy out of there," Michael said darkly.

"Be quiet, Mikey," Brian warned.

"What did you do with Brian's things," Debbie wanted to know.

Michael shrugged. "I hid some at your place, and I sold the rest."

Debbie put a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes and shaking her head. She sank into a chair, muttering to herself.

Michael turned to Brian. "Don't you see? I did it for you! If you hadn't gone after Justin then, maybe he would've gotten himself killed in New York."

Brian looked murderous, let go of Justin and stood between him and Michael. "Shut the fuck up."

"No," Michael shrieked. "I won't shut up! I've said it before, and I'll say it again! Justin is a selfish little shit! He uses you, and he takes from you and he never gives back a thing! And instead of thanking you on his knees that you saved his life, he left you, again and again. First for the fiddler, then for Hollywood."

Jennifer made a move as if to get to her feet, but Tucker pulled her back down. Shane saw Molly ball her fists, and Daphne, too.

Still standing behind him, Justin put a hand on Brian's left arm, whispering something Shane didn't catch. Brian looked over his shoulder at him, and relaxed his stance.

"And instead of kissing your feet for wanting to marry him, he left you again! He should have died in the blast at Babylon. Better still, you should have left him on that garage floor, bleeding to death!"

Now everybody jumped up, there was a commotion of angry exclamations and outbursts.

Shane hadn't even seen Brian move, that left hook came out of nowhere. Michael's head snapped back and he dropped to the ground as if in slow motion.

For a moment, Shane was terrified that the blow had been enough to break his neck, but then he heard Michael sob.

Justin's features had hardened, and for the first time, Shane saw that behind the facade of the pretty boy lived a formidable man.

Shane realized that Brian was obviously well acquainted with that man, and it was part of what drew him to Justin. Left to his own devices, Justin was plainly an equal to Brian's power.

"Let me look at that hand, you cut your knuckles. Did you know that you're much more likely to get an infection from a human bite than from the bite of a dog? That's because we have so many bacteria in our mouth," Justin pulled Brian to the kitchen door by his wrist.

"With all the filth that guy has been spouting, you'll be getting an infection from him for sure," Matt said, an arm around Daphne's shoulders. She was crying.

"Right you are, Sunshine. It wouldn't do for Brian to get lockjaw, now that you're back with him," Debbie smirked.

Shane watched the changes in Jennifer's face. She had given Debbie sympathetic looks, but now her face had become hard and angry.

Brian snorted a laugh. "The public service announcement is back. Do you have any idea how much I missed that?"

Justin turned and gave Brian a bright smile, the traces of tears still on his cheeks. "You missed me? Really?"

"Don't push it, sonny-boy," Brian warned, sounding amused.

"You so give a shit, Brian Kinney gives a shit," Justin sing-songed as he drew Brian into the house.

Brian laughed.

Shane shook his head.

 

 

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