Queer As Grease by Rhiannonhero

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Prologue:
Love is a Many Splendored Thing

Justin held Brian's hand and gazed out over the ocean toward the setting sun.

The summer had passed too quickly. It felt like only yesterday that they'd first met. Three months ago they'd been two strangers buying lemon-ices. Then Justin accidentally dropped his coins between the slats of the boardwalk and Brian valiantly offered to pay. Afterward, Justin followed him, skittering around other beachgoers in order to catch up with his new hero. He'd shyly introduced himself, and Brian had given him a once over that curled his toes, in a good way. A very good, yes-my-gaydar-is-functional kind of way.

They'd ended up behind a huge rock outcropping, waves crashing in around them. They'd discarded their full lemon-ice cups as they kissed, necked and jerked each other off. It had been Justin's first sexual experience.

Brian had tried to diss him after that, saying that Justin was too young, that he should find someone his own age. But Justin simply pointed out that the age difference between a freshman and a senior wouldn't mean shit in a few years. Brian rolled his eyes and said, "Shove off, shrimp," leaving Justin standing alone, as he went to mack on a really hot, blond, frat boy--and then disappeared into his friend's cousin's beach house to fuck the guy blind.

Justin knew because he'd stood on some milk crates and watched through the window.

Brian's friend, Michael, had a cousin they were staying with, a pretty half-black, half-Italian girl about Justin's age named Daphne. While trying to get closer to Brian, he ended up finding a kindred spirit and good friend in her. Daphne told him all about Brian's endless slutting and about Michael's never-to-be-consummated crush, played out in annoying mother-henning.

Justin and Daphne had been sharing a popsicle, dangling their feet off the end of the boardwalk, when Justin said, "I've been thinking it over and I've decided that it's a belated surge of conscience. That's what's keeping him from going any further with me."

Daphne laughed and replied, "Brian doesn't have a conscience. Don't give up so easily. I promise; he's going to fuck you."

Michael, however, actively dissuaded Brian from further contact with Justin, calling him jailbait and shrimp and runt. Oddly enough Michael's plan to emphasize Justin's age and small size seemed to have backfired. Instead, Brian appeared to believe that someone that small, that scrawny couldn't be dangerous, and he'd let Justin slip under the wire, talking to him more than he intended, giving in to temptation more than once behind closed doors or outcropped rocks.

Justin gave and received his first blow job on top of mildewed blankets under brilliantly shining stars after coaxing Brian away from Michael's family's bonfire. He first let Brian fuck him in the air-conditioned comfort of Daphne's parents' beach house, in the blue and white guest room, the grit of sand under his knees and their dusty feet spreading even more over the clean white sheets.

Brian had pulled away for a few days after that, stomping off whenever Justin approached or sending angry soul-freezing glances his way whenever Justin came to the house on the pretense of visiting Daphne.

But then Brian had come back for more, rapping softly on Justin's window one night, helping him climb over the edge and then fucking him against a support pole underneath Justin's family's beach house.

Brian had been kind, making sure that Justin came first. He'd held Justin for a few minutes after it was over before helping him clean up. Brian had kissed him gently and held his hand as he guided him back up to the window, supporting Justin as he climbed back inside.

When no one else was around, Brian was sweet to him, tucking his shaggy hair behind his ear as an excuse to touch him, buying an out-of-print edition of Eliot he'd seen at the used book store by the grocery because Justin had mentioned wanting that exact copy. But when Justin spoke of the book later, in front of Daph and Michael, Brian frowned and said, "Leave it to a queen to turn anything into a declaration of love. Let me remind you, shrimp, I don't do boyfriends and, if I did, it sure as hell wouldn't be you."

Justin had teared up, but replied evenly, "Don't worry. I'll never forget."

But he did. And, honestly, he thought Brian did, too, because by the end of summer they were spending every day together; Daphne's parents had gone home a week early and the only adult at their place was Michael's mom, who seemed to get a strange thrill out of letting Brian fuck Justin whenever and wherever he wanted, just so long as Justin was gone by midnight.

She called Justin 'Sunshine'. She wore a clown-red wig. She was a little crazy.

Yeah, the summer had gone by too fast. Justin shifted on his feet, leaning closer to Brian's warm body, taking deep breaths of the thick, salt air that he'd be missing soon. Tomorrow Justin's family was leaving for home. Summer was over and it was time to return to the real world. School began in two weeks.

Justin closed his eyes against the brilliant colors of sunset. "Is it over?"

Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's waist and pulled him close against his side. "Don't be such a drama queen. There's a whole wide world out there. This just the beginning."

[roll opening credits]

[cue music]

Grease is the word, the word that you heard
It's got groove, it's got meaning! Groove and meaning!
Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion
And grease is the way we are feeling!

[/fade music]

[/end credits]

Chapter One
Hopelessly Devoted To You

Three weeks into the new school year, Justin hadn't heard anything at all from Brian. The number that Brian had given him dialed a video arcade in downtown Pittsburgh, and there were no replies to Justin's letters--assuming Brian had even given his real address.

Phone calls to Daphne confirmed that Brian never asked about Justin, never mentioned him, and seemed perfectly happy at school dating the prettiest cheerleader on the squad. The only news of any substance had been when Daph reported Brian's suspension from school for fighting. Apparently he'd been defending Michael against some homophobic football pricks who'd called Michael a fag and then pushed him down some stairs. From Daphne's report, Brian had kicked their asses square, breaking his own toe in the process.

Yet, three weeks into the new school year was also when the hand of fate worked its magic in Justin's life, interrupting his routine of private high school, art club and masturbation, with the devastating news that his parents were getting divorced and that he and his little sister were going to move with their mother to Pittsburgh.

Apparently his father had been having an affair and the proverbial lipstick on the collar had been the final straw. Through bouts of tears and overheard shouting matches between his parents, Justin packed the room he'd called his own since he was two, said goodbye to his childhood pals and schoolmates, and then called Daphne to let her know that he'd shortly be in need of a new best friend.

She was happy to apply for the job.

Pittsburgh was drearier than the posh Connecticut suburb in which he'd been raised, but it held potential that the average gay teenage suburb dweller could never even begin to dream of. Gay clubs, gay diners, gay stores, hell, a whole gay street--Liberty Avenue. Its very name meant freedom, and Justin felt like he'd been delivered into the welcoming arms of a world ready-made for him.

Justin's mom was aware of his yen for guys, and she'd insisted he tell his father before they left for Pittsburgh. It hadn't been pretty, and Justin now knew exactly why his mother wanted to leave the bastard. He was prejudiced, selfish and full of rage. He'd threatened to hurt any man Justin had sex with--not that he'd ever meet the only person who had, if Justin had anything to say about it, but still, it was a ridiculous demonstration of misplaced machismo.

Justin would be attending the public school in Pittsburgh because his dad had cut the funding for his education--well, at least until he reformed into a pussy-loving straight boy. So, it was public school for him because the latter obviously wasn't going to happen. No more uniforms, no more Ivy League obsessing, no more need to hide. He was going to come out and stay out. That was that.

And public education meant something else, too.

It meant Brian Kinney.

Justin found out that he was zoned for Daphne's school--which was Michael's school, which was Brian's school. The possibility of reuniting with Brian took a lot of the sting out of his parents' divorce and the subsequent upheaval of his life. After all, he was a teenager, and "selfish" could be every teen's middle name. Not to mention the fact that Justin's brain currently resided in his cock, and anything that led to getting it sucked by Brian Kinney was a good thing.

In addition, the only reasonable explanation for this amazing turn of events was that God loved him and actively encouraged gay sex--especially with Brian. Justin was just sure of it.

Now if only he could get Brian to see it the same way.

Daphne had cooked up a plan. It turned out that not only was Daph a blast to hang out with, and not only did she have the inside track into Brian's life via her familial ties to Michael, but she also came up with dramatic plans. Justin loved her ideas. She convinced him to refrain from contacting Brian, or Michael for that matter, before starting at Allerdice High.

"Don't give him a chance to put his barriers up. Wait a few weeks and then surprise him at the Homecoming pep rally. Act like you'd forgotten all about him and didn't even know that he went to school here, too. Anything more than that and you might as well drive him away with a stick."

"And after that?" Justin asked.

"Then we have to play it by ear. See what his reaction is first, then make more plans."

Justin nodded. Daphne was a genius. But he had to ask, "What do you think his reaction is going to be?"

Daphne looked away and shrugged. "Just don't get your hopes up, okay?"

Yeah. That was what he'd thought.

The two weeks before the Homecoming pep rally went by more slowly than Justin could have dreamed possible. He ate lunch every day with Daph and her math-geek friends, all the while keeping an eye out for Brian's dark hair and lanky form. Daphne, catching him looking more than once, assured him that Brian and his friends ate their lunch on the bleachers out by the football field.

"I just thought--"

Daphne shook her head. "They're the cool, goth guys. They don't associate with us--the peons, the common people."

"It doesn't seem very goth to hang out at the football field."

"It isn't easy to be goth and full of angst these days, you know. It takes a lot of effort and planning--and sometimes you've just got to make do with what you've been handed. In this case, they had to give up atmosphere for separatism. Goth or not, the football field is not the cafeteria, and that's what's most important."

Just then she flicked her eyes over a rather small but strange group forcibly removing some of the band-geek girls from a coveted table by the window. Daphne continued, "However, that group?"

Justin nodded, eyeing with curiosity the motley bunch, which consisted of a tiny, dark girl (who appeared to be the muscle of the group), a larger, vanilla-looking cheerleader and a tall, fussy queen.

"They're the better half of Brian's clique. The friendlier half--well, if you ignore Mel." Daphne caught the vanilla girl's eye and smiled. Vanilla-girl beckoned with her whole hand, and dark-girl looked their way suspiciously. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Brian's girlfriend."

Daphne jumped up, grabbing Justin's hand and pulling him along after her. Brian's girlfriend? His stomach twisted; he wasn't sure he wanted to meet her. He'd never really imagined Brian as being in the closet until Daph had told him about her after the summer.

As Daphne dragged him, stumbling, behind her, Justin looked between the two girls and wondered which was Brian's beard. Probably the dark one; she looked like a lesbian. Maybe they were covering for each other.

"Hi, Daphne," vanilla-girl cooed, motioning for Daph to sit next to her. "Who's your new friend?"

Justin could tell by her tone of voice that she thought he was Daphne's boyfriend. He blushed. That would need to be corrected immediately.

As it turned out, there was no need. The tall, fussy guy said, "Oh, baby, looks like we've got some fabulous fresh meat and, dare I suggest it? A cherry to pop?"

Justin stuck his chin out and said, "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not as innocent as I look."

Daphne laughed and said, "Emmett, this is Justin. Justin, Emmett." She indicated vanilla-girl, "This is Brian's girlfriend Lindsey and her best friend Melanie. But we just call her Mel."

Lindsey smiled hugely, "Oh, you know Brian?"

Justin swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes, and simply nodded in agreement.

Emmett chuckled, "Oh, I'd say he'll know Brian before long."

Lindsey laughed and Mel muttered under her breath about whores until Lindsey gently whapped her on the arm and told her to get over herself. Justin tried to decipher this behavior; it didn't seem to fit into his understanding of the situation.

"We met Justin at the beach this summer. He's from Connecticut, but he just moved here." Daphne pulled Justin down to sit next to her, and he had to lean over the table a little to see everyone.

Lindsey unwrapped a carefully packaged lunch consisting of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of fruit, a thermos of what appeared to be juice and some yogurt.

"Why'd you move?" Mel asked, using her fork to scrape the film off of the school lunch's provision of banana pudding.

"Um, my parents are getting divorced. Mom moved here." He shrugged.

"Oh, Justin, I'm sorry to hear that," Lindsey murmured, seeming sincerely sorry.

"S'okay. It's been a long time coming, I guess. It's kind of nice to just have it over in a way."

Lindsey nodded sympathetically.

Mel muttered, "I wish to God my folks would split the fuck up and leave me alone."

"Mel!" Lindsey scolded under her breath.

Mel shrugged and said, "So, you're gay, right?"

"Mel!" Lindsey gasped. "Jesus!"

Melanie just rolled her eyes and said, "Well, you are, right?"

Justin looked around the cafeteria to see who was listening and realized that there was a pretty wide berth around their entire table, as though no one was too comfortable being close to them. "Um, yeah. I'm gay."

"Thought so," Mel said around a mouthful of pudding.

Emmett, who'd been eyeing him and chewing on carrot sticks said, "So, you were at the beach this summer?"

Justin nodded.

Emmett's eyes wandered up and down his body and said, "You look awfully young to be as experienced as you let on. Did you meet someone this summer?"

Daphne giggled and Justin shot her a look. "Yeah."

Lindsey made an oooh-ing noise and leaned over to look at him. "Tell us about him."

"Yeah," Emmett agreed, sucking on the end of another carrot stick. "Tell us all about him, cutie pie."

"You don't really want to know, do you? I mean, it's just boring stuff," Justin replied nervously.

"Of course we want to know!" Lindsey protested. "Don't we, Mel?"

"I'm a-twitter with excitement," Mel said dryly.

Emmett, Lindsey and Daphne looked at him expectantly. Justin cleared his throat. "Um, he was great, you know. Nice, handsome, hot. Experienced. He taught me a lot. He was my first."

"Was it love?" Emmett asked.

Justin blushed and grinned. "Yeah."

Daphne lifted a brow. "You never told me that he said he loved you."

Justin shook his head. "No, no, he never said that. It was just--" he broke off, grinning again, "--and I felt...yeah. Love."

"That's so sweet, Justin." Lindsey reached over Daphne to touch his face. "You seem like such a sweet kid."

Emmett twirled his carrot stick and studied Justin. "What did he look like? Blond? Dark? Big, strong muscles with hands the size of Kansas?"

Justin felt his eyes go dreamy as he remembered Brian's body. "He's dark and gorgeous. Sexy, cut, but not bulky. I could see every muscle."

"Yum," Emmett purred.

"Very yum," Daphne agreed.

"Oh? You know this guy? This love of young Justin's life?" Mel asked curiously.

Daphne smiled. "Yep, and so do you."

Lindsey gasped and grabbed Mel's hand. "Oh my God! You're Justin!"

"Huh?" Justin asked, confused.

"You're Brian's little admirer! Oh my God! You're adorable!"

"And gullible if he thinks love had anything to do with it," Mel sneered.

"Shut up, Mel." Lindsey turned to Justin. "Tell us more."

Justin's heart pounded in his chest. "Wait, I don't understand. I thought you were Brian's girlfriend? You know?"

Lindsey laughed. "I am his girlfriend. And of course I know, just like he knows about me and Mel. And he knows about Emmett and Michael. We queers have to stick together, Justin."

Justin blinked in confusion and then came back to the other question that had come immediately to mind at Lindsey's words. "Brian talks about me?"

Mel shook her head and said, "Pathetic."

"No, no. Brian's never mentioned you; that wouldn't be his--"

"Dick talking. He only talks with his dick," Mel stated.

Lindsey kicked Melanie under the table. "--wouldn't be his style. But I was over at his house just last week and noticed that he had a stack of letters on his desk from a Justin Taylor. That's you, right?"

Justin nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. Brian had his letters!

"I asked him about them, and he said they were from some stalker kid he'd met at the beach."

Justin bit his lip and looked down. Not exactly the description he'd hoped to hear of himself.

Lindsey reached over Daphne and touched his hand. "Hey, cheer up. That's just Brian's way. He also claimed he hadn't even read them, but they were all opened and several looked pretty well-handled to me."

Justin nodded, keeping his eyes down.

"I'd walk away if I were you, kid. Forget you ever met him," Mel said. "He'll break your heart faster than you can get on your elbows and knees for him. Right, Em?"

Emmett shrugged and looked out over the cafeteria in studied nonchalance. "Once you've been on your elbows and knees for him, there aren't many places you'd rather be. Broken heart or no broken heart."

Justin's stomach clenched with jealousy. When had Emmett been with Brian? Was he Brian's boyfriend? Or whatever it was when a guy didn't do boyfriends, but had a fake girlfriend and fucked another guy on the side?

"You--you're--"

Emmett shook his head and laughed, but it had a harsh edge. "Oh, no. Brian and I--well, he popped my cherry as a favor and that was that."

"Oh." Justin swallowed, saying stupidly, "It's over then?"

"There was never anything to be over. Just a fuck." Emmett shrugged. "Be careful, honey. Brian doesn't care who he hurts." He stood up, picked up his tray and said with false cheer, "Well, my stint as guidance counselor is over, so I'll leave you with this tidbit of wisdom, 'Fuck Brian Kinney whenever and however you can.' The end."

Mel shook her head as Emmett glided away. "Fucking fairy's always willing to drop to his knees and suck Brian's cock. He's got to stop hoping one day."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Mel, please. Justin--"

Mel continued, "At least Brian fucked Emmett. I mean, look at poor Michael. His balls are so blue they probably need to be amputated."

Justin winced.

Daphne grabbed Justin's hand and stood up. "We need to get back to finish our lunch before the bell rings. Good to see you, Lindz." Daphne nodded at Mel and started across the cafeteria.

Justin paused. "Oh, um, don't mention to Brian that I'm here, okay? I don't want him to know yet."

Lindsey nodded and promised. Mel smirked, saying, "It isn't like I talk to him anyway."

The night of the Homecoming pep rally, Justin spent the better part of two hours trying to decide what to wear. He had to look good, but not too good. He had to look like he was worth a second glance, another fuck, but not like he was going to get weepy and demand Brian's class ring in return. He needed to look like the best homosexual he could be.

He finally chose blue jeans that cupped his ass just the right way, a too-tight white t-shirt, and the red sweater-jacket that his mom always said made his skin look like cream and honey. He thought that appearing edible was certainly a plus.

The pep rally was held on the football field, and Justin found Daphne by the sidelines talking to a guy with glasses and a very obvious crush. He wasn't bad for a geeky type, so Justin gave her the thumbs up.

Respecting the fact that Daphne was in the middle of something with potential, Justin hung back and studied the crowd, looking for Brian or Lindsey, or even Emmett. Instead, he found himself returning the gaze of an incredibly hot football player. Justin turned his head to make sure that, yes, the guy was really looking at him. He smiled a little, ducked his head coyly, and waited for the guy to approach.

"Hi."

Justin smirked. "Hey."

"I'm Tom. Tom Adams."

"Justin Taylor."

They shook hands and Tom shifted a little nervously. "Um, so you wanna do something sometime?"

Justin looked around and noted that no one was looking in their direction. "Are you out or in?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm kinda in."

"Oh."

"You're out?"

"Well, I'm new and so most people don't know me. I'm not sure that I'm anything." Justin laughed and thrust a hip out in a way that he knew had caught Brian's eye more than once.

Tom's eyes roved over Justin's thighs and hung at the level of his stomach, where his t-shirt had ridden up a little. "Well, I'm interested if you ever decide that you are, too."

Justin licked his lips and whispered, "I'll let you know."

Tom's head jerked up at the sound of his name, and he nodded at Justin before bounding off to give his football brethren high fives.

Lindsey appeared out of a thick knot to his left, making her way toward him, avoiding the roving male hands trying to lift up her short cheerleading skirt. She swung around and kicked one guy hard in the shin. Justin smothered a laugh.

"Justin!" Lindsey greeted him with a happy hug and left her arm around his shoulder. "I talked with Daphne earlier and she said you're hoping to see Brian tonight?"

Justin nodded; just hearing Brian's name made his mouth go dry.

"Well, he, Michael, Ben and Ted are here somewhere." She stood on her toes, looking over the crowd. "He dropped me off and he's supposed to take me home, but I think Mel, Daph and I are going to spend the night at Emmett's if Brian wants to hit Liberty Avenue or something."

"Liberty Avenue? I've been meaning to--"

"There he is!" She grabbed Justin's wrist and called over her shoulder to Daphne, who was still chatting with cutie-geek, "Daphne, come on. I see Brian."

As she dragged Justin through the crowd with Daphne at their heels, Lindsey managed to pick up Melanie, too, by simply reaching into a group of people and emerging with Mel's small wrist held tightly in her hand.

Mel wrenched free and darted ahead, stalking with purpose and not a small swagger.

Brian stood at the edge of the parking lot, back to the rally, lounging against the side of a classic muscle car. A T-bird, maybe? Justin didn't know much about such things.

Michael was there jabbering away, talking effusively and making huge hand gestures to go along with his story. A tall, bulky guy stood to the right of him, a little closer than some might deem necessary, and a short, spikey-haired guy stood to the left, cradling a financial calculator and looking like a fucked up mix between goth-boy and math-geek. Emmett stood a little behind Michael, and he was the first one to see them coming. His eyes went wide and then he grinned, calling out, "Good for you, pancake!"

Brian turned around and his gaze immediately fell on Melanie. He rolled his eyes, groaning, "What'd I do this time? Can't you take this shit up with Lindsey?"

"We've got a surprise for you, Kinney," Mel sneered.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Lindsey thrust Justin forward and said, "It's Daphne's friend, the new guy. His name's Justin. Ring any bells?"

Brian's face registered surprise, and then excitement, before a glower moved into place. "The stalker. Great. What'd you do, off your parents and move to Pittsburgh just to be close to me?"

"Something like that. I orchestrated my parent's divorce years in advance on the off chance that I'd meet you, and then convinced my mom to move to Pittsburgh so that you and I can get married and have babies," Justin sniped in return. "No, sometimes life is just more fucked up than we ever thought possible."

Brian's eyebrows went up and admiration flashed over his features. "No shit."

"Oh God," Michael whined. "Not you. I thought we were rid of you. Don't you understand? Brian's a senior; you're a freshman. Go find a nice twink your own age, okay?"

Lindsey laughed, "Oh, and like you're one to talk. Didn't you fuck that college guy this summer?"

Brian scoffed. "Been telling lies again, Mikey?"

"Mikey's still a viiirgiin," Emmett sang.

"Shut. Up. Emmett."

Emmett shrugged and threw his arm around the short math-geek-goth guy. "Ted, don't you think that Michael is being extremely rude to Daphne's friend?"

"Not any ruder than he is to any of Brian's tricks."

"Justin isn't a trick," Lindsey said, hugging him. "He's our new friend and we're all going to be nice to him, right?" She glared at Michael. "Right, Michael?"

Michael waved her off, turning his back in disgust, muttering, "You can tell your boyfriend what to do, but you can't tell me--"

"Shut up, Mikey," Brian warned. It was then that Justin realized that Brian's gaze was still fixed on him.

Mel broke into the macho posturing saying, "Justin, you know Michael and Emmett. This is Ted and Ben."

Ben stepped forward and shook Justin's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Thanks."

"And,yeah, hi. I'm Ted. If you need any help in math or science, let me know. I'm the go-to guy."

Justin laughed. "I think I've got it covered, but thank you."

"Ted's going to grow up to be an accountant, aren't you, Teddy?" Brian drawled, pulling out a cigarette, and staring off toward the rally.

"Fuck you, Brian. And you're going to grow up to be a--"

"Rock star," Brian interrupted.

"Hooker!" Ted snapped.

"Well, kiddies, since it looks like we've all found one another, let's go our separate ways." Brian dragged on his cigarette. "I, for one, am heading to Liberty Avenue. Who's up for joining me?"

Ted, Ben and Michael chimed that they were in and Emmett dangled his car keys, saying, "The girls are coming to my place, right?"

Daphne and Lindsey readily agreed. Mel just muttered, "No more goddamn makeovers for me."

Justin tried to catch Brian's eye. "I'm going to Liberty Avenue."

Brian smirked. "Uh, no. No, you're not. You're going to go with the girls or you're going home to your mommy. Understand?"

"But I want to go with you."

Daphne stomped on Justin's toe and he gave her a dirty look. She shook her head hard, but he ignored her.

"And I don't need a teenage stalker getting in between me and a hot fuck. Got it?"

Daphne grabbed Justin's arm. "Come on, Justin, you don't want to go where you're not welcome anyway, right?"

Justin shrugged.

Brian jerked open the car door and Michael climbed in beside him. Ben and Ted started across the parking lot, and Emmett began to hustle the rest of them toward his Jeep. "Get in, get in, get in!"

Justin didn't miss the finger that Michael gave him as Brian peeled out.

Emmett's parents were gone for the weekend, so Mel and Lindsey were going to spend the night in the guest room doing--whatever it was that lesbians did with one another. Justin didn't want to examine the issue too closely.

Emmett's room was a weird mix of his parent's dreams for their child and the reality of what they got. It was painted blue with sailboat trim. There were framed photos of sports stars on one wall and trophies on the bookshelves against the other. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the trophies belonged to Emmett's dad.

The lamp next to Emmett's bed was draped with a pink and orange, zebra-striped scarf and his closet was full of clothes, all shiny, sparkly and bright. There were no sturdy plaids or sports jerseys to be seen. In addition, there were books about make-up and fashion lining the shelves next to his bed. On his desk, applications to Empire Beauty School lay nearly complete in clear, sharp script.

Justin sat in the window seat, alternately watching Emmett painting Lindsey and Daphne's toenails and gazing out toward the east, following the cars with his eyes, and all of them, it seemed to him, were bent on Liberty Avenue.

Mel dug around in her leather bag, pulling out a bottle of vodka, which was greeted with squeals, a magazine featuring motorcycles and a pack of cigarettes.

"Mel, do you have to smoke?" Lindsey asked, puckering her lips for Emmett's lip brush.

"Yes." Mel lit up and cracked open the vodka. She took a huge swallow straight from the bottle and passed it over to Daphne.

Justin watched with surprise as Daphne swallowed three huge mouthfuls and then held it out to Emmett. She'd never participated in drinking or drugging with Brian and Michael this summer, and she'd sniffed at him whenever he indulged. Of course, he didn't tell her how good the poppers made sex, or the way alcohol slaked his nerves and allowed him to open more easily for Brian's cock.

But here she was, reaching out for one of Mel's cigarettes and drinking like she did this all the time. He supposed there just hadn't been anyone worth impressing at the beach, and he wondered just who Daphne was showing off for tonight. Lindsey? Melanie? Certainly not Emmett. Was it just because they were hanging out with seniors?

"Come on, Justin, have a sip." Lindsey urged, shoving the bottle in his direction.

He didn't need to be told twice. The vodka burned going down, but he didn't stop swigging until he felt it warm his fingers and his toes, felt it curl up in his groin like a purring cat and calm him inside.

"Look at him!" Mel chuckled. "Careful, kiddo. I don't think Emmett wants to clean up your vomit."

Emmett clucked and took the bottle from him. "My turn."

Mel sucked down another lungful of smoke, flipping through the magazine with narrowed eyes. "Did you get what you wanted tonight?"

Justin looked back out the window, gazing at the flashing lights of the highway, and considered ignoring Melanie's question, or pretending that he didn't know it was directed at him. Finally he shrugged and sighed, saying, "Sure. I guess."

Daphne wiggled her newly purple toenails and said, "Don't pout, Justin. You know what you need?"

Justin smiled half-heartedly.

"He needs more to drink." Mel thrust the bottle his way again.

"What do I need, Daph?" Justin accepted the vodka and took a long swallow; his lips already felt numb. "A good fuck? That'd work."

Daphne laughed. "No, silly! Well, I mean, yeah, but--no! You need to have some fun! Do something just for you. Something crazy, something wild--something sexy!"

Justin blinked at her.

"What? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"Well, um, what did you have in mind, Daphne? I'm sitting here watching girls get a makeover from a--" Justin paused, stopped himself from blurting just anything before continuing, "--delightful, charming and very cool queen."

Emmett smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Just how, exactly, is there anything crazy, wild or sexy--for me--going down in this room right now?"

"I'm sexy. I'm wild," Mel intoned dryly from the bed.

Lindsey agreed.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Personally, I could use some really hard cock attached to a--"

"Brian Kinney?"

Justin shrugged and reached out for one of Mel's cigarettes. He lit up and puffed in silence. No one said anything for a few moments.

"Why don't you let Emmett pierce your nipple?" Mel suggested, not glancing up from her magazine.

Justin coughed. "Wh-what?"

Emmett clapped his hands. "That's a fabulous idea, Mel!" He turned to Justin. "I'm going to cosmetology school, you know. I'm really good at it."

Justin tried to get away from Emmett as he lifted his t-shirt to examine his nipples.

"What's that matter, kid? Scared?" Mel asked.

"It's okay, Justin. Emmett's really good. He did my ears, see?" Lindsey held her hair back; sparkly diamonds shone in her earlobes.

"I heard this story about a guy who got his nipple pierced in Houston? It got infected and rotted off," Daphne said, cringing.

"Urban legend!" Mel, Lindsey and Emmett chorused.

"Come on, Justin, I've got all the right equipment and a nipple ring with your name on it."

"Brian'll love it," Mel taunted.

"Fine," Justin agreed. "Just shut up and do it, then."

Justin's nipple throbbed.

It seemed to be connected to his cock, because it throbbed, too.

Daphne was passed out cold on the sofa. Mel and Lindsey had disappeared into the guest room, and the occasional screech from behind the door nearly had Justin climbing out the window.

Emmett sat at his desk writing a letter to some guy in Korea, his pen pal or something. Every once in awhile Emmett would try a sentence out on him before adding it to the letter. It seemed to Justin to be some sort of sexual fantasy and he didn't think he wanted to know more than that. Justin was tempted to ask if there was an international gay exchange program.

"So, tell me about Liberty Avenue. What does Brian do there?"

Emmett shrugged. "Most nights he tries to sneak into Babylon. He's got a passable fake ID, so sometimes it works."

"Babylon?"

"Yeah, it's a dance club."

"Oh.

"With backrooms for anonymous sex."

"Oh!"

Emmett penned another line of his letter. "Brian's been going since he was your age. You're what? Fourteen?"

"Yeah."

"God, kid, you're young." Emmett turned around to face him squarely. "Maybe you should listen to Michael, find a nice guy your own age. Or wait until you get to college."

Justin shook his head. "I know what I want. And I'm going to get it."

"I'd argue with you, but I don't really think it would do any good, huh?"

Justin stood up, stretched and grabbed his jacket. "How far is Liberty Avenue from here?"

Emmett glanced at Daphne sleeping soundly on the sofa and said, "Okay, fine. I'll take you."

Babylon's security wouldn't let him in, so Justin mingled in the crowd out front for an hour or so. Emmett had dropped him off with a kiss on his cheek and slap on his ass. "Good luck, kiddo."

Justin wondered how he'd get back home if he couldn't find Brian. He didn't have a dime in his pocket, and there was no way in hell he'd call his mom to come pick him up.

"Hey punk, wanna come with me?" A tall, thin man reached out and tried to grab Justin's arm, but he leapt out of reach.

"No, thanks. Um, do you know Brian Kinney?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "What do you want with him?"

"I'm, uh, his little brother."

The guy snorted. "Right and I'm his Grandpa George." He pointed across the street. "See that diner? That's where he'll be later tonight if he hasn't found a trick to fuck."

Justin muttered his thanks and ducked away. The diner was warm and smelled amazing. The alcohol buzz had worn off a long time ago and now he was hungry.

Several cute guys winked at him and he smiled back. Maybe--

"Well, fuck me if it isn't Sunshine!"

"I'd rather not and, yeah, it is," Justin grinned.

It was Debbie, Michael's mom, with her crazy clown-red hair and her bizarre orange nails. She pulled him into a hug and said, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I work here, you little brat. Now answer my question."

Justin looked around, realizing something about Michael in that moment. "Um, we moved here."

"Your folks?"

"Um, Mom and Dad are splitting up. So, just me, my sister and my mom."

"Oh, Sunshine, that's a shame. Here, let me get you a lemon bar. Sit there at the counter."

"I don't have any mon--"

"On me, baby."

Justin didn't argue, sliding onto the stool and taking the offered confection. It was delicious, the lemon making his mouth water and the sweetness sending him immediately back for more.

"Have you seen Brian?" he asked around a mouthful.

Debbie rolled her eyes. "What is it with Brian? Why is it always Brian?"

Justin blinked at her innocently.

"No, I haven't. Not tonight." She shoved a cup his way. "Is Michael with him?"

Justin nodded, gulping the coffee.

"Then he'll be in later if he doesn't find a trick. Shouldn't you be home? In bed?"

"My mom thinks I'm with Daphne."

"And, where is Daphne?"

"At Emmett's."

Debbie nodded, just as Justin had known that she would. Debbie seemed like the kind of person who wanted to know everything and everyone.

"Do you know that guy?" Debbie asked, pointing to a hot guy waving from across the room.

Justin looked over and grinned. "Yeah. I do." He thanked Debbie for the coffee, picked up his mug and what was left of his lemon bar to join Tom Adams in his booth. "I thought you were in?"

"I am. Just not tonight."

"What if someone sees you?" Justin asked, looking at Tom through his lashes.

"What self-respecting straight guy is going to be in a diner on Liberty Avenue at two in the morning?"

Justin lifted a brow. "Not me."

"No, not you. And not me, either." Tom leaned across the table. "Want to leave? Find someplace to--"

Justin's attention was diverted by the door chiming.

Brian.

God, he looked good. Eyeliner smudged and his fingernails painted black. Trying so hard to be punk rock and looking like a way-too-sexy kid. Justin's nipple throbbed hard and his cock stirred.

Michael, of course, was right behind, looking not nearly so good in his own black-on-black ensemble. Michael was just too all-American to pull off the attempt at goth.

"Well, look who's here," Debbie called out, waving at Brian and Michael.

Tom turned and sighed. "Not you, too."

"What?" Justin asked, absently.

"You've fallen for the Kinney bullshit?"

Justin blinked back to focus on Tom. "What? No! No, I'm not interested in him." His nipple jolted at the lie. "Besides, he--"

"Isn't interested in you," Tom finished for him. "Listen, if you're not into me--"

Justin glanced Brian's direction and found that he'd been spotted. He turned back to Tom with a wide smile and darted his eyes down flirtatiously. "But I am." Justin licked his lips and stared at Tom's mouth. "I was going to say that he isn't my type."

Tom reached across the table and took his hand. Justin struggled not to look at Brian for a reaction. "Liar. He's everyone's type."

Justin shrugged.

Debbie yelled across the room. "Brian! Your little friend Sunshine, from the beach, is here!"

Justin didn't look away from Tom, smiled and leaned in closer. "He's really not my type."

Suddenly Brian appeared at his side, his elbows on the table and a smirk on his face. "Look, Mikey! It's a meeting of the Gay Student Body of Allerdice High! And, now that we're here, there's nearly fifty percent attendance!" Brian took a sip from Justin's coffee. "Could use a little more cream."

"Do you mind?" Tom asked, gripping Justin's hand harder.

"Why, yes. Yes, I do mind, actually," Brian said thoughtfully. "I mind that you're here at two in the morning when you really should be asleep, getting ready for the big game tomorrow. I'm doubting your loyalty to the team, Thomas."

"Fuck you, Kinney. Like you give a fuck about football."

"Tsk, tsk--" Brian clucked and shook his head.

Michael hovered by the table, arms crossed, glaring at Justin. "What are you doing here, shrimp?"

Justin ignored him. "Come on, Tom, let's go."

Tom nodded, pulling on his jacket. As Justin started to stand, Brian grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back down. "Not so fast."

Justin held his breath. He hadn't expected this to go so well. Brian actually seemed--

"Tom, why don't you and I go fuck while Mikey takes young Justin home to his mommy, okay?"

Jealous?

Tom gulped. "Um, uh," he looked at Justin, his eyes begging forgiveness. "Sure."

"Great." Brian tossed Michael the keys to his car. "Make sure the kid gets home safely."

Michael rolled his eyes as Brian laughed, grabbed Tom's arm, and maneuvered him out of the booth. He sank down across from Justin, a scowl on his face. "Thanks a lot, shrimp."

Justin lowered his head and bit his lip.

"Don't be a fairy. C'mon. I'm taking you home."

"I didn't think--"

"Yeah, well, you should have," Michael said. "I tried to warn you, but, noooo, you had to think that you were special, different--"

"He cares about me."

"Yeah. Right."

"You'll see."

"No, you'll see. Listen, stop hanging around him, okay. He doesn't want you." Michael sighed. "I'm trying to do you a favor."

"Well, stop."

Michael slammed on the brakes, pulling to the side of the road. "Fine. I stopped. Get out."

"But--"

"You're only two blocks from home. Don't be such a princess." Michael ran a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to teach you a lesson. If you don't leave Brian alone, you're going to get fucked--and not in the way you want."

Justin unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. "Maybe if you stopped waiting for Brian to screw you, which he's never going to do, you wouldn't be so fucking bitter when he screwed someone else."

He slammed the door and stalked down the street, too angry to even be scared of the shadows and foreign city-sounds. Michael pulled the car up beside him, rolled down the window and called out, "Get back in the car!"

"Why should I?"

"Because you're going the wrong way." Michael pointed to the left. "Your house is over there."

Justin shoved his hands in his pockets and set out across the street. "I can make it just fine on my own. Thanks."

He finally recognized the winking porch light of his duplex and bounded up the stairs, pulling out his key. Michael trailed behind him in Brian's car, and Justin sneered at the fact that the guy couldn't even pull off being an irresponsible asshole for more than ten seconds.

The house smelled strange inside, but he supposed that over time he'd get used to it. He trudged up the stairs to his new room, locking the door behind him. He wished he had a cigarette and decided to bum a pack off of Mel on Monday. Brooding by a window in the middle of the night didn't seem to have the same dramatic appeal without a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. God knew, if he was going to be pathetic and miserable, he wanted to play the part to the best of his ability.

His room looked out on a tiny yard, and he could see the reflections of car lights on the windows of the building on the other side. Somehow he had to get back to Brian, had to find a way underneath all of that bullshit, because he knew, deep down, he just knew that Brian could care for him. That he'd be the one.

Chapter Two
Greased Lightning

Monday at lunch, Justin and Daphne eschewed the company of the math and art geeks for Lindsey, Mel and Emmett's. Brian and the other guys were still having lunch on the bleachers, but Lindsey said it was only a matter of time and cold weather before they too settled down in the cafeteria.

"Brian dyed his hair black Sunday instead of going to Mass," Lindsey was saying to Emmett as Justin and Daphne approached with their lunch trays. Lindsey unpacked her lunch bag, spreading out a nice assortment of carrots, celery, yogurt and a pb&j sandwich.

Mel rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's the shit. Whatever."

Emmett bit into a stolen celery stick and said, "He should have let me do it. God only knows what damage he's done to his hair." He greeted Justin and Daphne effusively, "Hey, guys! Glad to see you're not so green today, Daph."

Justin grinned. "I heard you puked up your lungs."

"Shut. Up. I heard you struck out totally, so doesn't sound like you did much better."

"Hmm. Vomiting or going home horny. I'll take door number two, Bob."

"Now, children, be nice," Emmett sing-songed.

Lindsey returned to her story about Brian and his hair. "You should have heard his mom's fit though. Going on and on about how he's going to burn in hell, then appealing to me to convince Brian of the importance of Mass and giving up the ways of Satan. Just imagine if she knew that he was--" She waggled her brows.

"Did you tell her that you were the last person she should appeal to since you fuck him on a regular basis?" Mel asked.

Lindsey laughed and shook her head. "No, but I should have, just to see the look on her face."

Justin frowned. "You fuck him?"

"Oh, baby, you're so sweet," Emmett laughed. "You've heard of a beard, right? They just pretend to be fucking. Or rather, Brian pretends to try to fuck her and Lindsey pretends to turn him down."

Lindsey started laughing. "Yeah, last year we went to the drive-in and he gave me his class ring--" She lifted her hand and showed off the giant ring taped around her finger. "After that he climbed onto me and started feeling me up and I screamed and hit him and stomped off. We made quite a scene. Everyone talked about it for a week."

Justin looked at her like she was insane. "Um, don't you think that was a little--"

"Melodramatic? Ridiculous?" Mel asked.

"Yeah."

Lindsey grinned. "It was. That's why it was fun. Brian may tell you he's not a queen, but he so is. He loves a good show."

"Especially if he's the star," Mel snorted.

"He played 'Poor, Wounded, Misunderstood Brian' for a whole week and got all the other guys' sympathy. He loved it," Emmett said. "He probably managed to get some guys to give him blow jobs for his misfortune."

Daphne grabbed Justin's wrist. "Speak of the devil."

Brian sauntered into the cafeteria followed by Ted, Ben and Michael. Apparently it had begun to rain because they all looked like drowned rats. Brownish-black rivulets ran down Brian's face and neck from his newly blackened hair. He didn't seem to mind.

Justin looked away, pretending not to notice when Brian spotted their table and made a beeline straight for them. He kept his eyes on his lunch when the empty space next to him was suddenly filled with Brian's wet form. Michael dropped down next to Brian, Ted sat down next to Emmett, and Ben crowded in beside Michael.

"When did you guys start hanging out with children?" Brian asked, Mel and Lindsey.

"Since the children are more mature than you," Mel muttered.

"Maturity is for people who wear Depends." Brian ran a hand through his hair. "Mikey and I are looking for a new guitarist and back-up singer for the band. Know anybody?"

Mel shook her head and said something nasty about talent and lack thereof. Emmett said that once he dropped out and started beauty school, he wouldn't have time and, besides, he couldn't play guitar anyway. Lindsey just shrugged and started humming under her breath.

Daphne asked Brian, "What's the name of your band?"

"Mangina."

Justin had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling. After he had himself under control he said, off-handedly, "I play guitar."

"Really?" Brian looked at him for the first time. "You good?"

"Of course."

"No!" Michael whined. "No, he can't be part of the band. For one thing he's too young--"

Brian held up his hand. "Can you sing?"

"Yes."

"Let's hear it."

"No!" Michael started again, but Brian covered his mouth with one black-tinted hand.

Justin blinked. "I'm sorry. I'm not a performing monkey. If you want to hear me sing, you can just ask me to your practice for a try-out."

Brian smiled, slow and appraisingly. "Okay. Be at Michael's at four today. With your guitar."

Justin nodded. "Okay."

Brian stood up and pulled a protesting Michael along with him, calling, "See you, shrimp," over his shoulder.

Justin's stomach felt warm and excited. He knew he'd handled that right. Brian would hear him play and sing and--

"Can you really play?" Emmett asked.

"Of course."

"Well, they kind of suck, you know." Ted said, laughing. "Don't be too upset when you hear them."

Ben smirked. "I don't think he cares. I think he just wants to be close to Brian."

Justin smiled. He didn't mind if everyone knew what he was up to, even Brian. He was going to find a way to get close and stay close. The band was just one way to do it.

Michael's mom was still at the diner, so the boys had the run of the small house. Michael's drums were set up in the tiny garage and they went out there to play. Brian plugged his guitar into the old amp and strummed some terribly out of tune chords, before starting to work on getting the microphones and pedals just right.

Justin tuned his guitar and plugged in, messed around a little with the microphone that Brian handed to him, and tried to calm the nerves in his stomach.

"Okay, shrimp, here's the deal," Brian began. "We want to compete in Battle of the Bands next month. The winners get a six hundred dollar check. We want to win. Got it?"

Justin nodded. "Sure."

"All right. Let's play." Brian indicated that Michael should start on drums. "You can join in whenever you want."

They began with a terrible version of The Cure's Just Like Heaven, Brian's voice wavering and cracking on notes, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. Justin joined in shortly, following along with supporting guitar parts and propping up Brian's voice with attempts at harmony.

The song ended with some interesting caterwauling, and Justin bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Brian looked over at him and said seriously, "That was pretty good, I guess."

Justin smiled. "Do you mind if I tune your guitar a little, Brian? I think you'd find it easier to hit some of those notes."

Brian nodded and passed the guitar over, watching intently as Justin tuned the strings and plucked them carefully to make sure they lined up. When Justin glanced over, he found Brian staring at his lips, his eyes bright and his mouth slightly open. He'd seen that look before.

The phone rang from within the house and Michael cursed. "Hold on. I'll be right back."

Brian watched until Michael went back inside and shut the door behind him. He sidled up beside Justin, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested his head on Justin's shoulder, ostensibly to watch him continue to tune the guitar.

Wet, moist heat on his neck made Justin's knees go weak and strong hands took the guitar from him before he dropped it. There was a loud crash as Brian shoved him into the drum kit, before pushing him against the wall. Lips, tongues, bodies moved hard against one another as time stood still and then lurched into heated motion.

"So fucking hot," Brian murmured against his throat, pushing his shirt up, his fingers tripping over the new piercing. "Hot." He gripped Justin's ass and pulled him close, pressing a leg between his thighs and lifting him up to get a better angle on his mouth.

Justin never wanted the kiss to end, but of course the sound of the door opening again had Brian pulling away, straightening his hair and licking his wet, swollen lips.

"It was my mom," Michael said, stopping and staring at them both. "Oh great. Just fucking great. Great."

Brian turned to Michael innocently. "Let's do another song."

Justin packed up his stuff and pretended that he couldn't hear Michael and Brian talking in the kitchen.

"What is it with you and that kid anyway?" Michael asked, irritated, arms crossed over his chest.

"What?"

"You know what, so don't give me that shit."

Brian shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Then get rid of him."

"I don't know--he's a good guitar player and he can sing. He's kinda sweet, too."

"Did I just hear you say that?"

"What?"

"You just said he's kinda sweet. I've--" Michael stopped and took a deep breath. "Listen, you've never let yourself get involved like this, why are you doing it now? And with him?"

Brian shrugged and didn't meet Michael's eyes. "I'm not involved. Get over it."

"What happened to the no-fucking-more-than-once rule you were going to implement after the beach?"

"What? I haven't fucked him since the beach. Jesus!"

"Oh, like you aren't planning on it. Like you aren't thinking about offering him a ride home so that you can tap his cute little ass--"

"Shut up, Mikey."

"Fine."

Brian turned his back on Michael and came to lean against the doorjamb leading to the garage. Justin could feel his eyes on him as he carefully zipped up his bookbag and locked his guitar case.

"Need a ride home?"

Michael threw his hands up in exasperation before crossing his arms over his chest again.

"Sure. That'd be great."

Brian nodded and grabbed his jacket. Justin struggled a little under the weight of his bookbag and the guitar until Brian grabbed the instrument from him and punched the button to open the garage door. Michael watched as they climbed into Brian's car, and Justin waved to him as they pulled out.

After getting out on the road, Brian turned the radio down and rested one hand on the back of Justin's seat. The T-Bird had an old tape deck that creaked a little with each turn of the gears. Brian was listening to some kind of mix featuring The The and The Smiths. Justin grinned. Old style gay goth. The only thing that would have been a bigger giveaway was if he had a mix of New Order and Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

"You liking Pittsburgh?" Brian asked.

"Sure. I miss my old house, but this is fine. It's better this way."

Brian looked at him, a touch of worry streaking over his face. Then he shrugged. "Life sucks and parents suck even more."

"Yeah. My dad was pissed when he found out about me being gay."

Brian lifted a brow. "You told him?"

"Well, my mom made me. I guess, technically, she told him and forced me to witness it. It was really shady, in a way. I think it was her last weapon in the whole divorce thing."

"Ah." Brian shifted in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"So your parents don't know?"

Brian smirked and shrugged again, allowing his silence to speak for him.

"That's got to be tough."

"What they don't know won't hurt 'em."

Justin turned his head so that his cheek rested only inches away from Brian's hand. He almost leaned in to nuzzle it, but knew that would be a mistake. Not now. Not yet.

Instead he unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over, and unzipped Brian's jeans.

Brian's cock tasted as good as he remembered and he worked it over with his tongue feeling it strain in his mouth with every swirl and lick. Justin felt the car slow to a stop as Brian's breathing became labored. Brian grabbed his head and held him in place while thrusting up into his mouth. Justin opened up, letting the head of Brian's cock slip into his throat. He'd learned a lot over the summer and he knew just how to please Brian, little things he'd learned that coaxed soft groans out of him.

Swallowing Brian's come was something he'd done right from the start--no spitting for him. Brian trembled and moaned as he spilled in Justin's mouth, and his hands gripped Justin's hair hard.

"Oh fuck." It was a quiet gasp, with a note of resignation. "What is it about you?"

Justin wanted to say something foolish like, "It's destiny," but he kept his mouth shut.

They'd pulled over into a parking lot beside a church. Brian stroked Justin's hair absently as he came down from his orgasm.

"I want to fuck you."

Justin nodded and whispered, "Where?"

"Right here. But--" Brian looked around. "No. Is your mom home? Your sister?"

Justin shook his head. "Molly has karate tonight and Mom is with her."

"Do you have condoms? Lube?"

Justin bit his lip.

"Okay, well, I've got one condom--" Brian broke off and for a second Justin thought he'd reconsidered. "We'll stop by the pharmacy."

The relief that flooded him was immense. He'd already become so committed to the idea of Brian's cock in his ass again that he wasn't sure what he'd have done if Brian backed out now.

Brian was in and out of the pharmacy in mere minutes and the ride to Justin's house was nearly silent. He wanted to ask so many things. He wanted to know if Brian was going to fuck him hard, or gentle? Was Brian going to remember the things he liked? The ways he liked to be touched? Would Brian care? Did Brian feel anything that Justin felt? But he kept his mouth shut.

In his room, the door locked and their clothes off, he didn't need to know how Brian felt, because even if it was never said, their bodies spoke clearly. Brian did remember how Justin liked it. Brian did touch him just the way he wanted to be touched. And he was sweet, just like he was at the beach, taking his time, holding Justin and moving inside of him with firm strokes, whispering hot words against the back of his neck.

"Need you, so hot, wanted so long, fuck, you're so sweet, Justin."

All things that Justin knew he'd deny later.

But now it didn't matter, because Brian was in him, moving in a rhythm that drew him into mindless rutting. He lost himself on wave after wave of need and, when he finally came, his body gave out, collapsing to the bed with Brian still riding him hard. Brian froze, thrust deep and came with a shuddering cry.

Hot. Amazing.

And so they did it again.

School the next day was the same old, same old, except for the ache in Justin's ass that reminded him that he'd had what he wanted and that he'd have it again. Brian was cold and distant, ignoring him entirely at lunch and ditching both him and Michael for chemistry club instead of band practice.

Michael glared at Justin as though it were his fault that Brian was geeking out.

"What'd you do to him?" Michael asked after Brian sauntered away saying that his new goal for the year was to create synthetic come.

Lindsey shot Michael a look and Mel said, "I'm putting my money on Brian being the one who did something to Justin."

Ted chuckled and Emmett winked.

Justin replied, "He's going to chemistry club, how is that my fault?"

"Because you let him fuck you and now he's all weirded out because--"

"Because he liked it?" Justin finished. "He did. And he'll like it next time, too. I think you need to get used to it, Michael."

"You're nothing but a one night stand gone wrong. There isn't going to be a next time. Don't get any ideas--"

"Michael, shut up," Lindsey said, slamming her hand on the table.

"You're being a prick," Mel added.

"Fine." Michael picked up his lunch tray and shoved away from the table. "He'd better practice tomorrow or we'll never win that contest."

Justin nodded and took a bite of vanilla pudding. "He'll practice tomorrow."

"Oh yeah? You think you know him?"

Justin shrugged. "I think he'll want to fuck me again tomorrow."

Michael snorted and whirled away, muttering, "You don't know anything."

Emmett dropped out of school the next day after receiving word that he'd been accepted to Empire Beauty School. It was all that Lindsey could talk about at lunch.

"He's making the biggest mistake of his life not finishing high school."

Mel tried to comfort her. "It's gonna be okay, Lindz. He'll be back. After all, he can't commit to anything, not even a new shampoo."

"Well, I'm not saying I want him to fail, Mel."

"I know you aren't, baby, but you're getting all upset for nothing."

Lindsey tossed her blonde hair and eyed Brian. "You need to get him to come back."

"Me?" Brian snorted. "What do I have to do with it?"

"He'll listen to you."

Brian rolled his eyes and stood up. "Fuck that. Justin, come on. I want to show you a new tune I've worked up."

Michael gave Justin a look to freeze hell. "Are you two going to be at practice today?"

"Is your mom gonna have some lemon bars for us?" Brian asked.

"Yeah."

"Then sure." Brian grabbed Justin's wrist and pulled him away from the table. "See you then, Mikey."

Justin tried not to give Michael too big of a grin and followed Brian out of the cafeteria. Things were looking up. Brian was not only talking to him, but wanted to be alone with him.

Sex in the boys' locker room might have been a little risky, but it was worth it. Justin's face pushed against the cool metal of a locker, his ass up in the air, hips lifted by Brian's strong arms and thighs, jerking and swallowing a shout as he came. Brian cradled him close, mouth open against Justin's neck as he reached orgasm, too.

Yeah. Things were going well.

Brian lit up his sixth cigarette in under an hour. Justin strummed a few chords and watched as the smoke curled in the air over Brian's head.

"You shouldn't smoke so much. It causes bad breath, wrinkles, lung cancer and impotence." Justin counted on his fingers.

"I've never been impotent in my life," Brian snorted.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Brian came out of the womb hard."

"Well, if the appeal to your libido doesn't work," Justin continued. "Maybe you should consider the appeal to your vanity. Do you really want to have wrinkles around your mouth from puffing on those things?"

"He can tell people he got them from sucking cock," Michael laughed.

Brian chuckled, turning the page of the Captain Astro comic he was reading. Justin reached over and took one off the top of the stack and opened it, bending back the cover.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey!" Michael yelled, grabbing it back from him. "Watch it or you'll break the spine! This is a collector's item, idiot."

Justin blinked and muttered, "Sorry."

"Well, you should be! This could be worth hundreds of dollars in a few years. There were only twenty thousand copies of this one and--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Brian droned. "Show him how to hold it and leave it alone."

Michael huffed and cradled the comic in his hands, barely bending it open enough to read. "And when you're done, put it back in the plastic cover."

Brian hadn't looked up, puffing on his cigarette and lounging on a bean bag chair. Justin didn't take the proffered comic back from Michael, shrugging and playing a few chords of the new song Brian had dreamed up. It was kind of a lame song, but it had some fun lyrics and Justin had worked in some cool riffs that made it hum.

"I could draw better than that," he said, moderating his tone so that it came out as only potentially insulting.

"Yeah, right," Michael sputtered.

Brian looked up, eyes narrowed and studying Justin through the smoke. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He turned to Michael, who was staring at Justin like he'd just admitted to fucking his mother. "Didn't you tell me you had some idea for some lame-ass comic, Mikey?"

"No."

"Yeah." Brian stubbed his cigarette out. "Something about a gay crusader for justice, liberty and anal sex, or some shit like that."

"So, what?"

"So, maybe you should see if you and little Justin here can cook something up. We could sell 'em down on Liberty Avenue for twelve bucks a pop and save up to get that four-track so we can send a demo tape to some indie labels."

Michael shook his head.

"Fine, be a fucktard." Brian stood up, slapping his hand against the back of Michael's head. "See if I care. Let's practice."

The first tune was a number that Brian had penned for Lindsey. It was her favorite song at the moment and she sang it all the time. Justin had to admit that, of the songs Brian had written, it was the catchiest.

Playing seemed to make Brian horny, because it was always by the third or fourth song that he started looking at Justin with that expression, the one that meant, "Just wait, you're going to come so hard."

Justin licked his lips and watched Brian through his lashes, throwing in some fancy fret work to up the ante; Brian always seemed to get really hot when Justin played difficult guitar riffs.

Brian stared at him, a hard-on evident beneath the low slung guitar. Half way through the fifth song, he lunged toward Justin, kissing him roughly, their guitars banging against each other. Brian grasped his head and leaned into the kiss, pulling him close and ignoring the dissonant sound jarring from their amplifiers.

Justin barely heard Michael's frustrated yell over the rush in his ears and the feedback from his amp. Brian slipped his hand under Justin's t-shirt and tugged on the nipple ring, making him gasp and arch.

"Fuck you both!" Michael yelled in the background and vaguely he heard a door slam.

Brian wrenched their guitars free, tossing them to the floor. He sucked Justin's lips again before pulling both of their pants down around their knees. Justin arched his back as Brian sank to the ground, licked a path down to Justin's balls and mouthed them. Brian grinned up at Justin before sucking his cock, bobbing his head fervently. Brian didn't give blow jobs often, but fuck if he wasn't the best ever when he did.

Justin opened his eyes at Brian's tell-tale moan and watched as he jerked himself off, come spattering on the garage floor. Brian's mouth open wide around his cock, eyes scrunched in ecstasy--and, yeah, fuck, he came hard, hands twining in Brian's hair, wanting to keep him close.

Brian pulled away, slithering up Justin's body. Tasting himself in Brian's mouth was one of his favorite things, proof that Brian had actually sucked him off and that he wanted to share it with him.

"Well, Jesus H. Christ, can't you boys keep it in your pants for a few hours?"

Justin jumped back and scrambled to get his jeans up. Brian casually pulled his own into place before helping Justin button up. "Deb, we're teenage boys."

"Well, Michael's inside pissed as all hell at you, and I've got to say I don't blame him. It's one thing to fuck each other and it's another to fuck each other in front of your best friend. Go make up with him. Now." Deb turned to Justin. "And Sunshine, just because he's hard to resist, doesn't mean you can't say no."

Justin blushed and smiled. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well, I'll tell you what, I think you're lying. I bet you aren't a goddamn bit sorry."

Justin shrugged.

Brian put their guitars back on their racks before heading into the house. "I'll tell you what; I'll go soothe the Princess Mikey, if you'll take the Princess Justin home, Deb."

Deb swatted his ass. "Do I look like a goddamn taxi service?"

"Yes," Brian called over his shoulder.

She turned to Justin. "Come on, Sunshine, get your crap together and let's go."

The ride with Deb was--interesting. She was a very hostile driver, taking out her aggression on everyone else on the road. "Fuck you, you homicidal, homophobic, crap-eating prick! Let me over!"

Justin held on to the oh-shit bar and closed his eyes tightly. He tried to keep in mind that his house was only four miles away--or so.

"So, you realize you're breaking my kid's heart, don't ya?" Deb asked.

Justin didn't know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Well, not just you. It's Brian, too." Debbie sighed. "Brian, Brian, Brian. Always Brian. I remember when I first heard his name. Michael came home one day and said, 'There's a new kid at school. His name's Brian Kinney', and a day hasn't passed since then that I haven't heard his name."

Justin watched the apartment complexes and fast food restaurants zoom by his window.

"It's not your fault really. Brian's never going to fuck him. Not that Brian doesn't love Michael, because he does. He loves him more than you or I will ever know."

Justin's stomach turned over in jealousy. Truth wasn't fun to hear most of the time.

"But he doesn't love him in that way and he never will." Debbie sighed, "You, though." She laughed a little. "You've been different right from the start. Sneaking in under his radar, worming your way into his life this summer, and I'm not a superstitious woman, but there has to be some meaning in the fact that you ended up here of all fucking places."

Justin was inclined to agree, but he remained silent. Everyone knew to tread very lightly when it came to a momma bear and her cub.

"And for some reason he's letting you in, letting you get closer than he's let almost anyone ever. I see how he looks at you." Debbie shrugged. "I gotta say, Sunshine, you need to be real careful though. Ask yourself, 'Is this really what I want?' Because Brian Kinney ain't no piece of cake. No, he's a piece of work, is what he is. So be careful. Think about it. You're awfully young to be committing to something as difficult as this."

"I know," Justin whispered, staring out the passenger window.

"Well, good. Goddamn, motherfucking, piece of dog shit! Get out of the road!" She honked her horn and flipped the other motorist off. Justin sank into his seat and lowered his head. Debbie continued, "I like you. I just want you to be happy is all."

"Thanks, Debbie."

"He's gonna hurt you, Sunshine."

Justin just nodded because, yeah, he was.

"Well, this your place?" Deb asked.

"Yeah. Thanks for the ride, Debbie."

"Anytime, sweetie." She looked at herself in the rearview mirror and straightened her wig a little. "I've got to get back to the diner. I've been working double shifts ever since Lizzie got pregnant, and just today, the busboy quit. Life's a mess, I tell you, kiddo."

Justin kissed her cheek, shouldered his bookbag and guitar, and waved as she drove away.

Chapter Three
Beauty School Dropout

Justin tied on the apron that Debbie handed him and looked sadly across the diner to where Brian, Lindsey, Michael and Mel sat eating lemon bars and drinking coffee. Mel and Brian were carefully avoiding one another's eyes after a near shout-down a few minutes earlier that had almost gotten them all kicked out.

"I'm proud of you, Sunshine." Debbie said, patting his cheek. "It isn't every kid who'd take up the slack at home like you're doing. Your mom's a real lucky woman to have a kid like you."

"Great, he steals my best friend and my mother," Michael shouted from across the room.

Brian slapped him on the back of the head. "You're pathetic, Mikey."

Justin hefted the plastic bussing tray and started to clear off the closest table.

Two nights prior, Molly had been crying because apparently their dad wasn't going to continue to help pay for her ballet class and Mom said they couldn't afford it. When Justin asked why, it'd turned out that she couldn't juggle the cost of his art supplies, guitar lessons and Molly's karate, ballet, and piano lessons. As much as Molly annoyed him, it annoyed him even more to see her crying because their dad was a prick. It wasn't Molly's fault that the marriage hadn't worked out and it wasn't her fault that Justin was gay. There was no reason to be punishing her.

So, he'd called Debbie to see if the bus boy position was still open.

"Hey! Bus boy!" Brian called, clanging his empty coffee mug on the table. "Can we get some service?"

Justin flipped him off.

"Now, Sunshine, is that any way to treat the patrons?" Brian asked, blinking his eyes innocently.

"Let your boyfriend work in peace, Brian," Mel said, pulling Lindsey in close and running fingers through her hair.

"He's not his boyfriend," Michael said, petulantly.

"I don't do boyfriends."

Lindsey smirked. "Riiight."

Brian frowned and Justin wanted to kick them both. Pointing out to Brian that people considered them to be a couple was the same thing as saying, "Hey, why don't you stop fucking Justin altogether?" Well, actually, if someone said that it was more likely that Brian would bend him over the closest table and fuck him deaf, dumb and blind. Brian really didn't like being told what to do.

No. It was these little comments about Justin being his boyfriend, the mocking statements about getting Justin's permission before going out--those were the things that were going to make Brian take a closer look at their arrangement and start to pull away. Justin had learned a lot since the summer about how to handle the prickly object of his affections, and he didn't like other people undermining his work.

The door chimed and Emmett walked in with a 'do-rag over his head. If a pink and orange, zebra-striped scarf could be called a 'do-rag.

"Em!" Lindsey called, scooting over to make room for him. "I'm so glad to see you. I've been trying to call you all week."

Emmett chuckled distractedly. "Oh, uh, just busy with school, you know. We're, uh, learning hair-coloring techniques now. It requires a lot of studying and stuff."

Justin noticed Brian's look of appraisal and the slight nod of his head as though he heard fifty other things that no one else did. Emmett spotted Justin and waved. "Hey, baby. New job?"

Justin nodded and waved back.

Brian said, "Yeah, the golden boy is helping his mommy pay the bills." He glowered. "And fucking up our practice schedule in the process." Brian turned to yell across the room to Justin, "We're never going to be rock stars with that level of commitment! And where's my goddamn coffee, princess?"

Justin rolled his eyes and carried a load of dishes back to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to load them through the industrial washer. Debbie appeared at his elbow. "Justin, I'll take care of this. We've got a stopped up toilet in the men's room."

Oh God. Justin stared at her mouth open. He'd never considered this aspect of the job. He was going to have to...clean public toilets. Oh. God.

"Go on, now. Hurry up." Debbie slapped his ass and Justin stumbled a little on his way through the swinging doors.

The toilet was really fucking stopped up. It was gross. It was terrifying. Justin rolled up his sleeves even higher and grabbed a plunger, struggling with the mess, fighting the drain, trying to get the clog to go down.

Five minutes later he was ready to cry. But he wouldn't. He wasn't going to--

Fuck.

He slammed the stall door shut and leaned against the wall. He was just trying to do the right thing, do the honorable thing, help his mom and his sister. He covered his face. He hadn't even considered that he'd have to do this kind of demeaning work. A fucking toilet! A clogged toilet! And, maybe he'd kinda hoped his mom would turn down his offer to work for some extra cash. And, maybe he didn't want to be here at all!

The door to the bathroom opened and Justin wiped his nose on the under side of his sleeve. He was going to get it together. He wasn't a pussy-fairy. He was a man. A man who was trying to unclog a toilet. A perfectly legitimate way to earn an income.

That's when he heard the distinct sound of someone talking to himself. And he recognized the voice. Emmett.

"It's just so--gray." Emmett whispered. "Well, at least it was your head and not someone else's. Imagine the guilt."

Justin started to open the stall door to ask if Emmett had any suggestions about the toilet when the bathroom door swung open again.

"Fuck, that's an ugly shade of gray. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"It was supposed to be red. You know, a cool, brilliant red, like fire-truck red." Emmett sighed. "It was the final exam in my Color class."

Brian didn't reply.

"I sort of failed that one."

Brian snorted.

"I sort of failed every class. Brian, I even failed Shampoo! How can you fail Shampoo?" Emmett wailed.

Justin quietly climbed onto the toilet, balancing so that his feet didn't get wet. He peeked over the stall wall. Emmett's hair looked like someone had colored it with a gray magic marker. It was--hideous.

Brian walked over to the urinal and started to piss.

Emmett asked, more to himself than to Brian, "What am I going to do?"

Justin held a hand over his mouth and waited. Emmett's eyes filled with tears as he studied himself in the mirror.

Brian zipped up and washed his hands. He turned to Emmett, reaching up to finger the gray hair for a moment. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get Lindsey or Daphne to go with you to the drug store. You're going to buy a Clairol kit for blond hair to bleach this shit out. Then you're going to go to Earthy Emporium and buy some of that Hard Glass hair dye crap in pink. Bright pink. Then you're going to let Daph or Lindz color your hair for you."

Brian pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and used it to protect his hand from contact with the bathroom door handle. "When it's a beautiful, fabulous, faggot pink you're going to tell everyone that it's exactly the color you were going for." Brian jerked open the bathroom door. "Oh, and then you're going to quit this Beauty School bullshit and go back to high school."

Emmett nodded, pinned the scarf back in place over his gray hair and wiped his eyes before following Brian out.

They were alone in Justin's room.

Most of their time alone together was spent in frenetic fucking, mainly because there was so little of it. They could never go to Brian's house due to a hyper-religious mother and a drunken abusive father (that last bit Justin had heard from Lindsey, and it really made him angry). They were too young and too broke to rent hotel rooms, and Justin's mom was only gone with Molly a few hours a week. Then, on top of that, there was Justin's hectic schedule, and it just wasn't typical that they got to be alone long enough to enjoy one another's company.

But his mom had taken Molly to visit their father and would be gone for the whole weekend. He and Brian had fucked themselves dry and now were resting together in Justin's bed.

Brian pulled him close and absently trailed his hand up and down Justin's side. "I've been thinking about that comic book again. The one that you and Mikey should do together."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I think you should suck up to him. Convince him to do it."

Justin twisted to look up at Brian's face. "He hates me."

"Nah, he really doesn't."

Justin laughed. "Oh, yeah, he really does."

"Well, okay, yeah, he really does." Brian chuckled, running a hand through Justin's hair. "But he shouldn't and he wouldn't if you tried harder."

Justin shifted so that he could punch Brian lightly in the stomach. "Listen, I'm not the one who has been a total prick from the first day he met me at the beach."

"Just think about it." Brian was quiet for a minute. "Hey, have you ever thought about dyeing your hair black?"

"What? Um, no. You wouldn't believe how far being blond gets me at the diner. I get really good tips."

"I think it's your great ass."

Justin nuzzled his throat and sighed. Brian hummed his song for Lindsey under his breath.

It was nice to be alone.

"He wants me to suck up to Michael."

Daphne threaded her fingers through his hair, undoing a braid that she'd made in a longer section. "Why?"

"I don't know why entirely. He says that he wants me to do some comic book with Michael to sell on Liberty Avenue. He thinks we can get enough money to buy a four track so we can record the band's stuff for a demo tape."

"Because the band is so good, right?"

Justin laughed. "Right."

"What do you think the real reason is?"

"I don't think he likes Michael being so unhappy about us. Not that Brian will even admit there is an 'us'."

"Yeah."

Justin frowned and leaned in closer so that Daphne could play with his hair some more. It felt good. "Do you think he ever will?"

"I don't know, Justin. What do you think?"

"I doubt it."

"Yeah." Daphne massaged his scalp and he closed his eyes. "Does it bother you?"

Justin would have said no last week; hell, he would have said no earlier in the day, but he was tired and his guard was down, and the truth was--

"Yeah, it bothers me."

Daphne's arms went around his neck and her soft cheek pressed against his. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay."

She kissed his temple and rocked him for a moment. They were silent together and then she pulled away, got up and changed the CD. Justin covered his face and sighed.

"Maybe you should," Daphne murmured inexplicably.

"Maybe I should, what?"

"Suck up to Michael. Do the comic." She sat down beside him again and draped an arm over his shoulder. "I mean, if it really bothers you that Brian won't admit that there is an 'us', then you need to consider your options. Back out now and be done with it, or go for the gold, dig even deeper."

Justin looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe."

"What's the worst that could happen? You make Michael more comfortable with the idea of you and Brian as a couple and it might trickle over to Brian, too. And maybe part of him wants that, since he's the one who suggested it. Or you end up doing a cool comic and making some money. Not a bad thing, either."

Daphne had a good point.

The following Monday, it was announced over the speaker system of Allerdice High that the stakes for the Battle of the Bands had been upped. Not only would the winner receive a six hundred dollar check, but there would be representatives of Sony and Warner Brother's Music in attendance looking for fresh talent. At lunch on the day of the announcement, Brian's eyes were lit with a mercenary gleam.

"We're gonna fucking win that contest," he said, jabbing his finger at the table.

Justin nodded and propped his head on his hand. He was tired after working at the diner until eleven the night before.

"Now all we need is a demo tape to hand off to the guys after we play."

Michael agreed. "But we don't have a four track and I'm sure as hell not going to go ask The Minions Of Evil if we can borrow theirs." He nodded his head toward a table in the back of the cafeteria.

Justin turned to check out the competition. A thin brunet with dark, brooding eyes was staring at Justin and playing air guitar. Next to him were his bandmates, some red-headed girl who played keyboards, a guy from Justin's biology class named Mick and a set of twins, Bill and Baker, who played bass and guitar. Justin had heard rumors that this band was actually good.

"What kind of band name is that?" Brian asked. "The Minions Of Evil. I mean, come on!"

"Oh and Mangina is so much better?" Mel snorted.

"Hell yeah," Brian said. "Mangina makes a statement. It has sex, and sex sells."

"Hermaphroditic sex does not sell," Mel objected.

Brian flipped her off.

"I've got an idea about how we could get some money for a four track," Justin said softly, picking at his stringy green beans.

"Oh yeah? How? You gonna save up your extra tips or something?" Michael asked. "Because no matter how cute your ass is, you aren't bringing home that much money unless you're peddling it."

"Fine. Never mind."

Lindsey leaned over and said, "What's your idea, Justin?"

Justin shrugged.

"Stop pouting," Brian snapped.

Justin sighed and then put on his best 'business' face. "Well, it would take a small investment on our part, but I looked at some numbers; it seems reasonable to think that we could not only earn our investment back, but also make a considerable profit."

Ted said, "It's not Amway, is it? Because my mom got into Amway, and let me tell you, it's a cult. They've got these scary meetings, and we ended up with more laundry detergent than you can--"

"It's not Amway," Justin interrupted. "I was thinking that Michael and I could do a comic."

"No." Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "No way."

"A comic?" Lindsey asked.

"Who's doing a comic?" Emmett asked as he sat down, his pink hair glowing in the sun from the window.

"Justin and Michael," Lindsey said.

"Oh yay!" Emmett clapped. "Cool. Can I help?"

"No," Michael said. "No you cannot help and, no, there isn't going to be a comic."

Justin shrugged. "I could always just do one by myself. No biggie."

"Oh yeah, and what do you know about comics?" Michael asked.

Brian chuckled and put his hand on the back of Michael's neck, shaking him a little. "Not a goddamn thing, so you better keep him from fucking it up. I just happen to have a little nest egg that is probably just enough to cover a first run."

"Wait, so you're in this togeth--" Michael frowned. "Hey, wait! You've got money? How long have you had money? You've been making me pay for you everywhere we go and you've got money?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Chill out, Mikey. I took it from my mom's purse. She'll just think my dad pilfered it for booze." Brian shrugged and stuffed a piece of roll into his mouth. "But if you aren't interested in helping, I suppose Justin can create his own gay superhero."

"What?" Michael whipped his head between Justin and Brian.

"Yeah, I was thinking that his motto will be 'Drugs, Sex and the Anal Way'," Brian said. "Sound good to you, Justin?"

"Yeah. And his super power will be that his cock spurts acid when he comes."

"Ew." Emmett grimaced.

"That won't work," Michael started.

"Ah, ah, ah. You didn't want to play," Brian sang.

"Fuck you." Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. I'm in."

Chapter Four
Tears On My Pillow

It was during Justin's fifth week at the diner that things started to get messy. He was tired all of the time from trying to do too much: school and band practice, guitar lessons and art club, working with Michael on the comic, and trying to fit in some time with Daphne.

Not to mention working part time and fucking Brian every chance he got--in part because he loved it, in part because he was afraid that Brian would slip away if he didn't put out all the time. He was exhausted and it was starting to show.

His nerves became frayed and he was short-tempered. He found himself snapping at Michael more often and bitching at Brian over the smallest things. And that really wasn't the thing to do. Every time Justin princesssed out, Brian drew away, which made Justin a little more desperate, which made Brian pull away even more.

And he knew what he was doing. He knew that he was fucking up everything he'd worked for all summer and all fall, but, hell, he was tired, and it was getting old acting like it didn't bug him when Brian fucked a hundred different guys in one night. Well, okay, that was an exaggeration, but it wasn't cool to see the guy you're in love with come into the diner where you work, dragging along one trick after another, fucking them in the bathroom, knowing that you're going to be the one to empty the trash with the used condoms in it.

So, yeah, maybe he'd been thinking about that a little too much, and, yeah, maybe he'd known that this was the way it was going to be all along, but maybe he hadn't been entirely honest with himself. Maybe he'd always thought that Brian would figure it out, would realize that he was meant for Justin and Justin was meant for him. So what if that was a goddamn Jewel song? It wasn't like he listened to Jewel, anyway.

Justin scrubbed a hand over his face, leaning heavily against the counter. Okay, so maybe this train of thought was entirely indicative of the problem. He was obviously utterly exhausted and just not thinking straight.

The door chimed and he didn't look up, too tired to deal right now. Let someone else get the water.

"Hey, bus boy! Can we get some goddamn service?"

Justin sighed deeply.

Brian had a guy with him. Some tall, college-age guy with tattoos. Justin turned around, walked into the kitchen, took off his apron and said to Deb, "I don't feel good. I've got to go home."

Rage: Savior of Gayopolis turned out to be a laborious endeavor that further estranged him from Brian instead of bringing him closer. The first big blow up of their non-relationship came when Brian found him and Michael asleep together on the floor after they'd stayed up all night trying to finish the comic in time to get it to the printers.

Brian lost it, trashing some of their painstakingly drawn frames and pissing on Justin's sketch pad. He didn't speak to Michael or to Justin for three days, blowing off band practice and not taking phone calls.

Not that Justin tried to call him. No, that was Michael. Because, really, some things were just over the line and Justin wasn't sure who was more surprised to find out that he even had a line: Brian, Michael or himself.

Daphne had been wrong when she'd presented the worse case scenario of doing a comic with Michael. The worst thing that could happen was that he'd see Brian in a whole new light and reconsider everything he'd been investing himself in since the past summer. Brian had once said, "Apologies are bullshit," after he'd hurt Lindsey's feelings and refused to say he was sorry. And it looked like that philosophy hadn't changed.

If Justin hadn't been proud of the work he and Michael had done together, he wouldn't have even continued with the comic. He didn't give a shit about Mangina or getting a four-track anymore.

That's when Brian showed up at his house one day, sunglasses on and freshly dyed hair shining in the sun.

"Thought we might go to the park or something," he said, looking out over the street with studied nonchalance.

"Find someone else to fuck." Justin started to close the door in his face, but Brian darted out a hand to stop him.

"I wasn't looking for a fuck. I can get that anytime."

Justin rolled his eyes and turned away, deciding to just leave Brian in the entrance if he wasn't going to let him shut the door.

"I did something that I'm not proud of--"

Justin stopped and waited.

"But I can't take it back. I was hoping we could just move on."

"Why'd you do it?"

Brian shrugged, looked out across the street again, swallowing hard.

"You were jealous. Can't you even admit that much?"

Brian bit his lip and ducked his head, his face acknowledging the truth of Justin's statement even if he said nothing.

"Have you made up with Michael?"

"We went to the movies last night."

Justin doubted that Michael had even demanded any acknowledgement of wrongdoing from Brian. Considering how low his own standards were, Justin was caught in a moment of sadness, realizing that Michael's were even lower.

"I was wrong. I was jealous."

Justin blinked.

Brian said, "It's a nice afternoon. We could go on a walk."

"I'll get my coat."

Chapter Five
There Are Worse Things I Could Do

The first issue of Rage: Savior of Gayopolis was born the same night that Justin met Ethan Gold, the lead singer and guitarist for The Minions Of Evil.

Brian had used a portion of his pilfered nest egg to arrange for pre-release advertising in the form of fliers and stickers. It wasn't anything big, just something to pique the Liberty Avenue regulars' interest before they actually put the comic into circulation. It seemed to have done the trick, because Justin was pestered every day at the diner for information on when the 'gay comic' was going to come out of the closet and other such stupid jokes.

The night they'd chosen for the release was cold and damp. The plan was for someone to be staked out at the diner with the supply of comics while other people dispersed into the streets and clubs to attempt to sell them.

Originally, they'd thought that it would be best for Justin and Michael to stay at the diner so they could greet any of the potential fans who might want them to sign the comic, but Ben was sick with the flu and everyone agreed that he shouldn't be out in the weather.

Mel and Lindsey took two large stacks and set off toward the lesbian bar, Connie Linguist. Ted and Emmett agreed to cover the area around Boy Toy and Brian swore he could get into Babylon.

After some discussion, Michael ended up staying behind with Ben to sign as the writer of the comic, and Justin went off with Brian to peddle them on the street.

"I think Ben's interested in Michael," Justin said, walking a little more quickly to keep up with Brian's long strides.

"Yeah?" Brian shrugged.

"What do you think? Do you think Michael's interested?"

Brian looked both ways before crossing the street and didn't answer.

Justin frowned. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course. I always listen to you." Brian slowed and threw his arm over Justin's shoulder. "I just don't have anything to say on the topic." He leaned in and licked Justin's ear. "I don't really care if Mikey's interested."

Justin squirmed as the icy air stung where Brian had licked him and shifted his stack of comics. They were selling them for $15 a piece, which was a steep price to pay for a comic, but Brian was convinced they'd sell because of the novelty factor. "And the blond boy ass factor," he whispered against Justin's ear before biting his neck.

They reached the corner across from Babylon and Brian dropped his arm. "Look, you aren't going to be able to get in."

Justin stood up straight and began to protest.

Brian tapped Justin's mouth with his fingers. "There's no way you'd even pass for eighteen. I'll see if I can get in with my ID. Give me a few more comics."

Justin handed over ten more from his stack and Brian balanced them carefully. He ran a finger under his eyes, smudging his eye-liner in just the right way. His nails were freshly painted black and under his dark jacket he was wearing his hottest black shirt and tightest black pants.

Brian leaned in and kissed him, sweet and slow. Justin's legs turned to water and he nearly dropped to his knees to suck Brian off right then and there.

"Be a good twink and you should sell yours in no time flat," Brian said, taking off across the street. "Meet you at the diner later. Unless I find someone else to go home with."

Justin sighed. Why did he have to do that? Ruin a perfect moment with the reminder that Justin was and always had been the back-up plan when it came to getting laid.

Brian was right; the blond boy ass did count for something it seemed, just as it did for tips at the diner. Justin sold out of his first stack and his second stack before Lindsey and Mel had even returned once.

It was on his third trip back for more that it happened.

He was taking a short-cut through an alley, probably not the wisest move, when he heard it. Gorgeous melody and eloquent tones; someone was playing the guitar and they really knew how to make the instrument sing. Justin stepped around the corner and found the source of the music. Dark, brooding, and intense--the lead singer of The Minions Of Evil stood on the corner, guitar case open, playing with his eyes closed.

Justin stood silently, afraid that if he moved, he'd disturb the energy that seemed to just flow from the guitarist's hands. As the song continued, he inched closer, pulling out a five from the wad of cash he was carrying from the sale of Rage. When dark, vibrant eyes met his he dropped the five into the guitar case and was thanked with a soft nod.

Justin stayed for two more songs, putting two more fives into the case before turning to go. The cost of one comic seemed paltry for the beautiful music he'd been lucky enough to hear.

"Hey, wait a minute."

Justin looked back and the guy stopped playing, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. "Ethan Gold. And you are?"

"Justin Taylor." Ethan's hand was cold and Justin held it between his own for a moment, wanting to warm it up. It wasn't until Ethan tugged gently at his hand that Justin realized that maybe it wasn't the most appropriate gesture to make with someone he'd just met.

"I've seen you around school. You're in that band with Kinney, yeah?"

Justin nodded.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but we're going to kick your ass at Battle of the Bands." Ethan smiled.

"If what you were just playing is any indication, I'm inclined to agree with you."

Ethan placed his guitar carefully in the case and pulled some gloves out of his pocket. "You alone tonight? Looking for some company?"

Justin shifted. "Actually, I was out selling my comic book." He motioned with his hand in the direction of the diner. "I was just going to get another load."

"Wait. I've seen fliers for this--Rage, right?"

Justin smiled.

Ethan continued, "How was it marketed, again? A gay superhero of tomorrow for the gay masses of today?"

"Yeah. The slogan was Brian's idea."

"Brian. He's your--boyfriend?" Ethan cocked his head. "He never seemed like the boyfriend type."

"He isn't."

"He isn't your boyfriend or he isn't the boyfriend type?" Ethan leaned close and Justin could smell his warm, spicy scent.

"I guess he'd say both."

"Well, I'd like to see this gay comic of yours. Have any on hand?"

Justin waved in the direction of the diner again. "I sold out. I've got to get some more."

"I wanted some coffee anyway. How about I tag along?"

Justin's heart hammered in his throat. "Sure."

Michael eyed Ethan suspiciously when Justin brought him up to the table to get a copy of the comic. Ethan flipped through the pages and pulled out the fifteen dollars that Justin had put into his guitar case. "Well worth the money," he said, handing it over to Ben.

Justin smiled and joined Ethan at the counter for a cup of coffee. "Just to warm up before I head back out to peddle my wares," he joked, shimmying his ass a little.

Ethan laughed and pushed dark curls out of his eyes. "You're really an amazing artist. Can you play guitar as well as you draw?"

Justin shook his head. "No. But I'm not bad. Nothing like you, though."

Ethan sniffed. "It'd be hard to be as good as me. I was a child prodigy, spent my early years at the Pittsburgh Conservatory, but was kicked out when I refused to learn how to read sheet music. I think it stunts creativity and closes the artist off to possibilities."

Justin's eyes fell to Ethan's lips. They were pink and a little chapped. He had a strong urge to lean over and lick them. They weren't lush like Brian's, but they were straight and seemed honest, nothing to hide in that mouth.

"I'd like to hear you play, though," Ethan continued.

"Sure. Whenever you want."

"How about tonight? My place is just a few streets over, and my parents are out of town for the weekend."

Justin studied Ethan's hands cupping the warm mug of coffee. He thought about Brian at Babylon, cruising for a fuck, anyone at all, anyone who wasn't Justin, because he was just the back-up plan.

"I understand if you can't. I mean with your boyfriend and--"

"No. I mean, yeah. I mean, let's go."

Ethan smiled and touched his face. "You're not going to regret this."

And, really, Justin didn't know if he regretted it or not. The sex was good, really good--not fireworks exploding and nuclear bombs going off like with Brian, but he didn't know if that was really necessary. After all, a relationship should be about more than sex, right?

And it wasn't as if he and Brian were exclusive. Brian had been fucking anyone and everyone from day one.

So why did he feel like he was cheating?

Maybe it was because Brian didn't know about Ethan. Justin was too chicken shit to tell him, mainly because Ethan was the lead singer and guitarist for Mangina's self-proclaimed adversary, The Minions Of Evil.

And maybe it was because Brian wasn't fucking one person on the side, but dozens of them. In fact, Brian rarely fucked the same person more than once, and if he did it was by accident because he'd forgotten he'd fucked the person before.

No, what Justin was doing with Ethan was something else entirely, because it wasn't just sex; it was emotional and romantic and much more like a boyfriend than Brian had ever been.

Ethan penned notes at school outlining the ways in which he found Justin beautiful. He wrote a song for him--Brian had only ever written a song for Lindsey. Ethan asked for exclusivity, begged for it even, and Justin almost wanted to give it to him. But then he'd see Brian, or get a few hours alone with him, and things would change.

Brian wasn't the boyfriend type, sure. And he never would be. But he supported Justin in ways that other people didn't understand. He told Justin to buck up and be a man. He told him not to cry, to stand up straight, to only lie when they made him or if it seemed like it would be fun, to be proud of who he was and, when the time was right, to do what he wanted, when he wanted, everyone else's opinion be damned.

And he taught him about loyalty, because no one was more loyal to his friends than Brian. No matter how much he bitched and moaned, no matter how many cruel comments he made, he always came through for everyone. Emmett's cosmetology school disaster was only one example of that.

And, sure, though he taught these lessons in inexplicable and sometimes hurtful ways, they were still seeping into Justin's mind and he knew where they were coming from, who they were coming from.

So, loyalty. That was the thing that was rubbing Justin raw. He wasn't being loyal to his non-boyfriend, his friends or his band.

But it felt so good to be wanted, truly wanted.

With Ethan, he was never the back-up plan.

Chapter Six
Stranded At The Drive-In

It turned out that the Allerdice High Battle of the Bands fell on Justin's birthday. Deb and the other waitresses had made a cake especially for him and Lindsey had called, saying that after the contest, they all wanted to celebrate together. That is, if Brian didn't have something special planned.

That afternoon Justin met up with Ethan to give him a good luck blowjob. Not that he needed it. Justin had heard The Minions Of Evil, and there was no comparison. They were the best band in the school.

Then he met Michael and Brian at the school auditorium to set up. He let Brian fuck him in the bathroom while Michael worked on reassembling the drum kit. He came so hard that he whited out, the world blowing bright against his retinas. Blood pounded loudly in his ears and he almost missed it when Brian whispered, "I love doing this with you."

Justin felt like shit.

And he felt like crying when Brian pulled out.

In the hours leading up to the contest, Brian was cool as a cucumber and Michael was a nervous wreck.

"We didn't practice enough and you're still flat on some of those notes!"

"Chill out Mikey. It's too late to worry now. Besides, we're gonna win."

Justin tuned Brian's guitar and didn't speak. They so weren't going to win.

The hours passed quickly and Brian hadn't even mentioned his birthday. Lindsey and Mel showed up with hugs and presents for him, and still Brian didn't say a word. Justin felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and Brian was about to shove him off.

They were the third band to go on. They stood in the wings while band number two, some girl group doing covers of Britney Spears songs, wound up their set. Brian stood relaxed and cool, looking at his fingernails and noting to Justin that they were chipped from practicing all day.

Justin didn't bother saying that all the last minute work Brian had put in wouldn't mean shit. They weren't even going to beat out the girl group ahead of them. Justin didn't know why Brian was so delusional, because they really and truly sucked.

Each band had two songs, and they would be judged by the votes of several 'impartial' judges. Michael had already bitched about the oxymoron of 'impartial' and 'judge' earlier.

When it was their turn, Justin followed Brian and Michael onto the stage and quickly finished his set-up before turning to the crowd. And, God, was it ever a crowd. It seemed that all of Allerdice and some other schools had decided to attend, and his heart quickened in his chest as a zip of stage fright raced through him.

He glanced at Brian, who was messing with the tuning of his guitar. Great. Justin sighed; he'd just tuned that guitar. What the hell was Brian doing?

He waited for a few seconds before looking over his shoulder at Michael, who was staring at Brian for the signal to begin. Finally, Michael looked at Justin, shrugged, and counted out the beat.

The intro went better than Justin had expected; Brian's fiddling with the tuning hadn't gotten him too out of whack. But then it went on too long. Justin glanced over at Brian, who had his head down, focused on his fret board. They passed through the riffs again, and still, Brian didn't sing. Justin looked over his shoulder to Michael, whose eyes were bugged out of his head, and when the next round came, Justin opened his mouth and started in on the first verse.

Brian didn't even lift his head.

When the chorus came along, Brian did support him with some background vocals and Justin tried to catch his eye, but Brian was busy mapping out the audience. Apparently, whatever shyness had overwhelmed him had passed, because when the third verse came along, Brian kept singing with him, and they finished out the song in their usual style with Brian singing lead and Justin trying to harmonize.

The applause was more generous than Justin had anticipated, and he smiled at the crowd. Brian plucked a few notes and then said into his microphone, "This song is for my girl, Lindsey."

The crowd clapped and cheered. Justin could make out Lindsey in the front row, grinning happily.

"It's called You're A Cunt Eater And I Love You."

Justin's head nearly swiveled off as he stared at Brian.

Brian grinned and waved at Lindsey in the front row. "I do love you."

Lindsey appeared momentarily stunned but then just grinned and blew Brian a kiss. Mel looked like she was going to cut Brian's cock off if he got too close.

Lindsey screamed, "I'm a cunt eater and I love you, too!"

She was bizarrely giddy, considering she had just been outed to the entire student body, but then Justin couldn't look any more because the song had started and he had to concentrate on some complicated fret work.

When their set was over, Justin quickly packed up his stuff and hauled it away. Brian grinned and hummed to himself; he seemed quite happy. Justin passed Ethan on his way off stage.

"You were amazing," Ethan said. "The band sucked, but you? Hot. Amazing."

Justin smiled and glanced back toward Brian. "Thanks."

"Here, I've got a birthday present for you." Ethan handed him a gold envelope with a card inside.

This card entitles the bearer to one night at the Fitz Hotel with one Ethan Gold. Chocolate, romance and pampering. Good for tonight only.

It had his birthday scribbled across the bottom.

"So what do you say?"

Justin looked over his shoulder at Brian. "I don't know."

"You don't have to decide now. Tell me after the set, okay?"

"Sure."

Ethan nodded and then straightened his shirt and said, "Now I'm gonna go kick your ass."

"It isn't like it's even going to be a challenge."

Brian appeared beside him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. "Good job, shrimp." He eyed Ethan. "What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy?"

Ethan smirked and leaned forward, kissing Justin's cheek. "See you later. Shrimp."

Brian's arm tightened around his neck and he asked, "What was that about?"

Justin shrugged, stuffing Ethan's card into his pocket. "Let's go before Mel comes to kick your ass."

"No, no, no. We're staying. Besides, Lindsey didn't mind. She's ready to come out."

"Are you?" Justin wondered if Brian had thought through the implications of announcing that his 'girlfriend' was a lesbian.

Brian shrugged. "Sure. I guess."

The Minions Of Evil were set up and had started the intro to their first song. Ethan's voice boomed over the amplifiers, "I'd like to dedicate this first one to Justin. It's his birthday and I want him to have a great one. Happy birthday, Justin."

Brian's eyes narrowed, and Justin could feel his gaze through every layer of skin, through his muscle, down to his bone. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

He couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry." His voice felt like sandpaper.

"Apologies are bullshit."

Emmett, Ted and Lindsey swooped in on them, grinning and happy. "You are such an asshole, Brian Kinney!" Lindsey shouted, hugging him tightly. "But goddamn, you're brilliant."

Mel swaggered up behind, hostility evident but contained.

Ben arrived in the group moments later with a copy of Captain Astro number 18 wrapped in plastic for Michael. "For working so hard and doing such a great job."

Michael stared at the comic and said, "Wow. I'm not sure anyone's ever done anything this nice for me before. And it's not even my birthday; it's Justin's."

Ben threw his arm over Michael's shoulder. "I wanted to show you that I--cared."

Ted blinked rapidly and looked up at Emmett with that hopeful look in his eye. They'd been seeing a lot of each other ever since they sold comics together the prior month.

Lindsey, still clinging to Brian, said, "Speaking of, what are your plans for Justin's birthday?"

Brian smirked. "I don't have any."

"What? Of course you do!"

Brian shrugged. "What'd he do to deserve a celebration? Get born? Everyone did that. That's no achievement."

Michael said, "Well, what about the fact that he saved your ass on stage tonight when you choked?"

Everyone waited for Brian to say something, and when nothing came, they looked to Justin. He felt a darkness looming deep inside.

Brian met Justin's eyes steadily. "I think he's got other plans, anyway. Don't you, Sunshine?"

Justin felt the free fall. Cliff. He'd been shoved over.

"Yeah. I think I do."

[Intermission]

Stranded at the drive-in
Branded a fool.
What will they say
Monday at school?

[/Intermission]

Chapter Seven
Mooning

His life wasn't nearly so hectic after that.

No more band practice. No more comic, because Michael wouldn't even look at him, much less speak to him. No more fucking Brian all the time, and so what if that actually seemed like a pretty big loss? He had Ethan now.

And if Justin had his way, there would've been no more diner, either. But Debbie would have none of that, reminding him that his mom needed him. And so he stayed.

Unbelievably, Mangina actually came in fourth at the Battle of the Bands. Brian, despite his prior confidence, seemed unfazed by their failure to win the prize. According to Emmett, Brian successfully managed to press copies of the demo tape into the hands of the Sony and Warner Bros. reps before being escorted out by the principal for saying "cunt" onstage.

The Minions Of Evil came in first, and Ethan's portion of the winnings was spent on Justin's birthday present: a romantic night at the Fitz. Ethan had arranged it with his mother's credit card, and the people at the front desk didn't ask any questions when they arrived.

Ethan promised Justin that he only wanted to be with him. There would be no fooling around, nothing like what Brian did, because Ethan was more mature than that. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted Justin.

Over sparkling grape juice, because Ethan couldn't pull off the champagne, they made more promises. Love, fidelity, the works. It was really quite romantic, but it was missing something. Justin told himself it was just because it was all so new.

Justin came first on his elbows and knees, trying not to think of Brian. He came again on his back gazing into Ethan's eyes and wanting to believe what he felt was love. He couldn't come a third time and Ethan seemed disappointed. Justin tried not to resent him for that.

The next morning he went home and called Daphne to tell her that he and Brian were through; she'd already heard from Lindsey. She said that Brian was apparently a total wreck and that he wouldn't even take calls from Michael. Justin laughed. The day that Brian Kinney was wreck because someone walked out on him was the day Mangina won the first place prize in anything.

There was additional fallout from the Battle of the Bands: Justin knew that Mel and Lindsey were getting a lot of negative attention for the now quite evident fact that they were a couple. He had been standing in the hallway with Ethan and the twins when he overheard a confrontation between Mel and a girl who was angling to have Lindsey kicked off the cheerleading squad for being gay. Justin didn't know what had started the incident, but it ended when Mel shouted, "Yeah, so what if I eat pussy! At least I do it because I want to and not because some drunk football player wants it as pre-blowjob entertainment!"

He heard later that Mel was suspended for three days. It was typical and entirely unfair. Another reason why coming out could be so precarious. Even so, Lindsey didn't seem unsettled by it all. In fact, she glowed.

Brian came out by association. Justin listened to the murmurs in the halls and worried that someone would hurt Brian or otherwise harass him, but everyone was already so afraid of him because of his goth attitude and dark, evil expressions that they seemed to think it way too likely that Brian would come to school with a gun and kill them all if any dared to give him shit about it.

The most absurd rumor that Justin heard was that he'd quit Mangina because of Brian being gay. He wondered sometimes if he was invisible, because he thought it was rather obvious that he was queer. He could be kind of effeminate; he knew that.

Still, no one questioned him, nor did they seem to find anything odd about his new relationship with Ethan. Justin wasn't sure that he was entirely comfortable with being in the closet. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't hide his sexuality in Pittsburgh; he knew that once someone started actively hiding it, he was doomed.

Ethan was disinclined to come out, though, saying that it would be bad publicity for the band. Justin just nodded and agreed. He didn't really care enough to press the issue.

Justin sat with The Minions Of Evil at lunch. He thought that the other band members were boring and pretentious, especially the twins, Bill and Baker. Sometimes Daphne came over for a few minutes to chat. Lindsey and Mel often ambushed him in the hallway. Lindsey would say, "Don't be a stranger", and Mel would say, "At this point, Brian's the stranger." Lindsey would frown and shake her head. Justin thought they'd had the exact same interaction at least ten times.

It didn't stop hurting.

Ethan played a lot of songs for Justin, told him about his dreams of being a successful musician, and spun tales of how they would travel the world together. "First we'll take America--"

"And next the world!" Justin finished for him.

It was very disheartening to realize how easy it was to fool people into believing that he was happy, into believing that he was okay. And with his new perspective, it was strange how the very things about his relationship with Brian that he'd thought he couldn't stand turned out to be not a very big deal. Or maybe not the biggest deal.

The biggest deal was that he'd fucked up.

He'd left Brian because he believed that a relationship should be about more than just sex, and now he realized that the standard he'd used to justify his choice to walk away had been the same standard by which Brian had been judging their relationship all along.

More than sex.

But he didn't know what to do when he realized that he'd made the biggest mistake of his stupid, fucking, pathetic life. So he stayed the course, plunged into his commitment to Ethan like a jaded virgin on her wedding day, hopeful and wishful and already preparing for the disillusionment.

It didn't take long.

The Minions Of Evil played nightclubs on most Saturday nights, and generally, Justin would attend unless he was working. It was fun to be the guy who went home with Ethan at the end of the night. It was good to know that he was Ethan's number one plan and that all the fawning fans could look and wish all they wanted, because Ethan was with him.

Ethan had been approached by Sony music after the Battle of the Bands, and they'd made it clear that if Ethan were to sign with them, Justin would have to be out of sight indefinitely. It was important that fans believe that they could be the one for Ethan. The target market for The Minions Of Evil would be teenage girls and straight frat boys.

Ethan wasn't pleased about that.

But still--they were offering a lot of money and an unbelievable chance of a lifetime. Even Ethan's mom was willing to consider letting him delay his first year of college to see how this opportunity panned out.

Sony arranged a show in Philadelphia for some big wigs and flew Ethan, the other band members, and some of their friends out for the occasion. Ethan asked Justin to stay behind. The agent had given specific instructions--no boyfriend.

Apparently the agent hadn't specified no one-night stands.

Monday, at the lunch table, the gory details of Ethan's fan-fucking were hashed out in a heated fight between Ethan and Baker. Justin sat in silence, trying to swallow his food.

"Shut the fuck up and mind your own goddamn business!" Ethan yelled, fists clenched and knuckles white.

Baker shouted, "You should've shut the fuck up the other night. Bill and I could hear you squealing like a pig, taking it up the ass and begging for more!"

Justin stood up and left the lunchroom. He found out that throwing up sometimes happens when one realizes that they traded the love of their life for a fucking guitar and a lie.

And that was the end of Ethan for him. Over. Sayonara, baby. Once Justin knew what he wanted, he always acted, and now he knew--he wanted out.

Of course they had one last showdown; it couldn't be avoided. Ethan followed him to the men's room, pandering to him and trying to calm him down. Justin rinsed his mouth out. He glared at Ethan and hissed, "You're a liar!"

It made him feel better to be angry with someone besides himself. Tears filled his eyes; he'd been so fucking wrong.

"It was one stupid mistake. Look at how many times you forgave Brian!"

Justin laughed through his tears. "Brian? I never forgave Brian. I didn't have to. Because he never promised me anything. You did."

And so that chapter of his life was over.

Now, what to do with all of his empty time? Besides moon over Brian, that is.

Justin's father said he would pay for private school next year if Justin demonstrated some interest in one or more of several stereotypical hetero-normative activities. On the list were the following items:

1. Girls
2. Sports
3. Cars

Cars, bleh, boring. Justin wanted to laugh, because during his time working in the diner on Liberty Avenue, he'd met plenty of gay men who knew more about sports and cars than his father or any of his beer-drinking breeder friends. Dating girls was definitely out. So, he supposed he could fill some of his free time with sports, see what he liked; maybe he'd find something besides art that he excelled in.

Coach Messing looked him over and questioned him carefully. "Track," he said, with a note of finality. Justin agreed; running in circles had to beat any team sport involving bats or touchdowns.

The first day of practice was a warm, brilliant spring day. Justin was stretching when he first noticed him: hot, blond, sweating in the sun.

"He's hot. But straight." Brian squatted beside him wearing a track uniform.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've been on the track team for four years. I think I should be the one asking you that question. So, tell me, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Taylor! Kinney! Stop the chit-chat and stretch it out. Kids, come on!" Coach Messing yelled.

Brian dropped back and began the stretching routine. His hair was looking mangy; it was obvious he hadn't dyed it in a long time and his natural brown was coming through. Also, there was no black paint on his nails.

"Going straight edge?" Justin asked.

"Hardly." Brian rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and wrapped his palms around his insteps. "Track regs. Coach Messing and I have a deal."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't 'look like a freak'--his words, mind you--and I get to run track. Although, with the quality of the new recruits they're bringing on, maybe I don't want to be on the team after all."

"Why are you willing to compromise yourself just so that you can run track?" It didn't sound like Brian. Mr. No Apologies, No Regrets. Mr. Take Me Or Leave Me.

Brian shrugged, squinting into the sun. "It's the one thing I'm good at."

"You're good at lots of things." Justin started to say more, but Brian jumped up and moved to another position, effectively cutting off conversation.

Justin wondered why Brian had even sat down next to him to begin with.

The first day was challenging, but Coach Messing seemed to believe that Justin had potential. He could tell by Brian's appraising looks that he was impressed with his times, too.

"You just need to lift some weights, Taylor. Build up those muscles in your legs," Coach Messing said, dragging Justin into the weight room to get started.

Justin supposed it couldn't help to get a little definition. He'd never been into the whole 'body' thing, but if he had any hope of ever getting back with Brian, maybe he should give a little more thought to how he looked.

Coach Messing introduced Justin to his weight-training partner, Chris Hobbes, the hot guy he'd noticed earlier. Hobbes wasn't an asshole. Well, not entirely. He talked pretty happily to Justin about school and track and some girl named Anna. Justin smiled and chatted back, constantly aware of Brian's eyes on him from across the room.

Hobbes muttered, "The fag is checking you out."

Justin felt his cheeks heat. He kept his eyes down and grunted vaguely.

Coach Messing came over to instruct them on the proper technique for bench pressing. Justin wasn't keeping his hands far enough apart on the bar. The rest of the class broke up, heading into the locker rooms to clean up as Coach monitored both Justin and Chris through an additional set of reps.

"Good work, guys. Go clean up."

By the time they got to the showers, every one else had gone. Justin carefully kept his eyes averted. In his recent sex-free state, he was prone to spontaneous hard-ons at the worst times. He soaped quickly and turned off the shower.

That's when he noticed: Hobbes was checking him out. And not being very subtle about it. Justin acted like he didn't notice and strode off to put on his clothes.

Brian was wrong. Apparently, Chris Hobbes wasn't exactly straight after all.

Coach Messing had asked Justin and Chris to stay behind and clean out the equipment room to make up for being late to practice, then cutting up in the weight room and "potenially endangering themselves and other students." Brian had smirked at him, shaking his head, as he threw his towel over his shoulder and headed toward the showers.

Now Justin and Chris were sitting down in the dusty, sweltering equipment room drinking soft drinks and hoping that if they just spent enough time there, they could go home without really doing any work.

Later, Justin had a hard time knowing if Chris was trying to instigate something with him or not. It had all started innocently enough, with Chris telling him about a date he'd been on with a girl who was known to be easy.

Chris closed his eyes, retelling the story, describing the way her hand had felt on him, and Justin swallowed thickly. Chris was hard. Justin could see his swollen cock stretching his jeans tight.

"You're hard," he whispered.

Chris licked his lips.

It seemed harmless enough. It was easy, even, to open Chris' fly, wrap his hand around Chris' cock, and just jerk him off. Hard and fast before any second thoughts could set in. Chris kept his eyes closed, bit his lip, and broke into a sweat as he shook through his orgasm. Justin couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Kids, how's it coming in here?" Coach Messing called.

They scrambled and by the time Coach turned the corner, they appeared reasonably presentable.

"Didn't make much progress, I see." Coach shook his head good naturedly and said, "Well, enough's enough. Go on home."

The next day, Chris asked Coach to change weight training partners, using the excuse that Justin was a bad influence, as evidenced by the prior day's cutting up and subsequent punishment.

Coach didn't appear to believe Chris, but he did assign him to Walker Johns, leaving Justin with a nice girl named Berenice.

It turned out that wasn't the end of it, though.

Chris Hobbes apparently didn't appreciate Justin introducing him to his potentially bisexual self. He took to shoving him in the hall, calling him a faggot, and harassing him in many and varied ways. He destroyed Justin's locker. Stole his books.

Justin considered telling his mother about the harassment but could only imagine the humiliation if she tried to get involved. And the school administration didn't seem to care at all. What difference would a visit from his mother really make?

Besides, he'd fulfilled his end of the deal, and his father was going to pay for him to attend private school next year; he only had to make it until May and he'd be home free.

Home free and heartbroken.

He stalked Brian whenever he could. Following him home from school, standing around outside his house, calling and hanging up when he answered. He knew it was juvenile, but he couldn't make himself stop. Besides, he was barely fifteen; he just blamed his age.

Brian never said anything to him about it. Never asked him to stop.

Daphne said that Brian had gone completely bonkers after Justin left him, though no one really understood why. "After all, he always bitched about what a pain in the ass you were to him. But he doesn't hang with any of his old friends and he only seems to care about track. Michael is about to have his own meltdown over the whole thing."

Which Justin supposed was true, considering the fact that Michael actually came to him and begged him to talk to Brian. "You're the one he wants. You're the one who should talk to him."

"He doesn't want me. If he wanted me, all he'd have to do is ask."

Michael grabbed Justin's arm. "Then why won't you tell him that?"

"He doesn't want to hear that from me!"

Michael looked as though he was going to punch him out. Justin stuck out his chin and almost dared him to do it. "Besides, Michael, you've finally got what you've wanted since the first moment you met me. I'm gone. He's all yours."

Michael sputtered for a moment before saying, quite reasonably actually, "But you aren't gone. And he's never been mine. Stop being a fucking child and make this right."

Ben had showed up then and Justin realized that they were together. Together.

"Brian misses you," Ben said, quietly.

"See you later, shrimp," Michael said over his shoulder, motioning for Ben to follow. Justin smiled as Ben promptly obeyed. He wondered if Ben knew that he was whipped.

Justin pondered this conversation for days.

He finally decided that Michael was right. He was the one who'd fucked up. He was the one who needed to make it right.

It was Friday night, and the diner was packed. Justin felt like his ass had been tenderized after all the pinches, smacks, and grabs from the patrons. Still, tips were good, so he didn't complain.

He wasn't sure whether he or Michael was more shocked when the door chimed and Brian sauntered in. Michael leapt up to make a place for him at the booth, pulling up a chair and grinning madly. Brian slid in next to Lindsey; she put her arm over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Emmett and Ted welcomed Brian eagerly, and Ben looked pleased to see him, too. Justin thought Brian had been taken back into the fold quite nicely. He had good friends.

Justin noticed that, despite showing up at the old haunt and joining his friends for the first time in months, Brian still looked like shit. Dark circles lined his eyes, his hair was unkempt in a not-good way, and he looked miserable, like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

Brian and Lindsey sank into a quiet pow-wow, ignoring the others, who continued their banter. Justin moved to clean the booth just behind them and overheard part of their conversation.

"Brian, you can still fix this. Just tell him that you love him."

Brian shook his head. "I never loved him, okay?"

Justin dropped the coffee mug he'd just picked up. It burst into a dozen pieces as it hit the floor. "Christ!"

He dropped to his knees to clean up the mess, cursing again when he cut his thumb.

Debbie was beside him immediately with a clean towel, clucking and making a big deal out of the injury. He glanced up and saw Brian watching him intently, worry creasing his brow.

Lindsey whispered something in his ear, and Brian just closed his eyes and turned away.

Justin never knew what she said.

Chapter Eight
The One That I Want

"Sunshine," Debbie said firmly.

Justin snapped out of his daze and looked over at her. He'd been lost in thought for who knew how long.

"Didn't you hear me calling you for the last five minutes?"

"No, I'm sorry, Debbie." Justin was sorry. He didn't know what was wrong with him lately, but he couldn't concentrate on anything. He'd thought that knowing that Brian had never loved him would allow him to move on. Instead, he just felt more and more obsessed.

Debbie studied him closely then snapped her towel on the counter. "Come on. We're going to have a talk."

Justin followed her to the kitchen, ignoring the teasing from the patrons that Debbie should spank him, that'd get his attention.

"Sunshine...Justin, what the hell is wrong with you these days?" Debbie's gum cracked as she chewed.

Justin sagged against the wall and let his head drop, his eyes close. "I don't know. I don't know how to stop feeling this way."

"Well, then let me tell you what you're going to goddamn well do, okay?" Debbie pointed her finger in his face and said, "You're going to leave right now. You're going to go to Brian's house, ring his doorbell, and talk to him before you both moon yourselves into fucking comas."

Justin stared at her, open mouthed.

"Got it?"

"He doesn't care for me--"

"Can it, Sunshine. He's fucking miserable over you and you damn well know it."

"He told Lindsey--"

"And since when do you believe a goddamn word that Brian Kinney says about the way he feels? I thought you were smarter than that."

Justin snorted.

"He just looks like a piece of shit that the dog dragged in because he's so happy to be away from you."

Justin couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "You really think that he cares?"

Debbie rolled her eyes, grabbed a plate to deliver to a table and said, "Get the hell out of here. Go on. Go."

Justin didn't need to be told again.

"Hey, shrimp," Brian said, leaning in the doorway.

"Hi."

They stared at each other for a long time. Justin shifted from one foot to the other.

"Gotta take a piss?" Brian asked.

"No." Justin remembered a similar scene in the not-so-distant past. "Wanna go on a walk?"

Brian's eyes fluttered and he looked away, his face crumbling just a little, betraying his emotions. Justin's chest tightened and his throat ached.

"Sure."

"Okay."

It was as simple as that.

Justin fought the grin that threatened to eclipse his face when he heard Emmett say, "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

He and Brian were standing outside the diner, arms around one another, kissing, saying goodbye before Justin's shift.

"Dare I call it the greatest reunification since Germany?" Ben joked.

Michael snorted. "About fucking time." He didn't sound truly happy about it, though. Justin supposed that old habits died hard.

Brian whispered in Justin's ear, "Meet me at Babylon later."

Justin felt him slip something into his back pocket. He nuzzled Brian's throat and asked, "What's that?"

"Fake ID."

"You're so thoughtful." Justin looked up through his eyelashes, smiling flirtatiously. "That may be the best present ever."

"Belated birthday."

There was an awkward moment of silence before Brian kissed him thoroughly to the sound of catcalls and whistles from their friends.

The shift went by quickly. Justin floated in a state of near-bliss remembering the prior night's activities. He'd called his mom and told her he was staying with Daphne, but had actually spent the night with Brian in a treehouse in Lindsey's backyard.

"Lindsey and I used to play up here as kids," Brian had said, stroking his fingers over the old wooden windowsill. "No one comes here now. We'll be alone."

Justin had drawn the rope ladder up before closing the hatch behind him. It was a warm spring night and the sound of spring frogs from Lindsey's parents' pond filled the silence.

Brian had unrolled the sleeping bags and pulled out a few candles. "For light," he'd said, as though to be perfectly clear that it was not a romantic gesture. Justin had stifled a giggle.

Gesture or not, it was romantic, and Justin would never forget the way the light had played on Brian's skin as he moved over him, his arms flexing with each thrust, his eyes closed in pleasure, his mouth open as he came. It had been amazing. Beautiful. Love.

"Sunshine! Pick up your goddamn order!" Debbie whapped him gently on the head. "Snap out of it!"

Justin grinned and muttered, "Sorry, Deb."

She winked.

Babylon was loud and gaudy. Justin was aflutter with nerves and excitement when he walked through the doors. The fake ID that Brian had given him was terrific. The bouncer had checked it closely because Justin looked so young, but he finally let him through, unable to find any flaws.

Justin scanned the room looking for Brian and finally saw him dancing with a hot tattooed guy. He watched appreciatively and then grinned when Brian turned his face away from a kiss.

A few minutes later Brian spotted him and broke away. "You look hot."

Justin felt as though giddy laughter would bubble out of his chest, but he managed to say simply, "You, too."

Brian pulled him out to the dance floor and Justin snorted whatever it was that Brian held up to his nose.

The night spun away faster than time should allow, and it was coming up on his curfew. Debbie would be getting off of her shift soon, and she had promised Justin's mom to give him a ride home.

Brian stood at the bar, gazing across the floor, watching a few guys closely with that hungry look that Justin knew so well. He made a show of checking his watch and then kissed Brian's shoulder. "See you, later."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Curfew, soon. Go find a stud and ask him to dance."

Brian kissed him and Justin pulled away, heading out the door without a backward glance. He hustled down the street, not acknowledging the calls of offers. He'd just reached the entrance of the diner when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him around.

"Hi, stud. Wanna dance?"

Justin laughed and Brian pulled him into his arms, turning him around in the street, humming in his ear and kissing his neck.

"Jesus H. Christ." Debbie tugged them apart and pushed Brian away. "Give the kid's ass a break, okay? He needs his rest so he can fuck you again tomorrow."

Brian rolled his eyes and waved as Debbie dragged Justin away.

It was a good night.

Things at school got pretty dicey, though.

Word got around that he was gay and that he and Brian were a couple. Most people still feared Brian's potential insanity and left them alone, but Chris Hobbes was not one of those people.

Chris took advantage of practice time to harass them both, but mainly Justin.

They were in the locker room getting dressed when Chris first attacked Justin, shoving him into the lockers and calling him a "fucking fairy" and a "fudge-packer". Brian leapt into the fray instantly, and slugs were exchanged before some of the other guys were able to break it up.

They all would have been suspended, but the second most important meet of the year was coming up, so everyone on the team kept silent about the fight. Hostility brewed just under the surface, and the tension between Chris, Brian, and Justin was electric. Even Coach Messing noticed, calling them into his office to discuss the meaning of the word 'team'.

Justin had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Coach exactly what the problem was; instead he'd smiled sweetly and said he'd try harder to get along with Chris. Brian had just grunted.

The other issue was prom.

Lindsey and Melanie were determined to go together, and they were encouraging Ted and Emmett, Ben and Michael, and Brian and Justin to go, too.

"We can't let them keep us down. Come on, Brian, this is your chance to show them. To give a big fuck you to Allerdice High. I can't believe you'd pass that up," Mel said, challenging him with a raised eyebrow and a sneer, knowing just how to get under his skin.

Brian rolled his eyes, but Justin knew that he'd caved.

A few days later Brian said, "Better arrange for a tux, shrimp. Wouldn't want to wait until the last minute."

Justin wasn't a senior, so he'd be going as Brian's date. He told his mom that he was going to the prom and obfuscated by implying that he was going with Lindsey. His mom had met Lindsey and thought she was a lovely girl.

He didn't want to give the wrong impression, though, so he was sure to make it clear. "I'm still gay, though."

She laughed and said, "I didn't think you'd suddenly gone straight, kiddo."

Justin had to hand it to her: she was the coolest mom around.

Other complications came along, tying Justin into knots. Brian would be graduating and going to college. Justin would be going to a private high school, starting over with no friends, without Daphne, without Brian, totally alone. His nerves were strung over this, but he tried to keep it to himself.

Mangina was completely defunct. After Justin had left, Brian and Michael never practiced again. And Justin didn't know if Mel was making it up or not, but she said that Sony Music actually called Brian, said that they'd listened to his demo tape and requested that he stop making music. Surely that was a joke, right?

Besides, Brian was utterly focused on track. It turned out that he had a scholarship riding on his performance this year, and his family didn't have the money to send him to college without it. He and Justin trained constantly, after school, on the weekends. Justin didn't mind. The endorphins released by the constant exercise left Brian sweet and more likely to make love slowly than to fuck his brains out. Justin was still enough of a romantic to appreciate the distinction.

Justin watched Brian double lap the slowest runner from another team and speed across the finish well ahead of Hobbes, who was in second place.

Brian was amazing. He ran like it wasn't even an effort, his legs so fast that they were a blur, his body cutting through space and time. It was beautiful.

Justin spotted Daphne in the bleachers and waved at her. His heat was coming up, and depending on the outcome of the race, he'd move into the finals. He jogged in place and stretched some more, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach.

Chris Hobbes crossed in front of him, still breathing heavily from his previous race, and said, "I'm going to kick your faggoty ass."

Justin ignored him.

"Justin!" Emmett called and he walked over to the bleachers. Emmett was holding a dirty penny between his forefinger and his thumb. "For good luck."

"Thanks, Em." Justin didn't know what to do with it, so when Emmett turned his back, he dropped it under the bleachers.

The starter gun was always so loud, and Justin always had a moment of panic that he would just not go when it went off, that time would stand still and he would be frozen between his pounding heartbeats.

But then air was pushing against him, providing resistance to his sprint, and he knew he'd taken off. He cleared his mind, focused on the finish line, and flew. Soared.

He saw Chris in his periphery and kicked it harder. Suddenly he was down, gravel biting into his palms, cutting his knees. The impact was hard and he bit his tongue when his jaw snapped together. Blood filled his mouth and he spit it out on the track.

The feet of the other runners pounded past him, and he lifted his head in time to see Chris pass over the finish line.

Justin's ankle throbbed where he'd been kicked, his leg swiped from under him.

He fought off Coach Messing's hands and stood up on his own, limping toward the locker room.

"He fucking tripped me!"

"I know, I saw," Brian replied calmly.

"He fucking tripped me!"

"I know." Brian bit into his sandwich. "How many times are you going to repeat it?"

"Until I understand why they didn't disqualify him!"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Well, shit, I guess I'll need to invest in a gag until I can afford to have your vocal chords cut."

"Fuck you. You at least won. I would have won! I was so close!"

"I know."

"I mean, did you see me? I was fucking flying! I was about to set a record!"

"You weren't that fast, shrimp."

"Yes, I was! Goddammit, Brian, why aren't you angry about this?"

"I am. But what can I do? It's over."

Justin fiddled with his french fries and noticed that the new waiter wasn't doing a good job keeping the patrons' water glasses filled. He thought about bitching to Debbie about it, but decided that he didn't want to take on extra shifts if they fired the guy.

"I don't know. But I'm really angry."

"I've gathered that. Maybe you and Mikey should do a comic about it."

Justin snorted. "What? Rage is foiled by a supervillain whose power is tripping people who aren't expecting to be tripped."

"Well, maybe that's your fault, then. Maybe you should have been paying more attention."

"And maybe you should suck my cock so that I feel better."

"Maybe."

Chapter Nine
It's Raining On Prom Night

Due to another competitor developing mono, Justin still qualified to go to the city finals, and Coach Messing had agreed to allow him to run if his ankle was healed by then. Justin was sure that it would be.

In the meantime, they still had the hurdle of Prom to get over.

Brian was pissy about the whole thing, worrying that he'd get kicked off the track team for it, but still determined to get one good 'fuck you' in to the school before he graduated.

Lindsey was having dress angst, and Melanie insisted that she was just going to wear a suit.

"Well, isn't that sweet and butch of you," Brian remarked, painting his fingernails black again for the occasion.

Emmett was waving a magazine over Brian's fingers, attempting to keep the smell of the polish from wafting Ted's way. Ted was trying to enjoy his lunch, as he'd stated several times, to no avail.

"Is Justin wearing a dress?" Mel asked.

"Hey, why are you being mean to me?" Justin asked.

"Because you're too fucking cute and you deserve to have some one picking on you."

Emmett ran a hand through Justin's hair and said, "Oh, Mel, he's got plenty of that," indicating the jock table across the room.

She groaned. "Bastard. I've half a mind to kick his ass for you."

Justin didn't comment about Mel being the size of a toothpick and instead just smiled in appreciation of the sentiment.

Besides, Justin had just about had it with Chris Hobbes, himself, and he might not need Mel or anyone else to beat Chris up for him if things continued as they were.

Brian caught Justin's eye and asked, "You did get a black tux, right? Should I have painted my nails navy?"

"Actually, I got a powder blue tux with ruffles."

"Okay, that will go great with my pink taffeta dress."

Mel chuckled. "And the secret is out: Brian Kinney is a secret bottom boy."

"You should hear him beg for it," Justin agreed.

Brian looked up sharply. "Don't push it, Sunshine."

Justin laughed and gathered up his tray. He was supposed to meet Daphne in the library to begin researching the final project for Biology. He was still laughing and looking over his shoulder when he nearly tripped. He dropped his lunch tray to keep from going down and possibly twisting his ankle again.

"Careful, faggot, you don't wanna trip." Chris Hobbes sat, leg extended. "You might hurt your ankle again. And what would the team do without a fairy like you?"

Justin lunged for Chris and got in a solid punch before he was pulled off and Brian was blocking him from blows. Chris struggled against the other jocks holding him back, yelling, "Fucking queer! Fucking faggot!"

Brian stood in front of Justin, preventing him from getting to Chris. Justin took a deep breath and yelled, "Did you all hear him? He called me a faggot."

Justin's hard words elicited a startled gasp from the whole room. He continued, "And Chris Hobbes doesn't like faggots. Or maybe..." Justin met Chris' eyes, sneer harsh on his lips. "Maybe he likes them too much. You see, Chris Hobbes let me give him a hand job."

Chris struggled to break from the jocks holding him and Brian lunged forward in case he succeeded.

The cafeteria was silent.

"That's right. You heard me. Chris Hobbes let the faggot give him a hand job. And he loved it."

Ben, Emmett, and Ted were behind him now, and Justin heard the cafeteria explode around him. Brian grabbed his arm, and between the four of them, they pulled Justin out of the cafeteria.

All the while Chris Hobbes was restrained by his team-mates screaming, "I'll fucking kill you! You're fucking dead!"

Strangely, Hobbes seemed to back off after the incident in the cafeteria and Justin thought smugly that it was over. Brian disagreed by rolling his eyes whenever Justin brought it up.

Justin chose to ignore him.

Prom night finally came and Brian arrived in his Jeep to pick up Justin, also ferrying Mel and Lindsey. His mom insisted on pictures, and Brian kissed Justin right in front of her. She gasped a little, said, "Oh!" under her breath, and then took a picture of the two of them together.

Lindsey looked lovely in yellow satin and Melanie was actually wearing make-up, which threw Justin off momentarily.

"Mel, you look--" Justin buckled his seat-belt. "--dapper."

Mel tweaked her bow tie and grinned. "I thought I looked damn cute, myself."

"I think she looks gorgeous," Lindsey said. "Don't you think Justin looks gorgeous, too, Brian?"

Brian rolled his eyes and started the Jeep. "He looks better than a ten-dollar whore, I guess."

"Brian!" Lindsey chided and Brian just shrugged.

Justin didn't mind, because Brian had whispered during the pictures that Justin looked so good that he wanted to skip Prom and fuck him all night long. What the girls didn't know was his to savor.

Emmett and Ted, Ben and Michael arrived at essentially the same time and everyone walked into the Prom together. Daphne was at the prom with the cute math geek she'd been dating off and on since meeting him at Homecoming. His name was Derek, and he was sweet to Daph, and that was all that mattered to Justin.

"You came!" Daphne threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. She tasted like alcohol.

"What've you been drinking?" Justin laughed and whirled her around. "Of course I came; you knew we were going to be here."

"Vodka, and I wasn't sure that you guys wouldn't back out at the last minute."

Derek smiled tightly at him. It was obvious that he wanted his date to untwine herself from around Justin.

Justin did a quick dance move with Daph to spin her into Derek's arms, leaning in close to whisper, "In case you didn't know, I'm gay. Not a threat at all."

Derek blushed and looked nervous. Justin just laughed.

Brian showed up at that moment with punch and a big, fat frown on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"People are already giving Mel shit about her tux."

Daphne tracked the room until she saw Mel and Lindsey on the dance floor. "Oh my God! She looks so cute!"

Brian said, "Well, you look hot, Daphne. I'd fuck you."

Daphne blushed and smiled bigger than Justin had ever seen her smile before. "Thanks, Brian. Um, you, too."

A new song began and Daphne squealed. "Justin! This is our song! Come on, let's dance!"

Justin looked at Brian in bewilderment. He wasn't aware that he and Daph had 'a song', but he followed her out to dance anyway. Poor Derek. He kind of felt bad for the guy.

He noticed that Ted and Emmett were keeping to the corner and that Ben and Michael seemed parked by the food tables. A few minutes later, Mel coaxed Ted out to join her and Lindsey dragged Michael out onto the floor. Justin had to wonder just what kind of 'fuck you' this was if they were all going to keep to the heterosexual norms.

The music changed and Justin recognized an old favorite of his mother's, "Save The Last Dance For Me."

Brian tapped Daphne on the shoulder. "Mind if I borrow your dance partner?"

Justin grinned. He couldn't believe it. Brian was going to dance with him, to a slow song, at the Prom, in front of everyone. This was what he'd been expecting. This is what he'd come here for.

And that's where Justin's memory ended.

People filled in the blanks for him later. Daphne said that he and Brian had danced, that they'd been beautiful together. She said that Brian kissed him and that they'd been hot.

His mother told him that Chris Hobbes had hit him in the head with a baseball bat when he and Brian were walking back to the jeep.

Emmett told him that Brian was a walking zombie.

Lindsey told him that Brian sent his love. Justin knew she was lying.

Flashes would come to him in dreams:

Justin swinging around and around, clasping Brian's hands in the parking lot, singing the chorus of the one and only song they'd been allowed to dance to before being unceremoniously removed from the prom by the principal himself.

Brian grinning and twirling with him, obviously high from their accomplishment.

Then nothing.

And he didn't know if it was real or just dreams.

Brian never came to visit him. He didn't return Justin's phone calls. He didn't send a card.

Justin overheard them talking to his mother.

"Mrs. Taylor, Justin has suffered damage to the motor cortex--"

In small words, it meant that his right hand and leg were fucked forever, and he'd never draw or run again.

It didn't matter what the big words were.

Justin was released from the hospital three days before the city finals, one day before graduation. He couldn't escape his mother's grasp to see Brian receive his diploma. But with Daphne's help, he snuck out to go to the track meet.

He sat high in the stands, alone. Being near people made him flinch and freak out.

Justin could see Brian stretching below, preparing for the race. As usual, he never glanced toward the bleachers. Even in racing, an audience unnerved him.

Chris Hobbes, who was out of Juvenile Detention already, released on a plea bargain of simple assault and community service, stretched about ten yards from Brian, and Justin noted that they didn't look at one another.

He folded over and rested his forehead on his knees, feeling frightened and overwhelmed. He wondered if it was a good idea to come after all. Luckily, Brian's race was next and he wanted to stay, wanted to see if Brian would win.

The commentator announced the participants in the race and Justin's throat grew tight when he said, "And Brian Kinney running in place of Justin Taylor."

Brian had won his place on the team fair and square, and yet he was underemphasizing his own accomplishments in a tribute to Justin.

The crack of the starting gun nearly sent Justin into a panic and it was more than several seconds before he could calm down enough to look at the track. Brian was trailing Chris just slightly, both of them obviously making excellent time.

"Kinney is pulling up fast. Hobbes is going to have to kick it if--"

And then pandemonium broke loose.

Brian deliberately pulled forward, flung his leg over, and tripped Chris Hobbes, causing him to land on the track face first. Brian didn't stop, running faster than ever and crossing the finish line amidst boos, hisses and screams of foul play.

Justin couldn't stop the tears.

Chapter Ten
We Go Together

Justin heard from Daphne that Brian lost any hope of a scholarship with his 'un-sportsman-like' behavior. She said that he was going to attend school anyway, but only part-time and at Pittsburgh's community college to begin with; he'd have to work to pay his own way through.

In addition, his father had apparently thrown him out, calling him a loser and a cheat. He'd moved in with Michael for the time being.

Still Brian avoided him.

Still he didn't take Justin's phone calls.

Justin worked hard in physical therapy, wanting to be able to walk to Brian without a limp when he was finally able to see him.

Daphne told him that Emmett said Brian was using a lot of drugs, going to Babylon a lot and basically fucking himself over.

Justin ached. He wanted to go to Brian, to fix everything, to make it better, because he understood that he wasn't the only one who was broken.

Michael had come to visit Justin in the hospital. He'd told Justin about the night of Prom. "There was blood all over him, on his shirt, on his face, on his neck. He'd been --" Michael broke off and swallowed hard. "They found him holding you and kind of incoherent."

Brian hadn't even had the presence of mind to call 911. That'd been one of the frightened girls that found them. A girl named Lisette. Michael said that she ruined her prom dress trying to pull Brian away so that she could give the 911 operator a description of the injury.

She came to visit Justin.

She brought daisies.

Justin stared at the ceiling and smoked.

He remembered telling Brian that that he smoked too much. He remembered the beach and the smell of the ocean, the taste of salt on Brian's skin. He thought about the band, the jarring feel of the guitars banging together when Brian lunged at him. He remembered the look of pride on Brian's face the first time he saw the cells for Rage: The Savior of Gayopolis.

Justin rolled over and stubbed the cigarette out on the open windowsill.

Brian's eyes and lips always said the things his words never would.

He remembered the flash of excitement in Brian's eyes the night of Homecoming. The relief and joy when Justin had returned to him. And love. There was love in his mouth, and in his eyes that night in Lindsey's tree house.

He replayed the versions of Prom he'd been told. Brian dancing with him. Brian kissing him. Brian too incoherent to call 911.

Yeah. Justin wasn't the only one who was broken.

But maybe this time he was the only one strong enough to put it back together again.

The day that he walked fifty yards without a limp, he called Daphne.

"I want to see him. I have to see him."

Daphne was quiet for a long moment. "He's not the same guy, Justin. He's so dark now--"

"I don't care. I want to see him."

"All right." She sounded sad and worried, but Justin didn't care. He had to see Brian, had to make things right again. They needed each other. Brian needed him.

"You don't understand him, Daphne. I do."

"All right, Justin, I didn't mention it before, but he's promised to come to the Gay and Lesbian Center's Summer Carnival. And you know he doesn't usually break his promises."

Justin felt sick with nerves.

"Thanks, Daph. Can I ask one more favor from you?"

"Sure, Justin. You know you can ask me for anything."

"Can you get Emmett and come over to my place?"

Brian stood next to Lindsey looking miserable and bored. He wore the letterman jacket he'd been awarded for track, albeit covered with upside down crosses and Nietzsche quotes in black marker. The carnival swirled around him, but he seemed oblivious. Justin hung back, so nervous that he felt nauseous. He opened the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. He lit it clumsily. His hand still gave him problems, but he managed on his own. Daphne's arm over his shoulder gave him courage and he took a deep breath.

"You look great, baby," Emmett said softly, running a hand through Justin's newly dyed hair. "Black looks good on you."

Daphne used her thumb to smudge his eyeliner a little and she kissed his cheek. "You're beautiful, Justin. He's going to die when he sees you."

His leg felt crampy and he rubbed it angrily.

It was now or never.

Brian's face when he recognized Justin was something he'd never forget. His eyes flew wide and his mouth dropped open.

Justin stood a few feet back, hip thrust out, one hand holding his cigarette and the other hooked in the waist band of his leather jeans.

Lindsey shoved Brian forward and Michael asked, "What? Are you just going to stand there?"

Brian blinked and blinked.

Justin tried to breathe.

He thought with sheer terror that Brian was going to turn and walk away. Instead, Brian finally stepped forward, eyes suspiciously bright.

"You look hot," he whispered.

Justin fought a grin and tried to look tough. "Tell me about it..." then he broke into a smile and added, playfully, "--stud."

Epilogue:
Grease Is The Word

Mel and Lindsey left for college a few weeks later. Brian pretended like he didn't care, but Justin knew that the transition was tough for him. Not only was it a reminder of what he'd lost, but Lindsey had been in his life for a long time.

Michael and Ben continued to date, even though Ben went away to school and Michael started a job at the Big Q. Brian teased him about it. "What's that short for? Big Queer?" Michael just punched him in the arm and reminded him of who had chosen to name their band Mangina. That usually shut him up.

Emmett started working at a local couture shop, fitting the most fabulous fags on Liberty Avenue. Ted left for college, but they kept in touch, although they didn't seem to be committed in any significant way.

Brian rented an apartment that was more like a shit-hole above the diner, and Justin spent a lot of nights there. Private school turned out to be a mixed blessing. No one bothered him about being gay--they had a policy of tolerance--but he was behind from his year in public school and he had to do extra work to catch up.

He couldn't run. His leg would fatigue too easily and shake uncontrollably. But he was able to get enough mobility in his hand that with a special computer that his father agreed to buy, (Justin thought it was out of guilt for never visiting in the hospital), he was able to create art again, and he focused on it with a passion.

Brian got a job as a lackey in an advertising firm. He was able to barely pay his rent and his tuition. Debbie fed him freebies from the diner and Justin's mom usually came by with groceries once a week. Brian would protest, but she'd simply push him aside and unload the groceries into the mini-fridge herself.

Justin and Brian continued to fight a lot. They broke up several dozen times before Justin graduated from high school, but they couldn't seem to break free entirely. When Justin was accepted at Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, he moved in with Brian and moved back out within two weeks. Then moved back in two months later. Daphne shook her head and told him that he could came back any time, but that he might just want to cut the drama queen bullshit and stick it out at Brian's the next time until the fight blew over.

So he did.

And they were pretty happy. Happier than a lot of couples. Well, honestly, Justin didn't know any that were any better off, so despite the bad times, despite the arguments, the fight for dominance, and the constant battle of wills, he knew that they had something special.

Brian sat at the window smoking a cigarette and listening to a new album he'd brought home. Justin chopped vegetables to make a salad. The music kind of sucked so he after a few songs he asked, "Who the fuck is this?"

Brian didn't answer, just continued to smoke and brood.

Justin went back to chopping until the next song came on and then he looked up. "Oh my God. This is Ethan's CD."

Brian didn't move.

"You're still jealous about that?" Justin knew that a dig about jealousy would require a prompt denial from Brian. And, yet, he remained silent. "Brian?"

Finally, Brian turned to look at him. "Hey. You know, you look hot."

Justin shook his head, smiling softly.

"You do. You look hot when you're chopping shit up."

Justin put the knife down and crossed to where Brian sat idly smoking. "You bought his CD."

Brian shrugged.

"Why?"

"Come here." He pulled Justin into his lap, nuzzled his throat. "He sucks."

Justin laughed.

"Why would you ever leave me for him? That's just insane. I mean, listen to this crap. Mangina was better than this."

Justin laughed harder.

Brian started to tickle him, tumbling him to the ground. "Oh, you think that's funny, do you? I'll show you funny--"

Sex. That was another reason Justin didn't think he'd ever leave. It was the zip bam boom. It was the bing boom bang. It was millions of atoms colliding at once. Justin tended to get a little grandiose in those moments, imagining that he and Brian created enough heat to light the whole neighborhood, maybe even all of Pittsburgh.

Still, he couldn't imagine not being on his elbows and knees for Brian, coming and coming and coming until he was dry.

Brian held him, wet and sticky, his voice weird and far away. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes I dream that you died. And I think, what if this is the dream?"

Justin remained silent. He feared the same thing sometimes. Maybe he was dead and this was heaven. That brought a bubble of laughter to his throat, remembering the last fight they had and how badly it hurt. Well, maybe it was hell.

"I'm about ninety percent certain that I'm alive."

Brian didn't reply. Justin knew he'd already said too much. He sat up to get something to wipe them off. He paused and without looking over his shoulder said, "Brian, I love you."

A hand smoothing over his back was his answer.

It was enough.

[roll closing credits]

[cue music]

Grease is the word, the word that you heard
It's got groove, it's got meaning! Groove and meaning!
Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion
And grease is the way we are feeling!

[/fade music]

[/end credits]

THE END