Justin paused outside the Liberty Diner and checked his watch.  Two o’clock.  Past the lunch rush.  He opened the door and was engulfed by Debbie’s crushing hug, noisy kiss and soft, “Your call this morning made my whole fucking day.  Welcome back, Sunshine.”

Cheers and applause blasted from the packed Diner draped with a Welcome Home Justin banner and more rainbow crepe paper than New Year’s Eve.  Justin felt like a reluctant political candidate, gripping hands, nodding and smiling.  Who WERE all these people.  Some were strangers acting familiar.  Others were familiar and hanging back like he was a stranger.

He brightened when he saw Emmett jumping up and down at the back and yelling, “Hi Baby!  Over here!” at a booth where Calvin and Blake sat waving.  Fortunately there were some inner things that outer things rarely changed. 

Still on Justin’s arm and on the way to their booth, Debbie pointed out framed copies of his news clips hung between the paintings he’d done in college.  “We framed every one.  A couple of them twice.”  She released her hold and stepped aside.  “And someone special came to see you.”

From the booth beside them, Jennifer sprang up.  “Hello, Sweetheart.”

“Mom!” he grabbed her like she’d fade away, kissed her cheek.  “I thought you’d be at work.”

Jennifer winked at Beaming Deb.  “And tell Debbie I couldn’t make it?”

Justin asked, “Still seeing Tucker?”

“Still seeing Brian?”

“Mom.”  Justin smiled a You-Know-That and answered his own question.

“I can’t stay long, but we want you and Brian over for dinner at least one time before you leave, okay?”

Before he could answer, he felt a tug on his arm and an unfamiliar woman’s, “Excuse me, Mr. Taylor?  Justin Taylor?”

“Yes?” he turned.  Didn’t recognize her at all.

“I’m Sylvie Duncan with the Post Gazette.  Do you have time for a few short questions?”

Shit.  Not now.  Justin politely declined, “Can we maybe do this some other time?”

“Whenever you want.  Just call me when you’re free.  Here’s my card.”

Justin accepted with a “Thank you,” watched her stiffly smile and walk away, could almost see Sunday’s Art Section branding him as temperamental and uncooperative.  Press sometimes had its own interpretation of the intangibles around the facts.  Somebody must have tipped her and she’d made a special trip to see him.  Not the kind of publicity to be blown off.  But right now, family was important.  He’d call Ms. Duncan later.

At Kinnetik’s Art Department…

Brian stood with his Art Director reviewing the day’s latest when Ted waltzed in.

“Brian.  How about an expert to help with that?”

Without looking up, Brian gave a dry, “Sorry, Theodore, I’ve seen your velvet Tosca.”

“Not me.”  Ted waved Justin in and departed with, “I’ll see you tonight,” to Brian.

Justin’s cheery, “Hey,” got Brian’s smiling attention, a couple Hi Justin’s from friendly employees, but also alert stares from two others.  Catching the mix, Brian quickly handed the proofs to the Director. “These are perfect.  Let’s print ‘em.”  Making it clear that no outside celebrity was there to trash their work.  And he didn’t want Justin’s opinion exploited as entertainment.  He parked a hand on Justin’s shoulder and led him out.  “So how was the Diner bash?”

“It was great seeing everybody.  But I don’t remember ever having to talk so much about New York nightlife, if I met any big stars or how much my paintings sell for.  I was kinda more interested in what they’ve been doing.”

“It’s just the first day,” Brian offered as they walked into his office.  “Now that they know, you’ll get your fill of what they’ve been doing soon enough.”

Justin sat on the desk, watched Brian revive his computer screen.  “It seemed a little strange not having Michael and Ben there.”

“Why not give them a call and save Mikey the trouble.”  Brian punched a button on his business phone and set it on speaker.  They heard two rings then Michael’s enthusiastic, “Brian.  I was just gonna call you.  Did Justin get in?”

“I’m here,” Justin bent toward the speaker.  A lot of hum on the line. “Miss you guys.  How are Mel and Linz?  And the kids?”

“Everybody’s fine.  Hunter’s out bike-riding, JR is cuter than ever and Gus is driving everybody crazy, just like his Dad.”

Brian cut in, “No, I think that’s from Mel,” and got an arm shove from Justin.

Michael laughed, “Glad she’s not here,” and continued, “Ben wants to say hi.”

They listened to Ben’s, “Justin it’s great to hear you.  But I’m sorry we’ll miss seeing you.  We probably won’t be back before you leave.  We read about your work in the paper and want to see your next exhibit.”

“I’ll let you know.  So what’re you guys up to now?  Sounds like you’re in a car.”

Michael came back, “We’re…uh…out shopping.  In fact, we’re just pulling into a place now so we have to get going.  But I’ll call you later, okay?”

“My cell number’s still the same,” Justin smiled.

“That’s good to know.  Oh.  The Girls said if I talked to you, I should give you a kiss for them.  So Brian, I’ll leave that up to you.  Gotta go.  Call you later.”

“Bye, Michael.  Bye, Ben.”

“Bye, John-Boy,” Brian added.

“Bye.”  Was Michael’s last word and the connection dropped out.

Justin jumped off the desk.  “Well that wasn’t much of a conversation for Michael.”

Brian stared at the phone with a thoughtful, “No it wasn’t,” then lightened, “But you know how it is when you’re on vacation.  Allllways on the go.  So where are you off to now?”

“Daphne should be getting home pretty soon.” Justin edged around the desk and closed in, slid his arms around Brian’s neck.  “What about you?”

“Checking up on Babylon after I leave here.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by.”  Justin met Brian’s kiss and started to leave, but Brian held his arm.  “What?”

“The Munchers’ request?  Two of them,” Brian grinned and pulled Justin close.

In a residential Toronto suburb…

A four-door sedan stopped in the drive of a modest home, and a suited Woman got out.  Then both back doors opened.  Michael and Ben stepped from the car, joined the Woman and followed her up a walkway past an Ontario Realtors - For Sale sign on the lawn.

Babylon on a Wednesday night.  Tame by weekend standards.  Mostly regulars grouped like frat boys with more space to dance off stress, have personalized fuck breaks or spread tasty gossip.  An occasional cruiser prowled.  But with few fresh cuts to go around, even Brandon looked bored with his entourage.  No top DJ, bizarre contest or special draw except one.  Like playing the lotto, there was always an outside chance that the perfect body, perfect fuck, perfect mate would pick that night to show up.

Brian, still in his working silk with rolled up sleeves leaned back against the far end of the bar and hailed Ted.  “What’s the word?”

Ted drifted over, joined Brian.  “I toured the whole place twice and haven’t seen him.  Maybe you scared him off with that counterfeit act.”

“Maybe.  Go home, Theodore.  There’s no sense in both of us being here on a slow night with the Manager upstairs.”

“I’ll take you up on that and do some more research on Britin Manor.”

“It’s Britin Manor now?”

“It had a kind of classy ring.  You know, I really think we have something there.”

“We do.” Brian looked past Ted and smiled, “But not exactly there right now.”

Ted followed Brian’s gaze to Justin, strolling in and checking out the floor, tight gray tee and slim black jeans.  Several heads turned his way.  Including Brandon’s.

Brandon, tracking Brian’s every move, nudged his Buddy. “Guess what just walked in.  The Wiz Kid who neutered Brian Kinney.  I could go for a piece of that.”

Buddy challenged, “Bet you twenty he’s still off-limits.”

“Kinney’s fizzled out.  Got his ass beat and dumped and he’s keeping his distance.  I’d say this blond’s hot for a lot more spice.”

Ted watched Brandon leave the floor and home in.  “Uh-oh.  Aren’t you gonna go over and defend Justin’s honor?”

“No,” Brian grinned, lifted his drink off the bar and slouched back.  “I’ll just relax and enjoy the show.  It won’t take long.”

“Oh,” Ted tipped his head.  “In THAT case…” he grabbed his near-empty glass and matched Brian’s stance.

Justin saw Brandon sashay in for the kill, turned up his smile, “Hey, Brandon.”

“Long time no see.  How about you and I get a room in back for a little creative session?  I never fucked an artist before, but my ten-cut pounding your sexy little ass could be the inspiration you need.”

“I never fucked you either,” Justin twinkled, “But now that I have the chance…Fuck.  You.”  And he turned and swaggered to the bar, gleeful smile at the Oooooooooh’s from Brandon’s heckling sidekicks.

Brandon took it in stride.  “He’s coming around.  Some take a little more time.”

“Less than twenty seconds,” Ted checked his watch.  “That’s pretty good.”

“Justin doesn’t like to tease assholes.  It gives them too much satisfaction.”  Brian hailed the Bartender, “Two Chivas on the rocks,” then raised his arms high with several loud applause claps, drawing Justin’s searching eyes and big smile.

Ted also waved to Justin, quickly downed his drink.  “Well I’ll leave you two to celebrate.  See you in the morning.”  He added, “Nice work, Justin,” and patted Justin’s shoulder as he left.

“See ya, Ted.”  Justin slouched sideways on the bar and took Brian’s offered drink.  “You liked that?”

Brian raised a brow with a Not-Bad side nod.  “So what line did he use?”

Justin rolled his eyes, exhaled a quiet, “What is it with Tops.” He sipped his drink, set it down then pressed against Brian and looked up with a saucy, “Why didn’t YOU ever tell me I had a sexy little ass?”

“You ARE a sexy little ass and I thought you already knew that,” Brian sweetened back and used a kiss to halt Justin’s groan.  “Wanna dance?”

“Please.  Before I throw up.”

Linked by arms around waist and shoulders, they sidled to the floor and swayed with tactile connection that blocked out potential intruders.

Brian noticed Queeny Bystander and his Flippy Mate in a clumsy vogeur beside them. “If it isn’t The Defectors,” Brian steered closer.  “Have you had enough of Popperz?”

Queeny responded, “It was getting too dreary here with that cop around.  But now that he’s at Popperz, we and our E prefer to be at Babylon.”

“You saw him at Popperz.”

“Having a drink with the Manager,” Flippy casually answered while flailing to the beat. “You must’ve made some impression.  He even mentioned your name.”

“Oh?” Brian faked mild interest.  “In what way?”

“I’d tell you, dear?  But we were only passing through on our way out the minute we saw him.  Say.  You wouldn’t want in on a little foursome later?”

“No, but you might try Brandon.  He’s at least one short tonight.”  Brian exchanged a private grin with Justin.  Then still loosely embraced, they danced themselves out of range of The Defectors’ erratic moves.

Justin quirked a brow.  “What was THAT all about?”

“The usual Narc rumor.  You know Queens.”

“Yeah.  Cops don’t drink on the job.  Had to be a spy from Popperz.”

“You never know.”  Brian hugged Justin and stared over his shoulder.  A fucking private eye?  If it was me, I’d hire a kid like Hunter who could get twice the shit in half the time at a fraction of the cost.  But that’s just me.  On something simple.

Simple wasn’t the case in Toronto.

In pajamas and filling out blocks on a Canadian Visa form, Michael sat in bed beside Ben in specs and paging through another document.  He slapped the form on his lap, crossed his arms in heavy thought and shook a quiet,  “I don’t know.”

Ben rolled eyes toward him.  “You don’t know…if you want to buy that house?  Or you don’t know if you want to leave Pittsburgh?”

“I don’t know.  Both.” Michael raised his arms, dropped them to his sides.  “And you know how it kills me not to say anything yet.”

Ben set down his form, removed his glasses.  “You’re thinking about the reaction from your Mom and all our friends, right?”

“A little,” Michael sneaked a peek at Ben’s steady stare.  “Okay.  A lot.”

“Michael, we have to consider the advantages.  We’ll all be together…you’ll see JR every day…Hunter fell in love with Scarborough.”

“Hunter fell in love with a French-speaking redhead in a tube top.  That hardly qualifies as a major pro.”

Hunter’s sleepy voice floated through the open door.  “Hey.  If you’re gonna discuss my personal life, do it quietly behind my back like REAL parents?”

Michael bolted out of bed, grabbed the door, loudly whispered, “Go to sleep!” at the sleeping bag on the living room couch then quietly shut the door.  He leaned back against it, arms crossed tight. “I just need to go over all the pros and cons again.”  

A few hours and miles later at the Loft…

Dressed in nothing but light patterns through the blinds, Brian lay in bed on his back, staring off in thought.  A mix of Mystery Man and mild Justin disruption in the Loft.  One gave little control.  The other, an addictive high with unpleasant withdrawal effects.  Best option: deal with the mystery in the morning; enjoy the contentment while it lasted.  

Justin bounded naked from the bathroom, blue legal pad in hand, pencil in his teeth.  He flicked on a reading light, thumped to a seat on the edge of the mattress, set the pad on his lap and started sketching.  “Thanks for the paper.  I just had to get this down while I’m thinking about it.”

Brian ran his hand along Justin’s back, hip, thigh.  “At this rate, I’ll have to move you back in here.” 

“I’ll go back to the house tomorrow when you leave for work.  All these prelims are nothing unless I complete a few of them.”  Then Justin paused, leaned back on an arm and offered, “You wanna come over for dinner?  If you’re not working late.”

Fuck the night job.  “What time?”

Justin’s smile grew.  “Six okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

Justin returned to his drawing.  “Great.”  An afterthought and quick look. “I’m not keeping you up, am I?”

“Obviously not.”

Justin set his pad aside, twisted back to lock eyes with Brian, lowered slowly, kissed him and pulled up inches away.  “A few more minutes.  Then I’ll blow your mind out.”

“I was practicing my usual biting commentary, not commanding a performance.  If I was that uncontrollably horny, I’d have tricks running through in shifts.”

“Ah, the good old days,” Justin wrinkled his nose.

Brian rode his hand up Justin’s thigh.  “Finish your drawing.  My dick will be around a lot longer than a creative moment.”  Then he squeezed and smacked Justin’s thigh.

Justin tipped his head pensively, “Hm.  Dick…round…lot longer…Do you realize that you have an automatic knack for - ”

“Homework, Picasso,” Brian stiff-arm shoved Justin back to sitting.

“I think it’s supposed to be Warhol.”

“Warhol,” Brian softly corrected.  He watched Justin smile, grab the legal pad and return to business.  Watched him scribble, fidget, pause, sniffle, press a hand to his nose and snort, shift position and shake the bed, fold one leg under, stretch both out.  Every mundane movement somehow seemed spectacular tonight.

Justin stopped to refresh his mental image and found himself looking around the room instead.  Its color, dimension, low light in the kitchen beyond the open bedroom doors.  He flipped a page and started sketching the scene’s basic lines and angles.  Until it was interrupted by Brian, off the bed and heading for the door. “If I’m disturbing you, I can work at your desk.”

“Stay there,” Brian smiled.  “I’ll be right back.”

Justin watched Brian blend into the shadows.  Light rippled over his body as he moved like a night god floating in the elements of his personality – dark and light.

Brian stopped at the front window and parted the sheers just enough to see out.  A Couple  walking.  Parked cars.  Nothing unusual.

Justin flipped another page and drew only shapes.  Patches of light.  Then he stopped again and stared at the drawer that had on-and-off been his.  Tossed a sneak peek over his shoulder.  Brian’s shadow was still against the window.  So Justin leaned forward, gripped the drawer handle and edged it open.

Brian, a shadow at the window, parts the sheers to think more than look.   Justin finds the drawer empty except for a black ring case.  On their sides and faced away, Michael and Ben sleep close to the mattress edges.  And on a deserted expressway entry, in the pale light of a street lamp, an eighteen wheeler stops to give a weary soldier a lift.

Song: “Bloodlock” by Sasha

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