With morning light, Justin, sketchbook in his lap, sat cross-legged on the floor and gazed at the tree branches, separating each layer in his mind, noting the subtle change in contrast.  Until one gazed back.  Fuck.  Justin swallowed hard, slowly stood up and sidled to the bathroom.

“Brian?” he whispered while looking back, “That goddamned rat’s in the tree.”

“No shit,” Brian tweezer-fished the rat-chewed dark towel from the wastebasket, a sight that made Justin groan and hold his stomach.  “Look on the bright side,” Brian let the towel fall to hiding, “It couldn’t possibly have gotten into anything valuable.”

“The computers?” Justin motioned Brian to the doorway, “See it?” pointed to a dark spot in the branches.  “I have an idea. Go open the Loft door then meet me down there,” Justin pointed to his stretcher corner.

Brian did as requested, met Justin gathering art gum erasers the size of small rocks.

“Think you can hit it with one of these?”  Justin held them out.

“Wouldn’t a broom handle work better?”

“We shouldn’t get too close.  Scott said one time one of his men was working underground and scared one.  It jumped on him and bit the tip of his nose off.”

“Why that old sweet-talker,” Brian grabbed the erasers, looked down and picked up a couple lengths of wood framing.  “Whoever thought that art was such a versatile field.  Here,” he handed one to Justin.  “When it hits the floor, steer it with this.”

Justin smiled, “We DO think alike.”

“NOW you’re scaring me,” Brian moved out, motioned Justin to the other side.

Brian’s first try hit the trunk hard enough to shake the tree and roust the rat.  It scurried down to the floor.  Stamping feet, flailing wood and “Out!  Go!  Watch the hardwood floor!” flushed it through the open door.

A woman’s scream exploded in the hall.

Brian looked at Justin’s wide eyes, dashed out and found Mel plastered to the wall in shock.  “How nice to see your mouth open and nothing coming out,” he gently took her arm.

“Are you okay?” Justin hung in the doorway, spied a clipped packet of papers fanned on the landing and snatched it up.

Mel took two steps, let out a breath, turned and rapid-fired four hits on Brian’s arm.  “Don’t you EVER do that to me again!”

“I didn’t plan on it the FIRST time,” Brian winced, saw Mel grab her bulging stomach.  He gripped her arm, “Inside.  Now.  And just breathe.”  He glanced at Justin, “Get a chair.”

Brian guided Mel inside, Justin ran a desk chair over and they both eased her down.  “Is it bad?” Brian asked, then to Justin, “Get her some water,” back to Mel.  “I’m taking you in.  Which hospital?”

“No.  No,” she wiped a hand across her forehead, “It’s okay now,” she blew a breath.

Justin handed her an open bottle.  “Are you sure?”

She took a sip, nodded yes and handed the bottle back to Justin, looked at Brian’s worried face and smiled before she caught herself with a brassy, “I knew you two did three-ways but I wasn’t expecting THAT one.”

Ah.  She’s all right, Brian crossed his arms, “Now that our little secret is out, so to speak…what the fuck are you DOING here?”

“Brian,” Justin called from the counter where he’d set the water.  “What IS this?” he read their names on the top page of Mel’s papers, flipped to the next.

“You didn’t talk to him yet?” Mel flared low and saw Brian give a pained side-glance.  “I think I’ll leave you two alone,” she let Brian help her up, looked along the landing with an afterthought.  “You don’t happen to have an armed escort, do you?”

Brian called to Justin, “Keep reading.  I’ll be right back.”

Justin nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

When they reached the car, Mel insisted on getting herself into the driver’s seat, grumbled, “If I’m lucky, I’ll make it to work on time.”

Brian leaned an arm on the roof to be distant yet available. “You could’ve called before you came.”

“Oh yeah?  So how does it feel?” Mel cut, saw his eyes dart to the Loft windows and knew his mind was elsewhere.  “I should’ve let you read it first.”

He smiled back, “If you did it, I’m sure it’s fair and complete.”

She stared a moment at this psuedo Brother-You-Hate-To-Love.  “Thank you for that…and the hospital thing,” then added a harsh, “But don’t let that get around.  People might think we like each other.”

“God forbid hell should freeze over.”

“-again,” Mel glanced at the Loft windows and shut her door. 

Brian entered the Loft, quietly shut the door.  Empty counter.  Moving inside, he stopped when he saw Justin sitting at his easel, still reading.

Justin quickly palmed an eye, cleared his throat, raised his head.  “Was this YOUR idea?”

“Part of the benefit package,” Brian looked off.

Justin did a dramatic nod, stared at his hand brushing over their printed names, looked at Brian with sincere depth.  “I’m not signing this.”

“Why not?” Brian snapped, stepped closer then let his eyes wander, “If it’s about the debt, most of it’s paid, and if the worst came, the Loft is worth-”

“That’s not it,” Justin softly interrupted, again watching his hand float on the top page.

Brian stopped a few feet from him.  “Is there something in it you don’t-”

“What it means,” Justin eyed straight on, “If we sign this…it’s…” he exhaled a breath and looked out the window, shook his head.  How to say this.

“Conventional?” Brian finished, got Justin’s solid stare. “All it is, is a piece of paper.”

“Yeah.  Right,” Justin gripped the packet, talked to it, “A piece of paper that you’ll think about.  Until it closes in on you…and makes you feel like…all you want to do is get out…and anything else…maybe stops mattering anymore.”

“Are you referring to ME?  Or YOU?” Brian watched Justin’s eyes meet his, blink a firm answer.  Brian nodded.  Understandable. “It’s a piece of paper.  My idea.”

“I suppose now’s the part where you tell me the rest is my call.”

“No.  I want you to sign it.”

Justin watched Brian’s eyes.  They didn’t blink.  Didn’t shift.  Didn’t lie.

With Debbie riding shotgun, Emmett idled Ted’s car along a block of rundown row houses.  Debbie squinted at Number 1600.

“Stop the car.  This is it,” she shook her head with pity.

Emmett geared into park, twisted sideways.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“I have to do this myself,” Debbie pat his thigh, gathered up her papers.  “Can you just park down the block?  I don’t want to aggravate her any more than I have to,” Debbie looked at her papers, bit her lip,  “If I could just keep a reign on my fucking mouth.”

“You’ll do fine, Sweetie,” Emmett assured with a shoulder pat.

Debbie nodded, got out, slammed the door and watched Emmett drive away.  Then she put on her crusader face and marched up the steps, knocked hard.

After forever, Rita Montgomery cracked the door and spat, “We don’t want any.”

Debbie dropped crusader.  This had to be pure mom.  “I came about Hunter.”

“You from Family Services?”

“Please,” Deb took a breath, “My name is Debbie Novotny, and I’m petitioning to adopt Hunter.”

“You fucking...how the HELL did you get my address!  Fucking Family Services,” Rita moved to slam the door.

“I’ll PAY you to listen.  Three-hundred dollars enough?” Debbie dug through her purse, side-viewed the door opening wider, Rita’s eyes on the purse.  She held the cash in view. “I got your address from one of Hunter’s friends.  For a meal.”

Rita’s eyes hardened.  “It’s in the courts.  I can’t tell you shit,” but she kept her eyes on the money.

“I came because I have information you should know.  On how much it costs to care for a kid with HIV.  Do you know how much it costs?  In time?  And money?” she slid the money under the paper clip on the info packet and held it out.  “I didn’t make it up.  It’s all on the Internet.  And if you don’t believe me, you can check it out with your Advocate,” Debbie quietly suggested.

Rita reached for the papers and turned them sideways to pull them through the crack in the door.

Debbie bit her tongue hard when she saw Rita count the bills before she read the papers, fought to keep her voice mellow.  “All I can say is, I’m ready to take on that responsibility.  Are YOU?”  She finally met Rita’s eyes in a dead-on stare.  Before it turned to a threat, Debbie nodded “Thank you for your time,” turned and walked away.

Debbie was near tears when she got into the car, slammed the door.

“Sweetie?” Emmett rubbed her shoulder, “You tried.”

“I had to make Hunter look like a fucking anchor weight,” she rubbed an eye, “And he’s not that at all.  He’s a good kid.  A great kid.  But if I told her THAT, she’d fucking turn him into a porn star,” Debbie dug a tissue from her purse, sniffled, dabbed her eyes.  “Now take me home.  My fucking mascara is all over the fucking place.”

Emmett put the car in gear and kept silent.  Nothing left but hope.

On the outside of a frosted glass window: Notary Public.  Inside the small office, Justin and Brian sat together – each in jeans and tee shirt, Brian’s black and Justin’s white - across the desk from a frost-haired older woman scrutinizing their driver’s licenses.

Justin glanced at Brian calmly leaning back in his chair and watching her.

“Thank you,” she handed each license back, set a pen on the last page of the open contract and turned it toward Brian.  “If you’ll just sign here above your name.”

Brian leaned forward, did it quick, pushed the contract to Justin and handed him the pen.

Justin took a breath, his left hand unconsciously jittering on his thigh.

Brian watched the tapping doubt.  He slid his hand over Justin’s so that his long fingers settled between Justin’s smaller ones, felt Justin’s fingers trap his.  Then Brian squeezed as well, closing any spaces between them.  And Justin wrote.

They watched the Notary stamp, sign, emboss…a done deal.

Sitting in the parked the car, they stared at each other before Brian’s questioning gaze got Justin’s response.

“This feels weird.  I don’t WANT it to, but it does.  I mean…” Justin watched his hands tensely clasped on the folder in his lap, “…I never even bought a car.  Or a house.  Now this…”

“People buy cars and houses all the time. After a little pain…” Brian circled his arm around Justin’s shoulders and kissed him, “…they discover the GOOD part of it.”  When Justin smiled his grasp, Brian tried for normal.  “What time are you supposed to be at work?”

“I called off while you were getting dressed. Do you realize you took only a whole hour to put on jeans and a tee shirt?”

“Fuck,” Brian checked himself.  “I KNEW I shouldn’t have rushed through that.”

He watched Justin exhale a silent chuckle, a headshake.  Better now.  Brian started up the car and turned onto the main street.

Entering the Loft, Brian headed for the bathroom, Justin for a bottled water in the fridge.

Brian unbuttoned, raised the toilet seat and heard Justin yell, “You know, that rat might still be in the building.  Did you call maintenance?”

“Not yet.”

“Remember what Scott said.”

Brian looked at the toilet, down at his dick, quickly shut the toilet lid and moseyed to the shower stall.  He looked in, smiled at the grate over the drain, aimed his stream there after a quick glance at the shut toilet and one toward the door to warn if Justin was near.

After dousing the shower with the hand-held sprayer, Brian lifted the bag from the bathroom wastebasket, frowned at the chewed holes and rat droppings at the bottom of the basket.  He opened the sink cabinet for another bag, shook it open, set the torn bag inside.  Then he took Justin’s empty med bottle off the sink, held it over the open bag and paused.

Justin stood looking out the front window, turned when he heard Brian come down the stairs with a white plastic bag in his hand.  “You’re finally taking out the trash.”

“First, maintenance.  THEN I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Justin deadpanned to Brian’s devil grin.  He moved close, hooked an arm around Brian’s.  “And since you’re in such a good mood, I know just the place.”

In the Giant Mart, a grocery cart loaded with greens stopped in the aisle. Michael’s brows knit as he touched an item written on their shopping list.  Ben looked over his shoulder and translated, “Cheese Doodles.  It says Cheese Doodles.”

“Well we missed it,” Michael was distracted by a cart moving too close - artichoke hearts and a jar of snails in it.

“Hi Sweeties!” Emmett stopped his cart, looked across their cart to another sitting alone.  “Ohmygod.  Brian’s here, TOO?”

All three glanced at a cart in which health cereals, coffee, wheat breads, romaine, canned and paper goods were arranged in rows according to matching height.

“Em!” Justin cheered as he and Brian approached with oranges and olive oil. “Hey Ben, Michael,” Justin laid the oil in their basket; Brian stood it up and pushed it to one side.  “You are so anal,” Justin murmured, droll-eyed Brian’s wide return grin.

“THIS is a first,” Michael motioned to all the friends.

“It’s the New Woody’s,” Brian set the oranges in the cart.  Moved them a couple times.

Emmett seriously looked them over.  “What are all you twosomes doing here on singles night?”

“Singles night?” Justin rolled his eyes up, poked Brian who was scanning the aisles.

“Yea-ah,” Emmett answered.  “Every Thursday.”

Michael replied, “We needed Cheese Doodles.” He saw all eyes shift from their cart to Ben and firmly stated,  “For my MOM?  She’s been down since she went to see Hunter’s Mom,” Michael pegged Brian.  “Does the shortest distance between two points ring a bell?”

Emmett touched Michael’s shoulder.  “From what I saw, Honey?  She was positively eloquent.  I didn’t lip-read oooone tiny fuck you.”

Brian raised a brow, “I’m impressed.  Nothing makes an enemy faster than threats or humiliation.”

Justin looked at his right hand, flexed it in thought then diverted to their cart.  “Shit.”

“Aisle Four,” Brian chipped

Justin gave a silent wry laugh, “Be right back,” and hiked up the aisle.

“And I,” Emmett glanced around, “Have to go looking for…something I haven’t found yet.  Bye, Sweeties.”

Emmett took off down the aisle.

“Brian,” Ben drew his attention, “If you and Justin aren’t doing anything, why don’t you come over for dinner?  We’re going Veggie Delight.”

“Maybe not tonight,” Brian pushed his cart along, “Thanks anyway.”  No way.

“If you change your mind…” Michael called, went back to his list.  “Oh yeah.  Cheese Doodles.”

“That way,” Ben pointed back, turned the cart and they both headed up the aisle.

Justin breezed back, set a tub of ice cream in their cart.  Brian lifted it out and read the label.  “Put this back and get Lowfat Yogurt.”

Justin reclaimed it, thumped it back in the cart.  “You can’t skimp on some things.”

“It’s over fifty percent fat.”

“That’s what makes it taste better,” Justin smirked then gasped when Brian grabbed his ass and whispered.

“So THAT’S why.”

Justin speared a look, snatched the ice cream, “You’re jerking YOURSELF off tonight.  You know that, don’t you,” and tramped up the aisle.

At the upright freezer, Justin opened the door, reached for frozen yogurt and paused when he overheard low conversation between two men beside him.

“Whatever happened with that?” Man One asked.

“Last I heard, the kid’s still in a coma and the police don’t have any leads.  Not that they’re even LOOKING for any.  Just one more reason to check under the towel first,” Man Two snickered, and they both walked away.

Justin yanked out a vanilla, slammed the door and watched them with irate eyes.  Big fucking joke.

Brian was comparing pasta boxes when Justin plunked the yogurt in the basket, clanked a can of Real Whipped Cream in beside it and railed, “I don’t wanna hear a word about it.”

Whipped cream, Brian lit with ideas, “It’s okay to splurge once in awhile.”

“Let’s go,” Justin grabbed the cart and drove, leaving Brian behind.

Brian shelved one box and loped to catch up.  Note to self: Certain anatomy digs are off-limits.

In the Loft kitchen, Brian helped Justin put away groceries with little more then “Where do you want this?” conversation.

Justin set a large pot beside a remaining pasta box.  “I’ll get the water started,” reached for the pot and had his hand clenched by Brian’s.

“I’LL get it started,” Brian raised his brows, pulled Justin around the counter and toward the bathroom.  Something more was going on than a little below-the-belt kidding.

Clothing heaped together beside the stall, water washing out tension, Brian embraced Justin out of the stream, kissed him and smiled at the more relaxed, in-tune look in Justin’s eyes.  “Feel better?”

“I can tell YOU do,” Justin wrinkled his nose, took a condom and handed it to Brian.

“Later,” Brian put it back, turned off the water, stepped from the stall.  He snatched two towels and handed one to Justin while drying himself.  “Meet me at our usual spot.”

Lying in bed, Brian waited for Justin to settle on his back then rolled to a side, head propped on a raised arm.  “I’d ask you if anything was wrong, but you know how I hate stupid questions.  Your turn.”

Justin blinked, looked off, “Just everything crowding in at one time.  That Adonis guy still in a coma…” he felt Brian’s palm settle on his chest, “I know.  I know.  But I’ve BEEN there…” he traced a finger down each of Brian’s, “…and nobody deserves that for ANY reason.”  He bit his lip, “Then there’s…” he glanced toward Brian’s office area.

Brian caught it.  “Either one of us could tear it up anytime if it’s that much of a problem.”  Brian felt Justin’s hand grip his.  “Is it?”

“No,” Justin whispered through a faint smile.

“Then you should take advantage of it and make a doctor’s appointment.”

“All he’ll do is send me for a scan and charge me five-hundred bucks.”

“Do it.  I’ve got it covered.”

“Under some plan with a shit job you don’t deserve,” Justin rose eyes even.

“It’ll serve its purpose,” Brian wrapped an arm around Justin, lay back pulling Justin onto his chest, kissed his hair.  “Trust me.”

Justin lightly ran his hand along Brian’s free arm, kissed a nipple and pressed his cheek against it.  “Brian…do I whitewash you?”

“What?  Where did you get THAT?” Brian quietly chuckled.

“Do you respect Scott because he tells it like it is and doesn’t whitewash?”

“Ah.  The World According to Scott.  Yes, I value his opinion.  But that’s all it is.  His opinion.  If I had only HIM to listen to, I’d think I was the biggest bastard that ever lived.”

“You’re not that.  Not at all.”

Brian rolled them both so that he stared down into Justin’s eyes, softly smiled, “See why your opinion is so important?” then kissed his smile.  His cheek.  His neck.  Kept on going down his chest.  Spread light kisses over the shaved hairs of his mound, heard the small giggle break Justin’s breaths when he kissed a ticklish spot on his groin.

“You’ll make me laugh,” Justin pushed Brian’s head away, moaned when Brian’s hand surrounded his stiffened cock, soft lips pressing over the tip, letting it break through into tight, caressing warmth.

Without losing stride, Brian worked himself between Justin’s spreading legs, slid his arms under and around each thigh, shoulders pushing Justin’s knees up as he gripped Justin’s legs to stop the bucking urge.

Justin panted, eyes cracked enough to watch Brian work.  One hand twisted fingers through Brian’s hair; the other raked his own locks as he struggled against firm arms holding him down.  Too much.  Too good.  He smiled deliriously.  Drove deep into Brian’s throat.  Cried out.  Let himself go.  Let everything go.  Let it go.

Brian drained him, swallowing a near gagging load, felt Justin relax.  Heard his long moan.  Slowly released Justin’s spent cock as he fought to ignore his own gorged dick.  Not over yet.  Not yet.  Brian took Justin’s ankle, eased one leg flat, repositioned on his side, knees near Justin’s chest, armpit tented over the straight leg.  He reached under Justin’s raised thigh, coaxed it toward him until Justin rolled to his side, swung his leg over Brian’s head and draped it across Brian’s waist.

Justin flattened onto his chest.  Ran his hand up Brian’s thigh searching for his cock, but Brian stopped it with a gentle hand and a “Not yet.”  Then Justin clenched Brian’s thigh and moaned again at the sensation of being exposed.  Spread open.  And Brian’s tongue lazily brushing the base of his balls.  Trailing up to his hole.  Circling, kissing until he could barely stand it.

Brian heard the change in Justin’s tone, saw the shift of his pelvis – up and high, the folds of his hole distend its invitation.  And he drove his tongue in.  Deep.  Shallow.  Traveling, returning.  Then he pulled back, looked at Justin’s half closed stare.

Justin’s own cock revived.  He saw Brian rise to his knees, eyes signaling, cock heavy, erect, urgent…and he knew what Brian needed…what he himself wanted.  Justin rolled to his stomach, walked his knees to level and raise his ass until Brian’s hand on his back stopped him.

“Not that way.  Put your legs up on my shoulders.”

Justin’s heartbeat pounded relentless as he shifted onto his back, legs on Brian’s shoulders, eyes never leaving each other except when he twisted aside for a condom packet and Brian leaned the other way for lube.  As Brian’s hand reached for the condom, Justin hid it in a clenched fist.  Breathed heavier.  Eyes piercing Brian’s.  Let’s go raw.  Just this one time.  Just tonight.  And I’ll never ask again.

Brian exhaled a slow breath.  So bad.  If ever he wanted it…so bad.  He forced a small smile, shook his head no.  Took Justin’s fist in the palm of his hand and held it.  You mean too much to me.

Justin slowly released the packet, swallowed the refusal as he watched Brian strip the packet open.

“Put it on me,” Brian held out the thin ring.  “It’s the only thing that should ever come between us,” he whispered, fingered a dab of gel on Justin’s hole, sucked a breath as Justin eased the condom over him.

Justin lay back smiling over those words.  Felt Brian’s cock touch him. He flinched at the bite of its entry, wet his lips and moaned at the way it stretched and filled and excited him.  The sight of Brian closing forward made him reach out, wrap his arms around him and pull tight into their kiss.

Time, movement…all stopped.  Nothing else mattered right then.

The empty condom packet slips off the moving mattress, lands on heavy gloves beside a pair of workboots on the ledge. 

Song: “Beautiful Strange (Ambient Mix)” by Bedrock

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