Old Friends

It had been a while since Brian and Michael had just hung out together. Somehow there never seemed to be time-they both had work and they both had boyfriends. There was always something else that seemed like it had to be done, Damnit-another ad campaign readied, another comic shipment due, Gus had to get something, or Justin did or the latest issue of Rage had a deadline.

Something always seemed to get in the way until, without really thinking about it and without realizing it; both of them sort of let it go.

Oh, sure, they saw one another all the time-at the diner or the clubs. Brian and Justin would go to the family dinners over at Deb's, but there never seemed like a time when the two of them could just hang out the way they used to and they both missed it-when they had time to think about it, which wasn't all that often.

So the night that Ben had a late faculty meeting and Justin was working late at his studio and Brian was staying home to go over a couple of campaigns that he had to pitch the next day Michael decided to take a chance and just drop in.

He knew the code to get into the building-6969-Brian's idea of a joke, balanced the bags in one hand and walked into the elevator.

Brian answered the knocking pretty fast-at least with Justin back as a regular in Brian's life, it was less likely that there would be some trick getting his turn at the front of the Brian Kinney Fucked Me line.

"Mikey, what the Hell are you doing here?"

"Food, asshole, I brought you food. C'mon, let me in, will you? This is starting to burn my hand."

He stepped aside, taking a couple of the packages. "What is all this? We trying to gain points as the fattest fags in Pittsburgh?"

"Screw you. I brought Pirates of The Caribbean. Remember? You said yesterday that you'd hadn't seen it yet."

The food was on the garage sale coffee table Justin had bought to replace the Miles Van Der Rohe that had gone when Stockwell cleaned out the clutter from his life. He hadn't seen the stupid movie because he didn't want to. Justin had gone with Daphne and Molly when the stupid thing had first come out-they'd even waited on line for the thing. He had stayed home because he had wanted to. Hard to believe, but he had spent the night quietly reading a book.

Well, OK, he could sit through it to make Mikey happy-it wasn't like it was the first time shit like this had happened. Besides, he hadn't had dinner yet and was getting hungry.

"Where's the Boy Wonder?"

"He has some project that's due tomorrow and needed some computer support at the school for some reason." Michael busied himself with the DVD, biting his tongue. "What?"

"…Don't get pissed, but I still don't see why you're still with him after all the shit he's pulled."

"I know you don't. Drop it."

They were both on the cheap rug that had replaced the white one Brian had loved. The new one was a castoff from Jenn's garage. Jesus.

"I said don't get pissed. You let him move in with you-twice, you helped him after the bashing, you gave him that computer, you helped him with his therapy and then he dumped you for that asshole musician and you still took him back after he stamped on you in front of everyone." He handed Brian a couple of pieces of greasy chicken along with a couple of paper napkins. "You sure as shit wouldn't do this for anyone else, what makes him so fucking special?"

The movie was starting; neither of them was paying any attention. "You wouldn't understand, so just forget it."

Michael was working on a second joint, speaking around mouthfuls. "I really want to know. I mean, you've had more men than you can count and you've never made an exception for any of them-all these years-until this twink comes along. Why him, what made him so hot shit?" Brian started one of his glares, having seen them more times than anyone on the planet, Michael could ignore it. "I really want to understand it. Ben thinks it's obvious, but it isn't to me."

Leaning back on his elbows, Brian made a conscience effort not to snark at Mikey. He almost succeeded. "Justin is different. Leave it at that." He knew that Michael wouldn't.

"Mom says that you're in love with him. Actually she says that you're as in love with him as you're capable of being."

"Just fucking drop it, will you? I don't want to talk about it."

It was obvious that Brian wouldn't go any further with this conversation, at least not at this moment. "OK, fine. Johnny Depp is hot, you think?"

"He's alright."

"Alright? He's only the hottest thing I've seen in my life."

"God, Mikey, you are so pathetic."

"And you'd throw him out for eating crackers in bed? Right. You are so busted."

"I would if he was supposed to be eating me instead."

"Yeah, right."

The two of them were settled on the rug watching the movie on the old fifteen inch set that used to be in Justin's old bedroom back in the suburban paradise he'd grown up in. Once in a while Brian used to think about the differences in their upbringing but would usually dismiss those thoughts as soon as they formed. There was no point. One way or another they had both ended up at more or less the same place-sort of. Sure, Justin knew better than he did which fork to use and who introduced whom at a social function, but Brian had taught himself, Justin had absorbed it with mother's milk. In fact, when he thought about it, when he allowed the thoughts to just flow-say when he was either just falling asleep or just waking up-he would think that sometimes, especially lately, it seemed that Justin was on the way up and he was on the way down and that they had just crossed paths for a while.

It wasn't quite like ships in the night, more like ships sailing together for a while before each going their own way to possibly different ports. Brian never told anyone about this, he was almost afraid to think the thoughts to himself, fearing that thinking them might make them true.

"Want another piece?"

"Hand me the mashed potatoes, too." Brian always liked to drag his chicken through the glutinous ersatz mashed potatoes, eating both things together in each mouthful, preferably with his fingers. It had grossed out Debbie and caused Vic to make faces, but Michael knew he'd never stop doing it, not when he had a bucket of the Colonel's finest in front of him. Michael took another pull on his beer.

"You know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"That time when we were in high school and I was staying over at your house. Claire was out getting laid or something and we snuck into her room and took her TV. Remember that? We watched Saturday Night Live and drank your father's beer."

"And then he figured out what happened to that second six pack and…"

"We just made it out the window about two seconds ahead of him."

"…Yeah, I was afraid to go home for like two days until you mother figured it out and bought some more Iron City to replace what we drank." Brian pushed against Michael's leg with his foot. "She saved my ass that time."

"Yeah." Michael was smiling at the memory. "Then she reamed me out because I was drinking with you after she'd busted us like two weeks before, remember that? That time we cut school to get drunk?"

"Yeah, she walked in with an armful of groceries and found us on that old couch. I didn't think she'd let me in the door again after that."

"She wasn't going to but …"

Brian looked over. What?

"…But she went over to your house to yell at your parents and I guess she figured out that…" He trailed off.

"She clued in that they didn't give a rat's ass and that I was better off at your house than at my own." He gently tossed the chicken leg back into the bucket. "She was right."

They watched the movie in silence for a couple of minutes; Johnny Depp was stealing the ship right out of the harbor with Orlando Bloom's help.

"Did you ever wonder what would have happened if your Mom hadn't let me use your place?" He didn't have to explain more than that. They both knew what he meant. What would have happened if he hadn't had the Novatny's as a safe house?

"It would have been bad." A small pause. They both knew it would have been terrible. "But you would have gotten out one way or another. There were all kinds of child protection agencies around. Didn't the cops turn you in to one just after your family moved to the neighborhood?"

Brian looked at with mild curiosity, putting his beer down. "You don't know that story?"

Michael gave a small shrug. "We didn't know each other yet and you never told me the details."

"Jack told me to take out the garbage. I wanted to finish my homework first so he punched me in the face, shoved me down the front steps then stood there kicking me until one of the neighbors managed to pull him off of me. Broke four ribs. They called the cops and took Jack in, but I was a minor and Joanie wasn't about to swear out a complaint. That was about then the neighbors decided that the Kinney's might not really fit into the block parties all that well."

"So what happened?"

He snorted out a small laugh. "Some social worker hung around for about an hour then decided that Jack and Joan were exemplarily parents and never bothered them again. I think she even apologized."

"Then when I asked you to eat lunch with me the next day…"

"It was the best offer I'd had in a while."

"So if your father hadn't beaten you up, you might not have eaten lunch with me that day and we might not have hooked up." Michael looked like he might cry at the thought. Screw it. This could be a night for truths.

"Could be. The next day was when Keith started paying attention to me. I probably would have ended up at the jock table, at least for a while."

"No…you would have hated it…you think?"

"Probably, but by then Keith and I were…"

"Yeah, I know." Mikey was starting up on his old jealousy thing again. "Have you heard from him again?"

"He's a client. I have the account."

Michael put down the wing he was holding. "Are you shitting me? When did this happen?"

"Maybe six months ago. He wants my bod."

"Well, yeah. Is he getting it?"

Brian gave him a look. "Fuck off."

"Yeah, does Justin know? How's the hub feel about this?"

"Yes, Justin knows and he's fine with it."

"Sure he is." Michael reached for his beer again, draining it. "God, did you ever think we'd be here talking about our boyfriends like this? You know, back in school, did you ever really think that we'd still be here like fifteen years later talking about shit like this?"

"You thought that we'd be married by now."

"Oh, yeah, sure I did."

"I mean to each other." That hit too close to the truth and Michael just stared. Damnit, that was a bull's-eye.

"Bullshit."

Brian had that look on his face, the one reserved for Mikey and Justin and sometimes Gus. "It's not bullshit. I know you wanted that, until you met Ben, anyway."

Michael gave him a long look. He and Brian had known each other so long that there wasn't much they didn't know about each other-Brian knew that what he was saying was true. They both knew it. "…So why weren't you ever interested? We were both gay, we were friends. Why didn't it ever happen?"

"Because you always meant too much to me for a fuck."

He took another pull of his beer, needing the courage. "I'm not talking about a fuck."

Brian was in his serious mode, the one where Michael knew he was saying exactly what he really thought. "I know that. I knew it then, too. I was afraid of losing what we had. I thought that if we added sex to what we had together it would be just another lay."

Michael looked at him. He knew that. He'd known that for a decade. It didn't matter. "You fuck Justin. You love him."

"That's different." It was said quietly, just stating a fact.

"No, it isn't."

"Justin only got to know me later. You know as well as I do that he just started out as another trick. He didn't know me then. It's not the same." He paused, trying to explain what he meant. "You're family, my brother. He's something else."

He knew that. He'd known that since they were fourteen. He hadn't wanted to know it or to believe it, but he had. He'd always known it; he'd just never admitted it. "What is he?"

Brian gave his small smile, the one he used when he was being completely honest about what he really felt. The one he almost had a reason to use. "He's-Justin."

"More than that-and why him?" Michael opened a couple more beers, handing one over. "He's young and he's good looking and he strokes your ego and all that shit. I even accept that he might be almost as smart as you are and I know he's probably the only one who doesn't buy your crap-which would be a change for you and you probably still feel guilty about the bashing but why him?"

"Mikey, because he's different. OK? I can't explain it any better than that."

"My mother says that he crawled under the wire. The others all tried to go over your walls, but he went under."

"Mikey, just drop it." That was it, he'd had enough and Michael knew it.

That was it, that was as much as he was going to get. Whatever. "…You think Captain Jack ever nailed Orlando Bloom-I mean his character?"

"Sure he did. Just look at them for shit's sake."

"OK, which one if you had to choose? Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp?"

"There's no way in Hell I'd ever have to choose. I'd get them both."

"You'd make a sandwich with them?"

"I'd let them make a sandwich with me."

"You are such a fucking liar. You are so busted."

"You just go on believing that."

They settled down to watch a few more minutes of the film, the pirates were sailing here and there, the good guys were trying to catch them, the reasonably beautiful girl was being feisty. The scenery was nice. Brian liked Depp in his costume. Nice look, that one.

"So you like Orlando better as a brunet or as an elf?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Hello? Lord of the Rings? He was only totally hot."

"He was alright."

"You are such a liar and, besides, you like blonds." Mikey thought he was being cute.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes."

They settled back down to see the end of the film, opening one more beer each. Fifteen minutes or so went by, neither of them really paying all that much attention, both thinking about things.

Michael was the first to break the slightly strained silence. "You never thought about what it would be like between us?"

"Of course I did but I didn't want to lose what I had. Besides, Deb would have killed me. Shit, that time she found us drunk was as close as I'd like to come to death for a while."

"She really does love you, you know. She thinks you're her lost son." Michael managed a half smile. They both knew he was telling the truth.

"I know that. Like I said, if it hadn't been for your house I don't know what I would have done back then. You don't screw your brother." He thought for a second. "Jesus, who would have been my father?"

Michael just looked at him with that look he always got when Brian said something that he could never have thought of himself. "…Don't even go there."

They both took another pull of their beers.

"What was the best time we ever had together?" He looked at Brian, smiling but really wanting an answer, even gave him an elbow in the ribs.

"The absolute best? You go first."

"Easy. That trip we took to Cancun." They had gone when Brian was at Penn State. Michael had come along for Spring Break. "God, those beaches and the water and-God-I think that was the first time I really clued into Brian Kinney as sex god of the world. That night you had those three guys in your bed and I was trying to sleep...that was awesome."

"You could have joined us."

"Right, sure I could have. Me and what army?"

They finished their beers, opening one more each. What the Hell.

"OK, your turn. What was your best time?"

"I don't have one."

"You are so bullshit. Come on. What was it?"

"I don't have just one."

"Loser."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you back-I don't."

"Fine, what're you best times, plural?"

"Christmas mornings at your house." Christmas at the Kinney house had sucked big time. Brian didn't spend any there after he's met Michael. He simply would show up around eight in the morning, presents in hand, help with breakfast and the big dinner and make a day out of it. No one ever complained and if his own parents had a problem with it they never said anything. They probably didn't notice.

"No shit?"

"No shit?"

"God, you really do have that sentimental Irish thing going when you get drunk."

"Fuck you." They looked at the screen for a couple of minutes. "You OK working with Justin?" He was talking about Rage.

"Yeah, it's good, mostly." That spoke volumes.

"Good." They kept looking at the screen. "Wait, you mean Johnny Depp was dead the whole time?"

"I guess so."

"Jesus." The credits were rolling.

They heard the door sliding open; saw the spill of light from the hallway. Justin came in, bringing cold with him along with his portfolio.

"Hey."

"Hey." Shedding his coat on a chair, crossing over he dropped a kiss on Brian's mouth. "Hey, Michael. What did I miss?"

"Movie, beer." He sat down beside Brian, their hips touching, leaning lightly against one another. Neither of them was really aware of it and Michael couldn't miss it. He wondered if he and Ben did stuff like that without thinking. After a few minutes, maybe ten, Justin gets up, smiles an apology and excuses himself. He's tired and wants to take a shower before he hits the bed. He has to be up for an early class in the morning and he's beat. Off handedly Brian says that he'll be there in a few minutes.

They two of them, Brian and Michael get up, clearing the bottles and the empty food boxes and paper napkins, straightening up. They could hear the shower running.

They two of them walked over to the door, Brian sliding it open as Michael pulled his jacket on. It's late; he knows they both have work in the morning, and that they'll both be dragging though neither will admit it. As Michael starts to the stairs he turned, giving Brian a quick hug, tight and solid before saying, "This was good. We'll do it again."

Brian returned the hug, adding one of their occasional kisses, on of the good ones.

"Count on it, Mikey."

"I do." He was smiling. "Always have, always will."

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