Boys Keep Swinging Chapter 4
May. 18th, 2010 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nothing_rhymes_with_iantoChapter Summary/Teaser: Brian and Michael fight, and Michael finds out the truth. Justin confides in Emmett.
"Brian?" Justin frowned at the dark shape sitting slumped on the couch in the semi-darkness. "Bri?" He walked over and put his hand on his lover's knee, crouching to look into his face. Brian was staring straight ahead at nothing, a bottle of half-empty Jim Beam dangling forgotten from his left hand.
"My mom died."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" No answer. "Brian?"
"So she was my mom. She was a cunt and she deserved what she got. Now can we go to bed?" He didn't want to think about his stupid ignorant bitch of a mother, he didn't want to think about having go through another scenario like his dad's funeral. So he got up and wandered into the bedroom, Justin following behind.
Justin seemed to understand whatever silent plea Brian's body was emanating, because he laid himself down on the bed and allowed Brian to undress him slowly, eyes scanning him and taking everything in before turning him over and pushing slowly inside. Brian drew out the pleasure, the fucking, as long as he could, to keep from thinking about anything else but Sunshine. When he came, his mind blanked blissfully and he managed to pull out before falling into a dreamless sleep.
"Coffee. Now." Brian threw himself down in a booth. Debbie looked at him exasperatedly, hands on her hips.
"Please?"
"Please." Brian repeated flatly, glaring at her.
"What happened to you?" Ted asked as he and Michael turned to look at the ad exec sitting slumped in the booth. Justin, who had taken up working at the diner again for a little extra cash, and because he loved Debbie, wandered up.
The blonde poured them more coffee. "His mom died." He ran a gentle hand across the back of Brian's neck, raising his eyebrows slightly in amazement when the brunette didn't pull away.
"Oh, Brian, I'm so sorry." Michael twisted in his seat and patted Brian's shoulder. The brunette glared up at Justin half-heartedly.
"Thanks, Sunshine, for unleashing the pity of Liberty Avenue on me." Justin shrugged and pecked his cheek, running a hand across his shoulder again.
"Brian, are you okay? Do you need help? I'm so sorry." Brian waved him away.
"Michael, it's fine. I'm okay. I need to get to work." He drained his cup of coffee and stood, jerking a bit when Michael stood up and pulled him into a hug. He stood awkwardly in the embrace for a moment, his arms at his sides, before pulling away and patting Mikey's shoulder wearily. Then with a small half-smile at Justin, he left for Kinnetic.
At work, Mikey called him as much as he could to check into see if Brian was okay. Brian would roll his eyes and tell Mikey that he was fine and he could take care of himself, and didn't he have Ben to attend to? Michael would sigh dejectedly and tell him that Ben was teaching a class, and wasn't home yet and wouldn't be for another few hours. Brian would make some sarcastic comment and reassure Mikey again that he was fine and had to get back to work, and would hang up, knowing that in another hour or so Michael would be calling again. The day went on like this, along with long periods of Brian just sitting at his desk, staring at nothing, thinking about nothing. He barely got any work done. Finally, Michael called one more time and Brian just told him to fuck off and leave him alone, he needed to work. Michael had grumbled something about being a good friend, which had caused Brian to yell at him for being annoying and didn't he have a husband to be a good little housewife to? Michael hung up on him, and Brian sat at his desk with a dial tone in his ear for some time.
Sitting up, Brian wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel, and reached for his water bottle. He rolled his eyes at some troll checking him out. "Not interested." He decided to bypass the steam room, since he kind of needed to go talk to Claire about the stupid funeral arrangements. Groaning inwardly at the thought, he headed into the locker room to get dressed.
He looked up from the floor in time to see a familiar body, hands exchanging a familiar vial. Brian shook his head as he sauntered up to his locker, opening it and pulling out a clean pair of shorts.
"Little obvious, don't you think?"
"Brian! I-I didn't see you." Ben was surprised.
"Just like last time, I know. Don't you think it's a bit immature to be lying to your husband about shooting up? It's kind of a dick move to do to someone you, um, love." He tugged off his shirt.
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Since you're the king of dick moves."
Brian raised his hands. "Hey, hey, don't go throwing me into lockers again. I'll have to tell your wife."
"Fuck you, Brian!" Ben yanked on his jacket and stormed past Brian. With a shrug, the brunette continued to pull on his clothes as if nothing had happened. He shook his head. Oh, Mikey.
Brian sighed in resignation as he got in the 'Vette to drive to Claire's. First Ben, now Claire. This was going to be a long fucking day.
"Oh. Brian." Claire sounded both relieved and disappointed when she answered the door. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes seemed glazed and vacant. He pushed his way inside, turning roughly to face her.
"What happened?"
She looked up at him, unseeing. "Huh?"
"What happened? How'd the bitch go?"
"Brian!" But she softened a bit, her eyes tearing up. "The doctor said something about heart….failure due to alcoholism." She hiccupped.
Brian scoffed. "Had it coming." He mumbled under his breath. Claire glared at him, but said nothing. She put a hand over her mouth to keep tears at bay. He looked up at her. "What do you want me for?"
Claire began blubbering again. "I-I-I c-cant do a-all the arrangements m-myself."
"Yeah, I can see that. Fine. I'll make some calls. But you get to sort out her shit yourself. I'm not touching any of it."
"But-"
"Fuck, Claire. Just be glad I said I'd fucking help. I'm not dealing with that cunt's stuff." He stalked out of the house and into the 'Vette, slamming the door.
"Hey, Mikey." Brian slid into a booth where Michael sat alone, contemplating his half-eaten sandwich.
"What do you want?"
"I saw your boyfriend today. He's using again, you know."
"No, he's not, I asked him. He said he wasn't."
"Well, uh, Mikey, he's lying. I saw him making a transaction in the locker room at the gym today."
"Brian, don't fucking accuse Ben of something he's not doing. I trust my husband. It's something you do when your in love. Of course, you've never experienced that before. You're not in a real relationship, so what would you know about trust? You don't love Justin the way I love Ben."
"Fuck you, Michael." Brian's voice was low, threatening, angry. "Not everyone's a fucking stepford fag defector like you two. Not everyone's life is a goddamn farce. You know about Justin and my arrangement. You know who I am and who he is. You know what we've been through. And you know how long we've been with each other. So fuck you."
Michael shoved his plate away, leaning over the table. "No, fuck you! I cant believe we're still having this argument. You never change! You only think of yourself! Fine, if you want to accuse people of things, go ahead. You wont be doing it around me any more!" He got up and stomped out of the diner. Brian sighed and put his chin in his hand, staring out the door.
Debbie approached him steadily, coffee pot in hand. He rubbed one hand across his face and held up the other one.
"Not now, Deb." She raised her eyebrow. Like words had ever stopped her before. Setting her coffee pot down on the table, she snapped her gum for a moment as if choosing the best way to ream him out. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him in her motherly way.
"You had no right to talk to my son that way, and no right to tell him something he doesn't want to know." Brian looked away from her into his cup of coffee. "If he trusts Ben then he should be able to trust him without you getting in the way. You know he loves Ben, and you know that he wants the best for everyone. You were out of line telling him what you saw. It is not your place to get in their business."
"I-"
"I'm not done yet. You were out of line, but so was Michael. He should know better than to say that shit about you and Sunshine. We all know how much you two love each other, despite the fact that you never say it. Michael was out of place saying that you don't have a real relationship. I don't know what came over him. We all know what you two have done for each other. He had no right to say that either. You two were both in the wrong." Her voice softened and she cupped his cheek, he leaned into the touch. "And, baby, I'm sorry about your mother."
He brushed her off. "Nah, it's okay." He looked at his watch. "I better go."
"Okay." She nodded, then pulled him into a swift, strong hug. He closed his eyes and savored her embrace, kissing her on the cheek when she released him.
"Thanks, Ma." He squeezed her arm gently and hurried out. Debbie stared after him as he left, running a hand through his hair. He knew she would always be more of a mother to him than Saint Joan ever was. Joan may have given birth to him, but Debbie had raised and nurtured him. Which was probably why he didn't turn out worse than he was. With a sigh, he opened the door to the 'Vette and got in.
Justin hustled out of the wind and into Red Cape Comics. The gusts outside were whipping flurries of the remaining snowfall all about, sending papers flying and numbing any exposed skin. He stopped inside the doorway to brush the snow off his jacket, then stepped up to the counter, tugging off his scarf.
"Hey, Michael." Michael looked up from his comic. "I came by to drop of the finalized sheets for the new book." He dug around in his satchel and produced a bundle of papers.
Michael took the sheets, flipping through them. "Thanks."
"By the way, I don't know if he told you this already, but the other day, Brian said he-"
"You can tell Brian to fuck off. I don't give a shit what he wants or what he says. I have no business with him any longer."
Justin frowned. "Okay….call me when you're ready to design the cover." He gave Michael another slow, concerned glance before heading out the door.
Justin came home to find Brian typing away on the computer, a full, newly opened bottle of Jim Beam sitting beside him. He shrugged Justin off when the blonde tried to wraps his arms around his shoulders. Justin gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and wandered over to the refrigerator.
"Why is Michael mad at you?"
"Fuck Michael."
"Brian, he's your best friend. You guys shouldn't fight. What happened?"
Brian turned away, rubbing a hand over his mouth."He said….I told him Ben's using again. He said….he said I didn't love you the way he loved Ben. He said we weren't in a real relationship."
"Oh, Brian, I'm sure he didn't-" Justin took a few steps forward.
"He did, and I said, fuck off!" Brian whipped around in his chair, his wide gesture knocking the bottle of liquor to the floor, where it shattered. Justin flinched at the noise, noting too late the empty bottle sitting in the bottom of the trash can. Justin took a deep breath, and for once, gave Brian what he wanted.
"Fine." He shoved his jacket back on, jamming a hat on his head and left. Brian pulled at his face in frustration before stepping over the mess and retrieving himself another unopened bottle of JB.
Justin knocked wearily on Debbie's front door. He looked at his watch. It was only eight o'clock. Someone had to be home. Finally, the door opened and Emmett greeted him.
"Hi, Baby. What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Em." Justin let himself inside and plopped down on the worn but comfortable couch, putting his head in his hands. He was actually kind of glad that Debbie wasn't home. He knew that if he talked to Debbie, she would go and yell at Brian, and that seemed like the last thing that his partner needed. If he talked to Emmett, he could just talk and get it out. Emmett might even be able to give him advice. But he didn't know how or where to start. He blew a puff of air between clenched teeth.
Emmett sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I…" Justin flailed for a moment, looking for the words. "I don't know! Brian and Michael are fighting again. But…all the…all the other times, one of them seemed sorry. One of them seemed like he wanted to apologize. But this time, something's different. They seem like they hate each other. I don't know what happened!" He threw himself out of Emmett's embrace and buried his face in a throw pillow in exasperation.
"Did either of them mention what happened."
"Mmm. Brian said that he told Michael that Ben was using again and Michael got pissed and said that Brian didn't love me like he loved Ben." His voice was muffled by the pillow. "So Brian got all pissed off. I'm certain there were other words exchanged, but he didn't say anything other than that. He said that Michael had definitely meant it. Then he told me to fuck off. Why would Michael say something like that to Brian? They're best friends. I don't get it."
"Honey, Michael doesn't understand Brian. You do." Justin pulled his face out of the pillow and looked up at him, eyes begging for clarification. "Even though they've known each other for years, Michael doesn't get Brian. He thinks he does. But he pushes Brian, he tries to get him to say or do things that he doesn't mean, and you and I both know Brian wouldn't do that. Not only that, but he tries to get inside Brian's head. He tries to understand his mind, which is hard enough. But he was raised so differently than Brian, and he has expectations of Brian. Michael won't understand his reasoning of being with you because he never expected or imagined Brian falling in love with anyone but him."
"I know Michael used to love Brian, but I thought he had Ben now."
"He does have Ben. But I think there's still a part of him inside that refuses to see that Brian has changed. He refuses to acknowledge the fact that Brian is capable of loving someone."
"I wish he could see what I see. Even though he never says it, Emmett, Brian really loves all of you." Emmett nodded. "The worst part is that, I have to leave for New York in a few days. His mother's funeral is two days after I leave. Normally I would feel alright because, you know, he'd have Michael. But now….Now, I don't know."
Michael slammed the door, stomping in and kicking off his shoes, tossing them in the general vicinity of the stairs. He made his way into the kitchen, clanging things around as he went. He made himself a sandwich, slamming the utensils and fixings on the counter almost hard enough to break them. He was making enough noise not to hear footsteps coming tentatively down the stairs.
"Michael? Dad?" Hunter questioned. Michael looked.
"Oh. Hi. Sorry, Hunter."
"Are you okay? Did you and Ben fight?"
"What? No. Brian and I….we…have decided to agree to disagree."
"Don't sugarcoat it, dude. You guys are pissed at each other. What'd he do?"
"It's a long story."
"All right." Hunter flopped down on the couch, turning on the TV and leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.
Michael leaned against the counter, eating his sandwich, still fuming. He took a long drink of water to calm down. On the first step to the stairs, he turned.
"Hunter?"
"Hmm?"
"Is Ben here?"
"No, he went out. I think he's with friends. Or maybe he's teaching a class. He didn't say."
"Okay."
Michael headed up the stairs, toward their bedroom. In the hall, he passed the bathroom, it's lights still on. Hunter always forgot to turn them off. He leaned in, reaching around the corner to flip the switch, when the plastic trashbag caught his eye. He stepped slowly closer, reaching out and picking up the plastic trash bin. He turned it sideways and dumped the contents on the white tile floor. An empty shaving cream bottle, a couple of bandaid wrappers, floss, a empty toilet paper tube, and….shit. Michael stared down at the syringe among all the other normal bathroom litter. His breath quickened. Fuck.
Chapter 5
