Summary: Justin has it.
A/N: Some fun with season one. *hearts that season*
"Hey, don't look now," Ted, smirking, pointed his beer bottle behind them.
Looking over his shoulder, Emmett immediately spotted him. Justin at the door, searching the Woody's evening crowd on his tip-toes. Dressed in tan cargo pants and a tight cobalt blue shirt, his blonde hair cut short, he was attracting the attention of nearly every guy in the bar.
"Oh, great." Michael swore. He'd gone to buy the next round of beers and just returned to their booth. "He's here again!"
"So Baby Boy drops by from time to time," Emmett shrugged.
"Time to time, my ass! He's here every goddamned night."
"Oh, stop. He's a sweetie."
Michael scowled. "He's an annoying assed twink who won't get a clue."
"Brian doesn't think so," Em said.
"Brian does think so," Michael maintained.
"Brian doesn't think beyond getting his dick sucked." Ted laughed between munching on the snack mix he'd commandeered.
"Really, do any of us?" Emmett pondered, and he and Ted struck identical The Thinker poses.
Michael scowled, agitated. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Sure." Ted, kicking Em under the table when the other man opened his mouth, smiled at Michael. "Tell me how everything is at the Big Q, Mr. Assistant Manager."
Michael took sudden interest in his beer. "Oh, fine, it's fine."
Emmett laughed. "Didn't you hear? Michael has a girlfriend there!"
"You have a girlfriend?" Three heads turned to find Justin at their table, unconsciously swaying to the music and frowning down at Michael in almost comical confusion.
Michael immediately bristled. Last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with this kid about how he was acting, according to Brian, like a 'scared little faggot' for not being out and proud at work.
Thing was, Michael knew Brian was right. He should have being up-front with Tracy to begin with and he should definitely not be leading her on now. A good, solid Brianesque, "I take it up the ass, sweetheart. Deal with it." But he wasn't brave like that, not like Brian. Or even Emmett.
And he didn't feel like being reminded of that failing by this snot-nosed kid, who he was sure didn't have any fucking idea what it was like having to hide who you were.
"Do you always eavesdrop? I wouldn't think that's something they teach down at the Country Club," Michael snapped.
When anyone else would have looked embarrassed, Justin just grinned - and kept dancing. "Are you kidding? It's practically a requirement there." He wrinkled his nose and laughed; Emmett sighed dreamily. "Besides, newsflash: you guys aren't exactly whispering."
"Hey, Baby," Emmett waved his fingers at him. "Pull up a seat."
Emmett was always so accepting of the kid and that ate at Michael. It shouldn't be that easy. Everyone at this table had put in their dues to be here, to consider themselves family. Justin had leaned against a street light and snagged Brian's attention for a fuck and suddenly he was a part of their lives?
It just shouldn't be that easy.
"He was just leaving," Michael said, smiling overly wide. His good deeds toward the kid had been exhausted days ago; he was done babysitting. "Bye-bye, little boy!"
"I was not. Hi, Em," Justin grinned back, before turning back to Michael, eyebrow raised in question, and the smile turned mocking. "So, girlfriend, huh?"
Michael growled, "Oh, will you let IT GO?! I do NOT have a girlfriend!"
"Whatever you say," Justin shrugged, smothering the grin. Baiting Michael was the one sport Justin actually liked playing. "But it's okay if you do, you know. There's no shame in being straight. We won't treat you any differently."
"Except, you know, refuse to ever speak to you again," Ted said.
"Well, yeah, there is that," Justin nodded.
"You know what?" Michael flared. "Fuck you! This isn't funny! This could be my job! We aren't all like you, living off our mommies and daddies!"
"Honey," Em was rolling his eyes at Michael, "that cute ass of yours? Unclench it." Michael huffed.
"You're just jealous of my youth," Justin informed him smugly. "Especially when you're so ooooold and decrepit." He feigned a heart attack.
Startled bursts of laughter from around the table, minus one.
"Yes," Michael dead-panned, "my motorized wheelchair is parked out front."
"Right next to mine," Ted said and Michael turned to him.
"Leopard print in rainbow colors, that was yours?"
"Don't I wish! Mine's next to that one. You know, the dull gray model that has no earthly idea why it hasn't rolled itself into oncoming traffic yet."
"Sweet. The accountant model." Heads leaned against together across the table with cheezer grins, the two of them clinked their beer bottles together and drank to having one foot in the grave.
Emmett waved an excited hand. "Ooo! Mine would be pink fur lined! And I'd ride around on it in the nuuuude. My ass is very sensitive," he confided.
Everyone stared at him, brains all so overloaded with ass jokes, it was like a traffic jam.
Emmett blinked. "What? It is."
"Doesn't matter. You're not over thirty yet," Ted told him after a quick shake of his head. "You don't get one."
Emmett started to pout before it dawned on him that was a good thing.
Justin grinned. "I'm seventeen. I think people in college are old. Sorry, you all look the same to me."
"Now we know that isn't true," Emmett guffawed. "One Brian Kinney has sure been easy enough for you to find in a crowd!"
Ted snorted. "Yeah, him and all of gay Pittsburgh."
Justin shrugged. "I have Bri-dar."
"Yeah, guided by your cock," Ted cracked. Then gave said cock an appreciative sidelong glance as he drank his beer. Something he wouldn't have dared do had Brian been there.
But, by then, Justin's attention was on the front door.
Just arriving, Brian and his superior attitude sauntered over, hungry eyes around the bar tracking his frame from the moment his Ferragamo leather shoes crossed the threshold. Not acknowledging any of his panting admirers with actual eye contact, the practiced boredom on his face at the attention nonetheless sighed, 'Yeah, I know, I'm fucking gorgeous, you want me, who doesn't, blah blah blah.'
That he'd come straight from the office of his advertising firm was evident by his gray Prada suit and pale green dress shirt and that was quickly explained to the room at large with his as always eloquent way with words.
"Such a shit day. I need a fucking drink."
Brian let his gaze float over the table of his friends in a silent guy-greeting before turning to Justin. "Are you harassing these nice folks?"
Justin wasn't fooled by the cool reception. He'd spent enough times in Brian's bed already this week to know the man wouldn't shove him away.
Justin flashed on the sight of Brian's rosy red lips around his cock the first time, then the way Brian had laughed, so soft and breathy and not at all ridiculing or disappointed, when Justin had come too quickly, the wet heat of the older man's mouth a new shock. Brian had looked so ... fond of him. Justin had been a little delirious right after, but he didn't think he'd ever forget that look of pleased contentment on Brian's face as they lay on the bed, a tangled sweaty heap. Wordlessly, Justin had turned to his side, facing the other man, wanting to soak every detail of beauty in, and for long minutes, Brian had simply laid still, eyes closed, and allowed it, before he suddenly rolled over to pin Justin beneath him, all focused action again for the next round.
Now, what he was seeing on Brian's face was nothing like those intimate times when they were alone, but that didn't matter. Justin knew those warmer emotions were inside. Hidden under the bullshit act Brian had nearly perfected, but there. Justin knew they could come out again. And he knew he was the right man for the job.
He grinned when he answered Brian. "Just until something better showed up."
"HEY!" everyone at the table objected.
Brian smirked. "And has it?"
Justin didn't break eye contact. "I don't know. I haven't looked around for a few minutes."
"Ooooh!" Emmett squealed at the burn. "You go, Baby Boy!"
"Yeah, go. As in, go home." Brian patted the teen's ample rump as if it were wearing Pampers. "It's adult time now." Dismissal issued, Brian shed his suit jacket and sat at the booth with his air of careful disinterest and stole the nearest beer. Which happened to be Ted's, but Ted was too busy to protest much, clawing his way out from under Brian's tossed jacket over his head.
Tenacious to the end, Justin dropped down opposite Brian without an invitation, forcing Michael to move over or be sat on. "I'll be sure to let you all know when some of those come in."
Brian smirked, tongue caught inside his cheek.
"Will you move your ass!" Michael demanded.
"He can sit on my lap," Em offered magnanimously. He grinned wider when Brian gave him a dirty look that was meant to warn him off.
"So, Justin," Ted jumped in, always up for busting Brian's balls, "why don't you dazzle us again with the fascinating tale of how you and Brian became such close buddies..." He ignored the fact that Brian's foul look of death had moved on from Emmett to include him for multiple offenses, not least of which was neutralizing his control of the situation by encouraging the boy to hang around.
Justin's expression was all cocky pride. "Well, first he-"
As if they all didn't already know. Irritated, Brian looked at no one specifically, but everyone knew his dismissing tone was directed at Justin. "I saw him, took him to the loft and popped his cherry. Can we move on now?"
Emmett raised his hand. "I'd like the video coverage of that." Brian made a gesture of holding a remote control and clicking Emmett 'off'.
"He came, he saw, he popped," Ted cracked and Brian zeroed in on him with a smarmy look.
"Don't be jealous, Theodore. Some day you'll get your cherry popped, too." He suggestively mimed it by sliding the neck of the beer bottle through the circle-shape of his fingers and Ted flipped a pretzel at him.
"It was only last week," Justin said, nose crinkling up. "But it feels like a lifetime ago."
"Yeah," Ted observed wryly, "how time flies when you're bouncing on Brian Kinney's big ... bed."
"And couch. Kitchen counter. Coffee table. Floor - bedroom, kitchen, and living room," Justin ticked off his fingers while Brian struggled not to look proud. "Not to forget the shower or over the-"
"God, will you shut up!" Michael burst.
Justin just smiled. It was pure teenager, of the neener-neener variety.
Michael narrowed his eyes, and then looked away, jaw clenched.
Spotting a free pool table and a potential hot trick nearby, Brian decided it was time to regain control of the situation. He wasn't blind to Michael's jealousy. On the contrary, he was used to it. It was comfortable. But he could feel Michael's eyes on him, judging, he felt, about how badly he was handling the Justin situation, and that was suddenly far from comfortable. It was almost ... embarrassing. And besides, once again the teen had somehow wheedled his way into their group. Time to remind him where he stood.
Brian abruptly got to his feet and told the table, "Boys, let's go play with some hard balls."
Justin was hot on his heels as Brian strode over to the pool table. Halfway there, Brian felt his shadow and whirled around to find Justin's saucy grin exploding off his cute face.
Ignoring the answering throb in his cock, Brian kept the boy at bay with a single pointed finger against his chest and an impatient look. "It wasn't that sort of invitation."
"It's always that sort of invitation with you," Justin laughed up at him, not at all wrong.
Brian maintained his look of boredom. "Not for you. I had you, remember?"
Hurt flickered in blue eyes. But Justin didn't back down. "Oh, yeah, I remember," he husked and repeated his earlier list, determined to remind the man he'd already broken his 'no repeats' credo when it came to tricks after the one night. Which had to mean he was more than just a trick, right? Certain that was true, Justin mouthed each word suggestively. "In your bed, in the shower, on-"
Turning on his heel, Brian walked away.
Frustrated his considerable charms weren't working, Justin remained where he was and regrouped. His mouth settled into an unhappy line when he realized Brian was trying - and succeeding, of course, Brian always succeeded - to pick up the hot guy by the pool table. Hot Guy, all broad-shouldered, six foot of him in jeans and a leather vest, had been lurking nearby, having caught Brian's eye earlier. Now they leaned close, chest to chest, Brian's dark head tucked against the guy's completely shaved one, whispering in his ear. Hot Guy's mouth drew up into a lazy half-smile, playing it cool, and nodded. Then slowly moved away.
Hot Guy, reserved for later.
Justin swallowed down acidic disappointment.
Attention back to the newly claimed pool table, Brian grabbed a pool cue. Realized he was the only one there and held out his arms in invitation back to his friends.
"Are you losers playing or what?"
Tongue in cheek, Emmett gave a royal wave; single hand, subtle side-to-side twisting motion. "Ahh, the Fuck Queen has summonsed us commoners."
"I'd rise up and revolt, but what's the use? Brian has more experience at the rising up part," Ted quipped, getting up. He started to finish his beer, then remembered Brian had already drained it. He made a face, then headed for the bar. "Next round's on me."
Emmett nudged Michael. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go knock some balls together."
"You go ahead. I want to finish my beer."
Emmett sighed, not fooled. "Don't let him get to you." Justin. "You know he won't put up with it for much longer." Brian. "He's too ... he's Brian, baby! Nothing affects him, and certainly not a twink he already did. No matter how cute a bubble butt he has." Little sigh. "Or those incredible blue eyes, or that young, firm body you just want to run your tongue all over. Not even the killer smile that, wow, makes your cock take notice and want to know what he sounds like when he comes .... oh ..." Emmett had gotten distracted as he spoke, his head turned over his shoulder as he watched Justin trying to get Brian's attention at the pool table.
Michael slamming his beer bottle on the table made him jump.
Without a word, Michael stood and stalked over to the pool table. He had a cue in hand and had declared Brian his partner with an unfriendly glare at Justin before Emmett could fumble for an apology.
Ted had carried their fresh beers over to the pool table, enticing Em to join them by kidnapping the booze.
Justin - evidently having decided to overlook Brian's words of warning, along with the little scene with the trick - had gone over and planted himself by the table and reached for Brian's beer. A pool cue to the groin kept the teen at a safe distance. Until Justin startled Brian by grabbing the stick and using it to jerk the older man - and his beer - toward him. Brian immediately barked about spilling on his expensive dress shirt, honestly angry. Unfazed by the posturing, Justin ignored him and snatched his beer away. Took a leisurely sip of it, darting his red tongue around the rim enticingly with a knowing imp smile.
Brian stopped scrubbing at his damp shirt. Licked his bottom lip as his body remembered. What he'd already taught that recently virgin tongue to do and now what other lessons he wanted to teach it. His cock stirred.
For a tense moment, Brian looked ready to pounce and bend Justin over the pool table right then and there. Then he caught himself, seemingly remembering he wasn't supposed to want the boy, and slammed down on those desires. His cock wasn't having any part of that plan, however.
He lifted the pool cue, making Justin back up. As intended, the cue rose suggestively between their bodies, stopping waist level. Something that wasn't lost on Justin and the teen continued to give his best naughty grin. Until Brian made a show of uncurling Justin's fingers from the cue stick and sending a message.
"Never touch my ... wood ... without an invitation." His harsh words punctuated each finger coming off. "And." Thumb. "You." Pointer. "Were." Index. "Not" Ring. "Invited." Pinkie.
For the first time that night, doubt tinged Justin's eyes. He took a step back. "T-that's okay. I'll just ... I'll just hang out. I can hang out. I'll keep score. I won't get in the way. I promise!" To prove it, he backed up and sat on a stool near the bar, a few feet away.
Brian stood silent. Studying his face and Justin resisted the urge to ask Brian what he was looking for there so he could make sure Brian found it. And in the end, Brian said nothing. He turned his back on Justin and gave his attention to the game at hand, making an off-handed jibe at Ted's bad pool shots the previous night.
It wasn't a hearty 'Join us!', but Justin decided not to see it as a rebuke, either. He drew a steadying breath and counted himself lucky. And regrouped yet again.
Witness to the line having been drawn in the sand, and then the kid poking not just a toe but his whole damned foot over it, Michael made a disgusted noise under his breath as he gathered the pool balls. He didn't consider the fact that it was Brian himself who allowed that twink foot over the line. He was too furious with Justin for refusing to get out of their lives. The pool balls got racked violently enough for every man in the vicinity to wince and brush a hand protectively over their crotches.
Ted and Emmett traded raised eyebrows to encompass the unfolding drama.
Brian pretended to ignore them all and sipped his beer, keeping an eye on Hot Guy at the bar. Occasionally letting his eyes surreptitiously slip further down to where Justin sat, hopeful and so damned young, before he took it upon himself to get the pool game started.
Leaning over and taking his sweet time caressing the pool cue through his fingers to torture the boy he could feel watching him, Brian lined up the break. In a fury of sharp thunder, balls went scattering across green felt. Two striped ones went slamming into two separate pockets and Brian straightened up, raising an eyebrow and grinning in a way that challenged any of them to question that he would always be the king.
Huge grin splitting his face, Michael cheered him on. His earlier bad mood lifting as he leaned in to kiss Brian on the mouth.
Ted, seeing they were in deep doodoo already and actually wanting to win Brian for once, jogged a few steps over to the bar and grabbed a startled Justin. Pulling him to his side, he declared the teen part of his and Emmett's team.
"Hey, not fair," Michael instantly protested. "That'd make it three against two."
But Brian only laughed along, rolling up the dress shirt sleeves up passed his elbows. "Let 'em. It's the only chance those two have at winning."
Over Brian's shoulder, Michael had a good view of Justin. He had started beaming sometime between Ted dragging him over and then realizing he was going to be allowed to play, and with only a few steps at a time, was stealthily making his way along the pool table, closer to them. To Brian. Renewed determination in his eyes, lust making those same blue eyes wide and hungry.
And the bad gut feeling Michael'd had all week solidified.
Justin was going to change their entire world.
And Brian was going to let him.
Missing Michael's numb expression, Brian hooked his arm around his neck, pulling his best friend in. "But we aren't scared, are we, Mikey?"