Five By Five


Summary: 412 gapfiller.

Spoilers for 412, obviously. Thanks, as always, to everyone for being such wonderful feedbackers. Y'all make the Boobs very bouncy. *g*

AN: Just in case anyone isn't familiar with the Buffyverse, the title is from a slang term Faith the Vampire Slayer had, meaning "good" or "cool" (as in things are cool). For example: "I aced that exam, I'm five by five." Not that Faith aced many exams. Heh.


The shower has just begun to steam up when Justin opens the door and comes in, stifling a wide yawn. He slides his arms around me and kisses me, all the while moving himself under the spray of hot water.

Sometimes I really think I need to get another showerhead installed.

I maneuver myself back under the water, and lather his head with shampoo. He closes his eyes and practically purrs like a cat, wearing a blissful smile on his face. Twat.

“So, what are the other four?”

I continue what I’m doing, accustomed to these early morning stream-of-consciousness questions. “Hmm?”

“The other four fucks.” His eyes are open and he raises his eyebrows.

I snort and pull him under the water to rinse. “It’s not like I actually have a list.”

“Yes you do.” He nods his head and grins. “You so do.”

I squeeze a dollop of conditioner between my hands and rub it on his head roughly. Sometimes I really wish I’d just keep my big fucking mouth shut. I mean, it’s not like I have some file on my computer or a diary with a list written down in flowery script.

“Come on, tell me!” He nudges me playfully and laughs. “I bet I can guess anyway.”

As I slide soap over my body, I roll my eyes. “Good luck, Sunshine. We’ve fucked way too many times, and way too well for you to be able to guess right.” It’s strange how proud I feel of the fact that we’ve had so much sex together. Brian Kinney, the man who used to never fuck the same guy twice.

Yep, a lot of things used to be.

“I bet you I can totally guess.” His jaw is squared and there’s a gleam in his eye. He knows how much I love a good bet. Especially when it involves fucking.

“What are the stakes?”

He thinks for a moment and then says, “All-expenses-paid trip to…somewhere warm.”

I know we’re both thinking of Ibiza, and the hospital, and the operation, and the cancer. I don’t think I’ll ever want to actually go to Ibiza now, and I don’t think Justin will, either. We look at each other and he leans in and kisses me softly.

“And when I win?”

He snorts. “If you win, what do you want?”

When I win, I want you to sign up for summer school.”

He makes a face. “Fuck that!”

He needs to catch up if he’s going to graduate some time this goddamned century. “Well then, you’d better put your thinking cap on.”

“Okay, it’s a bet.” Justin grins and starts jerking me off. After a minute, I reach down and do the same to him.

Beats a handshake any day.


The loft door clangs shut behind me and I shrug out of my long coat. Christ, work was shit. I have more to do, but I’m just not in the mood tonight. Metal scrapes and I turn to see Justin standing there.

“Hey, you must have been right behind me,” I say, as I swing my briefcase up onto the counter. He says nothing, just hovers there in the doorway. "Justin?" He's still silent. Then it hits me that he’s wearing an incredibly lame pair of running shoes, and a plaid shirt. I don’t think he’s worn plaid since…oh, that little shit. Okay, I see what he’s doing. I’ll play along.

And really, this was a no-brainer to make the list.

“Shut the door,” I say. He does, and comes inside hesitantly. I take my clothes off, giving him a show. I ask him if he’s coming, or going, or coming and then going, or coming and staying. I think I asked him if he liked Special K that night, but I’m not sure. I seem to remember some rambling answer about cereal. Such a naïve little kid he was.

I pour the water over my face and hair, then shake my head like a dog. We both laugh a bit, and then Justin gets back into character. Later, when I’m inside him, I can’t help but think about what my life would be like if I’d been looking the other way on Liberty Ave. that night.


The next day, a note is on my desk, folded neatly.

Sheraton Hotel
Suite 409
8 p.m.

Okay, so the smart little bastard figured out another one. All day, I try to stop thinking about it, but I can feel him licking up and down my body, can feel him bent beneath me, his wrists in my hands, his soft calves sliding on my shoulders. Can feel his tight hole as I slam into him over and over.

Cynthia gives me a strange look when I tell the Brown Athletics client that I can’t get up from behind my desk because I sprained my ankle on a pothole. I assure him that I will definitely be suing the city for damages.

Later, when the hotel door swings open, and Justin’s wearing the white bathrobe, it’s all I can do not to rip it right off him.


“So, where are we going?” I tap the wheel impatiently. “We’ve got spinning tomorrow morning, I don’t want to miss it.”

Justin gives me a sidelong look. “We’re almost there, don’t worry.” I know he doesn’t want me to do this bike ride, but I am, so he’d better just accept it.

“I had a long day.” I tug at my tie, trying to loosen it some more. Justin showed up at the office just as I was leaving. After the hotel yesterday, I admit that I’m curious as to which memory lane he’s going to walk me down next. But I’m serious about doing this ride, and I don’t want to fuck up my training.

Christ, when did I become so responsible? I shudder and yank at my tie again.

“Okay, pull over and park.”

Out on the street, I do my coat up, shivering. It’s still pretty cold out, this winter is holding on tenaciously. As I click on the alarm, I survey the area. The only thing around here is....

“Come on, Brian.” He disappears around the corner and before I know it we’re standing in front of the office building where Vanguard is.

“You know, they say you should never go back.”

Justin laughs. “Just this once.” He raps softly on the glass door and in a few seconds it opens. One of the graphic designers, Mick, or Mike, or probably Marc with a “c” ushers us in.

“Hey, Justin, Mr. Kinney.” Justin greets him and I grunt. We head upstairs and Mick/Mike/Marc uses his pass card to let us into the agency. “Just this once, right? Vance will have my balls for breakfast if he finds out.”

“Don’t worry, no one will ever know,” Justin says and he hurries me down the hall and around the corner towards my old office. When we get there, I stop short.

“Bob? They gave Bob my old office? That’s just a slap in the face.” Good luck to Vance with that idiot in a position of power.

Justin laughs and pulls me inside. We stand there for a moment, and then he shuts the door. I know when I’m beaten, so I sigh and perch on the edge of my old desk.

“It’ll be a pleasure to work under you, Mr. Kinney,” Justin smirks.

“Lucky guess.” He just grins and kisses me and later when we’re sweaty and coming, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

I hope the cleaning crew comes in before Bob does.

Actually, I don’t.


The next day when I come home, the loft is dark. Justin must still be at school, or work, or maybe Babylon for all I know. I feel a strange sense of disappointment. I was looking forward to what his next guess was going to be.

I hang up my coat and start to strip out of my suit as I head towards the bedroom. That’s when I realize that there's a light on. The little lamp that Justin likes to have beside the bed emits a ghostly blue glow. He must have changed the bulb.

I can make out Justin waiting on the bed. Just sitting there.


I stop, and my heart is suddenly pounding. I know what this is, and…shit. I swallow hard, and watch him, waiting in his underwear and a long-sleeved t-shirt. We stare at each other for long moments.

Finally, I force the words out of my mouth. “You really scared the shit out of me.” I sit down beside him.

“I heard you call my name.” He looks at me intently, and this doesn’t feel like playing any more.

“I guess I forgot that part.” I take a deep breath and blow it out. When I meet his eyes, he’s looking at me so closely and I feel like my whole body is vibrating.

“Good thing one of us remembered.” He slides closer and takes a shuddering little breath. “I want you inside me.” His voice is low, and fuck, this feels real. I want to hold him and make everything okay and fix it all.

When I roll him on his side and gently thrust in and out, he holds my hand tightly and turns his head to kiss me. I press our bodies together and he gasps softly as I grasp his hip and go even deeper. We both last a long time and come quietly, but I feel it down to my bones. I hold him close and kiss his hair and we sleep the whole night through, folded together.

The next morning in the shower, he has a sly smile on his face when he says, “I wonder what the Cayman Islands are like.”

I wonder when the fuck he learned to read my mind.