Title: Mind the Gap (3/?)
Author: Angelus
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.

Like Deb's, Woody's was comfortably familiar. It was far more crowded than it had ever been, but Justin attributed that to the tournament. Almost as soon as he stepped through the door, he spotted Ted. Or, rather, he spotted Emmett with his arm around Ted's shoulders; the taller man's neon-pink scarf was hard to miss. Smiling, Justin made his way over to the pair. Before he reached them, however, a short, dark-headed man stepped directly in his path.

"Sorry!" Justin exclaimed as he bumped into him, sending the pitcher of beer in his hands sloshing about, a few drops landing on the floor. Justin looked up, ready to apologize again, when he finally saw exactly who he had bumped into. Michael. He groaned inwardly. He had been hoping to postpone this particular reunion until...well, preferably never. Michael had never been fond of him, and had never made a secret of those feelings. But Justin should have known he would be here tonight. Taking a deep breath, he smiled tightly.

"Hey Michael," he greeted. Michael frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"It's been awhile," the blonde admitted. "I'm Justin Taylor." Michael's eyes widened, but to his credit, he didn't say anything; though Justin was pretty sure he wanted to. Instead, he looked the younger man up and down, as if assessing him.

"You're back," he stated simply. Justin nodded, dreading the next, inevitable question. "For how long?" Sighing, he decided that honesty was the best route in this case.

"For as long as Brian will have me," he answered. The brunette's eyes narrowed slightly, but still he held his tongue, and left Justin with the thought that maybe he had grown up after all. He extended a hand.

"Glad to have you back," he said. Nodding, Justin took Michael's outstretched hand, and they shook. There was a beat of almost comfortable silence before Justin finally asked:

"So how's Ted doing?"

"Pretty good, last I checked. I think he's supposed to start another game in a few minutes. You coming over to the table?"

"Lead the way."

Upon their arrival, Ted and Emmett greeted them enthusiastically. Justin smiled and accepted their hugs and kisses while Michael made his way over to a beefy brunette that was sitting with them and plopped onto his lap as the pair shared a kiss. A boyfriend, Justin assumed. The mystery man looked up, eyes sparkling a deep emerald behind the delicate gold frames of his glasses.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Ben." Ben held out his hand, just as his boyfriend had a few minutes earlier. His smile was warm, his demeanor friendly, and his handshake firm; Justin liked him already.

"Justin," he returned. Beside him, Emmett handed him a mug, and Ted began pouring the drinks, moving in perfect sync with each other. They teased and bantered the whole time, shoving each other and giggling like schoolgirls. Apparently, some things never changed. Ben chuckled watching them.

"So where do you know these clowns from?" he asked Justin. The blonde hesitated.

"He's an old friend of Brian's," Michael supplied. Ben smiled knowingly.

"Friend?" he repeated. "Brian has friends?"

"Apparently, not as many as I thought," came a voice from behind, and an arm slung itself across Justin's chest. Unable to help himself, he grinned broadly. Oh, this was bad. He was loosing control already. Luckily, Brian couldn't see him, and he managed a nonchalant look when he tilted his head back to greet him.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Brian returned, and Justin was suddenly made aware of just how close their faces were. Yeah, this was definitely bad. Regardless, he offered a smile and turned back to the others without incident. Ted was starting his next game, so the whole group migrated over to cheer him on.

He was good - better than Justin would have expected. Then again, he was pretty sure that most people underestimated Ted. Nevertheless, he was holding his own in this tournament. Looking at the handwritten chart tacked up on the wall, Justin discovered that if Ted won this game, he only had to win four more if he wanted to win the whole tournament. And win this game he did, sinking the 8-ball with three of his opponent's balls still on the table. Said opponent, a leather-clad bear with biceps the size of Justin's thigh, accepted defeat gracefully, shaking Ted's hand with a smile. Ted shook back, the picture of courtesy and modesty. When he returned to the table, he was beaming.

"I am so proud of you, baby!" Emmett exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek.

"All I did was play a game of pool," Ted reminded. Emmett rolled his eyes.

"You were great," Justin interjected. Michael and Ben concurred. Even Brian had to admit:

"You did okay." Ted laughed.

"Coming from you, that's high compliment," he said, downing his mug. "Next round's on me."

The pitcher remained full all night as the six men took turns buying refills. Michael and Ben were sickeningly cute, Ted won his next game, then lost the one after that to a dark-headed twink, and Emmett kept them all entertained with his impressions. Justin was having the time of his life. He loved his own friends dearly, but he had almost forgotten how much fun these guys could be. Smiling to himself, he polished off the last swallow of his seventh beer...or had that been his eighth? He had lost count by now.

"Sunshine, we need your help," Brian called from across the room. Clearly, he had had a few too many as well, if he was resorting back to Debbie's silly nickname. Even so, Justin strolled over to the vacated pool table he and Michael had claimed. Ben was resting on a nearby stool, watching the game in progress. Ted and Emmett, meanwhile, had produced a deck of cards from the pocket of Ted's coat, and were in the middle of a heated game of spades in a corner table, which Justin had been observing up until now.

"What's up?" he asked. Brian grabbed him around the waist.

"Last shot," he informed. "I need a good luck charm." His expression was so serious when he said this that Justin couldn't help but chuckle.

"You don't need any more luck," he assured. It was true - Brian was the luckiest person he had ever known.

"Couldn't hurt," the brunette insisted, handing him the cue. Justin stared at it.

"I told you I suck at pool," he protested.

"You'll be fine." It was clear that Brian wasn't going to back down, and Michael was getting restless. With a sigh, Justin tool the cue, circling the table to find the best angle to shoot from. When he thought he had found the right one, he bent down, aiming at the 8-ball. He pulled back, and was about to hit when a pair of arms enfolded him from behind.

"You do suck," Brian murmured in his ear, hands rearranging Justin's own.

"Told you so," he retorted.

"You'll do fine." Justin wasn't so sure about that anymore; not with the way Brian's entire body was pressed against his own, warm breath caressing his neck. He let the older man set up the shot, eyes drifting closed at the brush of callused fingers against his skin. "Ready?" His eyes snapped open.

"Ready." Together they drew back, surged forward, and connected. The ball shot forward, ricocheting off two of the sides before rolling directly into the pocket. Justin straightened, turning around in Brian's embrace to face him, and the pair shared a victory grin.

"We make a good team," Brian said. He almost sounded surprised...but not really.

"We do," Justin agreed. His grin faded, however, when Brian took a step forward, cornering him against the pool table, their lower halves straining against one another. A strangled gasp escaped his throat.

"You wanna come back to the loft?" Brian asked, nuzzling Justin's throat. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was temporary insanity, but Justin found himself nodding in agreement. Wasting no time, Brian called a quick "Bye, Mikey" over his shoulder and hustled the blonde towards the door, pausing only to grab their coats.

Out on the street, Brian hailed a cab, and they huddled together in the corner of the small, dark backseat for the fifteen minute drive. Somehow during that time, Brian's mouth found Justin's neck. He was fairly certain that he was going to have a hickey there tomorrow, but at the moment couldn't seem to make himself care and clutched him closer, urging him on.

There was a brief scuffle over who was going to pay the fare, but in the end Brian simply handed the driver a twenty and told him to keep the change, shoving Justin towards the door. They leaned against one another in silence as the elevator rose to the top floor. Justin exited first.

"Code's still the same," Brian muttered. Without comment, Justin tapped out the seven digits that were still branded onto his brain into the electronic keypad, and slid the door open.

Apparently, the code was about the only thing that was the same as it had been six years ago. There were rugs and plush carpeting covering the hardwood floors, and heavier curtains covering the windows that actually blocked out the sun. The couch was bigger, softer, and less expensive-looking. There were even a few of Gus' stray toys lying around.

"I'm impressed," Justin said. Brian brushed past him, heading up the stairs into the bedroom.

"I'm tired," he replied. He stumbled on the top step, and paused to kick off his shoes before flopping down onto the bed. Justin followed him, freezing when the whole room came into view.

"Wow." It was like stepping into another dimension. The walls had been painted white, the previously blue lights mounted above the bed replaced by a row of orange bulbs encased in glass. The sheets were a pale, pale blue, the comforter a rich, vibrant sapphire. The bed was raised high off the floor, and there was a smaller one underneath that could be pulled out - for Gus, he assumed. But what struck Justin the most were the two framed pictures above the glass light box. His painting from the show last week, topped by the drawing from six years ago. The one he had always known the older man had bought.

"Brian..." Words were lost on him. What did he even say to something like this? He took a step forward, and Brian reached out, lacing their fingers together. Grasping tightly, he pulled the younger man even closer.

"Stay here tonight."

Justin's heart skipped a beat. Brian was unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, and his legs were spread wantonly, giving full view of the bulge between them. The worst, however, were his eyes. They were wide and dark and pleading in ways that Justin was sure had never been directed towards him before. Brian squeezed his hand, and he felt his resolve crumbling, because truthfully, deep down he wanted nothing more than to strip down and crawl into that bed with him. But they were both drunk and tired, and he didn't want to do anything stupid. Trite as it sounded, he didn't want to ruin things between them with sex. They had a real shot here - and that wasn't something he was willing to give up. Not even for Brian Kinney's cock.

"On the couch," he agreed. Brian frowned.

"I don't wanna sleep on the couch," he said. Justin smiled.

"Alone on the couch," he clarified. He tried to pull his hand away, but Brian was having none of that.

"Stay," he begged. And that was definitely the alcohol talking, because Brian Kinney never begged for anything. Which only cemented Justin's decision. Smiling fondly, he raised their joined hands to press a kiss to the older man's knuckles, running the free hand through his hair and cupping his cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised. Brian mock-pouted, and Justin chuckled, but finally they let go, and he made his way back into the main room, stripping down to his boxers and getting settled on the couch. Sleep came hard and fast as soon as he shut his eyes, and just as he was about gone, he heard Brian's voice call:

"'Night, Justin." He smiled.

"Goodnight, Brian."

Brian awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. He winced at the dull throbbing in his head, but years of hangovers had taught him to just ignore it, and that's what he did as he climbed out of bed to find Justin standing in his kitchen. A plate of bacon and eggs, a pot of coffee, and two glasses of orange juice sat on the table.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," he said.

"I know," Justin replied, loading a skillet into the dishwasher. Brian eyed the greasy bacon warily.

"Especially since I'm not eating that shit," he added.

"You're eating it."

"Fuck you."

"You sure wanted to last night. Look how well that turned out." It was a cheap shot and he knew it. Scowling, Brian retreated to the bedroom. A few moments later Justin heard the shower turn on. He finished cleaning up the kitchen, and when Brian emerged all showered and changed, he sat down at the table and took a bite out of a piece of bacon without comment. Justin brought over plates and forks and dropped into the seat across from him.

The entire meal was conducted in silence, and although Justin did most of the eating, Brian made an effort to put at least some real food in his stomach.

"Where'd you get this shit anyway?" he finally asked. Justin shrugged.

"Supermarket down the street. I walked down there this morning." Nodding, Brian finished his last bite and set his fork down.

"I may just have to keep you around after all," he joked. Justin fell quiet. He toyed with his coffee mug for a few seconds, then stood and began clearing the empty plates from the table.

"Justin, leave those," Brian insisted. "Justin..." He followed him to the sink and laid a hand on his arm. "Talk to me."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Don't give me that." Justin took a deep breath before he turned to face Brian, looking him right in the eye.

"I won't be just another trick," he stated. Brian's expression was unreadable.

"You never were," he returned. The blonde rose an eyebrow. "Alright, maybe the first time," he amended. "But not the second time, and not any time after that. You came with me because I wanted you there, and you wanted to be there."

"I was seventeen," Justin countered. "I would have taken sex any way I could have gotten it."

"You were in love with me."

"You were in love with yourself." Brian looked away. "Look, I'm not blaming you for anything, I'm just saying that this time it has to be more than that."

"This time?" Brian repeated. Justin took a step forward. This was it - either they were going to start something for real, or Brian was going to run scared. He really wished he had even the slightest inkling as to which way it was going to go, but with Brian you never knew.

"We had something last time, but neither of us were ready for it. But we're different people now, Bri. At least I am. And I can't sit back and let you play with my head anymore. I'm not asking for hearts and flowers, I'm not asking for monogamy - I'm just asking for a chance. So that maybe we can get it right this time. If you can't promise me that much...then I'm not going to waste my time."

Six years ago, they never would have had this conversation. But back then, Brian had been the center of his universe, and he would have blindly followed him off of a cliff if he had asked. He had been naive and stupid, but he wouldn't have traded their time together for anything. Brian had taught him so much about being a man, about standing up for himself. He had carried those things with him ever since, but also the things that he had figured out on his own - that if you didn't open the door, no one could ever come in. Brian had always been commitment-phobic. And Justin didn't want to change him, but if he wasn't ever going to grow up, it was the end of the road for them. There was nowhere left to go. It would be hard, and it would be painful, but he knew that he could walk away. He had the drive, the strength. Brian had given it to him.

The older man looked down, and suddenly Justin wasn't seventeen anymore. He wasn't a kid, he wasn't a convenient fuck. He was a man. And all he was asking for was what he deserved.

Brian had never been in love. Despite all protests, however, he had indeed loved people. Michael, Debbie, Vic, Lindsay...sometimes, even Ted and Emmett. But to be in love...that was something else entirely. And with Justin's wide, bright blue eyes gazing up at him, he knew that there was only one person that could ever fill that role. Justin was his equal in every way; he challenged him, kept him honest. Deb saw it, Lindsay saw it...he was a better person when he was with Justin. Maybe it was time to finally admit that.

Seeing the change in the other man's face, Justin smiled. "You in?" he asked. Leaning forward, Brian pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the large patch of purple on his neck.

"I'm in."