Sodom and Gomorrah

Synopsis:- Brian helps out at the diner.

Special notes: Many thanks to my beta, randy4me, for her keen eye and endless patience.

This is an AU, fluffy-ish, a tad OOC, a smidge angst, and schmutt alert.


Chapter 1:

Brian Kinney swaggered into the Liberty Diner with his signature smirk in place and wearing envy-inspiring designer, club clothes. And as always, every eye in the diner was on him… and he knew it… but Mr. Kinney only had eyes for one particular person.

That person was a certain beautiful, blond, young artist who worked at the establishment… someone who had stolen his heart several years earlier. But, Brian would never admit that his heart belonged to anyone – and definitely not to that particular young man – and most certainly not to himself.

It was a Thursday night, probably the most innocuous night of the week for a gay man. Depending on the type of party queen you were, the night was spent either nursing a hangover after Hump-Day-Wednesday, or was the prep night before Fuck-Me-Friday. Because it was Thursday night, business was slow at the diner; only four tables were occupied by customers.

Justin Taylor was seated at the lunch counter, wiping food splatter off of menus. As he watched the Dolce and Gabbanna clad Adonis approach him, he remembered how he had described Brian, years earlier, to his BFF, Daphne. He told her that he had 'seen the face of God.' He couldn't suppress a fawning smile when he realized that the lofty statement was still an accurate description.

Justin knew he had fallen in love with Brian the very first night they met. It's like my life jumped-started the moment he walked up to me…

Justin wished that he could share such thoughts with Brian, but he knew that was not a very good idea. Brian didn't deal very well with Justin's emotional revelations.

Brian grabbed the menu out of Justin's hand and tossed it on the lunch counter. He simply said, "Hey," to the blond before he scooped the blond off of his seat and into his arms. Like a romantic hero from one of Debbie's romance novel, he dipped the blond and ravaged the teenager's lush lips with a toe-curling kiss.

If any other men had attempted the overly romantic gesture, they would have been called, 'cheesy wannabes.' But the advertising executive wasn't just anyone – he was 'Brian Fucking Kinney'… the strutting wet-dream-come-to-life of nearly every gay man in Pittsburg and beyond.

Several gawkers in the diner collectively gasped and sighed. Though the sound was loud enough to be heard throughout the diner, Justin and Brian were completely oblivious to it.

When Brian ended the kiss, Justin was still swooning. The teen sounded slightly drunk when he slurred, "Hey, yourself".

Brian rolled his eyes, and then waved off Justin's offer of food and drink. He gave Justin an affectionate swat on the butt and then settled himself into one of the vacant booths across from the counter. He made himself comfortable, back against the wall and legs stretched out across the length of the bench. He would have a perfect view of Justin as the younger man finished his end-of-shift chores.

Justin waited for Brian to settle into his booth; he had some news to share with him that he knew would not make the older man happy. It didn't make him happy, either. He took a moment to summon up his courage and then silently sat down across from Brian. He absentmindedly began to chew on his thumbnail, a clear signal to Brian that the not all the little woodland creatures were happy in Sunshine-land.

The older man raised an inquisitive eyebrow, prompting Justin to speak.

Justin hesitated, he wanted to enjoy this wonderful moment with his lover before it all turned to shit. When he was ready, he cleared his throat and then quietly said, "There's a problem."

Brian took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. "Okay. What is it?"

Justin voice became even quieter. "Debbie hurt her ankle."

Brian shot straight up on his seat. Before he could react further, Justin headed him off with, "She's fine! She just sprained it; nothing's broken, but…"

Brian had already put one and one together. In a flat-toned voice, he resolutely stated the obvious. "But, she can't make her shift." Justin response was a single nod.

"Okay… so what now?"

Justin chewed on thumbnail a little more before responding. "Well, she's called around and finally found someone. Kiki said she could come in… but, not right away. She won't be able to get here for at least an hour… or so."

Brian grabbed a toothpick from the dispenser on the table and began to chew on it with a vengeance. It was better that he chewed on the inanimate object then chewed out Justin. Brian knew how easy it was him to fall into the 'kill the messenger' mind-set. The executive silently reminded himself of that traite... This is not his fault. Shit happens.

Brian gave the toothpick a moment of reprieve. "One hour, huh?"

Justin's courage was flagging, but he had just enough gumption to deliver the rest of his bad news. "Or so… um… there's something else… I, ah… I have an errand to run when Kiki gets here. I really have to go… and do it - actually, I have to get it… I mean, them."

Justin glanced at Brian and quickly looked away. Brian's face was completely void of all expression, but his tongue was firmly planted in his cheek. This habit could mean many things, depending on the circumstances. Justin took it as a warning sign.

He's going to blow, I just know it… Time to gird my loins…

Justin nervously adjusted in his seat and continued. "I have to… um… I have to go to this all-night drugstore and pick up some medicine. There's three… of them… and one of them expires tonight… I really need that one… for the hand tremors." The last four words were barely audible, but Brian clearly heard what Justin said.

Brian pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and snapped it in two. "Hand tremors? When did you start having hand tremors again? Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, Justin – were you going to tell me? What did your doctor say? Did you fucking even go to him? Fuck it, Justin! Why the hell…" As Brian continued to scold Justin, the blond slowly seemed to physically shrink.

A male couple sitting two tables away stopped eating and turned to watch Brian Fucking Kinney tear his blond twink a new asshole. When they tweeted their friends later, they would use those exact words to describe what they had witnessed.

Brian finally realized that his diatribe was reaching beyond the boundaries of their table. He huffed out a couple of heated breaths, trying to calm himself. He started to reproach Justin again, but in a lower volume. "Why the fuck didn't you pick up your meds before tonight? And why the fuck did you wait until the prescription was about to expire?"

Justin was picking at the cuticle on his thumb and seemed to be off into his own little world. The only indication that he was listening to Brian was the lame shrug that he used as his response

After a several long seconds of silence, Justin decided to come clean, though he was woefully embarrassed by what he had to reveal. "I didn't have the money. I had to wait until tonight's shift to have enough. And I now have enough, so…"

The young artist's bangs had fallen into his eyes, and though they partially obscured his eyes, Brian could see tears forming in them. Sunshine's tears were known to temper the older man's emotions… but not every time.

"It really won't take me a long time to pick them up. After Kiki gets here, I can grab the bus. I'll be back… probably by the time you leave Woodie's… or I can meet you at Babylon… if you still want me… I mean want me to join you."

The artist peeked out from behind his bangs and tried to gage the effect his revelation had made on the handsome executive. Oddly enough, Brian's face showed no emotion. Instead of feeling relieved, Justin found Brian's stoicism somewhat unnerving.

"What do you mean you had to wait until you made money tonight… so that you could buy your medicines?" Brian continued to look and sound calm, cool, and in control. However, he was crisply enunciating each and every word. The hair on the back of Justin's neck stood up in warning.

"I fucking gave you a credit card to use… when you had an emergency. I would think, as would any logical human being… that this situation was most definitely… a dire circumstance… ergo – A FUCKING EMERGENCY!"

Justin defiantly raised his chin and snapped back, "No! I can take care of myself! I don't need your money. I am supporting myself… except for my tuition… but… but… anyway, I'm now giving Deb money for room and board… not a lot, but... but at least I'm doing it! So, if I have to wait on buying medicine or wait on buying… other stuff… then I will. That's just the way it is!"

Brian was clearly not pleased with any of Justin's prideful declaration. His hazel narrowed into green, glinting slits and the muscles in his jaw were popping as he ground his teeth.

I could fucking could care less that you feel compelled to prove to me that you are a responsible, self-sufficient, and upstanding citizen! DAMMIT, Justin. Why does he always pull this noble, independent shit on me?!

With each passing second, Brian's anger increased exponentially. It was now approaching the destructive equivalency of napalm. As he struggled with his inner demons, a feeling – his sixth sense - made him look out at the customers in the diner. When he did, the little devil that was sitting on his shoulder, figuratively speaking, laughed with glee - because now he had found a new target.

With the precision of a heat-seeking rocket launcher, Brian focused his anger on the eaves-dropping cretins.

"ARE YOU FUCKING ENJOYING OUR CONVERSATION? Do you want to move closer so that you can hear better?" Brian shot out of the booth, but before he could reach any of frightened customers, Justin interceded with a body block.

"Brian, no, don't! Don't do anything you'll regret! Come on, calm down. Okay? Please? Come on, it's…"

Brian pushed the smaller man behind him, and tried again to get to the assholes. Justin grabbed onto Brian's waist and held on for all that he was worth. The last thing he wanted was Brian being arrested because he had caused him to lose his temper.

Brian decided to ignore the little monkey on his back, so to speak, and he continued to deliver his message loud and clear. "Are you going to go home tonight and recreate our touching conversation - and jack off to it?"

Brian then lewdly acted like he was jacking himself off, pumping his fist in front on his groin and moaning and groaning like a pervert at a peep booth. "Oh, yeah, yeah! Kinney and Taylor were arguing, oh yeah, yeah, yeah! oh,oh, ah, ah – that's it, argue some more! Come on – that's it, that's it - yeeessss! FUCKING LOSERS!"

"Get the fuck out! Leave money on your table to cover your tab, and get the fuck out! And don't fucking forget to tip!"

All the customers from the four occupied tables immediately jumped up and followed his orders. With a satisfied smirk on his face, Brian watched them throw down money on their respective tables and then trip over each other trying to quickly leave the diner.

He knew that his fight with Justin would be spread up and down Liberty Avenue. Within the next fifteen minutes, half the fags in town will be gossiping about us. Fuck them.

I'm seriously losing my shit. He gently peeled Justin's arms off of him and said, "I'm going out for a smoke," He slowly walked out the back door - every step felt like a major effort.

Brian inhaled and held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds. Ten days… I haven't seen him for ten days, and when we finally see each other, I act like a maniac. I'm such a fucking asshole.

Brian's work schedule had been extremely hectic for the last couple of months. He rarely had time to see anyone outside of the office, including Justin. The last two weeks had been exceptionally frenzied. Vance and he had taken on two new clients, one who was located in Philadelphia and the other in Baltimore. They both needed a lot of face-time, hand holding, and ego fluffing.

Tomorrow morning, early, he would be on the road again, this time to New York City. He was making a pitch to a prospective client on Monday, and was getting in town early to make sure that all the prep work was done properly. Plus, he was giving himself a day or two of therapy-shopping, figuring that the healing power of high fashion would do wonders for his nerves.

Tonight was the only night that he could see Justin, and he wasn't sure when he would be able to see him next. Following the pattern of the last two weeks, he might have to leave right after the New York pitch and head back to Philly or Baltimore.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I just want to see him, be with him, is that too fucking much to ask? Mother-fucking-fucker… Damn… I miss his smile… his smell… and goddamn, I miss his taste… And no matter what other hole I shove my dick into, it's for shit… it's not him. All the faceless holes and mouths just don't seem to be as satisfying as before… five minutes with them is just tension release… five minutes with him is pure heaven… but it's never enough… enough of this twat talk.

A solution popped into his head, and he smiled for the first time since he arrived at the diner. He stubbed out his cigarette and went back in to share his brilliant idea with Justin.

Justin was bussing tables when Brian walked in.

The older man came up behind Justin and embraced him. Brian inhaled the smell of Justin's hair and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the smell. "Sunshine, I think I've got a solution to one of our problems. You can thank me properly later on tonight. Tell me the name of the drugstore that has your medicine and I'll pick it up. That way, we'll only lose one hour tonight and not two or more."

Justin leaned back against Brian's chest, and rested his head in the crook of Brian's neck. Brian heard Justin release a sad sigh.

"My meds are at Rogan's, but you can't pick it up… They have a new policy, only the prescription holder or their medical designee can pick up medication. And you have to have a notarized document in which I give you authorization. There's no way to get any of that done tonight… but, thanks anyway. It was a noble and gallant gesture."

Brian released the blond and stepped away. He walked over to the lunch counter and leaned over it, resting on his elbows.

Justin went back to clearing the dirty dishes off of the table. He silently chuckled when he heard Brian say, "You know what… this place should really get a liquor license."

Justin talked over his shoulder to Brian as he wiped down the table. "Just go to Woodies and have a couple of drinks, and… I should be able to catch up with you, or… meet you at Babylon… you can, you know, relax…" Justin's voice trailed off, he just couldn't say, "by fucking someone or let someone suck you off," because he wanted that be that 'someone.'

Something heavy and metal landed loudly on the right bench seat of the booth. It startled Justin, causing him to yelp. "What the…" He saw that it was a set of keys – Brian's keys. Justin picked them up and joked, "Are you throwing things at me now?"

"Take the jeep, get your medicine and come back here. I'll look after the diner."

Justin couldn't believe what he had just heard. He wanted to say something, but was completely dumbfounded. All he could do was blink and stare at Brian.

"Get going. The sooner you get going, the sooner we will be able to get the fuck out of here." Brian walked behind the lunch counter looking for an apron.

Justin hurried over to the older man. "Brian? I can't believe this… this is so generous, but Brian, you'll have to wait on people and ring up their bill – and you'll have to deal with idiots and - oh, god, the cash register! You don't know how to use-"

"It's the same damn register they had when I worked here during high school. Yeeeees, Justin, even I worked at Ye Ol' Liberty Diner."

Justin didn't know what to do or think. His brain strained to re-wire nerve endings that had short-circuited during the last fifteen minutes. He wondered if his auburn-haired god was having a stroke. I read somewhere that people who are having strokes say unusual things.

Brian interrupted the stunned man's thoughts by asking "Who's the cook tonight, Jose?" Justin quickly nodded in response. "Go tell Jose that there's a change in the guard, at least for the next hour… or so."

Justin still didn't move, so Brian grabbed a dish rag, twirled it, and popped it against Justin's ass. "Move it, Sunshine - time's a-wastin'."

Justin wailed loudly, called Brian an 'asshole,' and frantically tried to rub away the pain. When it looked like Brian was going to pop him away, Justin went scurrying off to follow Brian's bidding.

The 'Face Of God' walked over to the register and re-acquainted himself with the relic, and it was a relic. No shit, it's the same damn register from when I worked here. Ricky is sure is a cheap S.O.B. He's owned this slop house for over twenty years and the only thing that's changed during that entire time is the toilet paper... and he's stingy with that…

Justin was a whirlwind as he rushed out of the kitchen with his messenger bag slung across his chest. He tried to cover Brian's face with kisses but since Brian was the stronger of the two, he wasn't very successful.

Brian held Justin at bay, but did allowed the blond to plant one kiss on his lips. He then turned the teen towards the door and gave him a smack on the butt to get him on his way. As Justin left, he shouted promises of blow-jobs and illicit sex.

A few minutes after Justin left, the door bell jingled, announcing the arrival of three patrons. The three guys were in their twenties, of various heights and weights, and Brian mentally dubbed them, "The Troll Trio."

After the trio dumped themselves into a booth, Brian brought them menus. As Brian walked over to them, he made a decision. He would handle his responsibilities as a substitute waiter in a manner that was best suited to his personality.

All three patrons did a double take when they realized just exactly who their waiter was. They stared at Brian with gaping mouths and bulging eyes.

Brian tore off a blank ticket sheet from his pad and laid it on the table. "Okay, now listen up; I only want to say this once. If I have to repeat myself, you won't like it. Write down what you want to eat and drink on this piece of paper. I want a clean, bulleted list, not a fucking running narrative of your Christmas vacation when you were a fucking seven-year-old twat.

Then, one of you – just one of you - get up and go behind the lunch counter over there," Brian pointed to the lunch counter, "and get everyone's drinks and bring them back to this table. Don't fuck around over there, get your shit and get back here! Oh, and grab some silverware and napkins for your table. You have three minutes until I get back. Don't fuck with me and don't keep me waiting."

Brian removed his apron and walked out the back door, heading for what he felt was a well desired smoke break. Eight minutes later, he came back to the table.

All three young men were seated quietly at their table, sitting up straight with proper posture; their hands neatly folded in their laps. They looked like frightened parochial school children, trying to avoid the wrath of the nuns. Their drinks were placed precisely in front of each of them; napkins and utensils were neatly and correctly placed on their paper place mats. But most importantly, their ticket was filled out according to Brian's instructions and laid at the end of their table, in the same position that Brian had originally placed it.

Brian picked up the ticket and after a few moments said, "The work 'turkey' does not have a 'c' in it. Who's having the pancakes?"

The slightly chubby guy with curly red hair slowly raised his hand.

Brian barked at him, "Where the fuck have you been for the last ten years? Carbohydrates after eight o'clock will give you a lard ass and rot your arteries. You want a Cobb salad." Brian scratched through "pancakes" on the tab and wrote in "Cobb salad, balsamic vinegar only."

"When I call you, I want two of you to get up, and walking in single file order, go to the pass-through window over by the lunch counter and pick up your order. Do you understand?" All three men obediently nodded in unison.

As Brian walked away, he re-assessed his act of generosity to Justin.

I could be drinking and getting a blow job right now… what the fuck was I was thinking… damn blond twink… beautiful, blond twink…

Brian hung the ticket on the carousel in the pass-through kitchen window, and held back on the urge to rip the apparatus off the wall and fling it across the room. He turned to survey the dim, dingy diner and his cowering customers.

I'm bored… 'I had to kill those three dweebs, judge - because I was bored! Anyone would have done the same, your honor!' Brian chuckled to himself, enjoying his own diabolical humor.

Then, an idea came to him.

Hmm, now that's a damn good idea… it would be a very productive way to pass the time.

Brian's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile.


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