


Behind These Hazel Eyes

by SisiDraig - 2



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-09
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2014-06-24 23:21:37
Rating: M
Chapters: 35
Words: 109,226
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6463757/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1819842/SisiDraig-2
Summary: Brian Kinney is the youngest of the three brothers.His life at home is made miserable by his fist-throwing father and his alcoholic god-fearing mother. The only things he knows for sure are love isn't real and gays are wrong. Contains abuse and homophobia





	1. Prologue

**D/C: Nope!**

**A/N: Oh my god! My first ever prologue … this is incredibly exciting! And the first story I've ever written that deserves and M. *bites nails* Anyway … enjoy….**

**Umm … the title is the title of a song that I had to look up to discover is sung by someone called Kelly Clarkson who apparently won American Idol … or something. I've got no idea. I just wanted the title, so I robbed it! =D **

**Also, this is probably born slightly out of watching the film 'Get Real' again, which I only did because I read **xrifree**'s story **nice boys dont play rock n roll**But this plot's totally different … I promise. So yeah "nice boys dont play rock n roll" it's really good…. Check it out if you haven't already. It's better than this one! What are you still doing here? There are other better stories...**

**No? Still here? Fine, this is what I have for you so far...**

Another godforsaken town, another chance to start again, another new life, another new place, another new school. It was bullshit. Every last bit of it. Moving home five times in three years was too much for any kid. What was the point in making friends? What was the point in working hard at school? It wouldn't matter.

They wouldn't be here long, maybe just until the recent need for staff at Cohosh and Pips Steel factory subsided and Ol' Jack Kinney was made redundant again for excessive alcohol intake before attempting to work heavy machinery. Then, they would get poorer and poorer, slowly starving to death whilst they waited for a so-called God to answer the endless streams of prayers St Joan would send his way. Eventually, when they were surviving on half a meal a day and the electric and gas had been cut off, a job would come up on the other side of the country and they'd up and leave with Joan claiming God had answered her prayers while Jack remained too drunk to function. It was an endless cycle of bullshit and lies and Brian Kinney was sick of being caught up in it.

He hated that every Sunday his mother would drag his father, himself and his two brothers off to church. He hated that he would sit there and listen to the minister drone on and fucking on about a man who'd lived over 2000 years ago. The only good thing Jesus had done, as far as Brian could tell, was be born and die. At least _those _events had given the world Christmas and Easter. Not that those days particularly mattered in the Kinney calendar but they usually made more of an impact than any of the three boys' birthdays.

Jack junior often claimed that until his fifth birthday, he used to receive presents and cake and even had a party but Brian and Eric found that hard to believe. Eric couldn't remember any parties on any of his birthdays, despite the photographic evidence that his first birthday had indeed been celebrated. It was a few months after that Jack Kinney had lost his job and the shit second class life had begun. They barely had enough money to make it through anyway and then Joan had become pregnant again and Jack had done everything to convince her to get rid of the baby. Of course, Joan Kinney's religious beliefs had meant that nine months later she'd given birth to another fucking miracle; Brian.

Over time, things in the Kinney family had become bitter and gnarled and coping had been left in the hands of their vices. Jack had turned to drink, so Joan had turned to the lord. Jack had turned to violence, so Joan had turned to drink. The parents had turned into messes, so the sons had turned into hateful, heartless bastards….


	2. Make Him Feel At Home

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**Well … after that phenomenal response to the prologue of this story, I figure I can only disappoint you from here on in….**

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* * *

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"Class," the teacher introduced in a distinctly bored tone, "this is Brian Kinney. He's new so everyone try to make him feel at home." Brian couldn't help hope the kids in this class _wouldn't _make him feel at home. In fact, anything that would take him as far from feeling like he was at home the better. He'd already planned to sign up to all the sports teams and as many societies and clubs as he was able to. Anything, to keep him out of the Kinney house for as long as possible.

The teacher told him to take a seat and Brian found the only available seat was next to a blonde boy on the front row. The boy had two folders, a wad of lined paper and even more without lines. He also had more textbooks and more pencils than the rest of the class put together. Brilliant. Brian had wound up next to the class nerd.

"Hey," the blonde boy smiled, holding out his hand. "My name's Justin. Justin Taylor."

Brian looked at the boy, his wide beaming smile, his glistening blue eyes, his handsome face and scowled as something inside him, he'd long since quashed, stirred painfully. He immediately snapped his eyes onto his desk and muttered, "I don't care."

::

At lunchtime, Brian met with Jack and Eric in the yard before the three made their way into the canteen.

"The guy's an idiot," Jack moaned as the three picked up their trays. "I already told him I've learnt all that shit about Pythagoras and the fag just kept telling me I had to relearn it."

"What d'you do?" Eric asked

"Told him to fuck off and walked out of the classroom."

"Fucking hell Jack," Brian groaned, pointing to an undistinguishable grey gloop and watching as the dinner lady scooped some up and slopped it on his plate. "Er, thanks," he muttered to the woman before turning more angrily to his oldest brother. "Have you got yourself suspended?""Not yet," Jack replied, taking a drink and heading to an empty table near the middle of the room. "But the teacher's meeting with the principal as we speak. It's only a matter of time," he chuckled.

"Fuck," Brian swore sharply and loudly causing the few closest students to glance up at him. "You fucking cocksucker. You know what dad's like when you get suspended."

"Yeah," Jack smirked. "He gets pissed at you because if you hadn't been born, he could have given me a proper education. You know, you really should be sorry for the mess you've made of my life," he chuckled as though this shit was funny. Brian scowled deeply and lifted some of the gloop from his plate with his fork before letting it fall back to the plate. It had the consistency of half-formed cement and Brian was under no illusions that it would taste any better than it looked.

"Fuck you," he mumbled, before placing some of the so-called food into his mouth and swallowing it carefully. It tasted like shit.

"Now, now, Baby Bri, that's no way to talk to your older, wiser, smarter brother, is it?" Jack asked. Brian refused to rise to the bate. Jack had already seen to it that Brian would get a beating from his father later that day, he didn't need one from his brother too. He stayed silent, it was easier.

"Nothing to say Baby Bri?" Jack asked.

"Come on Jack," Eric said calmly, "leave him alone. You know what you've done to him. Leave it there."

"When did you become a saint?" Jack asked disdainfully. "You wanna become like mom, praying to some fucking thing that doesn't exist."

"All I'm saying is don't be a shit. We all know it's just us three in this school. Everyone's already staring at us like we're freaks. We don't need to turn on each other as well," Eric explained. "And would it have killed you to last, oh I don't know, a day without being suspended?"

"What's the point?" Jack shrugged, "we'll be gone from here soon enough."

"Probably," Eric agreed, "but you could have saved Bri from a beating he doesn't deserve."

"He does deserve them," Jack countered, that mocking quality back in his voice. "Haven't you heard dad explain it? If it hadn't been for Brian, we'd all be living in a mansion in Beverly Hills." He glanced at Brian and smirked, "I don't know how you sleep at night."

"Fuck you!" Brian exploded, batting his tray across the table so it clattered to the floor, with grey gloop flying everywhere. "Fuck you, Jack!" And with that, he stormed from the canteen, the eyes of the entire school watching him carefully.

::

Brian watched the cheerleaders leaping about at the edge of the football pitch. They weren't bad really, they were throwing each other well and the others were catching them, so that was a bonus. Some of them were quite pretty, with long legs and perfect hair. They sort of inspired him to take photos. There were points in the routine where he could get a perfect mid-air twirl or catch the gleaming teeth of the girl at the front's smile. He sighed and leant back against the tree. He intended to make this moment of bliss drag on. He only had two hours left of school and an hour of work with the school magazine that he intended to join before he'd have to go home and face the wrath of a furious Jack Kinney Sr.

"Hey," a voice distracted Brian from his daydreaming. He looked up to see Eric, looking uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Hey," Brian answered but his eyes were focused back on the cheerleaders and the one at the front and her pretty smile. He was vaguely aware of Eric settling on the grass near him. He was pretty sure Eric was picking anxiously at the nearby blades. That was something Eric did when he was nervous, he picked at things and Brian knew why Eric was nervous, he knew why he'd come to find him.

"He was sent home, wasn't he?" He asked and from the corner of his eye, he saw Eric nod his head.

"Who picked him up?" Brian asked.

"Dad," Eric answered and after a moment, "he's pissed at you."

"He's always pissed at me," Brian answered almost robotically, still refusing to look at his brother. It was then that the bell rang to signal the beginning of the afternoon classes.

"I'm sorry, Bri," Eric said sympathetically, getting to his feet and squeezing Brian's shoulder before walking off to his class.

It was a full ten minutes before Brian bothered to push himself to his feet and go to his lesson. The teacher told him off and explained that punctuality was extremely important in Maple Grove High School. Brian had just nodded numbly, trying not to think about the pain that was coming his way as soon as he got home.

"Are you okay?" A voice whispered in his ear. Brian turned around and found himself once again looking into the perfect blue eyes, he'd spent a lesson avoiding this morning.

"I'm fine," Brian muttered quickly, looking back to his desk.

"Are you sure? You looked kinda upset at lunch."

"I'm fine," Brian repeated more firmly. He didn't need this blonde nerd's pity.

"Oh, okay because I…"

"I don't care," Brian cut him off, beginning to gnaw on a pencil furiously. Being near this blonde kid was making him feel a little bit weird inside and he couldn't work out why. He just knew he wanted to be as far away from him as physically possible. The end of the lesson couldn't come quick enough.

As soon as the bell went, Brian leapt out of his desk and virtually ran for the door. He didn't realised, in his haste, he'd left his pen and pencil behind until the blonde boy thoughtfully returned them in the next class and he wound up sat by him again.

"You seem jittery," the blonde whispered about half way through the lesson on the American Civil War.

"You seem annoying," Brian shot back, not looking up.

"Why are you so mean to me?" He asked. "All I've done is try to be nice to you."

"So stop trying."

"Would you prefer it if I were mean to you?" The boy asked.

Brian just shrugged and before he could stop himself, he'd said, "everyone else is."

The blonde boy looked a little shocked for a second before smiling, "well, I'm not everyone else."

"No," Brian agreed. "You're an annoying shit."

"Justin Taylor," the boy corrected.

"Sure," Brian nodded distantly, "that too."

The lesson ended much too soon and Brian realised he only had an hour of this shitty school magazine crap before he'd have to go home and face the music; in this case, that music being the wrath of his fist-happy father.

"Are you going home now?" Justin asked as the students filed quickly out of the classroom.

"No," Brian shook his head. "I'm going to check out the school magazine."

"That's where I'm going," the boy beamed. "I'll show you the way."

"Great," Brian deadpanned, causing this Justin boy to eye him strangely.

"You're odd," he concluded eventually and Brian just gave a sort of half-smile.

"So why are you still talking to me?"

"I quite like things that are odd," Justin shrugged, then he opened a door on the left hand side of the corridor. "It's this way," he explained, gesturing Brian through.

* * *

**Okay, I know it's a weird ending but that's only because the next chapter's quite long. =D**

**Thanks to each and every one of you who reviewed the prologue. All reviews mean a lot, regardless of what you have to say! Constructive criticism is encouraged. I really need to improve in time for my dissertation next year and I'm counting on you guys to help me! Thank youuuuu!**

**InconspicuousBunny…xx**


	3. The Fag Mag

The school magazine was actually better than Brian had first imagined. It was run by a four overly enthusiastic boys and two overly enthusiastic girls. They were based in a weird cage-like room above the sports hall and Brian could hear some kind of cheerleading try-outs going on. He peered out of one of the weird room's windows and spotted the girl with the smile.

"Nice view," he commented.

"Uh-huh," the blonde girl who Justin had introduced as the chief writer agreed. "Sandy Doughty is totally hot. Even if she is a bitch."

"Wait you're a…"

"Dyke," the girl finished for him. "Yeah."

Brian raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. "So I could get a place, you, me and Sandy I'd be on for a threesome."

"No," the blonde smiled. "I'd probably only want to sleep with Sandy but I wouldn't do that anyway. I've got Mel." She indicated the other girl in the room, the one with short dark hair and Brian nodded a little. Yeah, that probably made sense.

"What are you guys talking about?" The effeminate man Justin had introduced as the chief editor and in charge of layout as well as style sections asked.

"Pussy," Mel said bluntly and the effeminate man shuddered in disgust.

"Why?" He sighed, then he turned to Brian and ran a finger straight down the boy's muscled chest. "All the hot ones are straight," he sighed. "Such a waste."

"Wait, you're a fucking fag," Brian asked shoving the boy away so hard he nearly fell over.

"Of course," the boy replied, managing to retain his composure. "We all are."

"It's sorta like queer club," a shorter boy with huge brown eyes and brown hair smiled. "But we'll make an exception for a breeder."

"Fuck you, you goddamn cocksucker," Brian spat.

"Brian," Justin looked offended and Brian realised,

"you too."

"Yeah," the blonde nodded, his blue eyes sparkling with hurt. Brian felt his gut clench. He felt his emotional walls build up. He felt the pounding in his very fibre push harder and harder against that buzz he was feeling and the mix of emotions was making him feel nauseous. No, wait. He _was _nauseous. Shit. He was going to vomit. He stumbled quickly out of the cage-room and clattered down the metal steps before stumbling through the corridor until he found a toilet. He barely made it to the bowl before he hurled everywhere.

What the hell was wrong with him? Was it actually possible to be allergic to fags? He sighed and shuddered heavily as he thought about how he only had two options now. Back to fagdom or back to his hellish home. He felt his insides squeeze again and he leant back over the toilet.

::

It was over fifteen minutes later before he heard the restroom door creak open and voice say,

"Brian. Is everything okay in here?"

Brian recognised Justin's voice so he heaved himself up from the disgusting tiled floor and flushed the toilet before opening the door and stumbling out towards a wash basin.

"You okay?" He heard Justin ask, though he didn't answer. He just turned the tap on and watched the water whooshing over his hands. "You've been in here ages," Justin tried again but again, Brian ignored him, reaching for some soap before returning them to the cascading water.

"Do you have a problem with us?" Justin asked, when Brian had finished drying his hands and seemed ready to leave. "I mean, with us being gay."

Brian just looked at the shorter boy incredulously. Had he really just asked that?

"Of course I have a problem with it," he spat. "You're a goddamn fudge packer! You all are. It's like a butt fuckers convention. Is that what you do? You all meet once a week and suck each other's cocks?"

"No," Justin replied calmly. "We're all friends. We thought it would be nice for the school to have a magazine so we made it happen. If you don't like it _Brian,_" he spat the name like an insult, "you can just go home."

Justin turned on his heels and had just opened the door when Brian mumbled, "wait."

"What?" Justin asked steadily. He couldn't believe the boy had asked him to wait. Brian seemed like the biggest homophobe Justin had ever met. What an earth would possess him to call out like that? And to sound so meek and almost desperate.

"I didn't mean it."

Justin could tell the boy was muttering these words through gritted teeth. He had a real deep-seated issue with gays. Justin could see that from the strained expression on his face but it was more than that … there was something else and, on top of that unfathomable something else, there was also the very obvious fact that Brian would clearly rather be anywhere than at home.

"I'm sorry," Brian was mumbling. "I acted like a total fa-…" He stopped himself immediately and just looked up at the other boy.

"Fag?" Justin guessed.

Brian just nodded mutedly. He felt stupid and pathetic. He was actually sucking up to a goddamn cocksucker. He didn't need this shit but that didn't stop him from muttering a further apology.

"Sorry."

"I don't get it," Justin sighed. "You clearly don't like queers. What is at home that makes you want to stay?"

"That's none of your fucking business," Brian snapped and Justin just nodded shallowly and stared at the tall, pale, almost awkward boy ahead of him.

"Fine," Justin said. "You can work on the magazine. But no homophobic remarks … got it?"

"Sure," Brian nodded quickly, "whatever you say."

::

Everyone was more than a little surprised to see Brian shuffle back into the caged room, his head dipped.

"Sorry," he mumbled embarrassedly. "I didn't mean to offend anyone."

"Not a problem," the more effeminate man said, swinging his arms a little theatrically. "Now, may I introduce myself. I'm Emmett Honeycutt. This," he indicated the man with large brown eyes, "is Michael. That over in the corner is Ted." Brian looked up to see a boy who's hair was thinning on the top, scouring books. "Obviously you know Justin," he smiled at the blonde boy. "And that horrible display of lesbianism," Emmett pointed to the two girls Brian had spoken to earlier, "is known as Mel and Lindsey."

"Right," Brian nodded. He didn't really care about their names. He just needed a place to go to avoid home and this was it.

"What kind of things do you like Brian?" Emmett asked steadily.

"Err," Brian paused for a long moment before, after much encouragement from Justin and Emmett, he admitted that he wanted to take photographs.

"That's perfect," Emmett clapped excitedly. "Lindsey's going to the racetrack tomorrow to do a piece on Richie Blink's new U18's state-wide javelin record and she could do with a few pictures. Why don't you go with her after school and we'll see what you can do?"

"I can't tomorrow," Brian said quietly. He still wouldn't meet any of their eyes. He was beyond uncomfortable, everything was telling him to run and never look back but he had nowhere else to go. "I have football tryouts," he explained.

"You play football?" Justin asked suddenly, looking up from whatever he'd been doodling on a piece of paper.

"Sure," Brian nodded, finally looking up and catching those shining blue eyes. He immediately felt nauseous again. Maybe he was just allergic to Justin.

"You any good?"

"My old coach said I had a shot at college football." Brian looked even more embarrassed now. It was strange, he seemed sort of arrogant and modest, cocky and shy like a walking contradiction. "But I dunno … my dad says I should stick to business."

"Still, if you and your brothers play football well, that could be a huge boost to our team," Justin said and Brian couldn't help note this blonde artist actually seemed excited about that. "God knows we need a good season. Where d'you play Brian?"

"Quarterback," Brian said.

"Aha," Justin beamed. "Just what we need. Get that fat fucker Chris Hobbs out of there and get someone decent in."

"Oh, I don't know," Brian shook his head. "This Hobbs guy has a decent enough reputation."

"He's shit," Justin replied firmly. Then mumbling to himself about sports articles and turnarounds, he slid into a chair and began to type furiously onto a computer. In fact, everyone seemed to have found something to do … except Brian. He was just standing dumbly watching the rest of them working.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder gently. He followed the hand, along the arm, up the shoulder and to the blonde girl's face, which was smiling.

"Come with me," she said. "I think Richie Blink is training now. You can go and snap some shots of him. Maybe get a few of the cheerleading team while you're at it. It'll give you a chance to talk to Sandy," she smirked a little, "gain back your manliness."

Brian smiled back and allowed her to show him the way to athletics track.

::

Richie Blink was a mammoth of a man, an Amazonian God, a perfect specimen of masculinity. Brian couldn't help stare as the boy sliced through the air with pure speed and launched a javelin high into the heavans. It was beautiful, natural and at the same time seemed to defy all science.

"Richie," the girl called to the boy. He stopped looked up and smiled and Brian couldn't help stare at the smile. It, like everything else about this boy, was perfect.

"Hey," he grinned. "You must be Lindsey, from the school magazine, right? I thought we were on for tomorrow."

"We are," Linds confirmed. "We just thought as we're running a feature on you, it would be good to have some up-to-date photos."

"Cool."

"This," she pulled Brian closer, "is Brian. He's the magazine photographer."

"Excellent," Richie turned his attention to Brian and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he schmoozed as Brian shook his hand firmly, feeling inexplicably nervous and excited by the touch. "So where do you want me?"

Brian gulped a little before saying, "you just … do your thing. I'll get the photos I need."

"Cool," Richie smiled again and went back to training.

Lindsey wasn't stupid. She'd noticed the strangled expression on Brian's face when he'd shaken Richie's hand. She'd noted the way he licked his lips predatorily when Richie looked away. She noticed all of it, even if Brian refused to.

She watched this new Kinney boy kneel on the floor and capture precision perfect action shots of the athlete in action. She watched him stand up and zoom in from a distance, she watched him use the different effects, flicking between full-colour, sepia and black and white. He used dead air to create strange and unusual effects, while changing the shutter speed to make the javelin look blurry as it flew. As she flicked through the photos when he'd finished, she had to admit, he was certainly talented.

"Come on then," Lindsey sighed, when she'd finished studying his handiwork. "Let's go check out the talent in the sports hall."

::

As soon as Brian saw the cheerleaders, he felt comfortable. He understood this. He understood being surrounded by beautiful girls. He knew how to act and react. He'd had plenty of experience starting at new highschools and he'd learnt that you can always rely on the cheerleaders to be easy.

"Hey Linds," a dark haired girl waved flirtily at Lindsey and Brian couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising. Linds just shrugged and Brian thought he liked her a bit. He supposed dykes weren't too bad, not as bad as fags anyway.

"Can I help you?" An angry superior voice cut through his thoughts. He turned around and saw Sandy glaring at him.

"I, er, I'm from the school magazine," he stuttered. She really was stunning. "We want some photos of the cheerleading team for the cover."

Sandy shot Lindsey a disdainful look. "You sure she's not gonna use it to … do whatever dykes do?"

"No," Brian shook his head firmly. "I'll take the photos and hand them straight onto the editor."

"Uh-huh," Sandy nodded. "Why are you putting the cheerleaders on the front cover?"

"We're not bothered about them," Brian replied immediately. "We just want you on the cover. We want the most beautiful face, with the most perfect eyes to draw in the readers."

Lindsey rolled her eyes, though she had to hand it to the boy, the cheesy lines seemed to be working. She supposed there was a very fine line between smooth and cheesy when it came to this kind of thing. And it probably didn't hurt that this Brian Kinney was fucking gorgeous. He soon had Sandy giggling like the air-head bimbo she was and he'd set up a private photography session with her later in the week before he went about snapping photos of the cheerleading troupe performing their most impressive sequences.

Eventually, Lindsey called Brian away. It was time for them to call it a day on the magazine and Brian's stomach clenched as he realised there was nowhere else to run now. The only place left to go was home. He shuddered a little.

::

"These are good," Linds was saying as they walked back into the caged-room, "really good. Especially the ones of Richie, you captured the poses beautifully and your use of light is excellent."

"Thanks," Brian smiled. He was beginning to feel better. He did enjoy photography. It was a bit of a hobby, he'd read books about it and he was always snapping photos around the house and the garden. Usually, his subject of choice was a neighbour's cat or a stray butterfly but now he had the school magazine as an excuse to stay out, he could test his photographic eye out on the athletes of the school and on Thursday, he'd even have Sandy modelling for him personally.

He was imagining her beautiful mousy hair and how soft her skin would feel under his fingers, when he found himself staring into the face of the short blonde boy.

"Good work with the photos, Brian," he beamed. "I mean, I've only had chance to take a quick glance but they look amazing."

"Thanks," Brian nodded, his gaze finding the floor immediately.

"Have you got a lift home?" Justin asked.

"No. But it's okay. I'll walk."

"Don't be ridiculous," Justin smiled. "Where do you live?"

"Er, Little Brook."

All the friends looked at each other for a confused moment before Emmett sighed. "It's near me," he said. "Round the corner in the Hossington estate." He directed that statement to Brian, who just nodded his confirmation. He didn't have to look up to know the glances that the others in the room would be sharing.

The Hossington Estate was the worst part of town. It was mainly full of drug dealers and smack heads living in tiny, crappy apartments with easy access to their shit. There was a slightly nicer bit, which was where Brian lived, a bit where people owned or rented entire houses so they considered themselves a step above those in the apartments. Not that it mattered, it was still a shithole, the whole estate was.

"That's a little out of my way," Lindsey said anxiously. Of course, it stood to reason that Lindsey would live in the nicest part of the surrounding area. She was a WASP, albeit a lesbian, democrat WASP but that didn't make her parent's house any smaller or their bank account any barer. Justin too, lived in that area so it was decided that Lindsey would take him and Mel home in her 'daddy's-little-princess-mobile', whilst Ted's rundown car, he'd spent many summers working up to be able to afford, would take Ted, Emmett, Michael and Brian home.

"I don't really want to go into Hossington," Ted said embarrassedly. "Do you mind if I drop you where Em lives? You could walk from there."

Brian mumbled something that sounded like 'fine' and Ted just nodded. The atmosphere in the car was strained at best. Emmett kept throwing in an anecdote or two about his Aunt Lula but no one was really listening. Michael was having a very difficult time trying _not _to stare at Brian. In fact, he was having an impossible time but he'd thought he was getting away with it until Brian snapped;

"Take a fucking picture, you goddamn faggot!"

"Hey," Emmett warned immediately. "D'you wanna walk home?"

"Might be better," Brian sulked, glaring at Michael and moving even closer to the car door. He already looked like he was trying to meld the metal to his body so now he just looked ridiculous, pressed up against the car like he was trying to escape a ferocious tiger, not a horny homosexual with a bit of a crush.

The atmosphere in the car was awkward and uncomfortable again.

"How about some music," Ted suggested and Emmett agreed that that would be a great idea but he quickly changed his mind when all Ted's CDs were operas.

"Teddy," he whined. "Don't you own _any _decent music?"

"Like…" Ted encouraged.

"Madonna."

"Cher," Michael piped up.

"Kylie."

"Faggots," Brian hissed.

"Oh, Mr High-and-mighty. What would you be listening to, if this was your car?"

"I dunno," Brian shrugged. "I like Bowie and Bolan. But at the moment 'The Salem Experience' are my favourite."

"That shitty independent Pennsylvania band?"

"Er, yeah," Brian looked a little awkward. "You've heard of them?"

"Only because Justin's obsessed with them. It's all he listens to."

"Oh," Brian nodded and went back to staring out of the window. If Justin were a girl, he'd pretty much be perfect. He could imagine the tits he'd have, rounded voluptuous … perfect. Brian tried to picture the blonde with breasts and smiled a little at the image in his head but then he saw as Ted turned down Liberty Avenue and Justin the image of Justin with breasts was replaced instantly with pure panic.

For a second, Brian thought these boys were going to force him to go into some gay bar, maybe they'd try and fuck him because they're faggots and that's what faggots do. They desperately want to fuck straight guys. Okay, maybe he was being irrational but that didn't stop him systematically mapping out in his head how he would make his escape.

But they passed all the bars and clubs and drove onto a sort of street of brightly coloured houses. They drew to a stop outside a biggish house with an overrun garden and bright red front door. There was a woman in the front garden and she was putting up a big banner which ready 'Happy Pride Month'.

"Pride month," Ted scorned, looking at Michael.

"Leave her alone," the other boy squirmed. "This is her thing."

Brian found himself leaning closer to the house, despite meaning he had to be closer to Michael. "Is she a drag queen?" He asked and Emmett and Ted had to stifle a smirk.

"Fuck you," Michael scowled, almost in tears as he jumped out of the car and ran into the house. Brian watched as the drag queen rushed in after him and frowned.

"What the hell is his problem?"

"Well, you did just call his mum a drag queen," Emmett answered with a smile. "But he's just moody because he thinks you're hot.""Well, you better tell him to keep his fucking fairy hands to himself."

"I'll make sure he gets the message," Emmett rolled his eyes.

"Now can we get out of this queer street."

Emmett turned to look at Ted. He was beginning to wonder why they were even taking this homophobic breeder prick home. Why were they being nice to him? And then he remembered. It was because they'd seen that vulnerability this boy had, the fear behind his perfect hazel eyes as he began to come to terms with who he was, who he desperately didn't want to be.

Ted drove slowly and the car was silent. In fact, the silence was stifling but there was nothing to be done about it. It was getting dark as they approached the entrance to the Hossington estate but it wasn't dark enough for the streetlamps to have flicked on. It was just that eerie twilight when anything could happen to an unsuspecting teenage boy and Ted was a nice guy, so that's why he flicked the indicators on and turned into the estate.

"Which way to your house?" He asked coolly and Brian guided him with minimum words through the shithole estate.

Of all the houses on the Hossington estate, the Kinney's was probably the nicest … not that that said much. All it really meant was that the windows were all intact and there was no pile of burning tires in the front yard.

"This it?" Ted asked. Brian nodded mutedly.

"Er, thanks … for the lift," he smiled weakly and opened the door, sliding out anxiously.

"What a waste of a body," Emmett sighed. "Why must god make all the hot ones assholes?"

"Shh," Ted hushed him. "Look. Something's not right."

Emmett followed Ted's gaze and had to admit, the way Brian was moving was a little odd. He'd never seen anyone look so terrified to be home. Brian was barely taking any steps towards the house, his hands were ringing together and his head was dipped. The front door suddenly slammed open and Eric came running out.

"Ah yes, the other hot one."

"All three are hot," Ted sighed.

"I think we've bagged ourselves the hottest though," Emmett smirked but Ted just waved his hand around indicating he should shut up.

Ted strained his ears and was just able to make out Eric's warning.

"He's mad. Really mad. Why didn't you come straight home?"

Brian glanced apprehensively at his house. "I went to the school magazine.""That fag mag?" Eric asked.

"I didn't want to come home," Brian shrugged.

"You know all the people who work on that are queer. People will think your queer, Bri. People with think you're a fag.""Well I'm not, am I" Brian yelled.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open again and a man in his late forties stumbled out. He was swigging from a bottle of whiskey and he had a murderous expression on his face.

"What the hell is going on out here?" He demanded. From in the car, the two boys shuddered.

"Brian's back," Eric answered quickly.

Jack senior turned his attention to his youngest son and marched over. He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close, breathing alcohol and stale cigarettes all over him.

"Where," he seethed, "the FUCK … have you been?"

"I had to stay after school," Brian answered, trying not to gag on the poisoned air he was forced to breath.

"Does this have anything to do with Jack being suspended?""No," Brian shook his head furiously but that didn't stop his dad throwing him to the ground and kicking him hard once in the ribs. Brian curled up in a ball but he didn't make a noise.

"Get up!" Jack demanded, "the neighbours are going to start gossiping, you son of a bitch."

As soon as Brian was on his feet, a sharp slap across the face sent him reeling backwards. Brian was still feeling a little disorientated when he felt a fist tangling in his shirt, dragging him towards the house. Shit. He gulped. It was only going to get worse from here.

"Fuck," Emmett whispered to Ted as the door shut behind the Kinney's. "Did you see that?""Yeah," he nodded dumbly. "Lets get out of here."

**

* * *

****Bear with me on this one. I swear it will get more exciting ... xx**


	4. When Coffee Tables Fight Back

Brian led on his bed staring numbly at the ceiling. It would be half an hour before the alarm would go off telling him it was time to go to school but that didn't matter. Brian had barely slept all night. His face ached, his ribs throbbed and he felt battered and weak. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just run away from this hell he called a family.

Of course they'd all looked away as Jack senior had hit him last night. They always looked away, found other things to do in other parts of the house. His mother had mumbled some daft prayers as Jack had sent him to bed without dinner but apart from that, the incident was entirely ignored; wiped from the memories of the Kinney family. Unfortunately, Brian still wore the evidence on his would-be perfect face.

Brian had been lying on his bed a few hours before Eric arrived with some leftovers he'd salvaged from diner.

"I'm sorry, Bri," he'd whispered, placing a small bowl of some kind of ambiguous pie on the bedside table. "It was all I could get."

Brian had just rolled away from him. Sorry wasn't enough anymore. Brian had long since accepted the fact that he was the only one of the Kinney boys who got the beatings but he hated the way Eric apologized for it afterwards. Eric wasn't sorry and if the roles were reversed, Brian wouldn't be sorry either … he'd be relieved. He'd be jumping for joy. But instead, he was broken, living a loveless life in a world of pricks who don't care.

He looked at his alarm clock. It was obscured slightly by the uneaten bowl of food but Brian could read it well enough to know he'd only killed five minutes, thinking about last night. The time just seemed to drag on forever but eventually, Brian decided it was time to haul himself out of bed and pull on his clothes for school. He wanted to spend as little time as possible in this house today. He could hear his family downstairs talking about something over the breakfast but Brian just found things to do to spend more time in his bedroom, mainly think of explanations as to why his eye had turned a disgusting purple-green colour.

He'd hoped it wouldn't bruise too badly but all hope of that had gone when he spotted himself in the mirror. He looked like a man in a dodgy alien costume. He'd need a really good explanation. Maybe he could tell everybody that he'd got involved in secret FBI work and couldn't tell them anymore or maybe he could say he wrestled a ninja or fought off a vicious wolf. Or, perhaps, he should just say what he always said; 'I fell'. He winced as he pressed the tender flesh around his eye. It looked disgusting. A message to world to tell them just what Brian Kinney meant to his old man. Well, he'd rather starve than sit across the table from his father this morning.

Eventually, though, he had to go downstairs. He heard his mother call him to tell him it was time to leave for the bus. Brian half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs. His mom was stood there a strained look of sympathy morphing her harsh features. She had a bright, glassy quality to her eyes and Brian knew she'd been on the sherry already. It was ridiculous. The day had barely began and his mum was already well on her way to getting shitfaced … again.

"Oh sweetie," she whispered, running her thumb gently over his youngest son's bruise. She closed her eyes and Brian heard her mutter; "Lord, I pray that you will hear this for I have never wanted anything more. I pray that my son will stop doing things to make my husband angry and I pray that his new job is a success…."

Brian had heard all he needed to. A drunken prayer on the way to school was about as much acknowledgment of what happened last night as Brian could expect from her. He pulled away from her well-meaning bullshit and grabbed some toast off the plate in the centre of the table.

"Ooooo," Jack chuckled when he looked up from his cereal to see the mess his youngest brother's face was in. Then he put on a mocking baby voice and chuckled, "Ickle baby Brian must have done something really naughty."

"Fuck you Jack," he spat.

"Brian," his mother's half-hearted warning about cursing was lost on everyone. Jack senior was already at work, Brian was safe from another beating and his mother would be too drunk to land a punch. She was too fucking drunk to do anything … except drink more sherry.

"Oh come on Bri," Jack whined, his smile betraying his tone, "it's not my fault he takes it all out on you. I'm sorry but … what do you expect me to do about it?"

Brian just glared at Jack for a moment but he couldn't be bothered to argue. What was the point? Nothing ever fucking changed. So he just turned to door and mumbled, "I've got football trials tonight, mom. I'll see you later."

Brian ached as he walked. His ribs and his stomach throbbed with every step but he refused to let the pain show on his face. He wasn't weak, not anymore. No one needed to know that his father hated him. He'd just pretend nothing was wrong. He was only halfway to the school bus stop when he heard two sets of footsteps catching up with him.

"How are you this morning?" Eric asked and to his credit, he sounded concerned.

"Okay," Brian mumbled. It wasn't exactly a lie. He was okay … just okay.

"Good," Eric nodded, seemingly feeling his duty as an older brother was over.

"How did you get that bruise?" Jack asked suddenly and Brian replied,

"I fell over, hit my face on a coffee table."

"Yeah you did," Jack nodded. "We don't need any fucking faggot knowing our private business, right?"

"Right," Brian nodded, his eyes firmly on the pavement beneath his feet. Then he frowned and looked up at Jack. "What the hell are you doing here? Weren't you suspended?"

"No," Jack smirked. "Just sent home for the afternoon to cool down. That's what they're saying anyway. I think I would have been suspended but my football reputation has gone before me and now they want me to be at tryouts."

Brian nodded as the bus pulled up along side. "D'you think we'll get in?"

"I will," Jack nodded confidently. "I've been speaking to the lads on the team and they reckon their blockers are pig-jizz." He puffed out his chest and broadened his shoulders. "I'm just what they need. And I doubt anyone's as quick as Eric, he'll make runner easily. Dunno about you though. Quarterback ain't easy. I've heard Hobbs is good."

Brian nodded a little dejectedly as he watched his older brother disappear onto the yellow bus.

"Don't listen to him, Bri," Eric said, squeezing his shoulders, "you're the best quarterback I've ever seen, for your age."

"Thanks Eric," he smiled weakly and followed his brother onto the bus.

::

Brian had sat with his hand covering his face for the whole of his first lesson and that, coupled with being the weird new kid, had meant that, so far, no one had asked about his bruise. Of course that all changed when he walked into his next lesson to find Justin 'nerd-fag' Taylor sat at a desk alone. All the other desks were full … of course they were. It was only the freaks from the fag mag and the comic book club that sat alone.

Brian dipped his head and slid into the seat next to Justin.

"Hey," Justin beamed at him. "How was the drive home?"

"Fine," Brian mumbled, placing his hand carefully over his bruise and pretending that that was where he usually liked to place his hand when he leant his elbow on the table. It looked uncomfortable and awkward and fooled Justin for about a second.

"Are you okay, you look all … weird?"

"I'm fine," Brian said curtly.

"Oh," Justin didn't look convinced, "okay. Are you all ready for tryouts later?"

"Yes." He was hoping if he kept his answers short, this boy would leave him alone.

"Good. I've got a camera, I've asked Emmett to try and take some photos but I doubt they'll be as good as the ones you took. They were amazing by the way. And I'm going to do the article but I think I told you that yesterday. The coach was really buzzing about having three brand new players to trial as well as the ones in the first year."

Brian stayed silent and Justin continued.

"I think the article will be a feature, on the back page or something. Maybe you could do an interview with me afterwards so I'd have something to flesh the article out a bit."

Silence.

"Brian."

"What?" The boy snapped.

"Will you do an interview for my article?"

"No."

Justin just stared at Brian, or at least at his hand which was still covering the entire of his face from this angle. "You know," he hissed, "sometimes you're a real asshole."

Brian just nodded his agreement. Finally, the blonde was getting it.

Brian heard Justin open his mouth to ask yet another inane question but he was saved because that was the moment the teacher walked into the room. Well, he thought he'd been saved. It turned out the teachers arrival just made things a hundred times worse.

"Mr Kinney," she sighed, "sit up straight please and take your elbow off the desk."

Brian hesitated for a long time but, realising there was nothing he could really do, he was forced to lower his hand and reveal the black eye to his neighbour. He was just grateful that the teacher's presence meant Justin couldn't talk to him about it straight away because, if the look on the blonde's face was anything to go by, there were a hell of a lot of questions.

The lesson, in Brian's opinion, didn't last long enough and his long legs hadn't let him escape quick enough, so that meant he'd barely reached the corridor when Justin was right along side him.

"What happened to your face?"

"I fell over," Brian mumbled.

"And hit your eye?"

"I landed on a coffee table," he shrugged, stopping at his locker and putting in the code.

"It doesn't look like a…" But Justin didn't get to finish his sentence because he'd touched Brian's face gently with his fingers which had caused the taller boy to leap away like he'd been burnt.

"Don't touch me, faggot!"

Justin looked hurt for a moment but he just shook his head and said calmly. "I gave you chance after chance but you really are a goddamn homophobic asshole."

"You've finally got it," Brian snarled and with those last words, Justin turned around and stormed off. Long after he'd gone, Brian couldn't help his hand from reaching up to the place on his cheek where Justin had touched him. It had been the briefest of connections but it still tingled, it still sent a buzz like no other through his body. The only explanation was that Justin was made of electricity and that was stupid even as a thought hidden in the depths of Brian's own internal insanity.

Brian's next class was chemistry and he was equally pleased and devastated to find that Justin _wasn't _in this lesson. He beamed when Sandy waved him over.

"Come and sit with me," she insisted. "Everyone knows that as head cheerleader it's my duty to make any potential football star feel welcome." She fluttered her eyelashes flirtily and Brian flashed her a smile. "How did you get that bruise?" She asked sweetly, reaching up to finger it lightly. Brian didn't pull away, he didn't need to, he didn't feel that jolt he'd felt when Justin had touched him.

"Erm, I fell over."

"That was silly," she said, shaking her head a little but that was all she said. She didn't want to know anymore and Brian liked it that way.

Brian actually quite enjoyed the time he spent talking to Sandy in that lesson. Yes, she was thick and yes she probably would have blown their eyebrows off if he'd let her mix any of the chemicals herself but at least he wasn't being made to squirm under the intensity of her eyes and every time they accidentally bumped elbows he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire. This was safer and easier. He liked this.

He didn't notice Lindsey working with some boy at the back of the class until the bell had gone and all the class were filing out.

"She's totally using you," Lindsey whispered in his ear. Brian looked up and smiled, a truely genuine smile when he saw the girl. He actually liked her, she was the only person that he felt completely himself around in the entire school.

"Wow, your smile is amazing," she chuckled. "If I wasn't a dyke…."

Brian had a thought for a second, him, Lindsey … then he shook his head. No, that couldn't work. Besides, she had Mel.

"So, are you gonna tell me about the bruise? Or is it some embarrassing story where you fell over and bumped your head?"

"Embarrassing story," Brian admitted. "I fell over, smacked it on a coffee table."

"I bet the coffee table came off worse though, right?"

"No, the coffee table's fine."

"Then it should be arrested for assault," Lindsey said firmly before smiling warmly. "Who are you eating lunch with?"

"Er, my brothers probably," he said.

"Well, if you want, there's always a seat at our table."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," he smiled at her again.

Lindsey almost took a step back. "Flash Sandy one of those," she said, indicating the boy's grin "and she'll be putty in your hands."

::

The day had gone relatively quickly. Brian had eaten lunch with his brothers like always. He'd been forced to listen to Jack brag about how the head cheerleader had been flirting with him all morning and then Eric had said she'd been doing the same to him.

"Me too," Brian had added. Brian guessed Lindsey was right, Sandy was using him. She was flirting with all three of them, waiting to see which was going to be the hero of the football team before dating them. It was calculated and passionless. Brian hoped she chose him.

The rest of the lessons were a bit shit. He was sat next to Justin in both of them and the blond refused to talk to Brian at all. He didn't even look his way but he did slide an eraser across the desk when Brian asked to borrow one. Brian had thought that Justin not speaking to him would have been better. That all these tense awkward feelings would disappear but it just got worse, much worse. So much worse, in fact, that eventually, Brian muttered;

"I'm sorry. It just came out. I didn't mean it to say it. I didn't mean to offend you."

And Justin smiled back with full force. Brian felt his stomach clench and he put it down to relief that now it wouldn't be so awkward in class.

"So," Justin was saying at they walked towards the football pitch after school was over, "can I get an interview with you afterwards?"

"Maybe," Brian nodded. "I'll see how beat up I am."

"Okay," Justin smiled "but you should be fine. There aren't any coffee tables for miles."

Brian smiled a little at the joke. Perhaps it would have been funny if his injury were actually caused by a coffee table.

"Well," Justin said as they reached the entrance to the changing rooms. "Good luck," he patted Brian on the chest, "I'll see you later."

"Later," Brian repeated watching Justin disappear into the bleachers.

Suddenly he felt someone kiss his cheek. He turned around to see Sandy beaming up at him.

"It's a good luck kiss," she explained. "Now you'll be amazing."

"Er, thanks," Brian smiled. "I've got to er," he pointed towards the changing rooms.

"Yeah, you go," she nodded waving in a fairy like fashion as Brian disappeared into the locker room.

::

"You're pathetic," Emmett said as he watched his blonde friend scrambling across the seats towards him.

"What?"

"Him, that Brian guy. It's never gonna happen you know. I'm getting barely any gay vibes off him. He's a homophobe. Why are you giving him a chance?"

Justin smiled a little and shrugged. "I don't know. There's something about him I guess."

"Like the fact he's a walking wet dream of god-like goodness?"

"That doesn't hurt," Justin grinned before adding seriously, "but it's more than that. You can see it sometimes in his eyes … he looks broken. I mean, you should see the black eyes he's got. He says he fell over but that's obviously not…." Justin spotted the strange expression on his friend's face. "What?" He demanded.

"Well," Emmett sucked in his breath a little. "When Teddy and I dropped him off at his house last night, we saw his dad march out of the house and slap him across the face."

"What?" Justin gasped.

"Yeah," Emmett sighed. "So, if he doesn't wanna tell you where he got the bruises maybe, we should respect his wishes."

Justin nodded numbly. He felt a little sick. He'd thought Brian had been in a fight he was embarrassed about or that the bruise had been the result of some embarrassing experimental jerking off, you never knew with breeders, but he'd never expected that Brian's own father would have beaten the shit out of him. Justin swallowed. There was so much more to Brian than Brian would let on.

::

Brian had chosen a secluded corner to get changed. He was hoping no one would notice the marks his father's little temper tantrum had left all over him. Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky. The locker room was full of boys, too many for the limited amount of space. They were all on top of each other and Brian knew he was fucked the second he pulled his shirt over his head he heard someone whistle long and low.

"Christ Kinney, what the fuck happened to you?"

"I fell over," Brian answered immediately as he turned to see who'd asked him. It was the Captain, Joey Bridger, but he'd drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Brian squirmed having that many half naked men staring at him was a little uncomfortable.

"Fell over?" Joey asked in disbelief.

Brian was just about to answer again when he felt Jack appear at his side. "He fell out of a tree house," Jack laughed heartily.

"You still have a tree house?" Another boy asked.

"We use it for storage," Jack explained. Well that bit of the story was true enough. "Anyway, we sent Brian up there to get this old DVD player and he fell."

Joey looked more than a little sceptical at the story but he just turned away and said, "lets hope your hand-eye coordination is better on the pitch, eh Bri?"

A few of the boys chuckled and Brian just pulled on his shirt as Jack muttered, "you're welcome," in his ear, before going back to get changed.

Brian just shook his head and sighed heavily. He couldn't wait to get on that field now. Yeah, he was nervous but he loved football. His coach had always said he was good and it was a chance for him to forget everything else that was going on and just be this whole other being. It was a way of escaping, of letting out all the shit he carried around with him. Even the air was different on the football field. It was filled with the smell of churned up grass and sweat and tears and determination. It was the best place in the world, as far as Brian was concerned. It was free and it was pure and it was bliss.

::

Justin watched the entire tryouts from the bleachers as he did every year. He felt his mouth drop when he saw Brian come out dressed in the tight white pants and purple shirt that were the school colours. He looked fucking hot and Emmett seemingly agreed as he elbowed Justin feverishly as Brian bent over to pick up his water bottle unintentionally showing off his ass to the two of them.

It helped, of course, that Brian was amazing at football. He always looked a million steps ahead of everyone else. He called the perfect plays and controlled them, running them with precision. He threw the ball when he needed to, usually picking out his lighting fast brother who was belting down the line but Brian could run too and if the time called for it, Brian would side step seven or eight players making them look like pathetic, overweight schmucks chasing an Easter egg. Chris Hobbs was old news. In fact, Justin barely noticed that he was out on the field at all. The old quarterback had been completely usurped by a younger, faster, better model and he didn't look happy about it.

"He's amazing," Justin sighed. "I mean, all three brothers are good but Brian could win us the championship."

"Yeah," Emmett agreed distantly.

Justin shot him a confused look and the other boys just shrugged.

"My interest in football ends with the tight pants and hunky men. And obviously the old jokes about tight ends and wide receivers. Like, I'd never have pegged Eric Kinney as a wide receiver or Jack Kinney as a tight end" he winked and Justin just chuckled a little.

"As always though," Justin sighed, "it's the elusive Brian Kinney who is difficult to peg."

"Mm," Emmett nodded. "I'm going to go pitch side and snap a few photos. What are you going to do?"

"I think I'll stay here," Justin decided. "Start writing up a few of these notes and I might hang around, see if I can get a bit of an interview with one of the Kinney's and the coach."

"Hmm, okay then honey, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure. Bye."

"See ya later."

Justin went back to watching the tryouts unfold. People always thought it was weird when he told them he liked football but Justin truly believed there was a creativity in sport that some people just didn't get. From the bleachers, football looked like physical poetry, like a beautiful dance done by muscular men. But he enjoyed the emotional attachment you could get from it too; a win could elate you and a loss could depress you. He was a strange feeling to be that attached to something so far out of his own control but he loved it. He watched Emmett take a few more photos before the tryouts were called to an end. Emmett left pretty quickly but Justin watched as the boys messed about as they walked back to the changing rooms to take a shower. The coach seemed to be letting them go at different times until there was only Brian, Eric, Jack, Chris and Joey the captain left.

Justin wished he could hear what was going on but it turned out the actions of the players were enough. The coach spoke for a moment or two to all of them, before focusing more on Brian and Chris. Chris suddenly turned around and threw his helmet to the floor like a stroppy child, before he marched furiously to the changing rooms leaving a trail of furiously-flung body armour behind him. Eric patted Brian on the back and Jack gave him a punch on the shoulder, then all three shook hands with the coach and Joey before going inside. It looked like Brian might have made quarter back. Justin raced down the steps and up to the coach.

"Could I have a statement for the school magazine please, sir?"

"Taylor," the coach sighed. "I've got a home to go to."

"It'll only take a moment," the blonde insisted and the coach grudgingly agreed. Justin asked a couple of questions about the upcoming season and the arrival of the new players, all the time watching the changing room doors. He wanted to go in and get an interview with Brian but he didn't want to stroll in when there were loads of people milling about. Brian would act totally differently if he was in a group, Justin already knew that.

When Justin saw Chris leave, he wrapped up his interview with the coach and ran to the locker room. As soon as the door opened, Justin was greeted with mountains of rolling steam. It choked him as the air was suddenly deprived of oxygen. It was humid and the steam was choking him. He had to take his jacket off and placed it over his arm before he melted away like a ice cube in a microwave.

He moved further into the room until a bench seemed to leap out of the steam and he walked straight into it, banging his knee hard.

"Shit," he hissed and suddenly he was aware of a tall boy at his side.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, faggot? Come to check out our dicks?"

Justin's eyes were becoming accustomed to the weird light and could see the boy talking was Jack Kinney.

"I wanted an interview," Justin explained.

"You don't have to come into the changing rooms for that," Eric chimed in. "Reckon the little fairy's after a look of Brian's cock, Jack. Tommo said he's been following him around since we got here."

"You after my fucking brother, faggot?" Jack asked, shoving Justin suddenly.

"No," Justin shook his head furiously. "I just wanted a few words from one of you on how the trials we-…" But the word was never finished, because it was at that second, Brian stepped stark bollock-naked out of the shower, but it wasn't the perfect body that had rendered Justin speechless, it wasn't even the perfect cock, it was the black and blue bruises that covered his otherwise flawless skin.

"Hey!" Jack yelled, shoving Justin even harder so he fell against the locker. "You fucking pervert stop looking at my brother!"

"What's going on?" Brian asked, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking towards them.

"This little queen's come in here looking for you."

Brian frowned for a second and Justin could see something struggling in those hazel eyes but even though the expression seemed to say sorry the words sneered,

"you wanna suck my cock faggot?"

"I just want an interview," Justin explained again, his eyes fixed carefully on Brian's until the other boy looked away.

"I'll do an interview," another voice suddenly interrupted and Justin saw Joey Bridger sat on a bench pulling on a shoe. "I'll meet you outside in two minutes."

"Okay," Justin nodded.

"Right," Jack hissed, giving him a last shove. "So get the fuck out." Justin didn't need to be told twice. He scuttled quickly out of the room.

He waited for Joey, he asked him a few questions and scribbled down the answers but he always kept one eye on the changing room doors. He watched Jack leave and walk off, he watched Eric leave and then he thanked Joey who said,

"look mate. You can't just go strolling into the locker room when you like. Personally, I don't have a problem if you're gay but some people do. Don't piss em off, alright?"

Justin had nodded though he'd barely been listening. He was just willing Joey to shut the fuck up so he could sneak back into the changing rooms. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. He must have been a glutton for punishment but he really wanted to hear Brian's explanation for the bruises and, on a lesser level, he did want to get that interview.

The door to the changing room creaked a little and banged shut when Justin let it go.

"Alright Jack. I'm hurrying," Brian's voice came from the steam. "Give me a break. It takes a little longer when my ribs are aching."

"All those bruises," Justin said quietly. He watched the other boy freeze and he pulled his shirt over his head. He turned around slowly and looked at Justin as the shorter boy said, "just how bad was that coffee table fall?"

"Fuck off … faggot," Brian hissed, sitting town and pulling on his trainers.

"Do you have any other responses?"

"What don't you understand about fuck off?"

"Well," Justin said, sitting on the bench nearest the door, "from a literal point of view, it doesn't actually make sense does it," and barely pausing for breath he continued, "who hurt you?"

Brian tensed a little as he tied his laces but he just muttered, "no one. I fell."

"It was your dad, wasn't it?"

Brian's head snapped up quickly. There was pure fear in his eyes but he said, "no. What the hell makes you think that?"

"Emmett and Ted saw it," Justin whispered. "He came out of the house and beat you up."

"It's not like that," Brian said throwing his stuff into his bag and getting to his feet. "I deserved it."

"Why?" Justin pressed. "What did you do?"

"It's none of your goddamn business!" Brian yelled, his eyes were sparking with fury and he was panting heavily as he glared at Justin. His fists were clenched as he felt rage and fury and hurt battling inside him, overwhelming him completely. "Why do you even care? Do you want it as a story for your shitty magazine? Or were you planning to storm in like some fucking white knight and save me? Well I've got news for you, you fucking little queer, I don't need you to save me. I don't need anyone to save me! I'm fine, so just … leave me the hell alone!"

Brian was now just millimetres away from him and the air between them wasn't entirely angry. Justin could feel it even if Brian couldn't. This electric surge, this pull, this unbearable need to reach up and kiss the boy in front of him but an unbelievable fear that Brian would kill him if he tried. So he just took a step away, looked to the mud-covered, tiled floor and mumbled an apology for disturbing him, before turning from the new school quarterback and walking away.


	5. The Perfect Power Couple?

It was barely a week days before the official news that Sandy Doughty was dating Brian Kinney had whipped right around the school. He was the new quarterback and hero of the team, she was the head cheerleader. It was right, it was natural. Justin didn't want to feel hurt every time he saw them holding hands or every time he saw them kissing or making out or groping by the lockers. And right now, he didn't want to be wishing that it was him that Brian was holding just a few places in front in the dinner queue.

"You too?" Michael asked, noticing Justin's longing gaze as he pushed into the queue beside him. "I swear to God, I can't stop thinking about him."

"Mm," Justin nodded. "It sucks. You know, there were times where I actually thought he might be gay but…"

"But that was all in your faggoty little mind," a boy in front of Justin snarled. "Can you shut up about Kinney? You're making me lose my appetite!"

"Sorry, John," Justin said sarcastically. "I suppose you don't wanna hear about the guy who fucked me last week then? He looked just like your mom!"

Justin was flat out on the table before he really knew what had happened. He'd been expecting it really. He wasn't even sure what had possessed him to say it. It had been a moment of suicidal insanity and as John glared down at him, his face red, his veins pulsating and saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, Justin thought he might actually die here on a greesy table in the middle of a high-school cafeteria. He'd probably even become the sad story on the 6 o'clock news; homosexual, Justin Taylor killed after admitting painful, excruciating crush on his high school's super-straight, homo-hating quarterback.

"What did you say … homo?" John growled, spit flying from between his teeth and hitting Justin full in the face.

Justin wasn't sure what he would have said even if he'd been able to squeak anything with the limited oxygen John was allowing him. He watched as John raised a fist and Justin was pretty sure his face was about to be splayed all over the table, floor and surrounding area. And then,

"Hey, what's going on?"

It was the voice of an angel or of a god or of … Brian Kinney.

"This little queer was checking you out," John said, loosening his grip on Justin's shirt and lowering his fist.

The crowd around let out a strange 'ooooo' noise and Justin realised just how much he hated really high school. Brian however, just smirked. He looked at Justin and asked, "that true Taylor? You wanna suck my cock?"

"I'd fucking bite it off!" He spat back.A few people sniggered but the majority just looked disgusted.

"Was that a threat?" Brian suddenly, pushed John out of his way, balled his hands up in Justin's shirt and lifted him up so their faces were close together.

Justin could feel the warm puffs of hair and Brian breathed and he just wanted to lean forward and kiss him but the crowd of people surrounding them made him think better of it and he just narrowed his eyes and growled,

"you fucking bet it was."

Brian glared at him for a couple more seconds, as though trying to decide what to do, before eventually, he shoved Justin away and said,

"Get the fuck out of my sight!"

Justin didn't need to be told twice. He ran out of the food hall, with Michael chasing close behind him.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit … shit! Justin needed a drink, or to splash some water on his face or something. He was tense and turned on and angry and fucking buzzing all at one. He was pretty sure he'd nearly died and Brian had saved him from having his face pounded. Alright, he'd called him a fag and mocked him but Justin was sure Brian had done it on purpose to stop him from becoming nothing more than a vegetable at the hand of John Bradbury. Shit. And then he'd held him so close to his face and it had taken all of Justin's will power not to kiss him right there in front of everyone. Shit. Shit!

"You okay?" Michael asked as he arrived in the restrooms, panting and looking anxious.

"Yeah," Justin splashed water onto his burning face. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Can you believe that shithead Kinney? He thinks just coz he's on the football team he can threaten to beat people up.""He didn't threaten anything," Justin pointed out but he couldn't help smile. If Michael had seen Brian try and leap in and join the fight then maybe that's what the rest of the school had seen too. Brian was probably smarter than Justin was willing to give him credit for. He splashed some more water on his face and sighed heavily, wiping the droplets away with the sleeve of his sweater. "Come on," he said, "maybe one of the guys will have some food we can steal."

::

Brian was being punched on the shoulder and slapped on the back and congratulated for how he'd taught 'the faggot a lesson' but Brian was numb to the praise. All he could think about was how close he'd been to pulling Justin in that extra millimetre and kissing him hard. He'd never wanted anything so much in his life and he felt sick. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he have to be going through this? Why couldn't he be like all the other kids? Why couldn't he just like girls, want girls and only girls? He desperately wanted to be like the others. He had enough shit to deal with without this insane need to touch Justin fucking Taylor, without having to deal with the little faggot invading his every fucking thought. What the hell was wrong with him?

"That was amazing, Bri," Eric slapped him on the back. "That'll stop that fucking cocksucker from chasing you about."

"Yeah, you showed him," Jack agreed, slinging an arm around Brian's neck and pulling him tighter than was comfortable. "You know," he sounded almost surprised as he ran his knuckles back and forth hard against Brian's skull, "I think I might be proud of you."

"Thanks guys," Brian choked, wrestling to get free from his brother's grasp before following them to the table with the football players and cheerleaders.

It was quickly revealed there weren't enough chairs, so Sandy sat herself on Brian's lap and giggled as she felt something pressing against her thigh. She could have had no idea that Brian was staring at a blonde boy who'd just re-entered the room.

::

"Here King Kinney, his lordship. His highness!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian asked, looking up as his oldest brother pranced around the sitting room with a copy of the high school magazine in one hand and a cheap plastic crown in the other.

"This," Jack announced proudly, opening the magazine at the centrefold to reveal a picture of Brian, in full kit, about to throw a football. It must have been taken at the trials. Brian snatched the magazine from his brother and saw in tiny writing in the corner of the photo was Emmett's name. Shit. Justin must have actually written that article he'd said about. His eyes flicked to the headline; Kinney Brothers To Lead Maple Grove High School To Victory? And under that, the by-line, with Justin's name and a tiny picture of the blonde that had been weeding his way into all of Brian's thoughts recently.

"What is this?" Brian asked, somewhat stupidly, as his felt his brother ramming the plastic crown onto his head, until it was digging in painfully.

"It's 1500 words about how brilliant you are and about 100 words about decent me and Eric are," Jack smirked. "I was pissed for a bit. I mean, everyone knows me and Eric are at least as good as you." He smirked, "some people would argue better."

"Which people? You and Eric."

"Hey!" Jack snapped, hitting Brian on the head semi-seriously.

"So what stopped you being angry?" Brian asked, rubbing his head.

"I saw who the article was written by and it all made sense. Looks like Gaylor's still after you, even after you were an asshole to him. I mean, fuck, what do you have to do to make him realise he's barking up the wrong goddamn tree." Jack seemed thoughtful for a second before saying, "I could make him realise."

"Don't," Brian warned quickly, which got a raised eyebrow from Eric, who'd been watching the scene silently in the arm chair.

"Why the hell not?" Eric asked.

"It's not worth it, is it?" Brian sighed. "You don't even know if he likes me."

But Jack wasn't listening. "I bet he jerks off thinking about you," he said, a disgusted expression on his face. "Fucking faggots. They should be burned, or shot … or fried in the electric chair."

"I wouldn't go that far," Eric said honestly. "I might just stick them on an island together and let AIDS do the rest."

Jack laughed hard like he hadn't heard anything quite so funny in his life but Brian didn't even raise a smile. He wasn't particularly listening but he was pretty sure the fag jokes wouldn't have been funny even if he had been, so he just buried his head in the magazine and read everything Justin had to say.

The article was beautifully written, almost poetic in it's flow and the information and knowledge that it contained was amazing. No one could deny that Justin Taylor clearly knew and understood football, he smiled as he read the part Justin had written about him being a potential NFL star of the future. He knew it was bullshit. He was pretty good at football, he might even get on a college team but the NFL was a million miles away. Eric probably had a better chance than he did but he wasn't bothered about that, he was just concerned with getting away from his parents by going to a college a few thousand miles away.

All he could think about was how Justin, despite all the horrible things Brian had done to him, still wrote a flattering article about him in the magazine. Maybe, if Justin was able to be big enough to not allow Brian's stupid temper tantrum to get in the way of his professionalism, then perhaps Brian could be big enough to apologize for acting like a complete asshole.

"Finished with that now," Jack asked, snatching the magazine from Brian's hands sharply. "There's only so much '_Brian Kinney is soooooo amazing_' anyone can read before they want to barf." And with that, he dropped the mag into a trashcan and disappeared out of the room, leaving just Eric and Brian sat looking at each other.

"Nice crown," Eric said eventually. Brian couldn't help smile, removing the cheap, gold plastic and throwing it, with pinpoint accuracy, straight at Eric's head.

* * *

Justin didn't see Brian in class anymore. Brian had been relocated to the back of the class, squeezed on a few tables with the rest of the jocks and Justin remained at the front with too much paper and too many pens. It had been a week and Brian had been completely engulfed by the jock life. The other players loved him because he was going to win them the championship, he had the hottest girlfriend and he was good looking. Brian Kinney was the perfect jock. Fuck him, Justin thought as one of the other jocks threw an eraser hard at his head, emitting a cheer from the rest of the group. Justin turned around to do some pointless glaring but all he could see was Brian. He was looking in the other direction, taking notes and trying to listen to the teacher. He looked completely out of place and totally beautiful and Justin just sighed. This sucked.

Justin always took ages packing away his stuff after class. Unlike most of the other students, he waited until the lesson was actually over before throwing everything to his bag and even then, he had the most stuff to put away. The jocks were usually out of the class first, having had nothing to put away but not today. Today, Brian stayed behind until there were only two of them left in the class. Even the teacher had left, mumbling some flimsy excuse about marking.

"I just wanna say," Brian said, coughing a little embarrassedly, "er, thanks for the nice article you wrote in the magazine."

"You read that?" Justin blushed.

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling a little. "You were very … er, complimentary. Even though I was a shit to you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Justin said. "Anyway, I wanted to thank you for not letting me get my face smashed in the other day."

"Oh. Shit," Brian scratched the back of his neck. "Man, I though Bradbury was going to kill you."

"Me too," Justin smiled a little.

"What did you actually say to him?" He was genuinely curious. "I mean, were you really checking me out?"

"No," Justin answered too loudly and too quickly. Brian nodded a little before Justin said, "well, maybe a little."

Brian looked a little queasy.

"Sorry," Justin apologised. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"Er … no," Brian shook his head. "Not really." They fell silent for a second and then a bell rang telling them they should be in their next lesson. "What class do you have next?" Brian asked suddenly.

"Maths.""Boring then, what do you say we ditch and just go … somewhere."

Justin squinted a little. This was weird but it was also his favourite daydream so he just nodded dumbly and was greeted by a wide grin.

"Come on," Brian said. "Let's go."

::

Brian had only gotten out of the school grounds before he'd had to admit he only knew his home and the school so that perhaps Justin could find them a good place to go. Justin just smiled and led them to a small dense forest on the edge of a park nearby.

"This is where people come when they want to hide," Justin explained as they stepped through the brambles and the weeds.

"Hide from what?" Brian asked.

"I don't know. What do people hide from?"

"Their brothers," Brian smiled.

"Maths," Justin suggested.

"Their girlfriends."

"Teachers."

"Their dads," Brian said quietly.

Justin stopped walking and looked carefully at the other boy. Is that why he'd asked him to run away for an hour? So he could talk about his dad.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you the other day," Brian almost whispered. "I was so freaked out that you knew about my dad and…" His head was dipped as he slid down a tree trunk to the floor. "Jack tells me not to tell anyone about it but it's alright for him and Eric. Dad never picks on them." Justin sat next to Brian and touched his knee gently. The taller boy flinched away automatically, causing them both to mumble an apology.

"Sorry," Brian said. "It's just … I've got no one to talk to about it. And I don't know what it is about you but … you make me feel like I can talk to you and you won't judge me."

"I won't," Justin promised. He put his hand on Brian's knee again and this time, he didn't pull away. They were silent for a moment until Justin whispered, "so Mr Kinney how does it feel going from zero to hero in less than a week?"

"Shit," Brian replied honestly. "I don't fit in with those jocks. They think just because they can play football that they don't need to do any work. They reckon they're going to get into college anyway."

"Don't you think that?" Justin asked.

"No. I don't even know if a college would take me on my football skills alone and I'm not leaving it to chance. I wanna get away from my family as soon as possible. If that means hitting the books hard for a few years, I think it's worth it."

Justin couldn't believe Brian. He was being so open and honest, so unlike how he normally acted. Justin didn't know what to make of him. He was a very complicated young man but Justin quite liked that. Who wanted boring and straightforward anyway?

"And," Brian said more light-heartedly, "there's only so many times you can look at a girls' legs before you get bored and there's only so many times you can rate Gretchen Peabody a minus 10 in the rate game before it's not funny anymore."

Justin chuckled a little. "The rate game?"

"Yeah, all the footballers play it. You mark a girl out of ten based purely on looks."

"Okay," Justin grinned. "Let's play."

"You're a fag," Brian pointed out but it wasn't malicious so Justin let it slide. "How are you gonna play?"

"I'll rate guys … duh! Go on," he grinned, "give me a guy to rate."

"Chris Hobbs."

"8," Justin answered immediately. "Sandy Doughty."

"8."

"She's your girlfriend!"

"Still an 8."

"Fine. Ooo, what about Lindsey?"

"9. You know half the football team think she's the hottest girl in the school but they're not allowed to admit it coz she's a dyke."

"Homophobes."

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "Erm, Henry Winfrey?"

"Puh-lease," Justin groaned. "4 on a good day. A _really _good day."

Brian chuckled a little before saying, "what about … Peter Hampton? He's like made of muscles."

"7," Justin said after some consideration. "He loses points for being thick as shit," Justin explained.

"Oh," Brian frowned. "In that case I'll have to knock Sandy's score down to a two."

Justin giggled a little and shuffled closer to Brian, barely aware that he was now leaning his head on the taller boy's shoulder.

"Miche Goldblaat."

"6. Terry Langford."

"8, Pamela Garcia."

"8. Her brother Paul."

"9," Justin said firmly. "Latino, speaks Spanish, come-hither bedroom eyes and a body to die for. He's almost perfect."

"Just almost perfect?"

"There's one better looking guy in the school."

"Oh?" Brian asked. He couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed, as he stuttered, "is, er, is this the guy you fancy?"

"I dunno," Justin shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you could probably say that."

"Is it Michael?"

"Hell, no!" Justin said looking so alarmed that Brian just burst out laughing and Justin couldn't help smile too. "Back to the game" he said forcefully, "Melanie Marcus?"

"6 tops. I'd be too afraid she was going to beat the shit out of me," Brian answered firmly and then he turned to Justin and looked at him very carefully before asking, "Brian Kinney?"

Justin froze. He thought he'd been safe. He figured there was no way in hell super-straight Brian Kinney, quarterback of the football team would want to know how highly Justin was going to rate him. He didn't know what the answer, he could fob it off with a joke and say one, or a million. He could be sarcastic or he could be truthful but something about the look Brian was giving him made him whisper, "10."

And then they were moving together and Justin tilted his head one way as Brian tilted his head the other and their lips met and all the electricity Brian had been feeling with each touch seemed to jolt through him all at once. Brian felt sick but at the same time he felt elated. He couldn't explain it. It felt more right than any kiss he'd ever shared with anyone before but there was a huge part of him that was repulsed by what he was doing. The part that was sure they'd be seen but that didn't stop him opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to meet Justin's.

The kiss seemed to last forever and for no time at all. When Justin finally pulled back he was smiling widely but when he saw the look on Brian's face he knew something was very wrong. The boy looked like he was hyperventilating.

"Calm down," Justin said soothingly. "It was just a kiss."

Brian just shook his head, he looked slightly green and bright red and blotchy. His hands were balled up and he turned away from Justin.

"Brian," Justin reached out to touch Brian's shoulder. "Brian. It's okay."

"Get away from me, faggot." Brian pulled away sharply and took a few terrified steps backwards.

"But Brian, I…"

"Shit," Brian muttered, he bent down to pick up his bag and ran. Justin could do nothing but watch him go. Brian had no idea where he was going, he was running in pretty much the wrong direction. In fact, he was probably going to end up behind a massive fence blocking him from the school. Justin just slumped onto the grounds and allowed his head to fall onto his knees. He felt slightly smug underneath all the angst. He'd just kissed Brian Kinney. Brian Kinney had been after him for as long until his homophobic brain kicked in. He grinned to himself. Their first kiss was as perfect as could have been expected.


	6. Making Daddy Proud

**Just a little chapter to keep this fic ticking over while I waste time on facebook under the pretence that I'm finishing my essays….**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story. I really wasn't feeling much love for it but you guys have turned me around and made me actually quite enjoy it again.**

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Brian sprinted with no sense of where he was going, for as long as he could. He wasn't sure why. Justin was a queer not a shape-shifting evil spirit intent on killing him. In fact, he doubted Justin would have even initiated the kiss, if it hadn't been for Brian practically rolling out a pink carpet and inviting him in.

After all, it had been what he wanted? Hadn't it? No, it couldn't be. If it was what he wanted, why would he feel so sick now? He fell to the ground on his hands and knees and shook violently. He almost felt cold but it was more than that. It was like his whole body was rejecting itself or perhaps like he was about to change into a werewolf. He thought for a second that he might enjoy that, he could run havoc on the school and the town and his goddamn parents. But, unfortunately, though unsurprisingly, he_ didn't_ turn into a werewolf, instead he just shook until tears rolled down his face until his insides were so screwed up and twisted around that he barely had time to duck behind a tree trunk before retching painfully.

It took him ages to calm down and push himself back to his feet. He ran the sleeve of his jacket across his face, hoping to dislodge any tears that would betray him as the fall down mess he really was. Eventually, after stumbling along in roughly the same direction for a while, he came to a criss-cross wire fence that seemed about 12 feet high. He recognised it immediately as the one that surrounded the school but had no idea really how far he was from the end of this mesh prison. He was just staring at the endless squares, his eyes blurring several times as he tried to focus on finding a gate.

"Hey." A familiar voice broke his thoughts. He shook himself and looked through the fence to see Sandy looking back at him completely confused.

"What the hell are you doing over there?" She asked, her little button nose crinkled up in delight and bafflement.

"I er…." He struggled to find any excuse that would have made sense so he just went with one that didn't. "I got lost."

"Oh," she frowned. "Well, just walk that way," she pointed to Brian's left, "and you'll reach the front of the school eventually. Come on," she smiled. "I'll walk with you."

"Sure," he nodded. He was still shaking a little. He was sure his face was still a mess but Sandy wasn't mentioning it … yet. She was just letting the silence form between them.

"Are you okay?" She asked, when Brian jumped violently as some leaves of a low branch tickled his head. His brain unhelpfully supplying images of Justin tickling him, kissing him … doing a lot more with him. He shook his head free of the images and turned to his girlfriend.

"You look hot," he said suddenly. It was totally out of the blue but Sandy didn't seem to mind.

"Thanks," she beamed and then after some thought, she batted her eyelashes and giggled, "you too, Brian."

"I really like you, Sandy," he said. It sounded honest but it was bullshit. He thought she was okay and didn't ask too many questions about bruises or anything else.

"I like you too," she beamed, blushing prettily under her thick make-up.

"I want you … so much." Lying, he discovered, was easy really. "I've never wanted anything more."

"I felt that at lunch." Her eyes flicked to his cock and back to his face before she winked and smiled.

"So … what do you think?"

"I'm not a slut," Sandy said firmly.

"Of course not," Brian agreed quickly … too quickly.

"Buuut," she drawled, twirling her fake blonde hair around her fake pink-nailed finger, "my house _is_ free until 9. I mean, we'd have the place to ourselves if…"

"Let's go," Brian interrupted, pressing himself against the fence and reaching his fingers through the gaps. She pressed her hand to his and he whispered, "I'll meet you at the front gate." Sandy just nodded.

::

It was a relatively short walk to Sandy's house from the school entrance, no more than five minutes and it took you through a field with a gurgling manmade stream, which had pushed the surrounding house prices up by several thousand dollars. They held hands for the entire walk, they kissed at random intervals and Brian had decided he'd never wanted, no, needed anything as badly as he needed to fuck Sandy. She, of course, was taking her time. She was still attempting to play the blushing virgin, despite it being common knowledge that she'd slept with nearly the entire football team. But Brian didn't care. He needed a place, he needed a willing girl, he needed a fuck. Now!

"Come on," he urged, hurrying her as they walked down the path.

"Wow, you really can't wait to get your hands on me, can you?" She giggled.

Brian just shook his head and leant into her ear, mumbling, "you're beautiful."

She blushed and smiled before reaching up to kiss Brian.

Brian put everything he had into this kiss, his hands roaming his girlfriend's body, taking in the curve of her back, her delicate skin, her flowery smell. Brian focused on all of this and ignored the irritating comparison his brain was making with Justin. He wouldn't have minded so much but the results weren't what he'd have been hoping for.

When they got to the house, Brian had left no room for wondering. He'd pounced on her like a lion on his pray, devouring everything about her. He lowered her onto her bed and pushed inside her and he felt alive like he hadn't in months and as he fucked her, rhythmically and as she moved beneath him with all the know-how and practice of a high-school slut, he did his best to block out images of a male body, and blue eyes and natural blonde hair.

* * *

The bell sounded and the class filed quickly out of chemistry. All except Brian, who always took ages about packing all his stuff away, a habit he'd picked up off a certain blonde-nerd.

"See you later, stud," Sandy smiled, kissing him passionately until the teacher told them to knock it off. Brian was grateful for the interruption. He felt a little sick this morning anyway and Sandy wasn't really helping. He'd got home late last night and he'd expected his dad to beat the shit out of him but when Jack senior had demanded to know where he'd been and he explained he'd been at Sandy's, Jack sr had just handed him a glass of whiskey and ruffled his hair loudly proclaiming; "that's my boy."

Brian had almost felt like, for the first time ever, he was truly one of the family and that had made him sort of numb and unsure of how to react and that feeling was yet to go away. He felt someone touch his shoulder and he turned around to see Lindsey smiling at him.

"So," she said, an excited glint in her eye, the kind girls (and Emmett) get when they've got some juicy gossip that they're bursting to spread around. "I've heard two rumours about you from yesterday."

"Oh?" He asked, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Yeah, one, and this ones all over the school, is that Sandy Doughty took you back to her house and had her wicked way with you."

"Right," Brian nodded. He still felt numb, emotions weren't really registering today.

"The other," she continued, lowering her voice, "and this one's only circulating the magazine team, is that you kissed Justin."

Brian felt his face burn with embarrassment and Lindsey smiled a little and put a reassuring hand on his bicep. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone," she promised. "Justin's got us all sworn to secrecy on pain of death," she explained before turning to really look at the boy and asking kindly, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She snorted. "Liar."

Brian's head snapped up. How dare she call him a liar? But one look into those kind, bemused eyes had Brian dropping his gaze again. It wasn't as though what she said wasn't true. He was a liar but he wasn't sure whether he'd lied to Justin, Sandy or himself. They walked in near silence for a second. The only noise being the clicking of Lindsey's heels on the corridor's lino beneath her feet.

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked suddenly out of the blue and she was amazed when she heard Brian mumble,

"Actually, yeah."

::

"And he seemed proud of me," Brian finished. He just spent the last ten minutes relaying every detail of what had happened between the kiss with Justin in the forest to getting into bed last night. "It's the first time my dad's ever seemed proud of me and all I had to do was fuck a chick."

"Your dad would be really proud of me then," Lindsey smirked and Brian smiled a little, though he wasn't really amused. He was still … numb.

"I thought about him the whole time though."

"Your dad?"

"Justin," Brian corrected. "The entire time I was with Sandy. I didn't want to think about him. I tried my hardest not to but he…. He just kept invading my thoughts." He picked a piece of grass up from the floor and let it go, watching as the wind whipped it away over the mound they were sat on and down towards the football field. Lindsey had picked the location for this chat; under the large tree near the football field. No one came down here during school hours and if they did, they'd just assume Brian and Lindsey were going to make out and because he was the quarterback and she was a pretty blonde, blind eyes would be turned and they would be left alone.

"What do you think it means?" Brian asked suddenly.

Lindsey smiled a little. "I _know_ what it means," she said slowly. "But you won't want to hear it."

"I'm not a fag," Brian snapped quickly.

"Sure," Lindsey nodded, distantly and clearly unconvinced by Brian's tiny burst of indignant anger.

"Fuck! You think I am. I knew I should never have told you any of this stuff." He was jumping to his feet, ready to storm off in a hissy fit.

"Sit down," Lindsey sighed like a bored primary school teacher. "Christ. For someone who _claims _not to be a fag, you sure as hell act like a queen."

Brian scowled for a second and told her to 'fuck off' but he sat back down and slumped against the wide tree-trunk feeling a bit of a fool.

"I think it happened," Brian mused after a few moments of relative peace, "because Justin was doing some kind of fag mind-tricks."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She guffawed. "He's a fag, not a vampire or a magician or a wizard. Or even a goddamn hypnotist. Do you know how crazy you sound?"

Brian just grimaced, her words hitting him like tiny bullets. Yeah, he did sound crazy but he needed an explanation. Anything that would clear this doubt in his mind that maybe he was a faggot.

"It's more likely," Lindsey said, "to have just been because you're a hot-blooded, horny teenage boy. You probably really wanted a fuck and at your age, you don't give a shit what you stick your dick into. Maybe even enough to initiate sex with a boy." She patted Brian on the knee gently and squeezed a little. "Whatever it was," she said slowly, "I'm sure you'll work it out eventually."

He nodded and smiled at the girl as she rested her head on his shoulder. "You're really amazing to talk to," he mumbled.

"We dykes are an amazing breed," she confirmed.


	7. I'm Not Queer But

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**So I'm slightly hyper because I just legitimately quoted Gale Harold in one of my essay's haha. So I thought I might as well update my fic. =D**

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Lindsey had invited Brian up to the magazine that evening but Brian wasn't sure. He wasn't really ready to face Justin again. Now he knew it was just his over active male libido that had led him to kiss Justin, he felt bad for abandoning the other boy in the forest after dragging him out there. Granted, Brian had been the one who'd not known where he was but it was the principle of it that was making Brian feel a little guilty. But there was nothing he could do about it now, he had football practice.

"Come up afterwards," Lindsey insisted. "We'll be there until late tonight. The last day before the magazine goes to the publishers is always hectic."

"Sure, okay," Brian nodded. "I might come up later."

Brian had gone to training and he'd been amazing … as always. The freedom playing football gave him was second to none. He felt alive, a buzz like no other. He could just be himself on that pitch. There was no need to hide. It was primal. It was war. There was a goal and a purpose. It was simple and Brian loved it.

"You were on fire tonight Bri," his coach told him, heartily slapping him on the back as he went back to the changing rooms.

"Thanks coach," he grinned.

"I just need you to know, we've got an away game in a couple of weeks time. If you're gonna play like this the day after getting laid, maybe you could…."

"I hope you're not coming on to be, sir!" Brian said in mock horror, eliciting a few chuckles from the boys walking nearby.

"Ah, you … do I look like a fairy?" The coach demanded.

"No," Hobbs said honestly, "but neither did Drew Boyd and now he's as bent as a hairpin."

"My fucking hero," Jack sighed, "a fag. Well," he looked around at the other boys, "he was my fucking hero. Now it's Andy Botha. Have you seen that man catch a 50 yard pass. There's nothing like it."

"You know," another boy piped up, "we could be saying that about you one day, Bri. Reckon the scouts at the away game are going to be offering you college scholarships all over the place."

"Thanks Mick," Brian sighed, turning back to his coach as the man continued;

"…maybe think about sneaking into Sandy's room at the away game for a bit of," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "But make sure I don't see you … I can't condone that kind of behaviour, obviously.""Obviously," Brian echoed, going into the changing room and leaving the coach at the door. Unfortunately, this ridiculous conversation was continued.

"Maybe you should jerk off in the shower before you play, Bri," Hobbs joked.

"You'd like that, Hobbs, wouldn't you?" Jack retaliated, throwing a towel in the boys direction. "You goddamn queer."

"Hey, queers," Hobbs smirked suddenly. "Maybe we should bring those from the fag mag along, Gaylor and Funnybutt. We could all get laid before we went out on the field. Reckon they'd readily service our cocks."

"Christ," Eric muttered, shoving Hobbs in the shoulder, "you really are a fag."

"No I'm not, but we can't get girls in the changing rooms," Hobbs smirked. "Reckon Gaylor's a fucking whore. He'd love my cock down his throat."

"Yeah, but would you wanna risk it?" Jack asked, stepping under the water.

"Risk what?"

"AIDS."

"That's true," another boy shouted, "fags are full of AIDS."

"Can we stop talking about fags, in the shower," said Joey, "next thing you guys'll be rubbing each other down."

Brian stepped into the shower just as Hobbs began his rant again. "But don't you think it's a good idea. Each of us with our own fag. We take a picture with us of Playmate of the Month, staple it to the faggots back and then fuck that ass until we're in game-winning form. Really it was the coaches idea."

"Hobbs, seriously dude," Eric moaned. "You've thought about this way too much."

"Making you uncomfortable, Eric?" He asked, "me ploughing Gaylor's ass … all in the name of football."

There it was. The image was set. It was all Brian could think about and in a shower there was no way to hide his growing _interest_ in this story. He turned away and faced the wall but it didn't really do anything as the boy stood next to him shouted;

"Woah! Kinney! Did you just get a hard-on from these butt-fucking stories?"

Everyone in the showers was looking at him, all of them trying desperately hard to ignore anything below his neck.

"No," Brian answered. Shit. He needed an excuse. Quickly. And then it came to him, "I'm on a promise with Sandy tonight. She just sent me a pretty dirty text." He smirked and the boys around suddenly looked jealous.

"Yeah," Joey sighed, "well, you better make that thing go down otherwise Hobbs'll be trying to suck it."

"Fuck you, you queer."

"Faggot."

"Homo."

Brian breathed a heavy sigh of relief and turned down the shower temperature. He needed a cold shower right now and he needed a way to get the images of Justin Taylor's naked body out of his goddamn head.

::

Brian went to the magazine. It worked out well because it also acted as a place to go during the time when he was supposed to be fucking Sandy. Emmett welcomed him, and set him to work editing varying articles down by fifty or so words.

"Just don't cut off anything important," he said, stonily. It was clear, that however grateful they were for the extra pair of hands, the fact that he'd messed Justin about meant he was scum. The atmosphere was charged with hatred and Justin refused to even acknowledge he was in the room. Brian wished he'd been able to do the same. However hard he stared at his computer screen he couldn't get away from the fact that he acutely aware that Justin was just in the corner. This was the worst idea he'd ever had. He could barely even concentrate. He couldn't keep his attention focused with Justin ignoring him so obviously. He finished one piece and got to his feet, announcing that he should probably leave.

"That's it," Michael muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, "run away again."

"What?" Brian asked, glaring at the short man, who was currently choosing which photos to use.

Michael's eyes flicked up to look at Brian. They were filled with fear and he quickly went back to his photos without another word.

"Yeah," Brian spat. "I thought you'd do that. Make a comment and then not have the balls to follow it up. And, for your information, I didn't run away because I wanted to."

"So why did you run away?" Justin asked, it was the first time the smallest of the group had even looked up and the taller boy almost collapsed under the weight of the gaze. "Did you remember you'd left the oven on?"

"No. I…"

"…freaked out," Justin cut in with a bit of a smile. "Look, you can say what you want. You can _do _what or _who _you want but I know you wanted that kiss as much as I did."

Brian could feel himself shaking as he peered around the strange, cage-like room and at the inquisitive faces watching on.

"It's just us," Justin confirmed, taking slow, deliberate steps towards the now trembling brunette. "There's no one else around. You can be who you really are around here. We won't tell anyone."

Brian nodded uncertainly, as Justin's hand came up to caress his cheek. He moved towards the touch. He couldn't help it. He looked around at the others in the room, his eyes flicking to each of their faces. Not one of them was judging him. They all understood. He felt free, a little like he did on a football field. He felt a little heady and crazy … as though he could do whatever he wanted in this room and he wouldn't be judged. And what he wanted, was to feel those perfect plump lips on his again. He bent in to capture the sweet taste, but Justin moved back.

"Are you sure?" Justin asked, "because I can't handle you queening out on me again."Brian just nodded. "In here," he said, "when it's just," he looked around and gulped, "us. I…." He stopped. Words could only get him so far. He leant in to kiss the smaller boy again and, this time, Justin didn't pull away. He just reached up on his tiptoes to meet the taller boy.

Brian was pretty sure he heard a happy little squeal of; "he's bagged himself a jock" and Justin started giggling into the kiss. He broke away to look at Emmett.

"Alright, alright," the flamboyant man sighed, "I know it's an FBI style arraignment but still," he jabbed his thumb in Brian's direction. "He is totally hot."

Justin felt Brian squirm uncomfortably in his arms. "I-I'm not queer," the jock said a little nervously. "It's just," he looked at Justin, his eyes penetrating those blue ones perfectly. "It's just you."

"That'll do for now," Emmett grinned.

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Justin beamed.

"Perhaps, if this were some cheesy romance novel but it's not and, unlike in a novel, this magazine isn't going to be miraculously completed because an author's put a page break and told us it's completed."

::_self-referential page break ::_

They completed the magazine relatively quickly and Brian decided he needed to rush home before his dad got mad but Justin managed to steal a chaste kiss from those lips before the boy left.

"He's not worth it," Mel warned bluntly. "He's going to mess you around. He's going to break your heart."

"I can handle it," Justin said firmly but he didn't entirely believe what he was saying. He'd never felt like this about anyone before. The intensity he felt that radiated from Brian had absolutely stolen his heart. Justin wasn't exactly a novice when it came to men. He had a fake ID, he'd snuck into Woodies and Babylon on a regular basis and he'd even frequented the backroom a couple of times for a blowjob or two but never had he wanted anyone as much as he wanted Brian Kinney. He'd never put up with this amount crap. He'd never been so determined to fight for something. But he would fight for this. He already had his first plan in motion.

::

Brian had been given another whiskey in celebration for "fucking the broad again." But Brian didn't want it. One, because he hadn't fucked anyone and two, because the whiskey tasted like Jack's words when he spat them in Brian's face whilst punching him in the ribs. The taste was bitter and full of awful memories and Brian had ended up pouring the drink into the plant pot. He didn't care about he plants well-being and why shouldn't it be an alcoholic, most other people in this house were.

He'd gone up to his room early but he hadn't gone to sleep. He stayed up and played NFL on the Xbox, he'd bought himself a few birthdays ago. Of course, Eric had wandered in which had meant there was an epic Super Bowl match in which Eric's New Orleans Saints had taken on Brian's New York Jets. Brian won causing him to throw a cushion at his brother and cheer loudly.

"Fag!" Eric groaned, throwing the cushion back, with slightly less accuracy. "It's just coz because you picked the best team. I'd have beaten you if I was the Jets."

"Fine, best of three," Brian grinned. "And I'll be someone shit. Name a team."

"The Steelers."

"Oh god," Brian groaned. "Not that shit."

Eric just laughed and the game was set up. Ten minutes later, Brian's on screen alter ego was leaping over the line to win 39-6.

"Winner!" Brian beamed at his brother who looked almost as miserable as his onscreen teams. "We've never seen the Jets play so badly."

"Fuck you," Eric groaned but he was smiling as he punched his brother on the arm.

Brian just laughed. "Right, I'm beat. I could do with my beauty rest."

"Christ," Eric snorted, getting to his feet. Then, just as he reached the door he called, "Night princess," and was gone before Brian had chance to retaliate.

Brian led on his bed and looked all around him. He actually felt good. He'd had a really, really good day. He rolled over on his bed and stretched out an arm to his cell on the side table. His fingers barely brushed the object but he refused to move from his prone position on the bed so he just persevered inching it closer and closer until he could grab it. Then he unlocked it and sent a text. It only said goodnight with a kiss because the truth was, he was tired but it made a young man way across town, in the posh area of Pittsburgh smile.

Brian didn't have to wait long for a reply.

"Night," was all it said, with two kisses and he smiled too.


	8. The Art of the Double Life: Parts 1 & 2

**So I figured, with my impending 'busiest most work-filled week ever' fast approaching that I'd spend my last free minutes updating this fic in the hopes that you'll forgive me for the fact it could be a while before anymore updates occur.**

**And for that reason, I give you a (relatively) quick update AND a double chapter! Please forgive me! *smiles angelically***

**

* * *

**

THE ART OF THE DOUBLE LIFE: Part 1

"It's all bullshit," Jack was complaining. "I told the teacher I wasn't good at math and he told me to 'get good' Reckons I'm actually gonna need it to go to college."

"You will," Brian said calmly, striding next to his brothers as they paced down the corridor,

"Bullshit," Jack retaliated with all the misplaced confidence in the world. "I'm the best blocker in this league. I'm gonna get a scholarship … easy."

"Still, it might be worth giving your academic lessons at least half a go?" Eric said, sighing as he flicked through his own timetable. "I've got fucking English History now," he groaned. "It's so boring. It ain't even our country."

"And we're Irish anyway," Jack pointed out. "Right, Bri?"

"Sure," the youngest of the three agreed, "just call me Paddy O'Reilly; the Guinness drinking leprechaun."

Jack looked at Brian for a couple of seconds before asking, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"They're Irish stereotypes." Jack squinted his eyes in confusion, which prompted Brian to continue, "never mind. Work hard at the football, yeah?"

"Faggot," Jack grinned, punching Brian in the shoulder. He didn't quite understand it but Jack knew his little brother had insulted him. Brian grimaced a little and rubbed his shoulder. He hadn't even made it to first lesson and he'd received his first 'friendly' punch of the day. True, this one was off Jack but it seemed the way jocks greeted each other was a nice thump on the arm or a slap on the back or some other semi-painful attack.

"This is my class," he said suddenly, pointing to a classroom on the left.

"Great, see you at lunch then," Eric said, still frowning at his timetable.

"Yeah," Jack agreed and then spotting Justin as he too walked in the classroom, he added, "watch this faggot doesn't try and shove his dick up your ass when you're not looking."

Eric laughed but Brian just shook his head and muttered, "I'll see you later."

As soon as Brian stepped through the door, he was struck with a dilemma. Justin was sat right at the front of the class, an empty seat to his right, as always but at the back, crammed onto far too few desks were the football lot, calling him to sit with them. He just stood, unsure what to do. He wanted to sit by Justin but he didn't want to exclude himself from the team or let anyone start any kind of rumours about him being queer-lover. He looked at the boys at the back of the classroom as one shouted,

"come on Kinney, sit the fuck down."

And as the teacher berated that boy for bad language, Brian caught Justin's resigned expression. It was like the blonde expected him to be an asshole and go to the back. Well, that made up Brian's mind and he slid into the seat next to Justin.

"Faggot," one of the boys at the back yelled. Of course, the teacher didn't hear that insult but Brian just turned around and said,

"Fuck you Marty! There's not enough room back there with your fat ass taking up two seats." Most of the class sniggered, including Justin, and the teacher just looked exasperated.

"When you've all finished," she called, her voice shrill and angry.

"When we've finished _what _miss?" A different boy from the back joked and the lesson continued in this disruptive way for a few more minutes not that Brian noticed. He was too absorbed with the boy next to him, who'd just turned to say 'hey' and beamed him a smile so hot it burned.

::

The bell rang to signal lunch and the class had cleared of jocks in seconds. Nothing stood between a football player and his grub. Well, except for one certain football player, who was still packing his stuff away and talking to his outcast 'friend'.

"You wanna sit with us today?" Justin asked as he and Brian strolled to the cafeteria together. He watched the taller boy squirm a bit before he muttered,

"Better not. People will start to talk and then…"

"Right," Justin nodded. He didn't need Brian to spell anything out.

They walked through the cafeteria doors together and a loud jeering noise sounded from the table that held the football players and the cheerleaders.

"Whey, Kinney! You wanna watch yourself, you've got a right little stalker," one of the bone-head blockers that Jack had firmly befriended jeered.

"I bet he follows you to the toilet and watches you piss," another one added and they high-fived like the morons they were. Justin told them all to fuck off but that only fanned the flames.

"Ooooo," mocked Jack, getting to his feet and standing in front of Justin. "You feeling feisty … princess?"

Luckily, Jack didn't notice Brian edge slightly in front of the blonde. A table of magazine writers sat not far away noticed it though and started whispering excitedly. The whole cafeteria of hungry teenagers was watching the incident unfolding now. Some were chanting fight, fight, fight over and over under their breath. Others were afraid they were going to watch a homophobic based murder occur right in front of their eyes or just perhaps an ass-kicking or something more psychological. Regardless of what they were about to witness, no one said anything except ….

"Leave him alone, Jack," Brian sighed, trying to brush to comment of as flyaway but the entire team turned to stare at him incredulously.

"You defending faggots now, Bri?" Hobbs sneered, giving him a light shove. "Or is Taylor your little girlfriend?"

"Fuck off," Brian said and then calmly and with all the cool of a serial assassin he said, "I've already got a girlfriend. I'm not the one who resorts to imagining butt-fucking fags in the shower."

"Fuck you, Kinney," Hobbs yelled and he raised his hand as though to punch him. But Jack was there immediately gripping Hobbs wrist so tight, the smaller boy was actually whimpering in pain and that was the end of the conflict.

By the time Brian and turned back to see if Justin was okay, the blonde had disappeared back to his own table and Sandy was standing up to give Brian her seat. He sat down, she sat on his lap and the whole sordid jock farce continued.

"Shit man," Hobbs was complaining, still rubbing his wrist. "I thought you were gonna crush my bones."

"I thought you were gonna hit my little brother," Jack shrugged. He didn't look remorseful in the slightest.

"I wouldn't have done that," Hobbs insisted. "I'd have landed the punch right on Taylor's stupid little faggoty mouth. Then the only thing he'd have been sucking would be food through a straw."

There was a titter of laughter around the table before the conversation went back to Brian.

"What the hell got into you though, Bri? Defending Taylor? He's a goddamn queer."

Brian knew this question was going to arrive at some point so he was ready for it. "He's doing my homework for me," he shrugged. "He can't exactly get me top grades in maths if he's had his head bashed in by you lot."

"Fuck," another awed voice sighed. "I totally should be getting someone to do my homework. I fucking knew you had some kind of trick. You're like the only one who ever gets decent grades out of all of us."

Brian just shrugged again. He was fed-up of this table already. And Sandy's weight on his left leg was putting his foot to sleep. He moved and felt her shift and inch or two but it made no difference. She was heavier than she looked. He was relieved when she finally said she had to get up and go to a meeting about cheerleading. His leg was particularly grateful.

"Hey, wait up," Jack called, getting to his feet too, practically tipping his chair back in his haste. "I've gotta see Miss M-millbury," he fumbled, straightening the chair back up. "It's, er, it's about some ummmm assignment I didn't bother to do. I'll walk with you."

"Oh," Sandy giggled, her slightly orange foundation cracking as smile creased her face. "Okay." She waited for Jack to sling his bag over his shoulder, before she kissed Brian and said goodbye to everyone. The two walked away, standing just closer than was necessary, she put her hand lightly on his shoulder and giggled again. He just seemed to leer back at her. The whole table watched them go and as the door shut behind them, everyone turned to look at Brian.

Yeah, yeah, he knew. His bother was totally fucking his girlfriend. Well, what did he care? She was an oompa-loompa slut anyway and he was an asshole to him most of the time. A man just like his father; violent and believed he had a way with the ladies. Brian sighed and sipped his water. He didn't care. He looked over to the magazine table and Justin smiled at him. No, he really didn't care.

::

"You know Sandy and Jack are fucking, right?" Eric said as he and Brian walked towards the busses after school. Jack had found something to do after school. No one was under any illusions, they all knew that that _something_ was Sandy.

"Yeah," Brian nodded dejectedly. "I know."

"Doesn't in bother you?"

Brian just shrugged.

"I'd dump the bitch," Eric suggested.

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "I should probably do that."

"What's wrong with you? You're acting like you don't care."

That was probably because he didn't care. "There's nothing I can do to stop it."

"Dump her."

"Except that."

"Hit him?"

"I don't hit people. I'm not dad," Brian said bitterly."Why not just ravish her and fuck her into oblivion so she never wants to fuck anyone else again?"

"Ravish her in the literary sense?" Brian smirked. "I'm not that desperate."

Eric just looked confused. "Ravish in the literary sense," Brian repeated as though it were Eric's hearing that were the problem not his intelligence. "It means rape," Brian sighed and the other boy just said 'oh'. And then;

"Yeah, that's another thing. Taylor doesn't do your homework." Brian blushed violently. "You spend hours on your homework to make sure you get the highest grades."

"So?"

"So why tell them that…."

"Look," Brian interrupted. "I've gotta go work on the magazine tonight. I'll see you later."

"Sure," Eric agreed. He watched his brother run off in the direction of the media building and sighed. He knew Brian was hiding something from him but he had absolutely no idea as to what it could be.

::

Brian didn't have to work on the magazine but he had arranged to meet with Justin in the magazine room. He couldn't help feel a little nervous as he approached the cage like area. What if things were awkward? What if they ran out of things to say? What if Justin wanted….

"Hey." Brian's thoughts were immediately interrupted as Justin sat on a huge beanbag, smiling up at him and doodling something on a pad.

"Hey yourself," Brian said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Er, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" Justin looked confused for a second until Brian pointed to the sketchbook in his hand. "Oh," Justin smiled. "Michael and I have decided to create a new Superhero."

"Oh, cool," Brian answered, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, he's gay. Lives in a gay world and defends queers from adversity."

"What's his name?"

"Ah…" Justin looked a little embarrassed. "That's the problem. We haven't got a look or a name or a story yet. Just a comic book geek and someone who can draw." Then he looked up at Brian who was still shuffling around in the doorway. "Will you sit down," he scolded. "You're making me nervous."

"Right, sure," Brian smiled, sitting in the other huge beanbag. "So," he said, when he'd wriggled enough to be comfy. "Let's see your sketch."

"Ah, I don't think so," Justin shook his head firmly, clutching the pad close to his chest. "You're not interested in this."

"Well I wasn't particularly," Brian admitted, "but I am now." He made a grab for the pad but Justin jerked it away deftly.

"Get lost," the blonde moaned. "How was your afternoon?"

"Boring and don't try and change the subject. Show me what you were drawing."

Justin looked at Brian seriously, his eyebrows dropping a little and his face hardening. "You promise you won't laugh," he said sternly. "I mean it, you laugh and I'll never talk to you again."

Brian lifted his middle three fingers into a salute and said solemnly, "scouts honours."

"You were in the scouts?" Justin asked incredulously.

"No," the taller boy admitted, with a wry smile. "But that's not the point. Show me the goddamn picture."

"Fine," Justin seemed almost sulky as he passed the pad over and as soon as the drawing left his hand, the smaller boy began to squirm on his beanbag, emitting an annoying rustling noise into the air. He covered his face with his hands, terrified of the verdict but as he peered through his figures, he could only see awe on the other boy's face.

"Christ, Justin," Brian whispered, dumbstruck. "You drew this?"

Justin shrugged a little and nodded.

"It's amazing."

"Thanks."

"It looks just like…." Brian trailed off and looked up at the other boy.

"You," Justin finished the sentence.

"Yeah," Brian sighed, looking back at the sketch for a second, "but how did you remember what I looked like?"

"You're all I think about," Justin blushed violently. "I see you all the time." He looked at the floor and twiddled his thumbs before looking up at the other boy through his eyelashes. "The details were easy."

Justin could barely believe what was happening as Brian almost dived at him across the beanbags and began kissing him passionately. The drawing of Brian as a superhero had been forgotten as the tongue tussle between the boys began to heat up. Justin couldn't help wonder if Brian was going to freak out, but as the boy's hand reached to the back of his head pulling him closer, he truly believed that Brian would be okay.

And he would have been okay. Brian Kinney would have been completely okay with kissing Justin Taylor, if Justin Taylor hadn't got greedy, if Justin Taylor hadn't let his hormones and horniness take over, if Justin Taylor hadn't unzipped Brian's pants.

As soon as the zips ripping noise sounded, Brian leapt away like cat near water.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded, his eyes wide with pure fear.

"Nothing," Justin shook his head. Shit. He'd fucked up. He knew he'd fuck up. "I mean … well, don't you want to…?"

"No," Brian answered immediately. "No!" He said louder and more angrily. "I'm not…"

"Gay, yeah I know," Justin finished quickly. "Look, I'm sorry." And then more calmly, he said, "can you just sit down, you can let me know what's acceptable?"

Brian nodded anxiously, his actions all a little jerky as he moved tentatively over to perch on the edge of the beanbag. He looked down at his thighs, avoiding Justin's hypnotic stare. He felt Justin's warm hand caress his cheek and the boy whisper, "is this okay?"

Brian just nodded as the hand moved to his chin and angled his face upwards so Justin could kiss his lips chastely.

"How about that?"

"You know that…"

"Shhh," Justin hushed him. "Was it okay?"

Brian nodded and this time when Justin kissed him, their tongues danced together and Brian shifted so he was leaning back comfortable in the beanbag and Justin was lying half on him, half off him. They made out forever. Brian still couldn't believe the surge he got from kissing Justin but he couldn't do anything else yet. He just couldn't. That would be like admitting that he was really gay and he wasn't. Not really. He just liked hanging around with Justin. He liked kissing Justin. Just kissing. Nothing more.

* * *

**THE ART OF THE DOUBLE LIFE: Part 2 - **The away game

* * *

The away game was a big deal. This was some rival, despite the fact the team were over a 100 miles away, this was a team they always ended up competing with every season. The school was buzzing with the excitement of finally going there with a chance of winning, thanks to the Kinney-trio. Brian was being back-slapped and well-wished all day and Sandy, the two-timing tart, had been at his side to lap up all his attention. He was the quarterback, she was the head cheerleader; the two of them together was how it was supposed to be. It was all about appearance. They had very little in common. Brian didn't even really like Sandy much, she was thick, materialistic and selfish but he couldn't parade around the day of the big game with an intelligent, blonde fag hanging off his arm, however much he wished he could. It wouldn't be right. It had been a couple of weeks that he'd been playing the wonderful boyfriend and turning a blind eye to Sandy's antics with Jack. He didn't care so long as no one noticed he was spending a _lot _of time making out with a perfect blonde in the magazine room. It was covert, everything was a secret, everything was people pretending not to know things they clearly did. It was appearance, it was bullshit. Brian wasn't sure who'd made up these rules or why they'd made them up but he sure as hell hated whoever it was.

"So," Justin whispered, during English History, "it's the big game tomorrow. You nervous?"

"I'm more nervous about the trip," Brian smirked. "A bus with that lot," he jerked his thumb towards the jocks at the back of the classroom, "I'm not sure I can handle it."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Justin sighed, looking to the back of the class as one boy threw a sweet into the air for another boy to catch in his mouth. They cheered loudly when he managed the feet and one even howled like a wolf in excitement. Justin looked back at Brian. "The level of intelligence in your team is staggering," he scorned and Brian just chuckled a little and copied down the six wives of Henry VIII from the board.

::

"You're gonna be amazing," Sandy was gushing over and over as they all waited for the bus to arrive. "Amazing."

She was clinging onto Brian, looking at Jack and supposedly addressing the entire team. She reached up and kissed Brian's cheek, leaving a lip-shaped slime-like smudge behind.

"Ooops," she giggled, using her sleeve to wipe it off. "Silly me. Still, I bet that's luck. Left over luck from a lucky kiss."

"I don't believe in luck," Brian muttered. "I believe in hard work and practice."

"I suppose you don't need luck," Sandy said, using a warped kind of interpretation of Brian's words. "You're all amazing without luck. Amazing." Brian looked up and saw his so-called girlfriend and his so-called brother blatantly eye-fucking in front of everyone. He shook his head, detached Sandy from his arm and looked down at the gravel ground beneath his feet. This real life he had sucked. He was glad he had his secret 'magazine-life' with Justin. He didn't know what he'd do without long IM sessions and texts deep into the night and kisses in rooms when no one's looking.

A hand waving in front of his face distracted him from his blissful memories of the kisses he and Justin shared and alerted him to his middle brother practically yelling his name at him.

"Hey," Eric smiled. "Where the hell were you then? You got lost in your own head."

"No where special," Brian lied.

"Riiiiiiiight," Eric drawled, "well, the bus is here."

"Oh right, great." He nodded dumbly and followed Eric onto the bus.

"I bet you're pissed about your rooming buddy, right?" Eric was grinning as he spoke over his shoulder. "Everyone all paired up from the team and then you, left with Gaylor."

"Justin?" Brian frowned. He didn't understand. Paired up, rooming buddy? What was Eric babbling on about?

"He's coming with us," Eric said slowly. "Christ, you really did zone out. Coach read out who everyone was sharing with at the hotel tonight. Cheerleaders on the 2nd floor, football players on the 3rd floor and Gaylor's coming along because he's covering the story for the magazine … apparently. Anyway, you're sharing a room with him."

Jack over heard his brothers talking and called. "Reckon Gaylor organised that himself, Bri. He'll probably try and rape you in the middle of the night. I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you."

"Shut up," Brian frowned, slumping into a seat just far enough away from the backseat that he wouldn't be sucked into the middle of their stupid games.

"Seriously though," Hobbs joined in, as the hardcore jocks began to settle into their seats near the back of the bus, "what would you do if you woke up in the middle of the night and Taylor had your cock in his mouth?"

"A blowjob's a blowjob," one of the boys smirked, and immediately received thumps on the shoulder from every direction as they all called him a fag.

Brian couldn't help notice, yet again, that Chris Hobbs seemed to have really thought about this seemingly hypothetical homosexual event. Suddenly, he had the tiniest inkling that perhaps Hobbs found himself attracted to Justin Taylor too. And if that were the case then Brian definitely wasn't gay, Justin could just do voodoo. And that made sense in Brian's head … well, it did for all of six seconds until he saw Justin, practically falling flat on his face and he pushed his way awkwardly into one of the double seats at the front of the bus ahead of the cheerleaders and coaches. He wished he could be at the front with him.

::

The coach trip was long and loud and there were songs sung that involved taken an item of clothing off until you were sat butt-naked and there were pranks on some of the new players which led them to down an entire jar of vinegar or, worst of all, eat a hand full of wriggling, maggot fishing bate that one of the boys had stolen from his dad's fishing stuff.

Brian nearly gagged as he watched Lil' Jonny Milton take three of the worms into his mouth and start crunching furiously.

"Your go now, Bri," Joey, who'd orchestrated this entire vile game, smirked moving a handful of squirming maggots under his nose."

"I don't fucking think so," Brian said, pushing the hand away firmly.

"You gotta," Joey insisted. "It's the rules, you do this, or you're not part of the team."

"Guess I'll have to be out of the team then," Brian shrugged. "See how you get on without me."

"Lighten up man," Jack scolded, "it's just a bit of fun. Don't show you're self to be a weak little fairy. Get it down you."

"Fuck off," Brian snapped, turning to the front of the coach and putting the headphones of his music player firmly in his ears. Weren't they at the hotel yet?

Brian was vaguely aware of Jack and then Eric munching on maggots but he refused to watch. He looked out of the window and thought about his night tonight. He was going to be sharing a room with Justin. He was going to be sleeping less that a few foot away. He had no idea how to feel about it. He clenched his fists and relaxed them again. Of course, there was no one in the world he'd rather spend time with than Justin but if they were in the same room the smaller boy might have certain expectations and Brian couldn't fulfil them. He couldn't fuck a man, it wasn't right … or natural. He wasn't really gay!

::

The Coach had organised a meal when they got to the hotel so they'd all sat in huge groups in the hotel's restaurant and eaten some kind of cardboard meat with vegetables, some of which were too hard, some of which too soggy. It was vile but Brian and the rest of the team wolfed it down. They were all starving and a lot of them had to get the taste of fishing bate out of their mouths.

Almost as soon as the meal was over, Coach was ushering all the boys up to their rooms and the female PE teacher was suggesting the girls go too.

"Don't forget," the coach muttered in Brian's ear as they walked past him single file to head up the stairs, "get laid tonight, play brilliantly tomorrow. I'll turn a blind eye around," he checked his watch, "ten thirty. That gives you half an hour, is that enough time?"

"It's plenty of time," Brian nodded. He felt Jack sling an arm around his shoulder mutter in his ear;

"you lucky son of a bitch, even the coach is trying to make sure you get lucky."

"Yeah," Brian nodded again. His stomach was clenching a little as he walked up the stairs lost in the jokes and jeers of his team-mates. He hadn't spoken to Justin about the room situation yet, in fact, he hadn't even seen him yet on this trip apart from that all too brief glimpse earlier but now he felt anxious. What if they shut the hotel room door and Justin leapt on him? What if he was lying in bed and Justin came over and led on top of him? Would he mind? He shook his head a little and looked at the card key he'd been given. There were two for each room so every boy had one each. He gulped a little as he read the number; 12. That was so close to him, too close. He needed just an extra couple of seconds to compose himself. Was he going to open the door and find Justin naked with his ass in the air? That image made the clench in Brian's stomach even worse and he really thought he was going to vomit.

It took him a few attempts to slide the key into the door because his hands were shaking so much and he heard most of the team walk past mocking his inabilities as they went but eventually he made the green light flash and he opened the door and slid in. What he found, was very … dull. After all the things his mind had cooked up, Justin Taylor sat on a bed, doodling carefully while the TV played in the background was a bit … well, it was a letdown and Brian couldn't help feel a little disappointed. Or was that relief? It was probably relief.

"Hey," Justin smirked, not looking up from his drawing, "I thought you were never gonna get that lock open."

"You could have got up and helped me, asshole," Brian frowned, throwing his bag on to the bed nearest the door. Clearly, this one was to be his.

"You're a smart boy," Justin shrugged a little, "I figured you'd work it out for yourself eventually. And, if not," he finally looked up at the other boy, his eyes bright and happy, "I'd have just pushed these beds together and had a massive double all to myself." Brian smiled a little at the blissful expression on the other boy's face at the thought of a massive double bed all to himself. "Besides," Justin continued, "haven't you got to spruce yourself up and then run off to fuck Sandy?"

"Yeah," Brian said, pushing his bag over the side of his bed so he could lie on it. "So what's on telly?"

Justin smiled and threw him the remote.

"There's nothing on," he warned.

"I'll be the judge of that." Brian said. And a few seconds of channel-hopping later, "there's nothing on."

"I warned you," Justin grinned in a sing-song voice.

Brian looked over at the other boy. He was sat with his legs crossed, all hunched over, his tongue sticking out a little as he concentrated. Brian couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. Justin looked adorable.

"You drawing me again?" Brian asked into the quiet. He'd expected the answer to be 'no' but when Justin blushed, Brian knew he'd actually stumbled on the truth.

"We've based the superhero on you," he said, turning the picture around and showing Brian. "See." He pointed to what was clearly Brian in a Lycra suit, stood next to what was clearly Michael in a Lycra suit. "Michael wanted to be your sidekick," he explained.

"I see," Brian murmured, sitting up and taking the picture from Justin. "It's not bad," he said carefully studying the perfect replica of his own face. "What about you?" He asked, when he'd finished marvelling at the beauty of the granite on paper. "Didn't you want to be a superhero?"

"Not really," Justin went even redder and Brian was dying to know why. "I'm going to be Rage's love interest. The one he falls for but can't allow himself to get close to." Justin looked embarrassed but it was nothing compared to what Brian felt. Secret lives, never letting anyone get close, falling for someone you didn't want to fall for. He already had all the worst parts of being a superhero. Justin sighed and finished, "I always wanted to be the heroine."

"You shouldn't do drugs," Brian quipped, lying back down on his bed, grateful for the different way he'd managed to take this conversation. It had all been getting a little too personal for his tastes.

"You know what I mean," Justin groaned, throwing one of his pillows at Brian and missing by quite an impressive distance.

"Wow," Brian scorned, looking at the pillow that had landed near the door. "I didn't know people would throw that badly."

"What? You think you'd hit me from there?"

"Full in the face," Brian confirmed.

"What makes you so damn sure?"

"I'm a quarterback. It's what I do."

"Go on then," Justin put his drawing down on the bedside table and turned to face Brian. "I bet you can't hit me in the face with a pillow from the other side of the room."

"What's the bet?" Brian asked.

Justin thought for a second before concluding. "A kiss. If you miss me, you have to kiss me."

"I won't miss you," Brian said firmly. And Justin just smiled and nodded;

"okay."

Brian stood up and went to pick the pillow Justin had hurled at him earlier. He turned around, looked at Justin smug beaming face and through it hard, well, as hard as a pillow can be thrown, about a foot to Justin's left.

The smaller boy smiled, "you did that on purpose."

Brian shrugged and practically ran towards him, before pinning him into the mattress and kissing him deeply.

They moved slowly and gently kissing languidly, Brian lifting the hem of Justin's shirt a little so he could feel his flesh. He moved his hand higher and higher until they were having to break the kiss to get the garment over Justin's head, he threw it … somewhere and leant down to resume his kissing. Brian's shirt went next. Ever so slowly, like working with an easily startled animal, Justin slid Brian's wife beater vest up until the taller boy pulled back to rip it off.

Next to go, were Justin's jeans and shorts. Brian fumbled nervously with the clasp but Justin gently slapped his hands away, so that he could pull them off himself before moving to work on Brian's pants. Justin's lips left Brian's for just a second as he pressed feather soft kisses to the boys jaw and throat as he tentatively pushed Brian's pants down just a little. He needn't have worried. Brian was more than willing tonight and he quickly discarded the pants. He turned back to the blonde boy, lying naked in the bed next to him and smiled, pushing him back into the pillows. It was such a gentle action but it left no doubts as to who was now leading the gentle actions.

Brian moved over so he was laying to the side of Justin, his left arm the opposite side of the boys head, dominating him, controlling him as he reached down and caught Justin's lips with his own. They kissed deeply, with more primal animalistic need that Brian had ever felt with Sandy or any other girl for that matter. He needed more, craved more of this touch.

"I want you," Brian whispered, against Justin's lips, "so much."

"Me too," Justin mumbled, his arms tightening around Brian's neck and back and pulling him down towards him, deepening the kiss, increasing the contact of that perfect muscular body on his. "I want you inside me," he murmured and Brian pulled away sharply.

Justin cursed himself. Why had he said that? Brian was going to freak out now, just like all the times before and Justin would be left feeling abandoned and broken and lost. But Brian didn't look angry or freaked out, he looked … embarrassed.

"What?" Justin asked, straining his neck upwards to nuzzle at Brian's throat. "What's the matter?"

"I've never," he blushed, "with a guy … I mean. I just … I want it to be good for you too."

Justin loved how unsure this boy allowed himself to be when he only had an audience of one. Justin smiled, a genuine loving smile and Brian felt more relaxed immediately. "It's okay," the smaller boy whispered. "We'll work it out together."

Brian nodded and leant down to kiss Justin again, this time pouring even more into the kiss. It was as though Brian was ravenous and Justin were a delicious banquet of the sweetest delicacies. He pulled back a little and Justin saw the red tinge in the taller boys cheeks as he asked,

"Do you, er, do you need to roll over?"

Justin pulled Brian close so that as he shook his head, their noses bumped.

"I wanna do it face to face," he breathed, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Brian's mouth.

"We can do that?" Brian asked frowning a little and Justin could only smile at the brunette's naivety.

"Yeah," he nodded, "we can do that. Here," he moved Brian and shifted his legs so that the taller boy was now led between his thighs. "Kneel up," Justin encouraged and Brian just did what he was told as he watched the blonde reach for a condom from his discarded jeans pocket.

"You're prepared," Brian noted.

"I kinda hoped that this would happen," Justin smirked, slipping the condom in place and leaning back into the pillows. He put his feet on Brian's shoulders and hooked his arm around the taller boy's neck to pull him towards him. First Justin kissed his lips, then cheekbone and finally stopped at his ear. "I'm ready," he murmured, running the tip of his tongue in the shell of Brian's ear. "Fuck me."

As Brian slid in slowly, Justin hissed loudly; pain and pleasure mixing to cause the most exquisite sensation. Of course, Brian just panicked.

"Shit," he swore sharply, trying to pull out "Am I hurting you?"

"No," Justin said quickly, stretching his arm to hold Brian inside him. He wanted him there, he'd always want him there. "Just give me a second," he insisted. "It feels …" he smiled, a wicked, debauched kind of smile, "it feels amazing. _You_ feel amazing."

Brian just smiled too, beginning to move his hips back and forth slowly, leaning down, burying his face in the pillow next to Justin's head and mumbling, "you feel amazing too."


	9. The Aftermath

Justin woke up alone the next morning. And as he stretched out across the cheap white sheets, the single bed seemed altogether too big for just one person. Shit. He knew Brian was going to leave. He'd been so quiet afterwards last night, telling Justin to hush every time he went to speak. Justin had been too tired to stay awake for long, well, mind-blowing, toe-curling sex with the boy of your dreams could do that to you but as Justin had drifted off, he'd been sure to savour every moment. He wasn't stupid, he remembered how much Brian had freaked out after they kissed and this … this was much bigger than a measly kiss.

Justin sighed clutched the pillow close and pretended it was Brian, he wondered where the closeted jock could have got to. He'd probably run down the corridor as soon as Justin was asleep, maybe he told Sandy he was sorry and was fucking her right now. Justin buried his face in the pillow. It smelt of sweat and sex and himself and Brian and … perfection. Justin couldn't believe how amazing it had been with Brian, better than any of the nameless tricks that had fucked him in Babylon. This had meant something … or at least it had meant something to him. Brian, on the other hand, was probably losing himself in a bottle of whiskey right now or worse, Sandy. The thought of it made him want to vomit.

Then Justin noticed the room was suddenly quieter and he realised that the buzz of the boiler in the bathroom had ceased and that could only mean one thing; someone had been using the shower . He breathed a sigh of relief as the plastic door creaked open and Brian came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. They met each others eyes and stopped. Please don't be awkward, please don't be awkward, Justin willed and Brian just smiled, that, heart-stopping, sweet-little-boy smile; the one only Justin ever saw.

"Morning," he said. "Your getting better acquainted with the pillow I see?"

"Morning," Justin replied, blushing furiously and throwing the pillow he'd been snuggling onto the other bed. "Er," he looked back to Brian, "how are you feeling?"

"Ecstatic," Brian beamed, and he seemed to mean it as he jumped on the bed, his towel loosening as he crawled towards the blonde, planting a kiss on his lips.

"No freaking out?" Justin asked, more than a little surprised.

Brian shook his head, still smiling. "No freaking out," he promised. "I feel good. Like …" he paused for a second, taking his left hand and running it through Justin's hair, "I know now."

"Know what?"

"That I'm gay," Brian grinned.

"Didn't you sort of already know that?" Justin asked, a little bemused by Brian's excitement.

"I guess," he shrugged, "but now I _know. _I know that nothing and no girl could ever compare to that."

"Well, dur," Justin laughed, his hands running up and down the sides of Brian's naked torso. He could feel the bumps of Brian's rips under that perfect skin.

"So … I'm a fag," Brian chuckled a little. "I like guys. I like …" he looked at the boy, with the huge blue eyes and the world's most perfect blonde hair, gazing up at him. "I like you," he finished wistfully, kissing him again. Then, pulling away he said, "you know, that shower's not a bad size. What do you say? Are you up for one more?"

"I've created a monster," Justin chuckled a little as the brunette dropped his towel, grabbed Justin's hands and dragged him into the shower.

::

"You know we can't tell anyone, right?" Brian asked as they packed their stuff into their overnight bags. "About us I mean."

"I thought you were an out and proud homosexual," Justin smirked.

"I will be," Brian promised, anxiously fiddling with his t-shirt before throwing it into the case with the rest of his stuff, "when I'm in college but not yet. I can't. If my brothers find out," he shuddered and looked suddenly pale, "if my dad finds out," he glanced up at Justin with pleading eyes, "he'll kill me."

"Okay," Justin nodded, going over and squeezing Brian's shoulder. "We won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret. Secret rendezvous and sneaking out to go to Babylon," he grinned, "it'll be really … romantic."

"Yeah," Brian nodded distantly and maybe even a little miserably, "romantic."

::

The game had been a success. They'd won comfortably thanks, in no small part, to the fact that Brian Kinney had played the best he'd ever played. The coach patted him on the back as they left the pitch.

"It's all because I let you sneak into Sandy's room last night," he winked. "You know, I did see you go in but I turned a blind eye and…." Brian didn't need to hear anymore. He was sick of Sandy and Jack and their sneaking around behind his back. He didn't need her anyway, he had Justin and Justin was…. Well, mere words couldn't really cover it.

"You played amazing," Sandy beamed, skipping towards him and kissing him gently on the cheek. "I swear I heard people talking about college football. Maybe even the NFL."

"Yeah," Brian nodded, a angry tone to his voice that couldn't be missed as he spotted Jack, not far away eyeing Sandy carefully. "But hey," Brian continued, overly joyously, looking pointedly at his oldest brother, "it looks like I'm not the only one who _scored_ on this this trip."

"What?" Sandy asked. She looked confused but Brian couldn't work out if it was fake or not. It probably was, most things about her were.

"Jack," he beamed, and his brother just glared back at him. "Jack Kinney, you dog. You sure as hell are good and coming from the blindside and nailing people." He pushed Sandy roughly towards him.

Earning a "watch it asshole" from Jack as he caught the girl and pulled her close.

"Well," Brian grinned. "You don't have to sneak around anymore because I'm done with the biggest slut in the school."

"You're done with me!" Sandy screamed. "You can't be done with me! I'm done with you! You never paid any attention to me. Most of the time you looked annoyed to see me. Not like Jack. Jack wants me around. And he's better in bed too. You were always so distant."

"It's because I was trying to pretend I wasn't fucking you!" Brian yelled back and Justin, from somewhere in the crowd of stunned jocks and cheerleaders, snorted loudly and triumphantly and then quickly disguised it as quite a severe coughing fit, which led one of the cheerleaders to give him water.

But most people were watching the action in front of them. Jack stepping between Sandy and Brian. Sandy beginning to cry. Jack shoving Brian hard and telling him to be nice to his new girlfriend.

By the time Justin was paying attention again, Brian was shaking his head and smirking widely.

"Enjoy her," he said, "like you haven't already."

And with that he stormed to the bus. There was a buzz around the crowds of spectators but Brian didn't care. He accepted the condolences off a few of his team-mates as they all piled onto the bus but as the journey went on, the whole sordid incident was quickly forgotten. Sandy and Jack were making out in one of the double seats and Brian wished to god he could drag Justin back here and do the same. They'd show them what a kiss really was. They'd teach them what passion was but he didn't, he just glanced forward and spotted a mop of blonde hair, bent over a notepad sketching furiously. He watched him longingly for a moment until he felt a thump on his arm and one of the team asked him what he was thinking about. That jolted him out of any faggy behaviour and he soon got back into the jock mentality, jeering as one of the smaller boys took up the challenge of shoving as many pickled onions into his mouth as he could. He got to 43 before he spewed into a bin liner and everyone cheered before it was the turn of the next smallest.

The smell of pickled onions and the sound of retching filled the bus, when they finally got dropped off at the school. Many of the kids parents had turned up to take them home but not the Kinney's. Brian wasn't surprised. It was early evening. They'd both be too drunk to do anything by now. They'd probably be passed out in front of the TV with a bottle in their hands.

"You're alright to get home on your own, aren't you Bri?" Jack asked as he came over his arm slung around Sandy's shoulders. "You see Sandy's got a free house so we," he indicated himself, Sandy, Eric and another cheerleader named Britney, "are going to have a bit of a party. I mean, you can come," he said, "but you gotta bring a girl and," he tightened his grip on Sandy's shoulders, "seeing as I got your girl, I think it might be best if you just run along home."

"Sure," Brian nodded, glumly "Have fun!"

"We will," Jack promised, turning away from his brother and marching off down the road towards Sandy's house.

"Sorry man," Eric called as they walked away. "See you tomorrow! Great game by the way."

Brian just rolled his eyes and looked around him. Almost all the cars had left now and Brian shuddered a little as the cold air bit in around him. He wrapped his jacket tighter around his body and set off in a direction that he thought might be right. He heard a car creeping along slowly beside him and he heard Justin call his name. He looked up and saw the face of a kind looking blonde lady, who could only be Justin's mother. He peered past her to see Justin in the passenger seat, asking,

"do you want a lift?"

"No, I'm okay," Brian said, "thanks though."

"Brian," Justin said, failing to hide the bubble of laughter in his words, "you're going the wrong way."

"Oh," Brian stopped and looked at the car. He would really like a lift it was just that, "my house is really out the way for you."

"Where do you live?" Justin's mother asked kindly.

"Er, Little Brook." Brian scratched the back of his neck and kicked the ground with the toe of his trainer.

"Is that in The Hossington Estate?" The woman asked, looking a little alarmed.

"Yeah," the boy nodded, "like I said, I'll walk it."

"That's miles away," she exclaimed. "Aren't your parents here to get you?"

"No," Brian smiled bitterly. "They can't drive … not with the amount of alcohol they'll have consumed by now anyway," he smirked but the woman just looked horrified.

"You poor boy," she said and Brian hated that because he didn't want to be pitied. "Here," she got out of the car and took his bag from him before putting it in the trunk. "You get in the car and I'll drive you home. Honestly, I can't have you walking miles and miles in the dark like this. You wouldn't be home for hours."

"Oh," Brian shrugged. If he was honest, never finding his way home again would probably have been fine but his bag was already in the trunk so the sensible thing was probably to get in the car too. "Thanks Mrs Taylor."

"Please, call me Jennifer."

The car was nice. It was clean and smelt almost new though Brian imagined that Justin's family would be one of those families who get rid of a car around the same time it loses its new-car-smell. Personally, it was making Brian feel a little queasy. He squeaked a little as he slid along the faux-leather seats and he grinned wickedly when he found under seat heaters for the back seats.

"Looks like things can get pretty heated on the back seat of this car," he smirked then, when he saw the Taylor's almost identical looks of prudish confusion, he pointed to the seat-heating buttons and smiled angelically. Justin couldn't help but laugh.

"So, Brian," Justin's mother began, trying to change the subject, "have you been living in Pittsburgh long?"

"A couple of months," Brian answered honestly. "We move around a lot for my dad's job."

"Oh, what business is he in?"

"The attempting not to be made redundant business," Brian answered slowly. "It's not going well for him."

"Oh, well …" Justin's mother trailed off. She clearly had _no _idea how to talk to a boy from the working class real world. Brian doubted that this woman had ever done a days work in her life. How would her perfect manicured nails cope with anything more laborious that boiling a kettle for afternoon tea with the ladies book club?

It was awkward but Brian felt no pressure to change that and Justin was too busy trying not to laugh at his mother's obvious discomfort. So it was up to Jennifer to attempt to rescue the situation.

"Justin tells me you're an excellent football player."

"Moooom," Justin whined embarrassedly, sinking into his chair and covering his face with his hands.

"What?" The woman asked innocently. "Weren't you just saying the other day that you felt you had a chance of winning the league because Brian was so brilliant?"

"Mom, please," Justin hissed. Brian could see the flushed skin of his cheeks and neck and sniggered to himself.

"He said your brothers are good football players too, Brian. Are they older or younger than you?"

"Older," Brian answered. "I was always the bullied rug rat growing up."

"Yes, I can imagine. They can't be much older than you though."

"Jack's almost two years older than me," Brian explained. "But Eric's only 10 months younger than Jack, the catholic no-condoms allowed rule is the only reason he's here. And then there's me, the baby of the group … the catholic no-abortion rule is the only reason I'm here." And with that, Brian smiled angelically as he caught Jen's gaze in the mirror.

"Er, yes, well…" Jennifer pulled a little at her collar and looked flustered and confused. "Erm, Justin's got a younger sister," she said eventually.

"I know," Brian replied, bored. "He told me."

"Oh," she said, seemingly surprised. "I didn't know you two were friends." Then turning to her son, she added, "you don't usually get on with the football team, do you honey?"

"Mom!" Justin cried. Embarrassing wasn't really a powerful enough word to cover the emotion he was feeling right now.

"Well, it's not your fault sweetie," she said, then she looked into the mirror to catch Brian's eye. "They give him a hard time because he's G-A-Y."

"You never are!" Brian cried in mock amazement, reaching forward to punch Justin lightly on the shoulder. "You're a freaking queer, well … I'd never have guessed it."

"Hey," Jennifer scolded. "I won't hear any derogatory words towards the G-A-Ys."

"It's okay mom," Justin sighed, holding his head in his hands. "Brian already knows. Everyone already knows."

"Still, no need to be rude."

"I'm used to it," he sighed as he watched his mother indicate and take a turning into Hossington estate.

It was every bit as bad as Justin had imagined it to be. There were fridge freezers, washing machines, old sofas, baths … and that was just in the front yards. A giant old tree stood at the centre of a tiny patch of green. It was covered in carvings and tire swings and surrounded by piles of burnt-out ash. A large percentage of the windows were either boarded up or smashed in and Justin shuddered thinking that this was merely the tip of a the visual metaphor of how shitty Brian's life was.

"Left here," Brian directed from the back, taking them down a street where each house had almost all of its windows and they all had a car outside, though most of them were burnt to a shell. It was the nicest street in Hossington and it was still a shithole.

"This is me," Brian sighed as Jennifer drew the car to a halt outside the house he was forced to call home. "Thanks." He jumped out the back of the car and went to get his stuff out of the trunk. He struggled trying to get the bloody thing open but Jennifer was soon pointing out the catch under the Ford's badge and popping it open for him. He thanked her again and slung the bag over his shoulder. Jennifer hadn't quite managed to get back into the car when she heard a loud, slurring voice that caused her to look up.

"Where the _fuck _have you been? You shitty little fucking faggot. And where are your goddamn brothers?"

Brian's answer was lost a little under the continuing tyrant pouring from his dad's mouth.

"You're mother's been worried fucking sick about you. You didn't even tell her where the fuck you were going. You've been gone days; days! I've got a good mind to take my belt to you. Teach you how to be a real fucking man but not you. You're too fucking above everyone else to bother to let us know where you are. You piece of shit!" He stumbled forward and landed a drunken but surprisingly accurate and incredibly hard punch on his son's jaw. That was when Jennifer realised she'd seen enough. She marched towards the drunken man and his son, who was currently nursing his jaw, with all the determination of a country club busybody.

"Don't," Brian called to her as she got close. "It's okay. I don't need your help."

"You may think that," Jennifer replied haughtily, "but if you think I'm leaving you in the care of this man tonight Brian, you've got another thing coming."

"Please," Brian almost begged. "It'll be okay."

"No," she shook her head, grabbing Brian's arm and pulling him closer to her. "Mr Kinney," she said firmly in the direction of the drunken, fuming mess that was Jack Kinney sr. "I hope you'll understand that I can't leave Brian here with you after that little performance."

Jack just leered at her for a second, blinking furiously through his beer-blindness to put a name to this prim and proper face. None came to him.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded.

"Jennifer Taylor," Jennifer held out his hand and Jack took it, placing a slobbery kiss onto her knuckles.

"Enchanter," he smiled, breathing alcohol fumes all over his son and this snobbish women. Fucking Jack, Brian thought, he actually still reckoned he had a way with the ladies. Just because he could pull a few whores at singles nights in desperado pubs, just because he cheated on his wife at every turn.

"I wish I could say the same," Jennifer replied curtly and Brian smirked a little behind his hand. He was still poised, ready to take the hit if his father swung for Jennifer but he actually thought the man might behave himself. "Now, I'm sure you don't object to me taking your son to my house. I will, of course, make sure he gets to school on time."

"Of course," Jack nodded much more than was necessary.

"Do you have everything you need Brian?"

Brian shook his head. "There's some books and clothes I could probably do with getting."

"Okay," Jennifer nodded. "I'll wait in the car."

Brian tore through his house as quickly as he could. He didn't even stop to acknowledge his mother, lying unconscious on the sitting room floor. It wasn't exactly an unusual scene. Brian didn't have another bag, so he shoved his clothes into his pillowcase and was back out of his house and in the car before Jack Kinney really had an opportunity to stop it.

"Are you okay Brian?" Jen asked, as Brian began to catch his breath.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. Justin could see the bright eyes and the glow on the other boy's face. He was buzzing.

"They were probably just worried about you and he seemed a little drunk too. I'm sure they'll be better tomorrow."

Brian knew that was bullshit so he didn't even bother to reply. He might not tell people outright what happened behind closed doors in his house but he certainly wouldn't pretend it was all roses and 2.4 children and perfect family living.


	10. How The Other Half Live

The drive to the Taylor's house wasn't that far but the contrast in lifestyles was unbelievable. Justin lived in one of the nicest parts of Pittsburgh, in a cul-de-sac so perfect that Brian hadn't believed these places existed outside TV. There were no cars parked on the road. They were all stored in the double garage, except the odd house that had converted their garage into a guest room, or simply had three cars. There were perfectly trimmed topiary and beautifully kept lawns with perfect picket fences at every glance. Brian couldn't believe anything his eyes were telling him.

Jennifer finally drew the car to a stop on drive to their house, which in Brian's opinion was more of a mansion.

"Here we are," she said cheerily. "Justin, get the bags from the trunk, will you?"

Justin jumped out and went to get the bags, whilst Jennifer ushered Brian towards the pristine, white front door. She produced a key and opened it, stepping aside to allow Brian to walk in first. He felt almost nervous, like he might taint this perfection with all his crap but Jennifer smiled warmly at him and he stepped inside.

There were two staircases, curling away from each other up into a winding balcony that ran right around this entrance hall. It was like something out of Cinderella's castle. Justin dropped the bags near an expensive looking ornate table and his mother warned him to be careful. Brian gently rested his pillowcase near the rest of the bags as he followed Jennifer into the sitting room. It was a big open plan space that served as a kitchen, dining room and sitting room with beautiful archways and perfect decorations separating them.

"Your place is amazing," Brian murmured, his eyes falling to the huge flat screen TV that was playing some kind of film.

"Thank you, Brian," Jennifer nodded, going through an archway into the kitchen and disappearing out of site. Brian just looked at Justin as the boy slumped in front of the TV.

"You live in a castle," he smirked raising an eyebrow, "you should have said."

"You never told me you lived in a slum."

"It's not a slum," Brian countered. "It's all we can afford. Some of us aren't lucky enough to have been born into the world of the privilege."

Justin felt bad for a moment and turned to look at the film as a girl jumped in a car and drove away leaving a boy looking lost and forlorn on the side of the road.

"Classic breeder bullshit," he muttered, flicking the TV off and then grinning at the taller boy. "Hey," he beamed, "do you reckon my parents would let you stay in my room?"

"I doubt it," Brian said. "They know you're queer. Or," he smirked a little, "should I say G-A-Y."

"Hey," Justin chuckled, "leave her alone. She's trying."

Brian just nodded, looking at the plush beige carpet for a second before whispering, "I hope you know how lucky you are to have a mother like that."

"I'm beginning to work it out," Justin said honestly.

Just then, a girl, not much older than themselves wandered through, counting her money. She stopped for just a second to look Brian up and down and walk much closer to him than was necessary, before leaving the house, Jennifer following her and thanking her for her work. It seemed Brian was still a hit with the ladies, whether he wanted to be or not.

"What was that about mom?" Justin asked and Jennifer explained that she'd been babysitting his younger sister, Molly.

"Where's dad?"

"He's away on business tonight and tomorrow," Jennifer answered. "You know that."

"Oh," Justin lifted his head a little. He hadn't known that but what did it matter? His dad was almost always 'away on business'. He turned back to TV, some people were sitting in a park. He vaguely overheard Jennifer talking to Brian about sleeping arraignments.

"I mean, we do _have _a guest room," she was saying, "but the bed in there needs to be folded out and I'm not sure how to do it. Really, the easiest option for me would be if you just slept in a sleeping bag in Justin's room."

"That'll be fine," Brian said trying not to sound too enthusiastic. Jennifer nodded, smiling before going up the stairs to sort a place for Brian to sleep. It was a good fifteen minutes before she returned, explaining that she'd lain down a few blankets and a duvet or two under the sleeping bag to try and make Brian's makeshift bed a little more comfortable. Brian had insisted it was fine, and, after making sure the boys were filled up with food, Jennifer said goodnight and the two went to bed.

"It almost seems a waste," Brian sighed, looking at the beautifully constructed 'bed' Jennifer had created for him.

"Well, you can sleep there if you want," Justin shrugged, moving back to the centre of his one and quarter sized bed.

"Fuck off," the taller boy chuckled, climbing under the duvet and snuggling up closer to Justin. The blonde grinned, flicking the table lamp off. As soon as the room was dark, Brian was kissing his neck and running his hands all over Justin's body. Justin loved this new, comfortable with himself Brian and despite issuing a few warnings about having to be quiet, things didn't quite end up that way as Justin discovered the next morning when he walked into the kitchen to his mother sitting with a cup of coffee wearing a dressing gown and her 'serious face'.

"Morning," he said brightly, kissing his mother carefully on the cheek.

"Morning," she replied stonily.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and watching her son fill up two bowls of cereal for himself and Brian.

"Okay," Justin nodded, pouring the milk and sitting down.

It was a couple of minutes of staring before Jennifer broke her silence.

"You should have told me about Brian," she said firmly. "You should have told me he was your," she looked a little embarrassed and took another sip of her coffee to compose herself. "You're not old enough to be having these … experiences," she sighed.

Justin closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Shit. She must have heard them. But they were so quiet … weren't they? Maybe she just knew. Maybe it was some kind of weird mom superpower. Though why mom's would want that particular superpower was beyond Justin.

"We were safe," he tried to reassure her. She didn't look reassured. In fact, if anything she looked a little sick.

"It's not about safety Justin," she sighed. "It's about…. You're not old enough to…." She took a deep breath; inhale … exhale. "You're not old enough to be having sex."

"Please don't tell anyone," a voice that wasn't Justin's begged. They both looked up to see Brian stood in the doorway. His face was ashen and he was leaning so heavily against the doorframe he looked a little like if it hadn't been there he'd be sprawled out on the floor. "Please," he pleaded.

Justin had never seen Brian look so shaken and scared in his life. Not even after they kissed for the first time, not even after that time in the magazine room when Justin had undone his pants. This was a whole new, very real, level of fear.

"Brian," he asked, "are you okay?"

Brian didn't move. He was looking straight at Jennifer. "Please," he whispered. "You can't tell my dad. He'll," he paused, looked at the floor and gulped. "He'll kill me," he breathed.

Justin jumped up from his chair and ran over to hold Brian. Jennifer could only watch as the two boys clung to each other. It was clear they needed each other and she knew if she didn't allow it they'd only find ways to make it happen anyway.

"Fine," she sighed reluctantly. "If you're both careful, then I suppose it's okay. But let me talk to your father," she warned Justin. "It'll be easier for him if he hears it from me."

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "Thanks mom."

::

"What the fuck!" Jack asked in complete shock as he watched first Justin and then Brian get out of Mrs Taylor's car.

"What?" Brian tried to shrug. It didn't work. There were too many questions that needed answering.

"Well, we went home last night after our," he coughed suggestively and Brian nodded to say he'd understood. "And we find, St Joan on the floor and Ol' Jack chugging down a fifth or sixth bottle of beer."

"Regular night at the Kinney household," Brian said bitterly watching as Justin waved somewhat subtly as he disappeared towards the rest of the magazine gang.

"Uh-huh," agreed Eric. "Except you weren't there. So you hadn't put mom to bed."

"That's not my responsibility," Brian reasoned, hoisting his bag further onto his shoulder.

"And spending the night at _Gay_lor's is?" Jack asked incredulously. "I mean, Christ Brian, you a faggot or something?""Of course not," Brian snarled. "If you must know, I was walking home last night and Justin's mother insisted on giving me a lift. When she dropped me off, Dad came out shooting his goddamn mouth off and throwing his fucking fists about and Jennifer…"

"Jennifer?" Jack smirked.

"Justin's mother," Brian corrected, "refused to let me stay there."

"Refused," Jack looked suddenly furious as he pushed his younger brother up against a wall. "What the fuck did she see?"

Brian tried to push Jack away, but the older boy was much stronger than he was so eventually he just answered the question. "Dad attempting to break my fucking jaw."

"Why didn't you take him inside?" Jack seethed.

"I tried. I told her not to get involved but she wouldn't listen. She's the first goddamn person in my entire life who's ever cared about what's happening to me!" Brian growled, suddenly finding unknown strength and pushing him away. "Jennifer Taylor cared more about a stranger that St Joan cares about her own goddamn children so don't tell me I should have told her to go away and should have let Jack take his anger out on me!" Brian clenched his fist. He felt like he was going to explode. Like he'd been pressed tightly into a space to small for him and he was just waiting to pop. He unleashed his fist on the closest wall. The pain that coursed through his fingers hardly registered as he stormed away from Jack.

It was only when he rounded the corner and looked down at the bloody mess of shattered knuckle that he realised what a stupid fucking thing that was to do to his throwing hand. He saw Justin, and the rest of that gang, looking at him carefully and he walked straight over.

"Got any ice?" he asked sheepishly. "I've er, hurt my hand."

"I'll get you some," Lindsey said quickly. "There's a first aid box in my car."

She rushed off and Justin peered down at the bloody mess. "You think you've broken anything?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Wiggle your fingers," Michael suggested.

Brian winced a little as he slowly and purposefully moved each finger up and down. They all moved, thankfully, and the only real pain was coming from the cuts so he knew his football career was safe.

"Shit," he muttered. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I can't believe I punched a goddamn wall."

"You should opt for something softer next time," Justin scolded gently."Like a cat," Michael piped up.

And Brian couldn't help but smile. "I'll bare that in mind." He promised as Lindsey returned, with an ice-pack in her hands.

"Here," she said, wrapping it in some kitchen paper she'd found and pressing it to Brian's hand. "That should help the swelling."

"Thanks," Brian smiled gratefully, and Lindsey couldn't help giggle. She really did love that smile.

"Shouldn't you be running along now," Mel asked stonily. She really did hate that smile. "I mean, won't your football buddies begin to think you're queer."

Brian looked down at his hand for a second before turning to Justin. "I should probably go," he admitted quietly.

"Okay," Justin nodded. "I'll see you in class."

Brian agreed, getting slowly to his feet. "Thank Linds, for the icepack."

"No problem, Bri."

Then Brian looked back to Justin. "Later," he whispered.

"Later," Justin repeated in the same tone.

Brian had barely disappeared before the almost silent laugh of disbelief murmured through the group ending with Emmett who let out a low whistle.

"What?" Justin asked indignantly.

"You've so fucked him," Michael smirked knowingly.

"No," Justin shook his head furiously, only to be met by a raised eyebrow from Emmett and disbelieving looks from the others. Then he grinned and continued, "he fucked me."

There was screaming from three of the group and giggling from most of them and Michael just said,

"what was it like? Is his body as perfect without clothes?"

"Better," Justin confirmed. "And it was," he trailed off dreamily before smiled widely. "It was amazing."

"I bet," Michael sighed jealously.

"Better than a nameless blowjob in the backroom at Babylon anyway. And," Justin continued, "he's dumped Sandy. She was fucking around with Jack."

"His brother Jack?"

"Yeah. So now it's all over. Now he's all mine. You just… can't tell anyone."


	11. Meeting the Family

**This is a bit of a filler, sorry... (Also, I've been having a few formatting errors, so if it's unreadable ... please let me know!)**

Brian wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get talked into this. He was on Liberty Avenue with guys checking him out from every single angle.

"Mr Popular," Justin giggled in his ear as a leather clad bear winked in Brian's direction. The smaller boy had wrapped himself around Brian's right arm and was practically skipping as they walked along the rainbow-coloured street to some undisclosed destination.

"This is fucking insane," Brian whispered as yet another guy walked close to him so he could bump him as he walked past. Brian looked over his shoulder to see the man walking backwards away from him, waving flirtily.

"You're particularly hot down here," Justin smiled. "But you're mine," he beamed. Then Justin squeaked as a dirty old man suddenly squeezed his own perfect bubble butt.

"You're not doing so bad yourself," Brian muttered, glaring at the man who'd dared to touch _his _Justin.

"Ooo, possessive," Justin smiled. He felt giddy, almost drunk as he dragged Brian down Liberty Avenue. He'd been here plenty of times. The Liberty Diner was where he and the gang hung out after school and on weekends but to have Brian with him was just … words couldn't describe it. It was too perfect.

"Here we are," Justin cried suddenly, tugging on Brian's arm and dragging him into the Liberty Diner.

The bell sounding their arrival was almost non-existent in comparison to the wail that was admitted from a red-headed lady wearing a rainbow array of colours.

"SUNSHINE!" The wail shrieked and Brian almost found himself covering his ears. The woman ran towards them, "and you," she continued at only a slightly lower volume, "must be Brian. The football player."

Brian just looked at the woman in confusion. He recognised her from the day Ted had dropped Michael off at his house and she was just as brash and over the top as he'd expected.

"Sunshine and Mikey have told me _all _about you," she winked, popping her gum and smiling with bright red lips. "And I gotta say, they didn't exaggerate how gorgeous you are … much." She smirked. "Sit down, honey. I'll be right over to take your order."

Brian looked around and spotted the boys of the magazine group and was a little shocked when they waved to him and beckoned him over. It was weird. He'd never really been accepted so readily before. These people didn't judge him on his family, they didn't expect him to be and act a certain way. They just let him be himself and it was a relief.

"Hey," he smiled as he got to the table, squeezing onto a seat next to Michael, opposite Ted and Emmett. "So," Michael asked politely, barely looking up from scribbling on a notepad, "how are you finding your first trip to Liberty Avenue?"

"It's erm … yeah," Brian trailed off and Michael just chuckled.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It can be like that."

A man dressed entirely in leather suddenly walked passed the table and winked flirtatiously at Brian. "Hey Stud," he smiled and Brian just raised an eyebrow in response before turning back to the table and asking,

"is it always like this?"

"Pretty much," Emmett nodded. "Well," he smiled, "usually we don't have the entire Liberty Diner staring at someone on _our_ table, but there's usually one popular stud to look at."

"Mmm, Brandon," Ted said, "or Trent or that bastard Troy."

"What's wrong with Troy?" Brian asked, sitting forward a little. He was genuinely interested in this whole new rainbow-coloured world of the queers.

"Nothing," Emmett answered, placing his arm around Ted's shoulders. "He just broke poor Teddy's heart." Then he lowered his voice, to a gossipy whisper, "he popped Teddy's bottoming cherry at Pride last year and Ted thought it was love but it turned out to be just a fuck."

"Did you have to tell him?" Ted scolded, burying his reddening face in his friend's shoulder.

"Yes," Emmett smiled, "he's one of us now."

"A loser?"

"A queer," Emmett corrected his forlorn friend. And to everyone's amazement, Brian didn't deny the accusation he just smiled a little and took a sip of the cola that Justin had just brought over with him from the counter.

It was at that moment, the bell to the Liberty Diner tinkled and Brian glanced up to see one of the hottest guys, he'd ever seen in his life. He was tall, strong, brunet with thick, perfect muscles barely hidden beneath a clinging shirt.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, causing the rest of the table to look in the same direction.

"Is he a fag?" Brian muttered.

"Dur," Emmett sighed dreamily. "Jayce Clark. My dream man. Shame, he doesn't know I exist," Emmett groaned. And right on cue, Jayce walked straight past Emmett but gave Brian a _very _meaningful look as he went to the counter to order some food. "Of course he'd notice you though. Christ, with you around, none of us will ever get laid again."

"Except Justin," Michael sounded a little bitter but he was still too buried in his book for anyone to be able to see his jealous expression.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked, trying to peer over Michael's shoulder at the paper.

"Nothing," Michael said immediately, snatching the paper to his chest and turning away from the taller boy. Brian recalled a similar reaction when he tried to see Justin's comic book sketch for the first time.

"Oh," he nodded. "Rage."

Michael glared at Justin. "You told him?"

"It is based on him," Justin pointed out.

"What is?" Emmett asked. "Why don't I know about any of this?"

"It's our comic book," Justin sighed. "Me and Michael are writing a comic book."

"Based on me," Brian grinned, smugly.

"My hero," Justin mocked. Brian just chuckled and reached over to press a kiss to Justin's cheek. The blonde was shocked and surprised and delighted but he didn't let it show. He just kicked Emmett's foot under the table and they shared a conversation's worth of excitable squealing in the briefest of glances.

Brian however, was sharing his own meaningful glances with Jayce at the counter. Shit. The man really was hot. Maybe this wasn't a Justin thing. Maybe this really was a man thing because he'd pretty much give anything and everything to fuck Jayce and he'd never felt like that about anyone … except Justin. He glanced at Justin and the boy beamed up at him. No, he still wanted Justin more but … damn!

"So you're a comic book geek, Michael?" Brian asked casually.

"I wouldn't say geek," Michael shot back defensively.

"I would," Ted countered and Michael shot him a look of pure hatred.

"I used to read them," Brian said honestly. "I read Captain Astro but my dad took them off me when I was about 9 because Jack told him Captain Astro was a fag. He took them in the garden and we had a Captain Astro bonfire. I managed to keep one though. I read it to death," he smiled a little at the memory. "All the pages were dog-eared and some of them were missing. The pictures were faded." My dad found it when I was about 12. The, er," his voice was low now … very, very solemn, "the same day I fell off a wall and broke my arm." He looked up at the group through his fringe. They understood what he meant. He didn't need to explain it any further.

"Which issue was it?" Michael asked brightly.

"The one with Astro Dog and the evil Bone Collector who's trying to steal Captain Astro's bones…"

"…to add to his inter-galactic fossil collection." Michael and Brian finished in unison.

"I love that one," Michael sighed.

"Me too," Brian grinned.

"Geeks," Justin muttered under his breath and the two boys turned to glare at him.

"Sorry, Mr High and Mighty," Michael scowled. "We can't all be into weird cool indie-Pittsburgh bands and walk around thinking we're the next undiscovered height of cool."

"Excuse me," Emmett joined in, "I've seen Justin's ensemble of Big Q trainers and cheep baggy jeans. Nothing about him says height of cool."

"Just because I don't walk around like I got dressed by Prince on acid," Justin shot back with a cheeky smile.

"I'll have you know this is the very best in Torso's fall collection."

"Torso?" Justin smirked. "I think that's case and point to me. There is _no _trashier store in Pittsburgh."

"I like to think these clothes will get me noticed," Emmett explained as yet another fucking fag gave Brian a smouldering stare ignoring the rest of the table. "Though perhaps to really get noticed, I need to look like this," he jerked a thumb at Brian and sighed.

"It's just coz he's new," Michael said. "They won't care in a week or so."

"Yeah right," Ted laughed. "Once a stud, always a stud. And Brian's a stud."

Brian couldn't help feel a little weird about all this alien admiration from his friends. He felt like everyone in the room was staring at him, eyeing him up like a piece of meat and although it should probably freak him out, he actually found that the majority of him, was truly loving all this attention. He'd so often been ignored, been shouted down and hated. Here, he felt invincible.

"I…" Justin started and then he looked embarrassed and stopped.

"What?" Ted asked, putting voice to the four confused expressions that Justin was facing.

"Well I don't want to say now," the smallest of the friends squirmed a little.

"What? Why?" Brian asked.

"Coz Michael just said I was an indie-band geek."

"Who've you got tickets to see?" Michael sighed knowingly.

"Errr … The Salem Experience," he grinned. "I _have _to see them. Please. I've got two tickets. Someone come with me."

"The Salem Experience?" Brian asked immediately. "I love them. 'Witchcraft Voodoo' is one of my favourite songs … ever."

"Me too," Justin grinned.

"Excellent," Michael scorned. "You two can make it a date and leave the rest of us crappy-indie-music free."

"I," Justin blushed a little, "I wouldn't mind that." He looked quickly to Brian. "I mean, if you don't mind it just being us."

"I think that'll be fine," Brian frowned bemusedly at Justin's apparent nervousness.

"Oh. Great." Then he chuckled a bit. "I've never been on a date before."

"Well, it's not a date, is it?" Brian pointed out. "We're just two friends who happen to like fucking and share an interest in up an coming local bands."

"There's only one thing I want to be up and coming," Emmett sighed, "and it's not local bands." And from the way the flamboyant boy was staring at Jayce Clark's ass, it didn't take much to guess what that 'one thing' was.

"You're such a fucking flamer," Brian jeered gently, throwing a chip at the daydreamer.

"Oh, honey, I know," Emmett chuckled, expertly fellating a breadstick to an impressive distance before sighing dejectedly as he looked at his handiwork. "If only Jayce Clark knew what he was missing."

At that moment, Jayce Clark looked over at Brian again, nodded gently towards the bathroom before disappearing.

"I don't think he cares about you at all, Em," Michael laughed, squeezing Brian's shoulder. "I think you're in there."

Brian just laughed a little. "You queers," he shook his head in faux-disapproval, "you're all so easy."

"Uh, uh, uh," Emmett shook his head. "Shouldn't that be _we _queers, honey? Because we _all _know, once you go gay … you never stray."

Brian laughed a little and shook his head whilst Ted stared incredulously at Emmet until the taller boy became uncomfortable and was forced to ask, "what?"

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" Ted smirked."I've been working on it ever since this one here first fucked Justin," he nodded to Brian. "I wanted to use it at a perfect moment.""Uh-huh," Ted nodded, taking a sip of coffee to hide his smile.

"What?" Emmett demanded, and when Ted refused to answer, he repeated. "What? Teddy. Answer me."

"Well, it's not very spur-of-the-moment, is it?"

As Ted and Emmett began to argue whether spur-of-the-moment sayings were better than pre-prepared ones, Brian's attention was caught by a moping blonde sat to his right.

"You okay?" He mumbled, not wanting to draw the table's attention.

"Huh? Yeah," Justin forced a smile at the older boy. "Everything's fine."

But everything was not fine. Justin wasn't listening to the gang laughing. Justin wasn't paying any attention to the fact Jayce Clark had just returned from the Liberty Diner toilets looking thoroughly unsatisfied. And he wasn't noticing that every guy in the goddamn place was checking out Brian. All he could think about was Brian's off-hand comment, that was drilling a hole right through his heart; 'we're just two friends who happen to like fucking'.


	12. Strike One!

_We're just two friends who happen to like fucking._

It had been four days, three fucks and two blowjobs since Brian had said that but every time they fucked, Justin couldn't help feel it was more than simply fucking. When Brian looked into his eyes as their bodies danced and writhed together. It was making love, wasn't it? At least it was in Justin's head and he hated himself for it because he felt like a lovesick heroine having her heart kicked around the floor by an asshole boyfriend but how could his heart be kicked around the floor? He didn't have a boyfriend … just a guy who liked to fuck him … all the goddamn time. Well, all the goddamn time after he'd meticulously, with FBI-worthy attention to detail, checked that they were completely alone.

They usually met up after school in the cage-like magazine room but last night, they'd gone back to Justin's house because his father was away on business. Brian had spent the entire night and paid the price for it when he next went home the next morning, when he fumbled into his dad as he'd attempted to sneak back in.

"Fuck, Bri," Jack junior winced as his brother collapsed into a chair at breakfast. Brian felt battered. He'd gone from such a euphoric high to such a low point in such quick succession, he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from the emotional pain let alone the physical one.

"What?" Brian snapped. He wasn't in the mood for his brother's mocking this morning. He wasn't in the mood for any of his family's shit. He just wanted to see Justin and Michael and Lindsey and Emmett and … yeah, he wouldn't mind seeing boring, reliable Ted either; maybe not Mel though, Brian and Lindsey's closeness hadn't exactly gone down well with the bull-dyke bitch. But even Melanie would be better than his family. At least she knew who he really was. Those six people, and the frequent Liberty Diner residents, were the only people in the entire world that knew the real Brian Kinney. They were probably the only people that probably ever would.

"You look like shit," Jack said cheerily, shovelling spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. "How are you going to say you got that fat lip?"

"Mugged by a penguin?" Brian deadpanned. "Fight with an octopus? Ninja attack?"

Eric smirked a little at the response but Jack just snapped, "don't be stupid, faggot." Brian winced at the term but the gesture was passed off as a reaction to his bruises. "What are you going to say, for real?"

"We live on the Hossington Estate," Brian shrugged. "I'll just say I went to the drug store for … something. And some asshole attacked me."

"Good," Jack nodded, like it was his fucking duty to make sure Brian didn't unleash the horrible Kinney secrets to the world. How fucking pissed would Jack be if he knew a whole load of queers knew it all? Brian laughed aloud at the irony and Jack immediately shot him a confused face. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," Brian shook his head and reached for the carton of orange juice. He grimaced as the action pulled at his bruised ribs. Eric nudged the juice closer to him silently and Brian just smiled thankfully.

He poured the juice into a glass and took a few tentative sips. His whole body ached, a constant dull underlying pain like background music to his sorry existence. He took another sip as his dad rounded the corner and practically collapsed against the fridge door. His eyes were glassy and his feet seemed to be unwilling to lift at all, he was slurring his words and he stank of booze.

Brian just sighed heavily. Here it was … the first sign that the end of their time in Pittsburgh was nearing. Jack Kinney getting drunk in the morning and attempting to go into work … strike two. Strike one was that he was shit at his job. He was _always _shit at his job but how could a man who'd basically given up on life after his third son was born be good at anything … he was too filled with anger and hate.

"Joooaaann," he slurred, pushing himself away from the fridge and landing in a chair next to Jack jr straight across from Brian. "Joooooaaaaaaaan," he called again and the woman appeared. Her eyes were glassy too, distant and cold. Brian knew she'd probably drunk the same amount as Jack this morning but she'd had lots of practice learning to handle in liquor. In fact, Joan Kinney handled liquor so well, she'd vomit if she didn't get it in her immediately in the morning.

"What?" Joan asked.

"Ahh, there you are. Where the fuck were you? Praying to God," he mocked, looking to his sons for back up and appreciation of his so-called joke. "St Joan," he continued grandly. "Stone cold St Joan." He chuckled angrily and then ordered, "bring me my keys. I need to drive to work."

"Do you think that's a good idea dad?" Eric asked quietly.

"Well, how the hell else am I going to get to work?" Jack demanded.

"Maybe you could call in sick," his middle son suggested quietly. "I mean, you're quite … er."

"Wasted," Jack junior finished bluntly. "You're fucking wasted dad. You can't drive like this."

Brian stayed quiet. At that moment, his body aching from the beating he'd just had and his heart aching to be back with the friends who actually liked him, Brian almost wanted Jack Kinney to get in a car and drunkenly drive it off a cliff, maybe he could take his wife with him and that would be the end of the Kinney family hate-fest. He'd go to their funeral. He may even shed a tear but he'd be better off … much better off without them.

"Well, who's fault is it that I'm wasted?" Jack growled, glaring straight at Brian. Brian just picked up his glass and got himself slowly and painfully to his feet so he could leave it by the sink where theoretically Joan would wash it later. But that was a bullshit farce. It would actually just be left along with the mountains of other dirty cutlery until Brian and Eric would wash it all up because they'd had enough of the mess or because they were sick of eating meals of pieces of paper or old boxes because no plates were clean.

"If you," Jack sr seethed, "hadn't stayed out all night I wouldn't have worried and wouldn't have had to drink."

That was bullshit, Jack Kinney had been stone cold sober when he'd thrown Brian against the sitting room wall and kicked him a few times in the stomach. He'd only got drunk in the last hour or so.

"Don't say that about my baby," Joan cried wrapping her arms around Brian's shoulders, breathing alcohol fumes all over him. "The lord loves all our creations. The lord has a purpose for Brian in the same way he has a purpose for all his children."

Brian stopped listening. It was the same old bullshit he heard everyday. He wriggled from his mother's loose clutch and went to get his bag.

On his way out of the door he called, "I'm working with the magazine tonight so I'll be home late." His parents wouldn't remember. They were both too drunk to remember they're own goddamn names. As usual, he'd barely made it to the end of the street when his brothers caught up with him, except this time they were in Ol Jack's car.

"Get in, faggot," Jack shouted across from the driver seat.

"No fucking way. Dad will kill me if he thinks we took his car."

"So just don't come home … again," Jack smirked. "Come on man, get the fuck in."

Brian just rolled his eyes and jumped in the back seats. Truth was, he'd probably be the one to get in trouble whether he went in the car or not. He might as well deserve whatever the punishment would be.

"So, where the hell were you last night?" Jack smirked, catching Brian's eye in the mirror.

"I went out with a few of the guys," Brian said casually. "We got back kinda late and kinda drunk," he smirked, making sure he caught his brothers eye at that point. "I figured it would be safer for me to crash on the sofa there."

"Uh-huh," Jack nodded clearly not believing a word. "Was she an absolute dog?" He smirked. "Or a hooker?"

"That's just you," Eric chuckled.

"Fuck of cocksucker. That was for my birthday, so it's okay."

"Bullshit," Eric chuckled, "you still had your first time with a filthy whore."

"Who was yours?"

"Megan Grimaldi."

"No shit. She was like a fucking whale."

"Fuck off."

"Did you have to harpoon her first?"

"Fuck off!"

"Jeez. How many chins did she have?"

"Jack, fuck off. She was beautiful on the inside," Eric smiled looking out of the window. And, just as Brian thought one of his brothers might actually have some kind of heart, he added, "and fucking filthy! Man, the things that girl would do." Which had Jack in near hysterics as he turned down the road towards school.

Brian knew it was coming but he still squirmed a little when the question was thrown at him. He couldn't really tell them he'd never really experienced sex until a few weeks ago when he first fucked Justin Taylor so he just muttered the name of the skanky bitch who'd blown him last year around the back of the school when they'd lived in Portland.

"See," Jack had looked to Eric as though Brian's admission had proved some kind of wonderful point. "She's a future hooker. Me and Brian are more alike than you'd think."

Brian hoped that that wasn't the case.

::

"Shit!" Lindsey whispered, when Brian joined her in chemistry. He'd become her lab partner since his break up with Sandy and chemistry had become a _lot _more enjoyable. "What the hell happened to you?" She asked, watching her friend wincing as he sat on the stool.

"I stayed out all night," Brian hissed as he tried to mask his pain. "Ol Jack wasn't overly pleased."

"Where were you?" She asked.

"He thinks I crashed at a friends."

"That friend being Justin," Lindsey nodded, with a knowing smile. "I understand."

"Mmm," he tried to reach for a beaker of light blue liquid but his ribs protested in agony. He grimaced and tried again until eventually Lindsey reached over and grabbed the beaker and poured a measurement into a test-tube.

"What about football?" She asked. "Haven't you got a game tomorrow, with a scout coming to watch? How are you going to play if you're in this mess?"

"It'll be fine," Brian insisted, this time trying to reach for a Bunsen burner. "I'll be fine."

"Brian you can barely reach two foot for a Bunsen burner," she pointed out.

"I'm doing it. I'm not letting my dad ruin football for me." Brian knew there was nothing stopping him reaching that Bunsen burner just the agony of a bruised rib. He took a deep breath and reached out. The pain shot through his chest like a heart attack. He just wanted to curl up into a ball but his teeth just dug into his lip as he tried even harder the pain was excruciating. It was catching his breath in his throat but it was just pain. He had to be able to throw a football tomorrow. He forced it even more and then, something in him just seemed to snap. His arm shot across his chest and he folded over, his head landing on the table with a bit of a thud. Everyone looked over to them and Lindsey stood up and said,

"I don't think he's very well. I'll take him to the nurse." Before picking up both their stuff and ushering him to the door.

::

They stopped when they reached the magazine room. Brian all but collapsed into one of the beanbags. He looked a little pale, maybe even grey but more than that, he looked pissed; really, really pissed.

"Let me see it," Lindsey demanded.

On any normal day, Brian would have reminded her that she were a dyke and that demanding to see _it _was not in her nature but he didn't want to. He was tired from his limited sleep and he was tired of all the drama that had happened in his house this morning and he was worried his dad would lose his job and that Brian would be forced to leave and would never see Justin or Michael or Lindsey of the rest of them ever again. He'd have to go back to playing the straight jock. He wouldn't have Justin to kiss and touch and fuck and worship and talk to and he wouldn't have Michael to talk about comics with and he wouldn't have Lindsey to look out for him and care for him in a way his parents never did.

He pulled his shirt, with her help, slowly over his head. She gasped when she saw it. A huge purple-black mark, speckled with greens and yellows and even red right over his left ribs.

"What the hell?"

"I was on the ground," he winced as she ran her cold fingers lightly over it. "He just … kept kicking." He smiled weakly and Lindsey thought she might have seen tears just behind his eyes but she didn't say anything. She just kissed him gently on the cheek and hugged him, avoiding pressing the bruise.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You don't deserve any of this."

Brian didn't go to any of his classes for the rest of the day. He just lounged on the beanbag with Lindsey, Michael, Justin and Emmett, Mel and Ted for company. They all ditched class to be with him and cheer him up. When school finished, the others went home telling Brian to feel better soon but Justin stayed. Justin would always stay. Justin and Brian didn't say much for the hour they spent in the room together. They just got themselves comfortable and held each other. Brian clung particularly tightly. He couldn't lose this because of his fathers drunkenness. He could let Jack Kinney get fired. He needed these days and these moments. He needed these times when he actually felt like he wasn't the scum of the earth or a second or third of maybe even forth class citizen. He needed these moments of relaxation where he could be himself. He buried his nose in Justin's hair and breathed in. He loved how Justin smelt, it was just like everything was alright with the world. He pressed a kiss into the golden hair and enjoyed a few more minutes of bliss.

::

Justin's mother had dropped him at his home and Eric had met him at the door.

"Where have you been?" He asked suspiciously.

"Working at the magazine."

"You know, I've never seen your name in that magazine. Apart from the couple of photos that are in there. I mean, are you really working there or do you just hide somewhere for an hour and then come home."

Brian smiled, both of those answers were true really but he just said, "I really work there" and winced a little as he tried to tackle the stairs.

"Do you want some ice or something … for your ribs?" Eric asked. "You need to be better tomorrow's game. There's going to be a…"

"Scout, yeah, I know."

"Yeah but he's from University of Notre Dame. Everyone knows that's the best one. If you get in there, it's like guaranteed NFL."

Brian was sure there was more to it than that, like getting picked to play for the team. And then playing well and then getting drafted in by the NFL teams but not in Eric's world.

"Sure," Brian just shrugged. He already knew there was no way in hell he'd be playing football in the game tomorrow. He knew that he was going to miss the scout and he knew who was to blame. His goddamn fucking father.

Ol' Jack Kinney had cost him his chance at a place in one of the post prestigious college football teams and all Brian could do was head butt his pillow in frustration.

::

He'd watched the game from the bleachers with the cheerleaders and the other schools football fans. He knew Justin would be around somewhere but he didn't want to hear any of the blonde's misplaced optimism. All Brian wanted to do was wallow in his own misfortune because there wasn't just one scout at the game today there were four; Notre Dame's Fighting Irish, Washington Huskies, Pittsburgh Panthers and Louisiana Fighting Tigers.

It was the worst possible scenario. It wasn't just that he was too injured to play and it wasn't just that Chris Hobbs taking an age about making piss-poor decisions and it wasn't that his bothers were having the best game of their lives and it wasn't that they were losing when they should have been winning and it wasn't even that Sandy was babbling on and on in his ear about who she thought would win between some actual fighting Irishmen and some actual fighting tigers. It was a combination of these things and more. Brian wanted to scream or kick something or smash something to pieces. He had to get rid of this feeling. He felt ready to explode and if he heard Sandy whine his name again before asking some inane question, he thought he'd probably throw her down the stand. So he got up calmly, spotted Justin in the crowd. He was sat alone near the exit and walked over to him.

"Let's get out of here," Brian muttered. "I can't watch this anymore."

Justin nodded and went with the taller boy.

"Hobbs is shit, isn't he?" Justin commented as they walked off the school grounds. "I didn't think he was that bad last year but now we've seen you play he looks really slow."

"He'll still get scouted," Brian sighed. "The Panther's will take him if no one else does. His dad's company give them a load of money. This is America after all," he sighed. "Money talks."

Justin nodded and looked at the miserable face of the other boy.

"Are you okay?" He asked. He knew it was a stupid question. He knew Brian wasn't okay. He knew he'd lie and say he was fine and he knew that he'd accept that because he always did. So when Brian insisted he was fine, Justin suggested they go to the Liberty Diner for a milkshake but Brian was angry. He had all this pent up frustration so _he _suggested they go somewhere to fuck … hard and Justin wasn't completely apposed to the idea.

They'd ended up at Justin's house and Brian had been a Wildman. Justin thought he'd be sore forever and that wasn't a particularly bad thing.

"What brought all this on?" Justin asked, when the silence had dragged between them for long enough. Brian didn't answer, so Justin turned his head to look at the other boy. He could only see the back of his head, the juts of his shoulder blades and the rippled of his spine, surrounded by muscles. He was perfect from every angle.

"Brian," he whispered, "are you okay?"

His head nodded but he stayed silent.

"Brian," Justin pushed himself onto his knees behind the taller boy and began to need his neck muscles gently. "Is this because of the football? They'll be other games and other scouts. You'll still play college football and," he smiled, kissing the bit of skin behind Brian's ear, "if you can fuck like that, you'll be playing football in no time."

Brian stayed silent, turning his face away from the other boy.

"Brian," Justin said more firmly. "What the hell is going on?" He pinched the other boys chin and forced him to turn around and face him. His face was red and blotchy and there were wet patches on his cheeks dribbling from bloodshot eyes.

"Brian," Justin gasped. "What the hell is wrong?"

Brian shook his head a little, drying his tears on the back of his hands before pressing a kiss to Justin's lips, jaw and sucking on his earlobe.

"I want it," he whispered, his breathed still a little raged from his non-tears.

"Want what?"

"I guess it makes me a real proper fag, doesn't it?"

"What does? Brian, what are you talking about?"

"I want to feel what it's like," he sniffed, pushing Justin to arms length and looking carefully into his eyes. "I want to feel you inside me."

Justin smiled a little and pressed a chaste kiss to Brian's lips. "Are you sure?" He said carefully.

Brian just nodded, another tear falling from his eye. "I want it," he promised. "Please," he begged.

Brian wasn't sure what he'd wanted from bottoming for Justin. Maybe he wanted to feel as broken physically as he did mentally but how he actually felt was elated. Yes, it started off painful, like someone was shoving a broom up him and then he'd relaxed and although the pain didn't entirely subside there were other feelings that seemed to just drown it out. He felt numb, taken away from the moment and right in it as well and Justin looked as beautiful as ever. He pulled Justin close and kissed him furiously because he couldn't sum-up how he felt in words.

Afterwards, Brian didn't feel dirty or wrong. Just happy and maybe a little sore.

"So," Justin smiled, rolling over and slinging a pail arm across Brian's chest. "How does it feel to be a real, proper fag?"

"Normal," Brian said honestly, "natural."

Justin grinned a little and then Brian continued, "I think I prefer topping though."

"Some guys are weird like that," Justin shrugged and Brian smiled as his lips were caught in a slow almost loving kiss.

::

Brian returned home a few hours later to find his dad throwing a small party for Eric and Jack.

"What happened?" Brian asked, walking into the kitchen where Eric was trying to convince his drunken mother to let _him _light the candles on the congratulatory cake.

"We both got scouted," Jack beamed, raising his bottle of bud in Brian's direction.

"Well done," Brian smiled but he couldn't really sound enthusiastic. He was tired, he ached for all sorts of reasons. He just wanted to sleep. "Who wanted you?"

"Fighting Tigers and Panthers put me on their books," Jack grinned. "But this fucking asshole's been picked up by the Fighting Irish!" He punched Eric proudly on the arm. "Fuck me, I didn't think you'd get that."

Eric just beamed proudly. "Joey got on the books with the Huskies and Hobbs with the Panthers. The coach was fucking ecstatic."

"Eric," Joan scolded from the kitchen counter where she was pouring more sherry into a glass. "Must you use such fowl language."

"Ah, Joan. Leave the lad alone," Jack sr said cheerily. "This boy's a football genius! The goddamn Fighting Irish. Do you know who else played for them?"

Eric shook his head.

"Joe Montana, Brady Quinn, Arnaz Battle, er, Tony Fisher, I think …" he paused for a second. "Joan, get it up on the computer NFL players who played for the Fighting Irish. And then, look up all the ones who played for the Tigers. My sons are a talented bunch. You know what this means though, in means that I must have been a hell of a football player myself. I just didn't realise it."

Brian shook his head and ducked out of the celebrations. It was too harsh a reminder that he'd blown his first chance in three of the best Universities for football. He went to bed, hungry and with his chest still throbbing painfully. And however natural getting fucked by Justin had seemed an hour ago, now he just felt disgusting. It was like coming here was real and that had been a dream and as this world shone a light on that one, he saw himself for what he really was. A fucking queer wannabe NFL player. And how many of those were there? One. Drew Boyd, and he'd just been suspended from his team. This was shit. Really, truly shit.


	13. The Salem Experience

It was only another week before The Salem Experience gig came to town and Brian found that he was actually excited. He'd been recommended by the nurse to take two weeks off football to let his bruising go down and he'd been bored senseless for the past seven days between the nurse's interference and now.

"Have you got the tickets?" Jennifer asked for the millionth time from the drive as the two boys climbed into her car.

"Yes, mom," Justin sighed, adjusting the driving seat because his legs were just a little longer than his mother's now. "We've got the tickets, we've got money, we'll wear our seat belts, I will drive carefully and I'll be back before midnight. Now, can we _please _leave."

Brian smirked a little in the passenger seat and Jennifer gave a sort of sighing smile too. "I'm fussing, aren't I?" She asked. "You know, you're right. You'll be fine and I'll see you later. Have a good time sweetie," she leant through the window to plant a kiss on his temple, emitting loud groans from her embarrassed son. "You too, Brian," she added, as she retreated from the car.

"Thanks Mrs …." Brian spotted the glare Jennifer always gave him when he called her Mrs Taylor. "Jennifer," he omitted quickly. He was pretty sure Jen would have said something like 'that's better' but he wasn't sure because Justin was already half way down the drive, calling,

"see you later Mom," as he went.

"Why do I never see your dad?" Brian asked as they began to drive down the street.

"He works a lot," Justin shrugged, as he tried to search through his CD's whilst keeping one eye on the road. "He's always at the office or away on business."

Brian just nodded, his dad always said he was away on business when he'd found some cheap slut to fuck.

"Aha," Justin beamed suddenly, putting a CD into the played hitting the play button. The Salem Experience's song 'Subtle Gothic Undertones' seeped through the speakers like a wailing child lost on the moors. "I love this one," he grinned.

"Don't play them now," Brian moaned. "We're going to see them in a few minutes."

"So," Justin shrugged, turning the volume up and grinning at his passenger before singing loudly; "_I hate the way you look at me when we're in public. I hate the fact you act like you don't care. I hate the way you don't eat meat 'cause it's evil and I hate the fact you make me dye my hair! Ooooo oooooo I hate every thing about you-ooooo. So why do I always dream of you, of us, of we. I always dream of you and me._" The guitar kicked in then and Justin glared at his sulky passenger. "You're not singing," he moaned.

"Well observed," the taller boy scorned looking out of the window.

"You told me you were a fan."

"I am. That doesn't mean I have to shout the words in a car like a twot."

"You're no fun," Justin accused, daring to turn the track up even louder before continuing, "_I hate that my life fucking sucks whilst yours looks perfect all the time and I hate that I've given up when I'm barely twenty nine and I hate that I am trapped while you commit the perfect crime and I hate that you are free but I'm always doing time ! Oooo oooo I hate everything about you-oooo. So why do I always dream of you, of us, of we. I always dream of you and me_."

And then Brian just smiled as he joined in. "_I always dream of you fucking me! Oooo oooo ooooo ooooo." _The boys grinned at each other as they song reached it's crescendo and the two boys head banged as violently as they dared, Brian because of his still tender ribs and Justin because if he crashed this car his mother would kill him but they were still giggling like the school cheerleading squad by the time they reached the venue.

::::::::::::::::::::;

_Woah. I love you  
__Woah. All these things that you do.  
__Woah. I love you -oo.  
__Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo._

_It's like a spell you cast on me  
__So you're the only one I can see  
__I never thought I'd look at you that way  
__Now here we are and all I can say … is_

_Woah. I love you  
__Woah. All these things that you do.  
__Woah. I love you -oo.  
__Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo._

_It's like a pain that's dug inside my heart  
__If I pull it out, I would fall apart.  
__I never thought I'd want you so much.  
__But now I just crave your touch._

_Woah. I love you  
__Woah. All these things that you do.  
__Woah. I love you -oo.  
__Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo._

_Woah. I love you  
__Woah. All these things that you do.  
__Woah. I love you -oo.  
__Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo._

The song finished and the singer threw his mic-stand dramatically to the ground as the 100 or so fanatic 'The Salem Experience' fans jumped about cheering and clapping like they'd never seen anything so brilliant in their lives. The singer, a young skinny kid in too-tight jeans and too much makeup, seemed to bask in the glory of the response for a second before somewhat embarrassingly, having to pick up his mic-stand and replace his microphone to introduce the next song.

"That was even better live," Justin yelled in Brian's ear, as the next song began to deafen the room. He was beaming. He knew he probably had a ridiculous, giddy look on his face. He knew he was sweating and his face would be bright red and he felt a bit embarrassed because, somehow, even in this chaotic mess of teenage bodies, Brian still looked cool and calm and so unlike the sweaty figures that surrounded him on every side. But he was fixing Justin with a curious expression. A sort of bemused smile, with his lips pulled into his mouth.

"What?" Justin asked, unable to stop bouncing around as the next song started to pick up.

Brian just shrugged a little, still with that expression on his face, as his arms began to snake slowly around Justin's lower back.

"Careful," Justin smiled, as Brian pulled their bodies flush together. "We're in breeder public."

"I don't care," Brian said, close to Justin's ear so the smaller boy felt the words as well as heard them. He also felt Brian kiss ear lightly before saying as quietly as was possible without getting drowned out. "You look just like you do when we fuck."

"Brian!" Justin cried indignantly, pushing the taller boy away … or at least trying to. Of course Brian was stronger and had linked his arms in such a vice like grip, Justin knew he was stuck there until Brian decided to let him go. Not that he minded because Brian was smiling, genuinely smiling at him and his feeble struggle and he was leaning in, his amazing brown eyes with all their intricate shades and flecks locked so firmly on Justin's, and then he nudged his nose gently against Justin's before pressing his lips carefully to the smaller boy's.

It was mere seconds, perhaps not even that long, before the people around them were forgotten. All that mattered was that unbelievable adrenaline that was pulsing through them in time to the beat of the music. They were lost in a sea of passion and music and it was all pouring into this kiss. It was…

"FAGGOTS!" A homophobe yelled and suddenly Justin pushed Brian away and looked at his left arm.

"Fuck," he muttered. The older boy followed his gaze and saw that just at the base of the shirt sleeve, a biggish, fresh gash had appeared. Brian looked to the floor and spotted an flattened beer can, the perfect throwing device. Fucking, goddamn homophobes. He was furious. Part of him thought 'why the fuck shouldn't I kiss him?' But another part of him, almost agreed with whoever it was. Hadn't he been brought up his whole life knowing and accepting that queers were going to destroy America, that it should be illegal, that they encouraged … fucking everything? Global warming, terrorism, monetary problems … it was all down to fags and maybe the Mexicans. That was what he knew. It's what he'd always known. He scoured the crowd, looking for the culprit but everyone was just watching the show.

"Come on," Brian yelled over the din, tugging on Justin's uninjured arm. "Let's go to the toilet and make sure you're okay."

"I'd prefer to just go home," Justin said honestly, looking a little shaken and upset. "I've seen these before anyway and they'll probably only play one more song after this."

"Are you sure?"

Justin nodded and followed Brian, pushing through the crowd awkwardly. A few people yelled 'faggots' a couple point blank refused to let them through but Brian was past caring and Justin was used to it. Brian was stronger and bigger than most of the indie-band nerds that had gathered so if they tried to stop him, he just shoved his way through angrily, dragging Justin behind him by the hand. The hot bodies pressed in around them, the task of getting to some breathable air was beginning to feel impossible. The cold air of the night would be a safe haven when they got there.

::

"Nice shot," the homophobe's friend grinned, slapping him heartily on the back. "Are you sure you're not a quarterback just disguised as a bone-head blocker? But then again," the friend continued, "I suppose your brothers got that sewn up, right? Right? Jack."

"Huh?" Jack Kinney asked distantly.

"Are you listening to a word I've said?"

"Yeah," Jack lied because the truth was, he didn't give a shit about what his friend was saying. He couldn't take his eyes off the monstrosity ahead of him as his own goddamn brother, walked hand in hand with fucking Gaylor.

* * *

The car ride to Justin's had had that awkward, 'should I drop you home?' moment but they'd eventually both decided it would be better to go back to Justin's. Besides, Brian still had some unexplained feeling of guilt about the situation. He didn't want to take his eyes off Justin for a second in case he got injured again.

Justin pulled the car up on the drive and the two boys got out. Brian was once again struck by how beautiful the Taylor's house was as Justin opened the door.

"Justin, honey, is that you?" Jennifer's voice called from a sitting area bit. "You're early."

"Yeah mom, it's me. Brian's here too."

"Oh," and then after a slightly uncomfortable silence, Jennifer called, "hello Brian."

"Hello Mrs… er, Jennifer," Brian replied but he knew Jennifer wasn't really listening to him. No one was really listening to him. They were all tuned into the not-so-quiet mutterings of Craig Taylor.

"Is that _him_?" He was asking his wife. "The … _friend_."

"Craig," Jennifer was whispering back. "Try to stay calm please. We knew this would happen eventually and Brian seems like a lovely boy."

Brian snorted a little. No one in the history of his life had ever described him as a lovely boy. A waste of space, a money pit, god's child, talented, asshole; yes. Lovely? No, never. Justin elbowed him and told him to stop laughing but that just made him giggle harder until eventually he managed to compose himself enough for them to walk into the sitting room where Jennifer and Craig were sat on the sofa, the programme turned down.

"I didn't think you were coming back here tonight, Brian," Jennifer smiled at him warily.

"He's stayed here before?" Craig demanded angrily.

"Of course he has." Jennifer was still smiling, a strained expression on her face and her voice infuriatingly soft and calm. She sounded like a woman very aware that this situation could erupt at any second and she seemed to feel responsible about stopping that from happening. She reminded Brian of Eric, when he could see that Jack Sr was about to explode at any second and beat the shit out of him. They shared the same 'out-of-control-but-trying' expression.

"I'm not staying tonight," Brian said as politely as he could. "I just wanted to make sure Justin was okay."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Craig demanded. "My son is a man, he doesn't need you making sure he gets home okay."

"Craig, please," Jennifer pleaded, her voice still weird and forced. "You promised you'd stay calm."

"I am calm!" Craig all but yelled, before taking a deep breath and repeating, "I am calm."

"Justin," Jennifer asked slowly, "are you hurt sweetie?"

"Some jerk called us faggots and threw a can at us. It's cut my arm, that's all. I'm fine." Of course, mother's never hear things like 'I'm fine' they just hear 'cut my arm' and are there in seconds with a complex first aid kit, dabbing the wound with anti-septic creams and putting plasters on but Craig didn't seem bothered that Justin was injured all he wanted to know was;

"How did they know you were," he coughed slightly, "erm, G-A-Y?" Brian almost laughed as he saw the pleased expression on Jennifer's face because her husband had quite literally spelt out the fact they were gay. It was ridiculous, possibly even more offensive than being called a fag. These were two people who were frankly embarrassed by the fact their son was gay. He supposed it wouldn't go down that well in the country club circuit if the Taylor's had produced a queer. But, he guessed, at least they were trying; Brian knew he'd be dead in seconds if his family ever found out about him.

"We kissed," Justin answered bluntly and Craig shuddered a little disgustedly before saying.

"Well, you shouldn't have done that. You've got to be more discrete, you can't expect to flaunt yourself in public and for everyone to be okay with that."

"Why the hell not?" Justin asked, angrily. "I have every right to make out with who I want, where I want."

"Justin, please," Jennifer whispered, "you know how hard this is for your father to accept. Keep calm, okay."

"All I'm saying," Craig continued loudly, "is if you flounce around acting like a fag in public then you have to be prepared to get hurt."

"Are you saying it's his own fault?" Brian demanded suddenly, his fist clenching; the true Kinney-blood coming out in him.

"Stay out of this," Craig warned him sharply.

"The fuck I will." Brian almost laughed he was so angry. "I'm not staying out of anything. What if Justin had been bashed in the head by the guy who did this?" He gestured to Justin's relatively harmless wound, "what if he was fighting for his life in hospital? Would you say he'd deserved it then?"

"Get the fuck out of my house," Craig bellowed.

"Gladly," Brian snarled, and stormed out of the house, but not before kissing Justin deeply … just to make his point crystal clear.

Craig practically chased Brian out of the house and slammed the door behind him before turning to yell at his son.

"Justin! You are never to see that boy again."

"That's not fair," Justin shouted back, the emotion apparent in his words.

"It's not about fair, it's about what's best for you."

"But he _is_ best for me. You can't stop me seeing him … I love him."

Brian could hear Jennifer gasp and tell him he couldn't be sure. He heard Craig telling him he was too young to know what love was and that he probably wasn't even gay, that he'd meet the right girl soon enough.

Brian could imagine the smug expression on Justin's face as he said, "oh dad, I'm definitely gay."

"But you can't _know!_"

"All I dream about is dick. I want to suck dick, I want to get fucked by dick." There was a pause that seemed almost triumphant before he heard Justin say very slowly and very deliberately, "and I _love _getting fuck by Brian."

And then Brian heard it. The cracking sound of a palm meeting cheek. Brian knew the sound well. He'd been hearing it all his life, though usually at a much closer proximity. He felt like shit. He'd been in the Taylor's house less than five minutes and he'd managed to turn the whole place to shit. There was screaming in their now. Jennifer yelling at Craig not to hit her son. Justin yelling that he was alright. Craig yelling that he was the only one making sense. Another family reduced to war by one douse of Brian Kinney. He pushed himself onto his feet and trudged dejectedly down the path.

Surely, tonight had just been another example in the long list of evidence that Brian had been seeing all his life; love _wasn't_ real. But if that were true, why, when Justin had said that he loved him, had Brian's bruised and battered heard beat faster? And why had he smiled despite the feeling of utter depression he was enveloped with otherwise? And why did he feel inexplicably happy for the entire hour and a half-long walk home?

The elated feeling had thoroughly worn off when he finally fell through the door of his house. The TV was on but he knew both his parents would be asleep so he was safe to walk in. He found Jack watching some programme about transatlantic fishing. It looked boring and Jack looked bored by it.

"This isn't the kind of thing you usually watch," Brian smirked, sitting in the arm chair. "Where's the porn?"

"Fuck you, faggot," Jack said angrily, reaching for the remote and flicking the programme off. "You're late. Where the hell have you been?"

"I went to a concert."

"With…."

"Some friends," Brian sighed, lounging back into the chair. Now he was in the warm house sat in a comfy chair, he was being hit by sudden waves of tiredness.

"Good time?"

"Er," he had to think for a second. The concert had been amazing until 'the incident'. The drive home had been okay and then he'd turned Justin's life to shit. But that was too complicated to explain to a brainless oaf like Jack so he just said, "yeah, it was alright."

"Good," Jack nodded, yawning widely. "Well, I'm getting tired, think I'm going to head up the wooden hill."

"Night," Brian said, not really paying attention to anything Jack was saying. He had things on his tired mind.

"Night. Oh," he stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder, "before I forget, coach wants you at training tomorrow after school. He says he knows you can't play but he's got some new plays that he wants to go through with you."

"Ok, okay," Brian nodded, lifting the remote and flicking through the channels, there should be some kind of sport on, it wasn't that late. Eventually, he found some European soccer game and settled on that before frowning as he found his brother still in the doorway.

"Soccer's for fags," was all he said.

"I think it's got a certain primitive charm," Brian smiled, turning back to the screen.

"You would," Jack muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" Brian asked, innocently.

"Nothing." Jack shook his head, as though Brian had just been hearing things. "Night," he mumbled, before disappearing up the stairs to bed.

* * *

**I'm sure no one will read this because unlike me, most people have busy Christmas Eve's but for me it's just killing time waiting for Father Christmas to arrive!  
****I thought I'd leave you all with something joyous ;)**

**Anyhow … I hope you all have an amazing Christmas!  
****InconspicuousBunny…xx**


	14. When Push Comes To A Kick In The Head

Brian only had one lesson with Justin the next day but that hour felt like too much. He couldn't bear to look him in the face whilst his lip was fat and cut, knowing he was indirectly responsible.

"How did, er?" Brian asked, gesturing vaguely to the wound.

"My dad didn't really like what I had to say," Justin said flatly. "I guess you'd know all about that."

Brian just nodded silently. He didn't know what to say. "I'm sure you didn't deserve it," was what he went with eventually. Eric had said it to him when Jack sr had first hit Brian when he was 9. Brian had believed it all those years ago. He didn't always believe it now.

"I know I don't deserve it," Justin replied angrily. "My mom went mad. She even said something about divorce," Justin put his pencil down on the table and sighed heavily. "I didn't even know things were bad between them."

"They'll probably be fine," Brian said positively.

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "It was probably heat of the moment. It's just Molly heard the whole thing and…." He sighed again. "Families," he shrugged. "Who'd have them?"

"Not me," Brian sighed.

::

Everything had seemed strange all day, really strange but not for any reason that Brian could name. It was more just a general feeling. Eric and Jack had been acting really weird with him too. They seemed to be bickering all the time but their voices were low like they were sharing some huge secret and then whenever Brian went near them they'd immediately stop or Jack would find something important he suddenly had to do on the other side of the school.

"Is everything alright?" Brian asked Eric as Jack made a feeble excuse to disappear at lunch.

"Everything's fine," Eric said just a little too loudly with a grin that was a little too wide but Brian just frowned and said,

"Okay. Well, I'll see you at this training thing after school."

"Training thing?" Eric looked puzzled.

"Yeah, apparently the coach has got some new plays he wants to go through." Eric still looked completely confused. "Jack told me coach needed me there to learn them whilst you lot practised them."

"Oh!" Eric suddenly seemed to remember, though Brian could help feel it all felt a little fake. "Yes. Training, tonight. The new plays. Right. I remember. Yeah, I'll, er, I'll see you there."

"Okay," Brian nodded that uneasy feeling that had plagued him was only getting worse.

::

It started raining just as the end of school was nearing. Brian watched each droplet splatting against the window pain before dribbling pathetically to join the rest of the drops in a puddle on the outer window sill. The clouds were grey had had managed to block out every available bit of blue sky, it was just miserable, completely miserable. It didn't help the fact he was already feeling like shit.

He sighed heavily and span a pencil around his fingers a few times as he tried will away the last five minutes of this lesson. Maths. He hated numbers and he didn't need to be good at them, he'd already managed to convince Ted to teach him in the run up to exams, so he'd just cram for the exam in that last week.

"Okay," the teacher said eventually, "I suppose that'll do for today. I'll see you all Wednesday for a little pop-quiz."

Brian listened to the groans in stereo as they rang around the classroom but as far as Brian was concerned a pop-quiz wasn't worth groaning at. There were worse things like parents who don't love you, or missing a football game that could have cemented your future or having someone admit they are in love with you … Brian still couldn't understand that. He couldn't fathom why anyone would love him when most people didn't even seem to even like him and then he remembered that he had to go training and he eyed the rain as it started to beat heavily against the window pain. He groaned too.

Brian didn't even bother to pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair. It would probably have soaked through in a matter of seconds anyway. He saw Lindsey climbing into her car, so he waved.

"Do you want a lift?" She shouted over the noise of the lashing of water from the sky and the squeals of the cheerleading squad, as their make up melted down their faces, giving them the impression of the wicked witch of the west. "I've got training," Brian yelled back and she just nodded, waving again as she ducked back into the car.

He wasn't really paying much attention as he made his way down the slightly sloping concrete path towards the locker rooms. The rain seemed to be flowing like a river as it passed him and Brian was sure that training would have to be cancelled. He couldn't imagine they'd want 50 boys churning up the ground until it resembled a swamp. In fact, he suspected they'd probably spend thirty minutes sat in the smelly locker room, watching the coach draw weird little shapes and arrows on a whiteboard whilst blabbing on about overly complex plays that probably wouldn't work. Why did all coaches think they were Vince Lombardi?

Then Brian stepped in a puddle and as the water rushed over the top of his sneakers and filled up his socks. He knew this really was going to be shit.

He put his hand on the door and swung it open. It was eerily quiet. He'd expected a barrage of noise from a huge group of chatty squad members but there was nothing and then.

"Why are you doing this?" And Brian's heart stopped. He knew that voice. He'd know it anywhere. It was Justin. Why the hell was he here?

"Shut the fuck up, faggot!"

And Brian felt sick because he knew that voice too. It was Jack.

He rounded the corner and just stared. Justin was being held against the wall by Jack, who was right up in his face shaking him angrily, with Eric just a few feet away looking guilty and anxious. Justin had a new red mark around his right eye and his face and hair were wet whilst the rest of him was dry and Brian could only assume he'd been head first into a toilet. It was one of Jack's favourite punishments.

Suddenly, Justin's eyes flicked to Brian. He looked broken, defeated and fucking terrified but he looked just a little hopeful when he spotted him. Jack didn't miss the glance. He peered over his shoulder and his lips curled up into a sneer.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked calmly.

"Showing this little _faggot,_" Jack slammed Justin's back into the lockers making a loud metal bang,"exactly what happens to queers like him." He spat in Justin's face and Brian flinched at the same time Justin did. "Want a go?" Jack chuckled, pinning Justin to the wall with one hand but stepping aside for Brian to land a punch, or spit in his face or do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Don't be a shit, Jack," Brian sighed, sitting on one of the benches. "Leave the cocksucker alone! The coach will be here soon."

"The coach won't be here, Bri," Jack sneered. "There's no training."

"What?" Brian frowned.

"I just told you that to get you here. I didn't want you to miss out on all the fun." He kneed, Justin hard in the stomach and then let the boy crumple to the floor.

"Stop it!" Brian shouted. He couldn't help himself. He couldn't bear to watch this. Justin was whimpering a little as he tried to push himself onto his knees and Brian knew he was trying not to cry. He knew that the pain would be just a constant throbbing between severe pain and dull pain. He knew that Justin wouldn't know if he was going to make it through, whether this beating would stop in time for him to be able to recover or whether Jack would go to far and finish him off completely.

"Stop?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you're hurting him."

"So? He's just a fag. It doesn't matter if he gets hurt or killed. He's only going to die from AIDS soon anyway. In fact he's probably already got it. Have you Gaylor?"

"You want to hope he hasn't, his blood's all over you," Eric pointed out casually and Jack suddenly glared at Justin with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Swear to me," he seethed, "that you haven't got it."

Justin stayed silent and earned himself a knee in the head for his troubles. Brian watched as the blondes skull ricocheted off knee and then wall before Justin slumped fully to the floor again.

"Answer the fucking question faggot!"

Justin opened his mouth to speak but that last hit had thrown him a bit and he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. Brian could see the blood pouring out of his mouth but he didn't know what to do. Jack pulled his foot back again and Brian said;

"He hasn't got it Jack. Just stop hitting him. You're turning into dad!"

"Yeah, well when someone deserves to get kicked around, then that's what they should get," Jack responded coldly.

"Jesus Christ Jack," Brian cried, standing up and pointing down at a very broken, bloody Justin. "Look at him. No once deserves this."

"He's a goddamn fudge packer."

"Why does that matter?"

"No!" Jack bellowed suddenly shoving Brian hard so he stumbled back into the lockers. "Why _doesn't_ it matter?" He looked insane, like he could easily kill someone if they provoked him. He looked just like his father does just before he lashes out at Brian. "I saw you," he hissed, his face bright red with fury, his fists clenched and shaking. "Both of you," he continued, turning back to look at the quivering mess of Justin, "at that fucking concert last night." Brian could almost feel the colour drain from his face as Jack continued, "I threw a fucking can at a couple of goddamn queers and as they walk away, I find that it's fucking you!" He shoved Brian hard again and he slammed against the wall. "What the fuck was that about Brian?"

Brian had a second, just a split second to decide what to say and in an ideal world he'd have chosen to stand up to his brother and take the consequences, he'd have stood tall as an out and proud homosexual man but Brian wasn't out and he certainly wasn't proud. In fact, a lot of the time when he was listening to the minister on a Sunday or listening to his family throwing around the words cocksucker, fudge packer, homo, faggot, he felt ashamed. He felt hated, an outcast, unlovable. So he wished there'd been a moment where he'd even considered the right thing but Brian had inherited one steadfast Kinney-trait; look after number one. He remembered once his dad saying he'd have played for the Nazi's if it would have kept him alive for one more day and Brian had been sickened but now, faced with turning his back on who he really was and being safe or admitting the truth and being hurt, he saved his own ass.

"He jumped me," he gabbled. "I didn't even know it was happening." The lies were so easy, so natural. "We were just supposed to be writing a review for the mag and then he was there, kissing me."

Jack sneered. He didn't look like he even half believed Brian but this was clearly what he wanted to hear.

"I thought so," he nodded slowly. And then he turned back to Justin. "See faggot, no matter how hard you wish, my brother's fucking straight. He's normal, like me and Eric and most people. He doesn't what you so stop following him around. And don't jump on him in concerts." Justin barely moved, he was curled up and his body was shaking and Brian knew he wasn't even pretending not to cry now. The sobs were there for everyone to see.

"Well," Jack looked back to Brian expectantly.

"What?"

"Fucking hit him," Jack said angrily. Brian looked a little confused so Jack said, "he jumped on you and kissed you. Don't you wanna pay him back for that?"

"I guess," Brian shrugged, though the only payback he wanted to give Justin for that kiss was another kiss, or perhaps a blowjob.

"So hit him," Jack grinned, like it was the most painfully obvious thing in the world. "Unless," he looked very seriously at his youngest brother, "maybe you liked kissing a guy?"

"Of course not," Brian scoffed immediately and even in his own ears he didn't sound at all convincing but Jack just shrugged.

"Prove it," he urged.

And that's how it happened. That's how Brian had ended up kicking another human being hard in the stomach. That's how he'd ended up making the person he cared more about than anyone else in the world cry out in pain. He'd done it. He'd turned into his goddamn father. He didn't stay to face the consequences, he just proved himself to his brothers and walked away like the goddamn coward he was. Jack and Eric followed him. They were clearly happy with how things had turned out. Jack, in particular, seemed ecstatic.

"That fucking faggot won't bother you again," Jack beamed, slinging an arm around Brian's shoulder. "No more Gaylor for you to worry about."

Brian didn't answer he was trying really, really hard to hold it together. Every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the pleading expression on Justin's face right before he kneed him. He shook his head and gulped back the lump of tears that were pushing their way up his throat but the more he pushed them down, the more the bile in his stomach became agitated and he felt like he was going to vomit everywhere.

"Do you want a lift home, Bri?" Jack asked as they reached the car park. Brian just shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak, he just knew he had to be alone right now. So he turned his back on his brothers and walked in the direction of the forest. He knew he wouldn't be disturbed there.

He walked and walked, the tears flowing freely down his face and the oxygen becoming harder and harder to gasp in. Eventually, he fell to his knees weak and desperate. He retched but there was nothing to come up but that didn't stop his body trying. He retched again, his eyes streaming with the force of his stomach cramping and the effect it was having on his bruised ribs.

Finally, he calmed down enough to pull his cell from his pocket and changed the settings so that his phone call would be anonymous before searching for Michael's number.

"Hello," Michael said brightly.

"Check the locker room. Quickly. Your friend needs you," Brian said quickly, lowering his voice and speaking quickly before hanging up. Then he dropped his cell to dirty floor and sighed heavily. He'd fucked up everything. Now, he had a shit family and no friends and no Justin. He'd destroyed the only person who'd ever loved him and left them for dead in a changing room. He hugged his knees tight to his chest and rested his chin on them. Fuck. He really hoped his dad would lose his job soon so he could leave all this shit behind. He could really do with another new start, another chance at playing the straight football jock. Maybe he could live with that forever. It hadn't been so bad dating Sandy, had it?

He puffed his cheeks and blew out sharply. Who the fuck was he kidding? The forest smelt earthy and the wet mud was seeping into his jeans, he'd probably get in trouble later for messing up his clothes but that would just be the perfect ending to the worst day of his life … so far. Because he could only assume that when he next saw Justin, that would become the absolute worst day of his life … if he ever saw Justin.

* * *

Brian wasn't surprised to see the seat at the front in History empty. Justin was probably in hospital letting his wounds heal. The wounds he'd caused. He say alone, despite the football players at the back of the classroom calling him to sit with them. He didn't really feel like faking at being one of he guys.

Lindsey looked solemn when he got to chemistry and he half expected her to throw hydrochloric acid in his face when he got near but she didn't. She just smiled weakly and said,

"Have you heard what happened to Justin?"

Brian shook his head because the truth was he hadn't heard what had happened to Justin _after _they left him.

"He's been beaten up by some homophobic football players," she whispered, eyeing Jon Malins, who was the only other football player in this class with disgust. "They took him down to the changing rooms and beat him half to death. Michael found him after he got some kind of weird tip off. Of course he rang for an ambulance and they took him to hospital straight away."

"How is he?" Brian asked.

"He'll live," she whispered back. "He took a view pretty horrible whacks to the head and he says he can't remember who did it but I think he's lying. Maybe they threatened to get him again."

"Maybe," Brian nodded distantly. Justin wasn't ratting on him, despite what he did. He didn't deserve that.

"Are you okay?" Lindsey asked suddenly, squeezing his thigh comfortingly. "I know how you feel about him. I mean, maybe you should go and see him. Take the afternoon off."

"I might go," Brian nodded. But he didn't think he would. He didn't want to see Justin looking frail and injured and he knew Justin wouldn't want to see him.

::

Brian watched through the class as Justin slept restlessly in an uncomfortable looking hospital bed. It had all been too much for Brian to handle. All he could hear everywhere he went in school was the gossip about Justin Taylor. They all had it wrong, little parts of the story that were untrue but that didn't matter, the point was the basics were right, Justin Taylor was in hospital, he had been beaten up by some homophobes and he wasn't saying who did it.

Brian pressed his head against the glass, and sighed, his breath fogging up his view.

"Friend of yours?" A woman's voice asked from behind him. He turned around to see a nurse checking something on a chart.

"Sort of," he nodded, looking back through the glass.

"Horrible thing to happen," she remarked, standing next to Brian and peering through the glass too before marking a few more things off on her clipboard. "He says he can't remember who did it but the doctor's say they can't find anything on any scans to indicate why he might have lost his memory. You don't happen to know who did it, do you?"

Brian closed his eyes for a long while before shaking his head slowly.

"It's a shame," the nurse said slowly. "I think they should arrest the little bastards. It's the 21st century I'd like to think we've got passed attacking people for their religion or sexuality."

"Some people are just programmed that way I guess," Brian sighed.

"Mm," the nurse agreed steadily. "You know who I blame? The parents. These kids learn their violence from somewhere and I think we learn things like that at home. They reckon abused kids are 40% more likely to do things like this."

"40%, is that all?" Brian muttered.

"Do you want to go in?" The nurse asked a few moments later when she'd finished with the rest of the ticking. "Visiting hours don't start officially for another twenty minutes but I'm sure it'll be okay."

"It's alright," Brian said. "I should probably be going anyway."

"No, no," the nurse insisted. "You wait there and I'll tell him you came to visit. What's your name?"

"Brian."

"Brian, right," she smiled. "You just wait there a moment."

Brian watched through the window as the nurse gently woke Justin up. She seemed to ask him a few questions, which she wrote the responses to on her clipboard. And then she began to say something else. She pointed towards the window, right at him, and Brian could only watch as Justin turned his head slowly in his direction. His eyes burned with flames of hate and Brian cowered a little under the force of the glare. Brian saw him yell and he didn't need to be able to lip read to know he'd said 'get the fuck out', before doubling over in pain.

Brian was already half way down the corridor when the nurse came out to suggest it might be better if he leave.


	15. Coming Clean

**Okay, sorry it's been a while. My laptop died a few days ago taking with it about 70% of this story. (I know, I know, serves me right for not backing things up; believe me, I won't be making that mistake again a hurry). But, it has turned out to be a blessing in disguise as a heinous inconvenience. It forced me to alter the plot - just slightly because otherwise I would never have managed to drum up the enthusiasm to write the same thing again, and I think this version is actually stronger than the original….**

**

* * *

**

He wasn't sure what had convinced him to do it. Maybe he felt he needed to be punished, maybe he wanted to look as shit as he felt inside. He wanted to curl up and die. He had no one left in the world. The person he cared most about wouldn't ever talk to him again, but he couldn't blame Justin. If he had the chance, he'd never be near himself again either. He was a liar and a coward and he felt sick every time he saw his face in a mirror. He looked so normal, so handsome and strong but underneath he was a little fucking faggot. Justin was brave, Justin was strong and honest. Justin was everything Brian wished he could be but wasn't but not anymore. From now on, Brian intended to tell the truth, well the parts that wouldn't get him killed by his old man.

"What is it you wanted to see me about Mr Kinney?" Principal Penelope Smith asked steadily, looking at him over her tiny black-rimmed glasses.

"I, er…." He looked at the floor. This was beginning to feel like a _really _stupid idea. There was still time. He could just get up and leave or he could make up some bullshit story or…

"Brian," Principal Smith interrupted his thoughts. "Are you okay?" She sounded genuinely concerned. "You're shaking."

Brian hadn't even noticed but now that she'd pointed it out, he could feel that he was trembling. That violently sick feeling, pushing up within him, maybe he could just tell her he was ill and needed to go home. But then he thought of Justin, lying in that hospital bed, recovering from the mess he'd caused and he took a deep breath, looked right in the principal's eyes and said;

"I know who beat up Justin Taylor."

"Oh?" The woman asked, removing her glasses purposefully and leaning forward in her seat. "Are you sure you know?"

"100% sure," he assured her.

"Then who was it?" She asked, picking up and pen and placing the nib to some paper ready to scribble down the name. She could never have expected what was coming next.

"Me," he whispered.

::

Of course Joan and Jack had been called and of course both were too intoxicated to pick Brian up from school to begin his immediate suspension for a week. Brian was under no illusions that almost any other pupil in the school would have been gone for good but Brian was an asset to the school, he was winning them the football trophy and he'd bring up the grade point average so he was allowed to stay, despite admitting to a homophobic attack on another pupil.

He felt sickened by their double standards. He almost wanted them to kick him out of school. He wanted everyone to treat him with the disgust that he felt for himself. Of course when his brothers came to pick him up at the final bell, they were over the moon that he'd turned himself in.

"That was the right thing to do, Bri," Jack grinned as they began to drive home. "You're a good brother."

Brian stayed silent, he just fought of the rapidly churning bile in his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked him anxiously eyeing the greying boy in the back seat.

"I'm fine," Brian lied and turned his head to look out of the window. It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

They got home to find St Joan attempting to cook something from her 'Complete Housewife' cookbook. The boys had no doubt it would be burnt to a crisp and doused with far too much sherry by the time it was served. Jack was sat in front of the TV watching the game, neither even acknowledged the arrival of their three sons and that was usually the way Brian liked it. He liked it when they ignored him, it meant he could sneak up to his room and play NFL in peace but not today. He didn't want to sneak anywhere. He was feeling reckless and stupid and he was sick of being ignored and he wanted to tell his father the truth, that he'd turned him into a violent fucking queer.

Eric saw the crazy look in his younger brother's eyes and reached out uselessly to stop him as he marched into the living room and stood in front of the TV.

"What do you want?" Jack senior snapped, leaning to one side to see the screen.

"I got suspended from school today," Brian said calmly, despite not feeling very calm. In fact, he felt like a mess.

"Tell your mother," Jack replied, reaching forward only to shove his son out of the way of the TV but Brian refused to move.

"I beat up a kid," he said slowly. "A boy in my year."

"Tell your mother," Jack repeated, but his voice was sharper, more irate and caused Eric to gasp a little from the doorway. Brian looked at his brother, who was urging him to come away but Brian didn't want to come away. He didn't want to hide from what he'd done. He wanted to be hurt, the way he'd hurt Justin. It was no more than he deserved.

"He's in hospital. I practically killed him."

"Tell your goddamn mother!" Jack Kinney bellowed and Brian smirked. One more comment would do it.

"I reckon it's your fault," he said steadily, holding his dad's dead blue eyes with his own. "You taught me to use my fists. Now it's all I know. Now, I'm a violent asshole … just like you."

The pain pierced his body, first his face, then his ribs and stomach. He felt his father's shoe hitting his leg and his back and anywhere he could reach and then something important happened on the game and Jack left his son, a quivering, mess on the floor and returned to watching, muttering, "next time, tell your damn mother."

Eric and Jack helped Brian get to his feet and despite Brian's angry insistence that he drag himself up to bed alone, they followed him the entire way.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Eric demanded, once Brian had clawed himself onto his mattress and curled up into a ball.

"Fuck off," Brian wheezed. He couldn't face this at the moment. He just wanted to cry and never stop. He was sick of being strong for people. He couldn't look Jack in the face and Eric's phoney sympathy would drive him crazy. If only they fucking knew. Would they still be here, trying to find out what was wrong? No, they'd be helping Jack Sr and condemning him to deformity and cracked ribs.

"That's not a very nice way to speak to your big bros," Jack smirked, sitting down on the end of the bed and tapping Brian lightly on the leg. "So, tell us why you decided to take on Jack and we'll leave you alone."

"Fuck off," Brian repeated, kicking his leg a little and catching Jack firmly in the side. The older boy gasped at the impact and immediately pinned Brian to the mattress, pressing hard on a bruise that was appearing near Brian's eye.

"Don't fucking kick me you little queer!"

Brian just swallowed. The pain was making his eyes water and he didn't know what to say anyway. He was a queer, he couldn't deny it.

"You fucking crying?" Jack smirked, pressing still harder on the bruise and Brian wasn't sure if his eyes were just watering or whether he was sobbing too.

"Jack, get off him," Eric said, pulling on his brother's arm.

"What the fuck are you crying about?" Jack asked, shaking Eric off easily and keeping his pressure on the wound. The pain was a dull throb now, numbed by it's relentless intensity. "Faggot," Jack spat. "Only fucking faggot's cry Brian."

Brian tried to push Jack off but he couldn't. He didn't have the strength or the willpower.

"And only fucking faggots kiss guys at rock concerts."

He stood up immediately and glared down at Brian, who was now curled up tight and sobbing heavily.

"My own goddamn brother," Jack snarled. "You make me sick." And with that, he left the room and left Brian.

It was silent for a long time and Brian began to wonder if Eric had left too but he didn't look up, he just hugged his knees tighter to him and wished for it to end. He wished he could skip forward a few years. He wished he could go to college now, or maybe he could just run forever like Forest Gump. He sniffed loudly and suddenly there was tissue in front of his face.

He took it and wiped his tears, careful not to put pressure on his swelling face. Eventually, he'd dried his eyes enough to be able to lock his eyes on his brother, who was sat on the floor on the other side of the room. Eric was silent for a long time. He seemed to be looking at Brian with a confused look on his face, as though Brian were a complex maths problem that he'd thought he'd known the answer to but now discovered he hadn't even been close.

"It's true, isn't it?" He asked slowly, his voice low and serious and almost void of any real emotion.

Brian just stared back, his face crumpling a little, the pain of the truth hitting him as hard as his father's punches.

"You're one of them," Eric continued. It wasn't a question, more the quiet realisation of a brother trying to understand the impossible. Brian said nothing, he just diverted his gaze so he didn't have to look at his brother's disappointed face as he muttered, "you're a fucking queer."

The tears that rolled down Brian's face were unstoppable, despite his best efforts. He didn't want to come across as a pansy as well as a fag but he could help himself. He'd never felt so low and disgusting and ashamed.

"Alright, you fucking fairy," Eric scorned, picking up a tissue and moving quickly to Brian's side to hand it to him. "Hold it together, yeah? You're still a goddamn Kinney. You're still a man."

Brian nodded. He almost even smiled as he dried his face again. Eric was leaning with his back against the side of his bed now. He was still shaking his head in utter disbelief but for the most part, he was reacting okay. Well, he hadn't tried to murder Brian and he hadn't run away screaming so this was much better than what Brian had ever expected.

"You really did it then," he said slowly, staring at a point on the opposite side of the room, before turning his head to stare straight at Brian. "You kissed that Justin kid."

Brian just nodded. Was there any point in denying it anymore?

"Christ!" Eric's face screwed up in disgust before he asked, "did you mean to?"

Brian just shot him an incredulous look and Eric couldn't help smile a little.

"Right," he nodded, a breathy laugh to his words, "it's not something you do by accident." He paused for a moment, his head shaking from side to side. "When Jack told me about it, I didn't believe him. I mean you're always so…." He trailed off, not really sure how to end that sentence. "You've had loads of girlfriends. There's never even been a hint that you might be, you know, queer." He paused, staring off at the opposite wall again. It was quiet but the pause was pregnant, neither knew what to say but there was definitely more to come, questions to be answered, things to be decided.

"Wait," Eric said after a few more moments of stretching silence. "You and he shared a room at the away game. Did you…?" He turned to look at Brian, who just stared back at him calmly. "I mean. You and he, have you…?" Eric trailed off again and Brian asked,

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

And Eric shook his head quickly. He didn't think he could stomach that thought, he could barely get his head around the fact his brother and kissed a boy.

"Who knows?" He asked eventually, turning to his side so he could look at Brian without craning his neck.

"No one … well, Justin and that lot at the fag mag. You. And Jack, I guess."

Eric was quiet for a second before whispering, "I won't tell anyone, you know."

"Thanks." And Brian almost managed a smile.

"I mean, you're still my brother I still," he moved his head awkwardly, "you know."

"Yeah," Brian nodded and he did know, it was just a Kinney trait to not be able to say the word 'love' in a sentence, "me too."

"Yeah," Eric squirmed a little uncomfortably before eyeing Brian warily, "just you keep the fuck away from my ass, you damn fudge packer."

Brian chuckled a little and Eric smiled too.

"Don't make me laugh," Brian groaned.

"Sorry," Eric chuckled and then seriously, he added, "are you okay though? With all this I mean. Are you coping?"

"Just about," Brian nodded and after a second or two he added. "Except…"

Eric looked up. Brian's expression was strained, like he was torn between wanting to talk and wanting to keep everything a secret.

"Go on," Eric encouraged softly. "I promise not to freak out … much."

Brian smiled again. He couldn't believe how amazing Eric was being, if you ignored the fact he was fidgeting and looking very much like a man who wanted to run like hell from a situation.

"He won't talk to me," Brian admitted quietly.

"Well, you did beat the shit out of him," Eric pointed out, needing no explanation as to who '_he_' was.

Brian pulled a weird expression, a sort of pained sadness as he said, "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have let Jack get to me."

Eric said nothing for a while and Brian stayed silent to as he contemplated the many what-ifs and what-could-have-beens from that event.

"It was then," Eric whispered. "That was when I first thought Jack might have got it right about you being…."

"Gay?"

"Yeah, that," Eric nodded. He seemed more embarrassed and awkward about this than Brian. "It was the way you looked. You had this look in your eyes like you were so scared and you would never kick or punch anyone normally so I knew Justin had to be special in someway and then I realised you were desperate to show us you were straight. So desperate to show us you didn't want Justin that you actually kicked him in the ribs."

"Don't," Brian shook his head sharply. "Don't talk about it … please."

Eric looked down at the floor for a moment or two until Brian said determinedly.

"I have to see him." Brian pushed himself up on the bed and winced painfully as every muscle in his body ached.

"Brian, you're a mess," Eric reminded him. "You can't go anywhere tonight."

"I don't care. I need to apologize." Brian's determination was outweighed only by his stupidity.

"Brian," Eric warned, pushing the younger boy back onto the mattress. "Slow down," he warned. "Take your time and think about this. It's after visiting hours and you're in pain. Leave it a few days until the swelling goes down," he gestured to Brian's face, "or at least leave it until tomorrow and go at a more reasonable time. I'll even drive you down."

"Fine," Brian agreed grudgingly, curling back up on his mattress and curling a bit of duvet up and clutching it to his chest. Soft snores soon filled the room, and Eric peeked over his shoulder to see Brian's eyes had drooped shut. Eric wasn't sure if Brian was going to sleep well but it seemed the exhausted excitement had finally caught up with him. He clearly needed some time to just sleep and that was okay.

* * *

**This is all I've got finalised at the moment. The conversation with Eric took a while because I wanted to get the right mood across. I hope I've managed it…. =S**

**Thanks for reading and for being patient. This story could be a long one and Justin's not going to forgive Brian easily so patience might be a good attribute for this journey! =D But, hey, don't be put off, I will do a dance if that'll convince you to continue to read!**

**InconspicuousBunny…xx**


	16. Cowardice and The Thrill Of a New Vice

**Thank to everyone who's reviewed so far... I can only apologize for how dense Brian is in this chapter but blame him, not me! =D**

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Brian felt sick. Despite the state of his face, he'd insisted Eric drive him to the hospital so he could talk to Justin. They'd got there twenty minutes before visiting hours began and a fuss-pot nurse was trying to convince him to let her look at his wounds as he sat on a chair in the corridor outside Justin's room.

"I'm alright," Brian snapped for what felt like the millionth time as the nurse fussed some more.

"Let me just look at your bruises," she insisted trying to lift Brian's shirt.

Eric smirked a little from where he was looking through the window watching Justin sleep.

"You're wasting your time, doll," he chuckled, taking a sip of the disgusting hospital coffee he had in his hand. Brian glared at him. It was obvious to him what Eric was insinuating but the older boy just smiled and added, "he's stubborn. He won't do what you ask." He flashed the girl a perfect Kinney smile and she sighed heavily, deciding to leave it there.

Eric chuckled as she walked away. "She was desperate to get her hands on you," he smiled. "Hot too," and then he winked, "don't suppose you were interested though, eh?"

"Eric, please," Brian groaned.

"What?" The boy asked innocently.

"Just … I can't deal with you making fag jokes."

Eric raised an eyebrow and moved to occupy the seat next to his brother. He blew out the air in his cheeks sharply and looked at his brother's battered face. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just don't know how to react around you at the moment. It just … I mean…."

"Everything's changed, hasn't it?" Brian asked dejectedly, taking the coffee from his brother's hands and taking a sip. It tasted like shit but what did he care.

"No," Eric said quickly. "Not everything." He sighed heavily and took his coffee back. This is what hospitals forced you into. You weren't allowed to pass a cigarette so coffee would have to do. "Things are just a bit … different now."

"Visiting hour is beginning now," a nurse smiled at them and Brian leapt of his chair immediately and ran to the door of Justin's room. Brian's adrenaline was deafening him, pounding loudly in his ears as he pushed open the door.

Justin locked eyes with him and he felt sick. He expected Justin to yell at him, to throw him out to call a nurse but he just stared and asked quietly;

"What the hell happened to you?"

::

Brian sat on the hospital bed, and looked at his scruffy trainers. It had been silent for a minute or so and the awkwardness felt like it was pushing down on top of him, trying to squash him flat. He daren't look to his right, he couldn't bare to see Justin's face, when it was that horrible yellow-green colour as the bruises began to fade.

"Well…" Justin said after a while longer. "Are you going to tell me what happened to you?"

Brian just shook his head slightly. He felt like an idiot now. He'd got this far, he was sat on the end of the bed, he was inches from Justin and yet the bile in his throat made him feel like he'd vomit if he tried to speak and even if he did try to speak … what the hell would he say? Because although, feeling like shit yesterday, lying in his room he'd been all ready to yell to the world that he was a fag and if they didn't like it they could fuck off. But in the cold light of day, it all felt too real and too final. Brian had nearly gone mad when Eric had almost hinted to a nurse he was gay. He twirled his thumbs around each other and didn't say a word.

"Was it your dad?" Justin tried again but once more he was met with silence.

"Fine," Justin frowned. "Why the hell are you here if you're just going to sit at there and say nothing?" Brian seemed to jolt a little, like he was going to say something. He turned his head to face Justin, but as soon as their eyes met, he dropped his gaze to the floor again. Justin scowled a little. "Get the hell out then," he hissed. "Coz I don't need this anymore." Brian dropped to his feet, the message was clear 'get the hell out'. He wasn't wanted. He shuffled to the door as Justin continued, "don't ask me to give you anymore chances. I never should have given you this one, but Lindsey convinced me." And as Brian was about to leave he snarled, "fucking coward."

And Brian stopped. Stopped dead in his tracks. He was looking at Eric, who was looking back at him, pure confusion on his face that Brian was back so soon. After all the fuss his younger brother had made, he'd expected him to be there for at least half an hour. But no, it had been less than five minutes. But Brian didn't seem to really be seeing Eric, he was more staring straight through him, thinking about something else and with that, he disappeared back into the room.

"Queers," Eric muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Why've they gotta be such a damn drama queens?" And then looking around at the empty corridor he cursed himself for speaking out loud and wondered if the annoying interfering nurse would come back and be concerned about his mental health, perhaps she'd try to frisk him like she did with Brian. At least he'd enjoy it besides, with his life as it was, he figured he was entitled to a metal breakdown.

::

"You're right," Brian said, still unable to meet Justin's gaze but at least he was acknowledging his existence now. "I am a coward," he clarified. He looked up for a second and closed his eyes tight. "I don't wanna hide Justin. You have to believe me but," he sighed heavily. "My parents'll …"

"I know, Bri," Justin said softly. "I do understand but, maybe your parents will get used to it. Maybe they'll come to terms with it."

"Don't be a twot," Brian smirked a little at Justin's unfathomable optimism. "I'd be lucky to make it out alive."

"I think I know what that feels like," Justin whispered and Brian winced sharply. He knew Justin was referring to the incident in the changing room and the reason Justin was in hospital.

"I'm so sorry," Brian breathed, "so, so sorry. I didn't want to do it, I swear to you but … and then Jack was…." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. "I'd have given anything to take your place. I wish it had been me he'd beaten up."

"Is that what this is about?" Justin asked calmly, indicated Brian's own bruised body. "Punishment?"

Brian shrugged a little. "I took the blame for it," he said. "I told the school it was me. My dad didn't give a shit," he said through gritted teeth. "He didn't care that's I'd beaten up a queer. I was so angry at him, at Jack, at me. I just …" He unclenched his fists where his nails had been digging into his palms. "I provoked him. I mean, I practically asked him to do it. I guess I thought that, somehow, it would make things up to you."

Justin frowned, a look of almost bemusement on his confused features. "You do know that's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard, right?" He asked and Brian couldn't help smile. "I mean seriously, you actually thought getting yourself beaten nearly half to death would make up for what your brother did to me."

"It was a moment of self-indulgent teenage angst," Brian smiled a little then looked at Justin and his expression immediately became serious. "And I was going insane because I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"I wasn't going to."

Brian nodded. He could understand that.

"And then Lindsey reminded me that I love you so…"

"Oh," was all the response Brian gave.

"What? That's it?" Justin frowned. "Not gonna say it back?"

"I don't believe in love," Brian said honestly. "I've never seen it."

"You don't have to see something to know it exists."

"You sound like my mom when she's trying to convince me of God's omniscience."

"But I'm not talking about God," Justin reminded him gently. "I'm talking about us." Brian just looked away, he couldn't bare to see Justin's expression, he knew it would be broken. He knew he was going to be doing it to him but this was just another example in a long list of many as to why Brian was bad for him. Justin deserved better, someone who could love him properly and not be afraid to show it, someone who didn't kick him because he was scared his brother would work out he was gay.

"Oh God," Justin gasped. "There is no 'us' is there?" He asked. Brian could hear the sob in his voice trying to break out. "I thought I meant something to you, I thought you loved me."

Brian looked to the other boy, he opened his mouth to speak but, not for the first time in his life, words failed him.

"Just leave," Justin sighed, looking away. "I can't deal with this anymore. I don't need all your shit, I've got my own to deal with."

Brian thought about saying something but even if he'd known what to say, he wasn't sure the lump in his throat would have allowed him to speak. He swallowed painfully and got to his feet. He looked back as he got to the door but Justin was staring out the window and Brian didn't have the heart to say goodbye.

::

Eric took one look at Brian's face and knew something was horribly wrong.

"What happened?" He asked, looking to his watch. Brian had barely been in there ten minutes and now he looked ready to leave, in fact, he looked a mess. He kept swallowing, clenching and unclenching his fists and blinking furiously. Eric could see he was a total mess. He'd probably be crying if they weren't in a public place.

"Shit," Eric whistled. "Are you okay Bri?"

"I'm fine," Brian nodded. He wasn't convincing but he more than made up for that with anger. "I just need…." He trailed off, unsure exactly what he needed. Then, he looked up into Eric's eyes. "I need to go to Liberty Avenue," he said forcefully. "And you're gonna take me there."

"What the hell? No way. I draw the line, I'm not going to queersville."

"Eric, take me to Liberty Avenue," Brian snapped, his eyes wild and primal. "NOW!" He pushed Eric against the nearest wall, pressing on his windpipe.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Eric choked out, tears streaming to his eyes as he struggled to breathe as he clawed at Brian's hands. "You're acting like dad, get off."

"Only when you say you'll take me to Liberty Avenue," he put more force behind his grip and then he felt a fist connect with his face and he stumbled backwards.

The punch seemed to snap him out of it and when he saw Eric rubbing at his own throat he wanted to scream at himself. He couldn't believe he'd snapped … again. He hated himself. Everyday he was becoming more and more like Jack and his dad.

"Sorry," he whispered but Eric just shook his head.

"What's wrong with you Bri?" He asked and he sounded concerned, really concerned. "I've never seen you act like this before."

"I don't know," Brian shook his head and the tears started to roll down his face as he voiced his biggest fear. "What if this is the real me? A fag with a short fuse and a tendency to lash out at the people closest to him." He covered his face with his hands and sobbed, great shuddering sobs that rattled his whole body. He felt Eric's arms go round him and hold him in a firm, manly hug and he just wept onto his brother's shoulder. He wasn't sure he'd ever be this open with his brother again, so he took advantage of the moment and spilled everything.

"He told me he loved me," he sniffed, his face still buried in Eric's jacket-shoulder. "He told me he loved me and I just walked away."

"Yeah, well, it's not something we hear often," Eric reasoned, pushing his brother to arm's length. "It's understandable if you reacted like a social retard."

Brian just shook his head and ran his hands through his hair.

"Look… God, I can't believe I'm saying this," Eric smiled a little, "You've never cared about anyone like you care about this fucking faggot. So, just go in there and tell him how you feel."

Brian looked to the door of Justin's room and then back to his brother.

"He's better off without me. He said it himself, he doesn't need my shit." He looked right into Eric's eyes, "please, take me to Liberty Avenue. I need to get laid."

"Oh God," Eric groaned disgusted, but he still took him, practically threw him out on the pavement and tore off, sunglasses on, hood pulled up desperate not to be recognised, but he did shove a handful of condoms into Brian's hands as he went out and said,

"be safe, yeah. I don't ever wanna hear that you've picked up AIDS."

And Brian couldn't help feel grateful that Eric gave enough of a shit about him to even think of his safety. He imagined the rest of his family would think AIDS a fitting end for a fucking queer.

He strolled along Liberty Avenue looking for Woody's. Michael and Justin talked about it all the time, it was the main gay bar on Liberty Avenue, where all the hottest studs went, it would be the perfect place to find some willing queer to participate in some cardio-activity … if he could fucking find it. There were queer book shops and queer tattoo parlours and even queer grocery and clothes stores but Brian couldn't spot a single bar.

"Excuse me," he asked some stranger eventually, "could you point me in the direction of Woody's?"

The man just pointed towards his own crotch and smirked, "you just go straight down, kid."

Brian just raised an eyebrow and said, "right here, in the middle of the street?"

And that's how he ended up on his knees in some filthy alley out the back of some shop, sucking a strangers cock. It was thrilling, and degrading and horrible and elating all at once. He felt like it was no more than he deserved but at the same time, it made him forget all the shit about his life that had led him to here and make him think everything was almost worth it and when the man swapped their positions Brian began to realise the beauty of being a gay man. No strings, no commitment. You get in, you get out, no bullshit, all the pleasure. No mention of feelings or love just pure sensation. Perfection.

The guy disappeared straight away and Brian almost laughed to himself when he realised he didn't even know the guys name. It was kind of liberating and he wanted to do it again. Maybe if he did it enough, he would forget about his mum and his dad and Jack and the football team but especially Justin. He wanted to be taken away from the real world so he didn't have to think about that look in Justin's eye when Brian had refused to say 'I love you'.

"Brian?"

His neck snapped up and he saw Michael with a black bag, walking towards the dumpster.

"What the hell are you doing in the alley behind the diner?"

"I, er, I got lost," he lied. "But I was on my way to the diner to see you."

"Really?" Michael got immediately excited.

"Sure," the lies came thick and fast. "I needed cheering up." Well, that was true enough.

"Oh, have you been to see Justin?" He heaved the black bag into the dumpster and began to walk back towards the diner.

"Er, yeah," Brian sighed. "I er, I don't suppose you've heard that…""You were the one that beat him up? Yeah, I heard."

"Oh.""But Justin said it was Jack, that you just appeared at the end and were forced into joining in. He said it wasn't really your fault but," he looked into the other boys eyes, "well, I'd avoid Ma for a while … and Mel, and Emmett … And Ted, and even Linds come to think of it." He sighed. "They're all pretty mad at you."

"I'm pretty mad at me," Brian sighed.

"Well, Linds told Justin he should hear you out first," Michael said more positively. "So, what did you say to him?"

"Not enough," Brian admitted. "Listen, is there some place we can go where I won't bump into some angry Justin-avenger?"

"Let's go to the cinema," Michael smiled.

"What are they showing?"

"No idea."

"Oh, well, I haven't got any money."

"That's okay, I know how we can get in for half price," he grinned. It wasn't until they were out from the dingy alley backstreet that Michael noticed the black eye that Brian was sporting but he'd barely gotten out a 'what happened to' before Brian had silenced him with a look. He didn't bother to ask again and the truth was, he knew it would have been the work of Brian's dad. He didn't need to know more details than that.

They were sat in the balcony. Michael had bought a ticket and let Brian in through the fire exit a few minutes later. They were probably apart for five minutes tops but, by the time Michael was sneaking Brian up to the top seats, Brian was waggling a joint in front of his friends face and chuckling with delight. He wouldn't tell Michael where he got it from, he just lit it, took a drag and passed it to the other boy. Michael looked reluctant.

"Come on Mikey," he chuckled, pushing his lips right against Michael's ear. "Live a little," he whispered. Michael didn't take much convincing. He took a drag and spluttered everywhere.

"Shit," he groaned, "that's disgusting."

"Yep," Brian chuckled taking another drag and letting the smoke burn in his lungs as he relaxed letting the pot work it's magic.

"Should you really be smoking that?" Michael asked, watching his friend as a stupid, contented grin began to pull at his cheeks.

"Because it's illegal? Because we're in a public place?"

"Because you're a budding NFL star?"

"HA!" Brian laughed harder than was necessary. "I'm a fag, Mikey," he laughed. "Everyone knows there's no such thing as a fag-football player. They don't exist. I may as well kiss that dream goodbye."

"But you're really good," Michael pointed out. "You could really make it."

"No, Mikey, I couldn't," he sighed, taking a drag from the toke and then passing it to his friend. "Sport is a homophobic business. Except women's sport," he smirked, "that's chock-full of dykes."

Michael laughed hard. "Chock-full," he repeated mindlessly and Brian just smiled. Michael was high and the world felt alright again.

::

"Where's the best place to get laid?" Brian asked as they stumbled out of the cinema into the bright street lights.

"The backroom at Babylon or The Baths," Michael answered, blinking a little as his eyes became accustomed to the light of the real world again. "But you'd never get in, you're not old enough."

"If you're hot enough, you're old enough," Brian grinned, checking his reflection in a car window. "You said I'm a stud, right?" He looked at Michael over his reflections shoulder. The boy nodded vigorously. "Guys wanna fuck me, right?" Michael's reflection nodded again. "The wanna suck me off," Brian span round to find Michael still nodding eagerly. "Well then," Brian smirked, pointing to his crotch, "in the words of Marie Antoinette; let them eat cock."

::

Like he'd expected, Brian's confidence, swagger and ability to attract half the people around him with no effort at all had meant that everyone had turned a blind eye to the fact he clearly wasn't old enough to be in the Baths. Michael had followed blindly like a puppy, he was gazing open-mouthed at everything around him. He'd heard about these places, he understood what went on in these sex clubs but to see it in front of his eyes, he felt suddenly young and inexperienced but he just followed Brian's lead; walk around with huge amounts of undeserved confidence. He watched as Brian leaned against a wall and a man gave him some poppers, whispering in his ear before he dropped to his knees in front of him. In fact, despite himself, Michael simple couldn't look away, he shrugged off the odd advance fron the odd pervert and just watched Brian, the way his face contorted, the way he looked so relaxed so elated, so beautiful. And then Brian's eyes snapped open and he was looking right at Michael, beckoning him over with one finger.

Michael went, certain there were some magic forces at work pulling him in. He finally got within arms reach and found himself being dragged into a long passionate kiss with the other boy.

Eventually, they pulled apart and Brian smiled, his eyes unfocused, he was totally high but Michael ignored that. They'd kissed, it was what Michael had been waiting for since he first saw Brian Kinney.

"Brian, I," he started but Brian cut him off, grabbed his face and pulled it next to his own so they were looking in the same direction, their cheeks pressed together.

"Look at it Mikey, isn't it beautiful?" He sighed, finally allowing his head to flop back against the wall as his orgasm approached. And as he came, Michael watched his face and whispered,

"Beautiful."


	17. Don't Stare People Will Start to Suspect

Now that Brian had found The Baths and the backroom, there was no stopping him. He wondered if perhaps this was what he'd been craving his entire life. He'd go to school, then to football practice before rushing off to Michael's house. They'd stay there until Woody's opened and then they'd go there until Brian found some guy to fuck, before rolling home at around 3 in the morning and starting the whole process again.

"Good night?" Eric frowned as Brian came through the front door just half an hour before they were due to leave for Sunday Football practice.

"Huh?" Brian looked up, his eyes blurry and unfocused behind his dark glasses. He'd been struggling to focus on anything since last night. It had been Studs and Suds at Babylon so the place had been packed and guys had been plying him with all the alcohol he could consume and supplying him with all the poppers he could muster. He was just lucky that Michael would stick by him whatever. He'd woken up in Michael's bed with him this morning with the worst headache, he'd ever had. He could only wonder what had happened to the old Brian, the one who'd kept drinking to a minimum, the one who'd believed his body was a temple and that he had to treat it right to play football and get out of this hellhole? And then he remembered, that Brian had discovered he was a fag.

But none of that had mattered this morning. He'd just shoved Michael in the back until he woke up, "Michael, Michael," he'd hissed. "Mikey. Wake up."

"I'm awake," Michael had muttered.

"Did we, er," he'd coughed, his throat had been dry and his tongue had felt furry and horrible. He'd gagged a little and then focused on getting his words out, "did we fuck?"

Michael had reassured him that nothing had happened between them, that Brian had been too out of it to do anything, he'd passed out and Michael had hauled him back to his house. Even Debbie had helped him.

"Poor kid," she'd whispered. "He's totally lost."

So, Brian figured, if nothing else had come from all this shit, at least Debbie was back on his side now.

"I said, did you have a good night?" Eric asked, marching over to his brother, ripping off his sunglasses and taking a long look into his eyes. "You're fucked," he scolded. "Did you take something?"

"No," Brian lied, shoving Eric away roughly "I just got a bit drunk."

Eric shook his head angrily. "You got a bit drunk _and_ a bit high. You didn't come home Bri."

"Well, maybe this doesn't feel like home anymore."

"And what feels like home?" Eric hissed, moving close to his brother, "some perverts house? You have no idea what these fucking queers will do to you."

"So now it all comes out," Brian said, he was hung-over, his head hurt and rational thinking was probably down the toilet at Debbie's along with most of the contents of his stomach. "You just don't like it because I'm a fag!"

"It's got nothing to do with you being a fag, you self-righteous asshole! I just don't wanna be putting on my Sunday best and attending your funeral because you've overdosed on the bathroom floor of some queer bar or worse, because you've been discovered in a ditch after you were murdered by some fucking pervert! This isn't the Brian I know, the Brian I know looked after himself."

"Yeah, well, he's dead," Brian snapped.

"No, he's not! He's still in there! He's still the best football player I know, he's still the only person in the entire school the Miami Hurricanes were interested in and he's still the one The Fighting Irish coach had come to see."

"What are you talking about?" Brian frowned, looking at his brother's guilty expression.

"Nothing," Eric shook his head furiously. "Come on, let's go to training."

::

"Where's Jack?" Brian asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"At a 48 hour party with some of the team and the cheerleaders at Hobbs house," Eric explained, "invitation only," he smirked. "The likes of you and I weren't invited."

"Hobbs," Brian scowled, looking out of the window and shaking frowning, "well, he'd never invite me. In fact, I'm pretty sure he hates me."

"Me too," Eric said, "he's always badmouthing you when you're not around. Jack gets him to shut the fuck up but it's like he can't stand you. I don't know why."

Brian couldn't help grin a little. "I know why."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh," Brian nodded glumly. "He likes Justin."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Eric chuckled disbelievingly as he drove down the road.

"No, it's obvious if you open your mind enough to see it. I think Justin might have liked him for a while too…"

"But now he loves you."

"Lov_**ed**,_" Brian corrected him bitterly.

"I think you're being ridiculous," Eric shook his head. "Just because you're a fag, doesn't mean everyone is."

"Not everyone, just Hobbs, but he hates himself for it."

"Please, he can't possibly be more self-loathing than you are."

"Fuck off!"

Eric chuckled at Brian's response and then said seriously, "just don't go out tonight, yeah? Stay in. Prove that you're going out every night because you want to, not because you're addicted to it."

Brian just looked away. Eric had always been astute when it came to reading people but he really wished he was getting him totally wrong.

::

Training was fine, it took a good quarter of an hour before the sick feeling in Brian's stomach and the headache began to subside, but when it did, he found he was playing pretty well, considering everything. He glanced around as he began to organise the team and the coach smiled, Brian could sense that feeling of invincibility he'd been missing when he'd been playing football for the last few weeks. He felt free again, he felt like nothing on earth could touch him, like nothing mattered. He grinned and threw a perfect pass. Eric ran behind him and muttered;

"that's more like it, Brian. Welcome back."

Brian just shook his head and threw another pass with pinpoint accuracy, before running himself to score a touchdown without anyone getting anywhere near him. He smirked as he walked off the pitch and the coach shouted, "looking good. Kinney."

Brian was actually feeling pretty good, his body was warm and buzzing with that cosy feeling you get when you've worked hard and your muscles are recovering. He'd been humming songs by the Salem Experience in the shower and had actually stepped out of the water with a smile on his face. He had no obsessive need to go to The Baths and fuck a stranger, so, when Eric suggested they play on the Xbox, Brian just nodded.

::

"And the undisputed champion is … Brian Kinney," Brian smirked as he, yet again, beat Eric in the Xbox NFL Super Bowl.

"Fuck you," his older brother groaned. "I'm gonna raid mom and dad's alcohol cabinet. D'you want a Bud?"

"Yeah, thanks," Brian sighed, leaning back against the side of his bed and basking in his victory. Brian had no idea where the rest of his family were and, quite frankly, he didn't care. For the last few hours, it had felt like old times. He hadn't felt sick or disgusting, he hadn't been thinking about Justin or fucking or craving backrooms. He was just relaxed and happy … but of course it couldn't last.

The first indicator that his pleasant afternoon was over was the loud bang of the front door being thrown open. The second indicator was Jack's voice saying,

"we'll take some beers thanks, Eric. We're having a party!"

Brian groaned a little internally. He absolutely did_ not _want to see his older brother and he didn't want to see any of his brother's friends either but, when Jack yelled his name, he dragged himself to his feet and left his room, hanging over the banister to find out what was going on. Jack looked up and grinned.

"Brian," he slurred happily. "Look what I've got with me!" And then he stood aside to usher three of the cheerleaders into Brian's eye line.

"Great," Brian deadpanned, rolling his eyes and turning to go back to his room.

"Come on faggot, get your ass down here. There's one for each of us."

"Yeah, come on Bri," Eric said, with a meaningful look on his face, which caused Brian to frown and caused Eric to pull a weird expression that could only have meant, I'll explain in a minute. So, partly because he was curious as to what Eric was up to and partly because he really did want that beer, he made his way down the stairs.

"Hey Brian," the tallest brunet waved flirtily.

"Er, hey," Brian waved back, glaring at Jack as though asking what the hell was going on. There was a silence then, and Brian wasn't sure why but he suddenly felt like he was expected to fill it. Well, screw that. He wasn't going to do anything to help along this shitty party. The tall girl looked to Jack in confusion and the older boy gave a forced laugh.

"He's just a bit quiet, aren't you Bri?" He said pushing a Bud into Brian's hand and then practically hauling the three girls into the sitting room.

"What the hell are you doing?" Brian hissed in Eric's ear, when they were standing alone in the hallway. "You know I'm not interested."

"Yeah, but if Jack wants to be in denial about you, then I say let him. He'll make your life hell, if you get all fucking 'proud' now. Just do what he wants. We'll be going to college next year. Then it'll just be you and you won't have to pretend so much."

Brian just nodded. It did seem sensible after all.

The party was shit. Well, it was for Brian. Jack was already wasted, as were the girls and Eric had quickly caught up but Brian was just sipping his way slowly through his Bud, wondering if he could sneak off to The Baths, or perhaps the Adonis but he fought off the itch to leave and just took another swig of his drink waiting for the inevitable. He knew it would happen eventually, they'd pair off.

Jack and the blondest-bimbo were already making out in the arm chair and Brian spared a fleeting thought for Sandy and wondered what had happened to hers and Jacks love that would last forever. Then, he looked over to the other sofa and he could see that the shorter brunet and Eric were getting very flirty, and the girl who'd spoken to Brian earlier was beginning to look like a third wheel. It wouldn't be long before she came to join him on his sofa and he'd be forced to engage in stupid small talk about nothing in particular.

"Hey," she smiled at him. She was attractive enough, pretty face, pleasant smile, perfect hair, beautiful body … and Brian didn't want to sleep with her. Christ, he really must be gay.

"Hey," he answered glumly.

"Mind if I sit here, it's getting a bit," she looked over to Eric and the other girl who were now making out, "well… yeah." She trailed off with a smile.

"It is beginning to feel like an orgy," Brian nodded and the girl giggled.

"I'm Sarah, by the way … if you didn't know. I mean, why would you know? We've never met, right? And you…" she blushed violently, "sorry. I talk a lot."

"It's okay," Brian smiled kindly at her. She seemed really flustered and he didn't know why, he didn't particularly care why either. He just took another sip of beer and continued to stare at a spot on the carpet and wonder if Justin was back home yet.

"This is a really weird party, isn't it?" Sarah said eventually. "Jack said there were going to be loads of people but there's just us six."

"Mmm," Brian nodded.

"I mean, he picked us all specifically. He told me that," she touched his knee gently and Brian started in surprise and frowned at her. "Sorry," she gasped, pulling away. "It's just…" She stopped, blushing again.

"What?" Brian snapped. He couldn't be bothered with these stupid games. He'd never have this problem with a boy, they'd fucking spit it out.

"He told me that you liked me," Sarah whispered.

"Oh," Brian nodded and took another sip of his beer.

"You don't, do you?" She sighed.

"Sorry," Brian answered.

"No," she chuckled a little. "I didn't think you did. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to see it."

"See what?" Brian asked anxiously. Had this girl worked out his worst kept secret?

"That you're in love with Lindsey."

"Lindsey!" He guffawed. "Lindsey Peterson?" He laughed even harder. "I don't love Lindsey."

"Oh, I just thought."

"No," he laughed again. "She's a friend."

"Oh," she laughed a little too. "That's a good thing I guess. She's a lesbian, isn't she?"

"So I've heard," Brian nodded.

"Still, that wouldn't stop a guy from falling for her. You can't help who the heart wants."

"Sure," Brian nodded, taking another sip of his beer and wishing he could go upstairs and play on his Xbox.

"I mean, I used to have the biggest crush on Justin Taylor."

"What?" Brian spluttered, almost spitting beer everyone.

"I know," she blushed. "It's so embarrassing. I mean, he'd never look twice at a girl but I couldn't help myself. He's not like straight boys, he's kind and sensitive and really thoughtful and smart and he's an amazing artist, did you know that?"

"Er, yeah," Brian nodded. "I've seen some of his drawings."

"He's brilliant, not to mention gorgeous."

"Mm," Brian hummed. He'd never agreed with anyone more."Sorry," she laughed, "you probably don't want to hear any of this."

"It's okay," Brian said honestly but they both knew she was going to stop talking now. They were quiet for a while and the only noises were the smacking of lips and slight groans from the other two couples, which prompted Brian to ask, "can you play football on the Xbox?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, "I beat my brother all the time."

"Great, let's play," Brian grinned and he spent the rest of the afternoon playing Xbox with Sarah.

The more they played the more fascinating she became. She wasn't like the other cheerleaders, she was intelligent and had all these aspirations to be a nurse. Cheerleading was just something she was good at and that might help her get into a decent college. She, like him, didn't like the 'better-that-you' mentality that came with it and she, like him, didn't really fit in.

"I actually want to watch the games, not just cheer at halftime," she grinned. "Most of the girls are just discussing which boy looks best in his uniform, it's usually you, by the way," she laughed. "But I just want to watch the play. Some of the link up stuff between you and Eric is amazing to watch. It's worthy of college football easily. Do you reckon you'll play NFL? I think you've got a good chance, you know."

"I doubt it," Brian sighed. "I'm not that good."

"Yeah you are," she said confidently. "You're really talented Brian."

"It doesn't matter now anyway. I missed all the scouts."

"But you've got another year," she pointed out. "Anyway, didn't the Hurricanes want you after the first away game?"

"From Miami, no."

"I'm sure the Hurricanes were after someone and I can't imagine they'd be interested in anyone else."

Brian just shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about but they'd probably be after Eric anyway. Everyone knew he was the most talented.

::

"Those girls were hot, weren't they?" Jack was proclaiming loudly as he scoffed down too much cereal. "Best idea I've ever had invited those three to a private party."

Eric agreed readily but Brian just asked,

"yeah, er how is Sandy?"

"Hey, don't you tell her anything, got it," Jack warned, pointing his milk-covered spoon in his direction.

"I wouldn't dare," Brian said.

"Good, still, we all had fun right, especially you Bri," he winked at his youngest brother and Brian gave a strained smile in response. Jack was under the impression he and Sarah had disappeared to his room to fuck and he wasn't about to correct him if it could keep him out of trouble for a while.

Jack's boring ramblings about what he and Britney had got up to in his room were making feel a little ill, especially as his brother began seemed to have no concept of too much detail. Eventually, Jack decided he needed a quick shower before school and disappeared up the stairs.

"What?" Brian asked, when he noticed Eric eyeing him oddly over the jug of orange juice.

"What _did_ you find to do with Sarah in your room for hours?"

"Xbox," Brian chuckled, "she'd kick your ass too. You know, she knows shit loads about football, she's really smart…"

"Hot too," Eric added.

"Mmm."

"And you didn't fuck her?"

Brian shot his brother and incredulous look.

"Wow," Eric breathed taking a bite of toast, "you really are a fag."

Brian let it slide and took another swig of orange juice. After a while, he spoke again, beginning to voice something that had been playing on his mind since yesterday evening.

"She really pays attention to the school football team."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she mentioned that someone got picked up by the Miami Hurricanes at the away game near the beginning of the season."

"Oh?" Eric dismissed, suddenly getting to his feet and going to rinse his plate.

"Yeah, I said it was probably you but she seemed convinced that it was me."

"Mm," Eric hummed, turning the tap on and basically ignoring his brother.

"So, you don't know anything about that then?" Brian asked. "Because you said something about the Hurricane's being interested in me yesterday morning."

"Slip of the tongue," Eric said, but his inflection meant it sounded more like a question than a statement and Brian knew he was lying.

"Cut the shit," he said. "Did I get picked up at the away game?"

Eric turned to look at his brother and nodded silently.

"Yeah, the coach told me and Jack at that game when all the scouts were there, when you were, erm, injured." Eric scratched the back of his neck, refusing to meet his brother's eyes.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Sorry."

"Why not? I mean, what the hell…? You know how important this is to me."

"It was Jack's idea, it felt like he made sense at the time."

"What happened?" Brian asked in disbelief.

"After that game, the one where all the scouts came, they called us in, _all _of us including you … especially you," he clarified, "but we couldn't find you anywhere."

Brian thought back to that match. "Oh yeah, I left early."

"With Gaylor. _T_aylor," Eric corrected quickly. "Sorry," he muttered but Brian just shook his head, it didn't really matter, they were just words. "Anyway, the coach called me, Jack and Hobbs in. They said they were impressed but it turned out they were only really there to see you after the Miami Hurricanes coach had been raving about you from that away game."

"I don't understand," Brian frowned. "I mean I…."

"They were there to see you," Eric repeated slowly. "No matter what Jack or dad tell you Brian, you're an amazing football player, better than Jack, better than me. The coach gave us letters to pass onto you, they said they were interested in you as a player and that as long as you continued to improve to play at your level, they'd be interested in having you join their teams when the time came."

Brian just frowned and shook his head. It was too much to take in all at once. He had to be lying.

"So why didn't you give me the letters?"

Eric looked to the floor embarrassedly. "When Sandy told Jack, you'd gone with Gay-, er Taylor, he burnt the letters, said if you were gonna miss an important meeting to spend time with a pansy, you didn't deserve the places."

"And you didn't stop him?" Brian fumed.

"Come on Bri, you know how persuasive Jack can me. He persuaded you to beat up Taylor for fucks sake."

Brian had no answer to that, he just sat back in his chair completely speechless. The scouts had been there for him. He was the reason they were at the match at all. He could barely get his head around it. It was too much, was he really good? He knew people had been saying it all his life but his dad had always said he only looked good because of Eric and Jack.

"It's easy to look good sonny boy, when Jack won't let anyone near you and Eric's as quick as he is." He could practically hear Jack senior saying it on every occasion that Brian had got man of the match.

"They were really there to see me?" He asked slowly.

"Yeah," Eric nodded solemnly. "You've got a real shot at NFL, Bri. Don't fuck it up or at least not because of some fucked up notion that you deserve it."

It was then that Jack burst into the room, shaking his head like a dog and showering his brother's with water.

"Asshole," Brian laughed, throwing a bread roll at him and the time for conversation was over.

::

Jack drove them into school, stealing a space from Lindsey just as she was about to reverse into it.

"Fucker," Mel yelled out of the window.

"Dyke," Jack shouted back and people laughed. Brian didn't he just kept his head down and walked with his brothers. He wasn't sure Mel, Linds and the others could hate him anymore at the moment anyway but he couldn't help look back and as he did, he saw him. He'd climbed awkwardly out of the back seat, helped by Mel and Emmett and was now making his way slowly across the yard, whilst Lindsey rushed off to find another space. Shit, he looked beautiful. Brian couldn't tear his eyes away from the blonde boy, until Eric nudged him with his elbow and hissed,

"stop staring, people will start to suspect." That wasn't the last time that week that Eric uttered that warning.

::

As far as Brian was concerned, the entire week was hell. Brian couldn't sit next to Justin in lessons, he didn't feel he could trust himself in that close proximity because he hadn't really realised until he saw the blonde again how much he'd missed him recently but it's hard to know your own mind when you're constantly high, or drunk, or fucking.

Seeing Justin sat near the front of the class whilst he sat with the crowd of people who tried to make Justin's life more miserable by throwing erasers and pencils at him for the entire lessons, just made Brian crave The Baths, it made him crave an escape from all these emotions that seemed to congeal within him into a vomit-like sludge. But he just chewed his pen, kept his head down and tried to concentrate on his school work. It didn't work. He couldn't concentrate on anything, he felt suffocated in every lesson he had with Justin, when the bell went to signal the end of school, he literally couldn't get out of there fast enough.

He went back to Michael's house after school like they had every day for the past week or so and Brian mocked Michael's comic book collection like he had every day for the past week or so and they drooled over some of the hunks in Debbie's glam-mags like they had every day for the past week or so. But when Michael asked if they were going to be going to Woody's that night, Brian found himself remembering what Eric said, 'You've got a real shot at NFL, Bri. Don't fuck it up,' so he shook his head and Michael had beamed, clearly relieved at being given the night off. They watched a movie, Debbie brought them some popcorn and when the credits rolled, she got Vic to take Brian home.

When Brian got there, he found his dad passed out on the sofa, an empty bottle of whiskey hanging limply from his hand. He tiptoed passed into the kitchen to get himself a snack. He hadn't expected to find his mother sat up and conscious at the table, in fact, Brian might even have questioned if this were truly his mother, the notorious drunkard, Joan Kinney if she weren't knocking back what appeared to be her fifth or maybe sixth a glass of sherry.

"Good day?" He asked, not really giving a shit.

"Mm," Joan nodded, sloshing her drink over the table. "Father Reynolds gave an enlightening sermon about love."

"That's nice," Brian frowned, getting an apple out of the fruit bowl and taking a bite from it.

"Mm, he was talking about those gays that hang around Liberty Avenue."

"He was?" Brian frowned. Fucking religious assholes, why couldn't they leave Liberty Avenue the hell alone?

"We're starting a collection for them. To help them see God's light," Joan clarified.

"Oh," Brian nodded.

"Don't you think that's good of him?" She slurred. "That he's willing to help even those who sin so freely."

"He sounds like a hell of a guy," Brian scorned.

"You should come with me tomorrow Brian," she said, "I'm going to Liberty Avenue to preach to them."

"Erm, yeah, I'd rather slice through my own arm with a blunt butter knife," Brian said casually.

"You know, your homophobia is not helpful. They've just lost the light, it's not there fault. Perhaps if they saw a young, happy normal boy like you, it would help them see God's path."

Brian snorted at the irony, but he quickly coughed to cover it before saying, "I'm still opting for the blunt knife," as he walked out of the room and up the stairs. He couldn't believe how hard it had been to hear his mother talking like that.

Did she truly believe that homosexuality could be cured? Did she really believe that some preaching and a fundraiser would alter the genetic make-up of millions of people worldwide? He began to wish she was right. Maybe if there was a cure then he wouldn't have to go through the hell of seeing Justin everyday and wanting him so much it hurt in places he didn't know existed.


	18. EraseReplace

**Sorry for the wait … my addiction to WWE on the Xbox took over my life for a few days (or should that be weeks - I am champion of champions though, so it was all worth it ;]) but never fear, my addiction is now centred safely back on this story so updates _should _be more swift … at least until uni starts again.**

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Brian spent the rest of the week, trying very hard to block out the world. He blocked out Justin's existence, he blocked out the fact his mother had been on Liberty Avenue all day every day preaching about God, he blocked out the need to get laid or get high or get drunk. Everyday was a struggle but on Saturday, as a treat, he called Michael and the two went to Babylon for 'Chest of Death' night. He still let guys buy him drinks, he still went into the backroom and got blown by some hot guy who was probably close to twice his age but he didn't feel like he couldn't live with out it, he just wanted it and that was different. He rolled home at one thirty and snuck up to his room proud of himself for being at least a little restraint.

::

"I'm so glad we sorted everything out," Justin whispered against his mouth. "I've been so lost without you Brian. You're all I think about."

"You too," Brian agreed, capturing those plump lips in a quick kiss. "I can't live without you."

"I love you Brian Kinney."

"I lo-"

A loud ringing cut through his thoughts. He pulled back from the kiss and looked around. What the hell? He couldn't see the phone, so he turned back to Justin but in Justin's place was a random trick from last night.

"I want you to fuck me for hours," he was saying.

"Hmm, have you seen Justin?"

The ringing got louder, Brian looked around again, when he looked back he saw Michael and he was leaning in for the kiss.

Ringing came again and Brian sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping a little.

It took him a moment to realise where he was and it took him even longer to work out that his cell was going off. He leant over and picked it up.

"Hello," he croaked. Then he cleared his throat and attempted the greeting again.

"Oh, sorry, did I wake you?"

"It's 8.30 on a Sunday," Brian groaned. "Yes, you woke me."

"Sorry. Listen, it's the opening of Rage tonight in the diner, do you wanna come by early and help set things up?"

"Ummm," Brian dragged his hand down his face, trying to wake himself up a bit. "Who's going?"

"The usual crew."

"Well, I don't think any of them would want me there," Brian sighed.

"So. _I _want you there."

"Mmm, look maybe I'll just swing by and see you at home after training."

"Or you could come to the diner after training," Michael said hopefully. "Please," he begged. "For me."

Brian closed his eyes. He cursed himself for the guilty-obligated feeling in his gut. He cursed himself for caring but most of all he cursed himself for saying,

"Okay Mikey, see you later."

::

He'd had to rush straight from training to the diner. He'd fired off an excuse to Jack and Eric about working at Malcolm's house glad that no one had asked him who Malcolm was, because, although he wasn't certain, he was pretty sure Malcolm had been the guy he'd got a shit blow job off the night before. He had to catch three busses to Liberty Avenue. He sure as hell hoped Michael appreciated the effort he was making for him.

Brian pushed open the door to the diner just as Debbie was announcing,

"It'll be the party to end all parties." As she grandly unveiled several 'Rage' posters that Justin had created. "It looks wonderful, doesn't it?" She beamed to the usual group, who all nodded enthusiastically.

"Wonderful sis," Vic agreed, nodding and taking a well deserved sip of his coffee. He'd been railroaded into helping about three hours ago and hadn't sat down since. Brian just frowned in confusion as he looked around.

"What the fuck?" He asked, causing the rest of the group to turn and glare at him.

"Something wrong, Brian?" Debbie frowned angrily. She was still pissed that Michael had so readily let this asshole back into their lives. As far as she was concerned, inner-turmoil over sexuality was something she'd help any young gay person with, but to actually take the anger out on someone else … well, she would not stand for that.

"No," he shook his head quickly, "as long as you don't want anyone to buy the comic."

"What?"

"Well why the hell are you advertising a comic book in a diner?"

"A gay diner," Mel pointed out.

"And a gay comic," Michael added.

"So? Put these posters in a comic book store, maybe one here but I think you'd be wasting your time. And you need them to stand out … maybe make it slightly vague but eye-catching. Maybe a bright orange background and a black silhouette of Rage with the words 'Rage is Here' written on it. I'd put them all around Liberty Avenue, get people wondering what the hell Rage is. Make it like the second coming."

Everyone looked at him in stunned, angry silence. Brian considered just turning on his heels and catching three busses home without another word until Justin emerged from the group turned to look at Debbie, saying "that _is_ quite a good idea, Deb. Maybe we could expand the reach a bit. Make it an event."

"I hate to say it," Emmett said steadily, "but it's true, no one even knows about the Rage launch party. We probably could do with more advertising first, maybe we could do this next Sunday?"

Debbie muttered something under her breath angrily before saying, "sit down you lot. I'll come and take your order now."

"That was an amazing idea, Bri," Michael smiled, dragging the boy to sit at their table "maybe you could go into advertising, if it doesn't work out with the football."

"Maybe," Brian nodded, as he watched Debbie talking to Vic, who then stood up wearily and began taking down all the posters he'd just spent hours putting up.

"Do you think we should help him?" Emmett asked.

"Yeah," Ted nodded, pushing Emmett a little. "Lets go and be good citizens."

"I'll help too," Justin grinned.

"No, honey," Mel said, glaring at Brian, "you rest. You've been badly hurt." Brian just dipped his head before moving out of the booth so that Lindsey and Melanie could get out and help remove all signs of Rage.

"Don't let her get to you too much," Lindsey said sweetly. "We all know it was Jack's fault really."

Brian nodded a little awkwardly before disappearing outside. He probably should have been helping to take down Rage things but he couldn't face being in there. Okay, so it seemed that Lindsey was going to give him a reprieve and he knew Michael wouldn't hold anything against him. If he were honest, he wasn't that bothered if Mel, Ted and Emmett didn't like him. He knew who his real friends were, but he absolutely couldn't stand the way Justin looked away every time he was near, like it was just too painful, to even meet his gaze.

He escaped to the bench at the front of the diner, but not before he stole a light off a kind stranger. He took a long drag and relaxed a little into the seat.

"Should you be smoking that?" A voice asked and Brian didn't have to look up to know it was Justin.

"No," he answered bluntly, before taking another drag.

"Your idea about the Rage posters was really good," he said slowly, coming to sit next to Brian.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to see a good idea squandered by shit marketing."

There was a pause where Brian felt sure he'd said the wrong thing and then Justin asked, "you really think the idea is good?"

"A gay superhero? Yeah, there's definitely a market for it," he nodded, taking another drag and offering it to Justin.

"No thanks," he said. They were silent for a moment and Brian hated how awkward it was. He wondered if he should just open his mouth and say the words dream-Brian had found so easy. And then Justin stood up, a bright smile on his face and foreign name on his lips.

"Ethan," he grinned, going over to meet a boy with curly brown hair, who was strolling towards them. He walked straight over and kissed him. "You came, I thought you had a recital."

"I skipped it," the boy shrugged. "I knew how important this party thing was to you so…."

"Oh, well it's sorta not happening now. Brian," Justin gestured to the brunet, who was getting to his feet laboriously and stamping out his cigarette, "had a brilliant idea about waves of expanded advertising so we're putting it on hold for a bit."

"Oh, right," Ethan looked disappointed but he painted a smile on his greasy face and said, "well, no worries. At least I get to spend more time with you," he leant in and kissed the blonde again. Brian felt a little sick.

"So, you coming in," Ethan asked, gesturing to the door.

"Sure, just give me a minute." Ethan nodded and Brian couldn't help feel smug as the boy eyed him warily before disappearing into the diner. Even a deaf person could have heard Debbie's excited squeal on seeing the boy and that made Brian feel worse. It was clear he'd been completely replaced in their lives now.

"Who the fuck is Ethan?" he asked, as soon as the diner door had closed.

"I'm seeing him," Justin said defiantly.

"Since when?"

"What's it matter to you?" Justin snapped.

"I'm just curious," Brian shrugged, patting his pockets, desperately seeking a stray cigarette. Anyone with half a brain cell could work out that Brian was a lot more than 'just curious'.

"I met him at hospital."

"Is it terminal?"

"Brian, that's horrible," Justin scolded, no hint of amusement in his eyes at all and Brian gave his jeans pocket another check. He was pretty sure he'd never needed a cigarette so much in his life.

"He goes to the hospital giving shows to the patients," Justin continued.

"Go-go boy?" Brian asked, in mock horror.

"No, violinist."

"Urgh," he shuddered. "I'd have thought you'd have had higher standards."

"What," Justin laughed ironically, "like you? Hanging around the Backroom and fucking your brains out with strangers."

"You heard about that?" Brian asked, dropping his head, taking a sudden interest in years worth of gum on the sidewalk.

"Everyone's heard about that," Justin scolded, "it's the talk of Liberty Avenue. You're _the_ number one lay, the one everyone wants to fuck. The one most people have."

"What can I say I'm a stud?" He smirked, looking at Justin again and pulling on his mark of arrogance.

"You're a whore," Justin said matter-of-factly, "and that's fine. I'm happy that you're finally discovering who you are! But don't you dare judge me, Kinney. Don't - you - dare!"

Justin turned on his heals and stormed into the diner. Brian watched through the window as Justin forced a smile onto his face as he went to Ethan's side and linked his arm. Two fake smiles, Brian thought. He was certain it would never last. Suddenly, he noticed Michael was looking at him through the window. He beckoned the boy with his finger and then headed off down the street. Michael was at his side in seconds.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked, his eyes wide and innocent like a puppy.

"Anywhere," was the honest reply.

"Wanna go where I always go when I'm pissed?" Michael asked.

"Sure."

"Come on then."

They were at the comic shop for hours. Brian had mocked it for a while but had soon surrendered to his nerdy side and had looked through the comics that Michael threw at him. Scorpion Head, X Men, Spiderman and then his favourite, the new Captain Astro.

"Let's buy this one," Brian said, eventually, dumping the other comics in the wrong place and holding Captain Astro up.

They'd gone back to Michael's after that and, lying on Michael's bed had looked through the comic together.

"This is so cool," Michael beamed as he turned to the last page to find Captain Astro caught in a death trap with seemingly no way of escaping.

"Until next time," Brian said knowingly. "And with one bound he was free."

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Michael smiled, rolling onto his back and looking up at his friend.

"That you still read comics now that you're 16."

"No, that my best friend is the most popular jock at school."

"I'm not popular," Brian laughed, shaking his head and getting to his feet. "And I'm not a jock. I just play football."

"I think you're popular," Michael said, turning back onto his stomach, watching Brian as he fiddled with all the objects in his room.

"Er, thanks," Brian chuckled, sometimes Michael was a bit weird, but he supposed that was one of the reasons he liked him, he hated people who were boring.

"People don't try to stuff you in lockers, or trip you up, or pull your chair away when you go to sit down."

"Only because they don't know I'm a fag," Brian sang. "Trust me. If they knew the truth, I'd be getting exactly the same treatment you do."

"I doubt it. You're still a jock, that would still stand for something."

"Maybe," Brian said, spinning around to find Michael incredibly close. "What are you doing?"

"This," Michael said, reaching up to push his lips to the taller boys, while his hand reached for his crotch.

"Woah," Brian pushed the boy back. "Michael, what's going on."

"Well I just thought."

"I don't fuck friends," Brian blurted out. He hadn't really thought about it before but it sounded like a good rule. After all, fucking friends could only lead to confusion and feelings and he'd had enough of feelings, they just messed with everything.

"But … I mean, you fuck everyone," Michael whined. "Why not me?"

"I respect you," Brian answered honestly. "I'd hurt you Mikey and I don't wanna do that."

And with that, he disappeared from the room. Michael chased him down the steps practically begging him to reconsider but Brian didn't look back. He didn't want to do anything he'd regret.

::

He didn't know where to go, so like a homing pigeon he ended up at the place he felt most comfortable … the school football pitch. He sat in the bleachers for what could have been minutes but might have been hours. He didn't think he'd ever have moved if it hadn't got too dark to see and the rain started drizzling. He just loved the smell of the field, the wind whipping against his face but he knew it was time to leave. He just couldn't decide where to go. He couldn't go to Michael's and he didn't want to go home, that meant there was only one option. Babylon.

He wasn't sure what time he staggered home. He wasn't even sure how he'd got to the front lawn. The only thing he could remember was Eric picking him up from the damp grass and dragging him inside. He was pretty sure his brother threw him onto his bed muttering 'asshole' before disappearing.

Brian could only assume he'd passed out after that, because now the sun was streaming through the windows and an alarm was drilling at his ears. He groaned, his head was banging as he dragged himself out of bed.

He trudged down to the breakfast table, Eric passed him the cereal stonily and he knew the only reason they weren't arguing was because Jack was there but Eric still managed to hiss,

"you're fucking lucky I've got the front bedroom. You were a mess Brian."

"Sorry," he'd muttered back.

"Sorry's bullshit," Eric snapped and resumed the silent treatment.

::

Brian felt like shit. It was like nothing else could go wrong. Justin had a new boyfriend, Michael had made things awkward and Eric wasn't talking to him. At least Lindsey had started talking to him again, so chemistry wasn't quite so painful.

"I heard what happened with Michael," she said, nudging him a little. "You shouldn't just ignore him. Just carry on like it didn't happen. You were really close before this happened."

"I don't know what I did without you," Brian said honestly. "You're like my fucking conscience, or my common sense or something."

"I just care about you Bri," she said. "I know that deep down, very, very, very deep down…"

"Bitch."

"… that you're a good person."

They both smiled and then Brian leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Kinney, Peterson," the teacher shouted, breaking them apart. "Can you cut that out!"

"Sorry sir," they said in near unison, before collapsing into silent giggles.

By noon the next day, the whole school had heard how Brian had turned a lesbian and Brian would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't the most popular boy in school.

"People are so fickle," he muttered to Lindsey as they stood at his locker and someone shouted.

"You go B-dog."

"I'm hoping it'll end after high school," Lindsey replied as another person shouted something similar in Brian's direction. "Since when are you 'B-dog'?"

"Fuck knows," Brian shook his head. "I wish they'd stop though, it sounds awful."

"I like it," Linds laughed. "B-dog," she repeated in the same voice the boys used. "No, you're right it is awful."

"Yeah, and they only say it because they think we're a couple."

"I know. Mel's pissed.

"Well, by all means, make out with her in public. I don't think I can stand to be called 'B-dog' again."

Lindsey smiled and then waved to someone behind Brian. The boy turned around to see Justin coming towards them.

"Hey, Justin," Lindsey grinned.

"Hi," he smiled at her then he turned to Brian. "Hello Brian."

Brian just gave an awkward half-wave and suddenly found something to do in his locker.

"Are we still meeting with the magazine tonight?"

"Yep," Justin said. "We're still really short on articles. I'm not sure it's going to go out full this week."

"Have you written about the church that turned up on Liberty Avenue trying to cure 'homosexuality'?"

Brian internally cursed his fucking mother and her fucking minister and their fucking do-gooder bullshit.

"Yeah, got some interesting quotes off a woman too. Joan Kinney."

Brian flinched, causing himself to bang his head on the locker. He swore sharply under his breath and turned to Justin. "Whatever my mother said, it doesn't go for me."

"Oh, I know," Justin reassured him politely. The two boys just stared at each other, their eyes locked, no one saying anything. It was like now they'd met each others gaze that was going to be it forever, well, until the silent spell was broken.

"Don't you worry," Lindsey said eventually, "I'm sure we'll get the magazine finished." She was nothing if not unfailingly optimistic.

"Sure," Justin nodded, finally tearing his gaze from Brian. "Well, I've got to get to class."

"Oh, okay. See you later."

"Later," Brian muttered like a lame afterthought.

Brian shut his locker and fell against it glumly, watching as the blonde disappeared around the corner.

"You should talk to him properly," Lindsey's voice said in his ear. "Tell him how you feel."

"Feel?" He said because for some reason he still felt like he had to act dumb.

"Don't play that with me," Lindsey warned. "It's obvious in the way you look at him."

Brian just gave her a forced smile as she insisted he talk to Justin again and again.

"It wouldn't change anything," Brian said bitterly, once he was totally fed up. "He's with Ian now." And he walked away before Lindsey could say anything else.

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**Yeah I know. Ethan … booooooo! But bear with me, I swear he'll be gone soon (next chapter in fact).**

**I do believe in the show he was SO important to Brian and Justin's relationship, possibly one of the most important things that happened to them along with the bashing and the bomb. There was always going to be an Ethan for Justin to realise how important Brian was to him (despite his faults), and, unfortunately, this story needs an Ethan to fulfil the same purpose.**

**Reviews and comments are ALWAYS much appreciated … love to you all!**

**InconspicuousBunny…xx**


	19. It Only Makes Me Want Him More

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and to everyone who's still reading. You'll never know how privileged I feel that you read fics written by little old me! So thank you.**

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**Brian had been going through the motions all week, trying to hold it all together but now he felt a little lost. School had finished a few minutes ago and the car park had already cleared. Brian hadn't wanted to go back to Michael's today, even though he'd been invited. He'd gone back a few times this week and it had been fine, no weird come-ons but now that he knew Michael was totally enamoured with him, he was beginning to feel like he was leading him on by always being their and he didn't like that. He didn't want to go home either, he absolutely could not bear to listen to Joan talk about her efforts to cure the dwellers of Liberty Avenue. So he just walked down to the football field and stood in the centre of it imagining what it would be like to stand on a pitch at the Super Bowl. He imagined picking up the ball, and in his head he heard the commentary as he began to mimic the actions.

"Kinney side steps one," he muttered, practicing the perfect side step, "spins from another," he span, "the wing his open. He runs!" Brian sprinting down the wing and into the end zone. "Touch down!" He yelled, "the crowds going wild." Then stopped looking around at the empty field and deserted bleachers. He felt stupid but he could imagine them filled with die-hard Jets fans cheering him loudly. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible to live this dream.

He smiled to himself and began to walk back up towards the school. As he passed the changing rooms he heard voices coming from around the corner. He rounded it quickly to find Hobbs with Justin pressed against the wall. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on but he knew it couldn't be good with Hobbs involved.

"What the fuck?" He asked, and Hobbs grabbed the front of Justin's shirt, looking menacing.

"Hobbs, what the fuck are you doing?" Brian shouted.

"Th-this fucking pervert was … checking me out," Hobbs stammered.

"I doubt it," Brian scoffed. "Leave him the hell alone."

"I don't need your help Brian," Justin scowled, "I can look after myself."

"Yeah I can see that," Brian scorned and then to Hobbs he said, "now!" And Hobbs dropped Justin's shirt and took a step away. He looked terrified though Brian wasn't sure why, maybe it was because Hobbs thought he'd happily kicked the shit out of Justin and would have no problem doing the same to him; maybe it was because Hobbs was a coward. "What are you doing here anyway, Hobbs?"

"Detention … for a week," the boy scowled. "Fucking Rogers, just coz I didn't answers any questions on a pop quiz."

"What an asshole," Brian agreed outwardly, though quite frankly he thought anyone who didn't bother to answer a single question on a pop quiz deserved detention for a week.

"Mm," Hobbs agreed, "then this fucking faggot appears trying to suck my cock or something," he shoved Justin against the wall again and the smaller boy winced. "You'd know all about that though, Bri," he said coldly. "He followed you around for long enough, right?"

"Right," Brian nodded. It was common knowledge around the school that Justin Taylor had had a crush on Brian Kinney, it just wasn't known exactly how much Brian had liked him back.

"You and Jack taught him a lesson though, yeah? Maybe I should too."

"I think he learnt his 'lesson' last time," Brian frowned. "Leave him the fuck alone. I'm sure he won't mess with you again, will you Taylor?"

"No," Justin shook his head quickly and Hobbs seemed satisfied. He let Justin go and took a few more steps back.

"Just you watch yourself … Gaylor," he snarled as he walked away to finish tidying up the changing rooms.

"Trouble just follows you around, doesn't it?" Brian said stonily, a smug lilt to his voice.

"But you always seem to walk in at the last minute," Justin pointed out, "I'm surprised you didn't come and join him. Or do you only join in when it's your brother who's attacking me."

"I said I was sorry for that but I think I helped this time."

"Mm," Justin huffed, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Well, I didn't need your help so you shouldn't have bothered."

Brian just nodded as he jogged to keep up with Justin's brisk walk. This was the first time they'd been alone in what seemed like forever, he wasn't going to ruin it.

"What are you doing here anyway?" He asked.

"None of your business," Justin snapped but after a second he seemed to soften and said, "I was looking for a story for the magazine if you must know. The final copy has to be put together tomorrow and we're still an article short."

"Oh," then after a pause he said, "er how is Ian?"

"Ethan," Justin corrected angrily. "And he's just fine, thank you."

"Is he still begging for money?"

"He's not begging, he's a street performer."

"That's just a beggar with an instrument," Brian shrugged.

Suddenly Justin turned to face him, his face thunderous. "What do you have against Ethan?"

"Ian," Brian corrected, with a cheeky smirk.

"Argh," Justin practically screamed, speeding up his stride. Of course it was useless, Brian could out-stride and out-run him easily. There was no escape.

"He's arrogant, he's pompous," the brunet listed.

"You don't know that. You hardly spoke to him! And how the hell do you even know he's a street performer?"

"Michael told me," he shrugged.

"You got Michael to fill you in about Ethan?" Justin asked incredulously.

"A bit," he said nonchalantly. "But it didn't take long for me to work out that he's an asshole."

"Christ Brian, anyone would think you were jealous of him."

Brian said nothing, he just halted, looked at the floor and stubbed his toe into the dirt. Justin knew that although Brian would never admit it, he'd stumbled upon the truth.

"No," Justin shook his head furiously. "No way, you have _no_ right to be jealous. I gave you all the chances in the world. I was willing to forgive you for kicking in the damn ribs but you…." He could feel the tears welling up inside him. He could feel the pain, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday and he knew this boy would always be able to get to him. He took a deep breath, blinked the imminent tears away and said very purposefully, "I'm with Ethan now, I care about Ethan."

"Do you love him?" Brian asked, unable to stop the question as it shot from his mouth like a pistol that's accidentally fired.

"I, he, we…." Justin stopped took a breath and stared Brian straight in the eye, his jaw set, his mouth in a firm line. "He's my boyfriend now Brian, that's all that matters."

"But you don't love him," Brian smiled.

"Why are you smiling?"

"You don't love him," Brian smiled wider. "That means I still have a chance."

Justin stared in disbelief. He couldn't believe Brian, Brian goddamn Kinney, was saying these things to him. A few months ago, he'd have given anything to hear him say something like this but now … now it just sent all his emotions into a whirl of confusion. It felt like every fibre in his body was screaming at him to leap forward and kiss the boy but his head reminded him of all the shit. He let logic win this battle. After all, this was the boy who'd hurt him more than anyone else before, this was the boy who'd shattered his heart into a million pieces who'd taken everything he had and given him barely anything. But this was also the boy he thought about every second of every day with or with out Ethan, the boy that meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

And here he was, asking if he still had a chance with Justin. Justin just stared as logic and passion fought within him but eventually, logic won out. He gathered all his reserve and stared Brian down.

"I've made my choice," he said coolly, and with that, he walked away, his head held high and his already shattered hard breaking even more. He wondered now, if he'd ever be able to put it back together.

::

Brian had been distracted through History lesson, he hadn't answered a single question or taken any notes or paid any attention to anything being said by his teacher or his peers. He'd just watched the back of Justin's golden hair moving around as he wrote and answered questions and paid attention to everything being said by his teacher and his peers.

Brian couldn't help himself. He felt sure that, in spite of everything, Justin still cared about him, he just hoped it would be enough for Justin to come back to him. He was sick of being without Justin, he was sick of trying to replace him and sick of trying to ignore him. He didn't love him, love was for lesbians; Mel and Linds to be precise, but it wasn't for him. He just needed Justin in his life to function properly, to stop him going off the rails and going out every night. One night a week was enough, one trip to Babylon was more than satisfactory. He didn't need to put himself at risk to have fun but he did need Justin … desperately.

::

The football team had taken over half the canteen as usual and they were shouting and being loud as they put each other through a kind of hell, all in the name of team bonding. Of course, none of the teachers were going to say anything to them, but Justin knew that if he suddenly stood up and started doing some kind of crazy activity involving lots of shouting and Neanderthal-like intelligence, he'd be suspended quicker than Brian Kinney could throw a football 40 yards.

He sighed, his eyes being drawn to the tall brunet who was still getting his food the dinner lady. He'd managed to bag himself two desserts because of his performance in the last game, though Justin couldn't help feel Brian Kinney hadn't played at his best for a long time. Still, that didn't seem to matter, he was still running the show on the field, much to Hobb's utter annoyance. Maybe that was why Hobbs insisted on all these ridiculous acts of idiocy to help team bonding, Justin had a good idea that it was the only reason he was still in the team.

Just then, Brian walked passed their table and Justin watched him go by; inhaling deeply and closing his eyes, he savoured every second of their fleeting proximity.

He sighed heavily and opened his eyes to see Emmett shooting him a knowing look.

"For someone who claims to have 'moved on'," Emmett quoted with his fingers, "you're sure as hell acting like the miserable ex, who's still hung up."

Justin sighed, "I know, it's just Ethan's sweet and romantic and sweet."

"You said sweet."

"I know, I just can't think of anything else."

Emmett smiled, before asking, "and Brian?"

"Is hot, passionate, fucked-up, intense, smart, funny…"

"Okay, I think when you're using fucked up as a positive point, you know you're in deep."

"I knooow," Justin whined. "And do you know the worst of it, I can't go to liberty avenue anymore without hearing his goddamn name. There always seems to be someone he's fucked within a few yards."

"Brian's tricks are like rats, you're never more than three yards from one."

"That's disgusting."

"And true," Emmett smiled. "So … does hearing about all his conquests make you jealous?"

"Worse," Justin sighed dejectedly.

"Angry?"

"Worse."

"Er … murderous?"

"No, Em!" Justin cried, half-laughing, half-horrified.

"Well what then?" Emmett asked with undeserved innocence.

Justin shook his head, he looked embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, "it just makes me want him more."

"Why, Justin Taylor, and I always had you down as such a prude, well, apart from the odd blowjob in the backroom of course but for a fag on Liberty Avenue, that's still a prude. But now look at you, willing to share your man with the world."

"That's not what I meant," Justin defended quickly, "or maybe it is, I don't know…."

"Honey, I may be older and wiser…"

"You're only in the year above, Em."

"...and more experienced than you," Emmett continued, ignore his friend's interruption, "but even I can't work out what you're on about when you talk in riddles."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize just tell your aunty Em what's on your mind."

"Brian," Justin admitted exasperatedly. "He's always on my mind, it doesn't matter what I'm doing. I'm always drawing him, always thinking about him."

"Well, baby, sometimes it takes a long time to get over someone you were close too. I mean, remember how long it took me to get over Calvin."

"Weren't you fucking Brent by the next evening?"

"Yes, but it took a full 16 hours," Emmett said and Justin had the distinct feeling he was talking to the wrong person.

Emmett spotted the look on Justin's face and immediately apologised before adding, "you really seemed to be getting over him."

"I was," Justin nodded. "But then …." He sighed, looked at his friend and said quietly, "do you know when I found Brian sexiest?"

"When he was fucking your brains out?"

"No, well yes, but for the purpose of this conversation, no."

"Right, when then?"

"When he was playing football."

"Ah, say no more, tight pants and shoulder pads do it for me too."

"No, Em," Justin almost screamed, "listen to me."

"Oh, sorry baby," Emmett smiled apologetically, "I got a little carried away. So, why when he's playing football?"

"Because he gets this air about him. This confidence, maybe even arrogance, like he knows no one can touch him, like he knows he's brilliant and he looks happy, really happy. And it was so sexy … and now,"

Justin sighed, looking over to where Brian was stood with the football team, watching as Hobbs was necking some massive tub of iced-smoothie, which could only result in brain freeze, "now, he's got that same strut and swagger when he's on Liberty Avenue."

"And that gets you hot under the collar?"

"It gets me hot everywhere," Justin groaned, peering over as a loud cheer went up from the football players as Hobbs threw the tub to the floor, face smeared in red smoothie, arms in the air like some kind of God. But Justin wasn't looking at him, he was staring at the brunette a yard away, his hands buried deep in the pocket of his letterman's jacket and a look on his face like he'd rather be on Liberty Avenue. Justin sighed. He was sure Brian was a lost cause, after all, Brian could have any guy in gay Pittsburgh, why would he choose Justin?

"You know," Emmett said, almost answering Justin's thoughts, "if I were going to try and win back someone like Brian Kinney, I'd try and make him jealous, make him realise what he's missing."

"And how the hell am I going to do that?"

"Fuck another jock," Emmett smiled.

"Oh yeah, like there's any other gay jocks in this school."

"There's one," Emmett smirked, pinching Justin's chin between thumb and forefinger until the younger boy was facing Hobbs. "There's always one," Emmett chuckled as Hobbs looked suddenly straight in their direction, causing Emmett to shoot him a flirty wave.

A look and action that wasn't missed by one Brian Kinney, causing his brother, once again, to warn him about staring.

"Didn't you say he came on to you yesterday?" Emmett whispered.

Justin shrugged, truth was, he wasn't entirely sure what would have happened between Hobbs and himself if Brian hadn't walked by.

"But," Emmett swung around to look at him, "first things first, get rid of that greasy, mangy, flea-magnet Ethan coz' baby," Emmett put as hand over his heart and sighed dramatically, "it pains me to see you with him."


	20. Isn't Anyone Straight Anymore?

"Big game this week," Eric was saying as he and Brian walked towards the locker-room. "Reckon the coach is gonna have us learning some new plays."

"I doubt it," Brian shook his head. "He's just gonna rely on your speed like he always does. He hasn't got any other ideas. Defence is for shit."

"Just lucky offence is so talented then," Eric chuckled, pulling at his own jacket in fake arrogance.

"Asshole," Brian laughed, pushing his brother playfully in the shoulder so the other boy stumbled a little.

Eric just grinned back, pushing the door to the changing rooms open and walking through. Brian followed and was disgusted by what he saw.

Jack had one of his mates from the team curled up in a foetal position in front of some lockers as he carefully re-enacted what had happened with Justin.

"I kicked him here," he grinned proudly, slowly pushing his foot into his friend's stomach like an overly dramatic slow-motion replay. "You just pretend to cry like some pathetic faggot," he directed to the boy on the floor.

"Wah, wah, wah," the other boy joined in, and the team laughed. "I'm Gaylor and I'm such a fag I can't even throw a punch in a fight. Wah, wah, wah."

"That's likeness is uncanny," Jack laughed. "Then," he turned grandly to the team, "I dropped my knee into him, like this." He did another slow demonstration of his knee hitting Justin flush in the head and one of the boys cheered and clapped loudly. "And that was when Brian joined in," Jack said, looking through the crowd to find his youngest brother. "Where is he?"

Everyone just shrugged and looked around as though Brian might suddenly appear from within a locker.

"He was there a second ago," the captain, Joey Bridger, frowned and the others were equally confused, except Eric. He'd watch his brother get madder and madder before turning around and disappearing silently from the room.

::

Brian walked over to the tree at the top of the slope opposite and kicked it hard. He immediately regretted his decision as pain seared through his toes and burnt up into his ankle.

"FUCK!" He screamed, slumping onto the floor. He felt tense and angry and wanted nothing more than to run back into the changing room and punch Jack in the face but he promised himself there'd be no more violence whatever happened. His temper had already cost him too much.

He just sat for a moment or two, thinking and trying not to think about Jack's proud little performance in the changing rooms. And then he heard it, whistling. He looked up and saw the coach approaching in the distance. Shit. He was too pissed to play sport right now. He'd be reckless and crazy, he'd probably try to take down Jack regardless of teams and positions, so he jumped to his feet and ran to the nearest hiding place.

He spotted it straight away. The sports cupboard, perfect. No one would walk in there, no one would even think to look there. He pulled back the door and slid inside. Nothing on earth could have prepared him for what he saw.

"Fuck me," he whispered. And the two guilty boys looked up. Brian's eyebrow raised calmly. He felt cool and collected despite his guts telling him to run over there and rip Hobbs' head off, because what he'd found was Hobbs, eyes closed sat on the floor, with Justin jerking him off.

"It's not what it looks like," Hobbs said quickly.

"Course not," Brian laughed. He was angry, he was hurt, he felt a bit giddy. He was jealous, he was amused he felt like every single possible emotion was coursing through him and he wasn't sure which one to focus on first.

"It's not," Hobbs continued, "he jumped me."

Brian just laughed again, hadn't he used the exact same excuse, when Jack had caught him kissing Justin at the concert. Hobbs was on his feet now, zipping up his pants. Justin was scrambling to his feet too, refusing to meet Brian's eyes.

"It's not fucking funny," Hobbs shouted. "I'm gonna get him arrested for rape."

"You know that it's only rape when one party isn't consenting, right?" Brian said slowly. "Coz you looked pretty consenting to me."

"I'm not a fag!" Hobbs yelled, then he turned to Justin and pushed him hard. He fell against a cage and stumbled awkwardly, hitting his head hard. "You hear me Taylor, I'm not a fag!"

"I never said you were," Justin muttered, struggling back to his feet. "Christ," he grumbled, "what is it with jocks and not admitting who they really are?"

Hobbs saw red. "I said I'm not a fag," he seethed, picking up the nearest object, a baseball bat and swinging blindly for Justin's head.

Justin flinched, he put up his arms and closed his eyes. He heard a crash and a bang but he felt nothing. He opened his eyes again to see Hobbs flat out on the floor with Brian sat on his chest, throwing the baseball bat away to a safe distance before scrambling to his feet.

"What the fuck Bri?" Hobbs demanded, struggling to sit up. "Defending queers now? You a fag or something?" He joked.

Brian said nothing, he just looked at the floor and refused to answer.

"No fucking way," Hobbs said, stepping away from the pair quickly. "You're a cocksucker. You filthy, fucking queer. You wait til the rest of the team hear about this."

"Tell them," Brian said steadily, " and I'll make sure the whole school knows that I caught you getting a hand job of a fag."

The two boys glared at each other until eventually, Hobbs broke and walked away. "Fuck you Kinney," he shouted over his shoulder. "You'll regret this!"

And then there was just two of them standing in silence. There was only one question, who was going to speak first? Eventually, Brian opened his mouth.

"You truly have the worst taste in guys," he said steadily.

"What can I say," Justin shrugged, "I can't resist the thrill of trying to turn a straight guy."

"But do you have to keep opting for the psychopathic, homophobic ones?"

"I like a challenge."

"You're fucking crazy more like," Brian sighed, going to the wall and using it to slide to the floor.

"You think he'll tell anyone … about you?"

Brian shook his head. "He's more terrified of people finding out his dirty little secret than I am."

Justin nodded and the silence engulfed them again. "So," Brian spoke after a short while, "do you like him?"

"Hobbs?"

Brian nodded.

"No," Justin whispered, "I mean, he's hot but…" he breathed in deeply, "he just reminded me of someone I do like. Someone I've been struggling to try and replace."

They looked into each others eyes, neither under any allusions as to how the other felt about them, and in a romance movie or a television drama or some great literary novel, this would have been the moment that they've have leant together and kissed. But Brian hadn't read much romance in his life, he didn't realise there were rules to obey, so he destroyed the moment by asking;

"are you talking about Ian?"

And Justin could only laugh at the ridiculousness of the question.

"No," he chuckled. "Not Ethan. Ethan was just a guy I tried to fall for. But he wanted all this bullshit love crap that I couldn't give him."

"Why not?"

"Because despite all the logic in me screaming at me that it was stupid, I love you Brian. I have since the second I saw you."

Brian was silent for a moment, staring at the dusty floor. "Shouldn't Hobbs have tidied this room?"

"Brian," Justin scolded, "can't you be serious for just a second?"

"I'm sorry," the other boy whispered. "I … I don't know what to do when someone says they love me. I'm not used to it, I don't understand it, it makes me nervous. I panic and I don't know what to say."

"Say what you feel," Justin beseeched. "_Please_."

Brian nodded, took a deep breath and, fiddling with the open zip of his jacket, he began.

"I don't believe defining this is going to make it better or worse. But I know that I'm a mess without you and that I've never cared about anyone as much as I care about you. And that scares me so much I can barely handle it." He stopped and Justin could see he was shaking. He reached over and squeezed his knee gently. Brian covered Justin's hand with his own and closed his eyes, and the words began again;

"I don't want to be tied down," he said steadily. "I've seen the underworld of Liberty Avenue and I love it. I want to be able to go there and fuck every hot guy I see. We're too young to get together now and call it forever but I can't to lose you. It kills me when I see you and I know I can't kiss you or touch you or hold you. I need you in my life … Justin. But I don't wanna promise you monogamy when … I don't know if I'm ready for that. I mean I'm a goddamn Kinney. I may never be ready for that."

"So we're together," Justin said slowly, "but we have the freedom to fuck who we want. But only once," he stipulated.

"Okay," Brian nodded.

"And then," Justin smiled that beaming smile that Brian had missed, "when we've fucked all the guys we want, and we've had our fun, then we'll buy a place a country and get married."

"I hope that one day that's possible," Brian mumbled.

"I know it is," Justin smiled.

Their lips meant gently and they both smiled as a tingling, neither of them had felt for far too long pulsed through them from the briefest of touches.

"To polygamy," Justin whispered as their tongues met in a dance of lust and love.

Brian started to unbutton Justin's shirt but the smaller boy stopped him.

"Not here," he shook his head frantically, "you never know who'll walk in."

"Fine, can we go back to yours?"

"Yeah but," the blonde blushed a little looking innocent and sweet before ruining it by saying, "take me to The Baths." Then pushing his lips to Brian's ear he whispered, "I want everyone to see you fuck me in public."

"You sure?" Brian said.

"Yeah," Justin beamed, "come on, lets go."

::

"You look happy," Eric commented as Brian waltzed in through the front door at around eight.

"I have made amends," Brian announced grandly, ruffling his brother's hair.

"No shit," Eric smirked, he was mildly impressed. He'd thought Brian was going to spend the rest of his life moping about his lost childhood sweetheart. "Well, I hope it was worth it, the coach is pissed that you missed training."

"That's okay, I'll just tell him I was having a different kind of cardio workout."Eric screwed up his face and went a bit green. "That was far more information than I needed."

Brian just smiled and sat on the other sofa, a stupid look plastered across his face.

Eric pulled an unimpressed face. "Stop grinning you fool," he groaned. "You look like a …," his brain struggled for an appropriate word but none came to him except, "fag."

"Uh-huh," he laughed. "Er, where's mom, dad and Jack?"

"Mom and dad went to bed, drunk and Jack went with Hobbs and a few of the other guys to that strip club in town."

"Really?" Brian smirked, "did Hobbs suggest that by any chance?"

"Yeah, how did you know that?"

"I just figured he'd be trying to assert his heterosexuality."

Eric looked to the other boy with a puzzled expression. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Brian laughed a little, wondering whether or not to share his piece of gossip but then deciding fuck it he said, "you can't tell anyone."

"Scouts honour," he mocked.

"I caught Hobbs getting a hand job off Justin."

"Justin," Eric repeated dumbly. "Your Justin?"

"Well not _my _Justin, he doesn't belong to me."

"But we are talking about Taylor?"

"Yeah."

"And Hobbs?"

"Yeah," Brian smirked.

"Fucking hell," Eric whistled. "Isn't anyone straight anymore?"

"I guess not," Brian laughed.

"So what did you do to him?"

"Who?"

"Hobbs, you caught him being jerked off by your boyfriend. Did you threaten him at all?"

"Justin and I," Brian paused dramatically, "we have an arraignment."

"You can fuck outside the relationship?" Eric asked in disbelief.

"Yup."

"Christ, being gay really does have it's advantages, doesn't it?"

Brian just smiled wryly and got to his feet, "Budweiser?" He offered as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Please," Eric nodded.

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**Thanks for reading! xx**

**(Just read the bit in bold above and realised it sounds a bit like I could be ending the story so, just to warn you, there's still LOADS more to come! =D Sorry, you're not getting rid of this fic that easily!)**


	21. Is There No Such Thing As Privacy?

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter...**

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"So," Justin drawled, holding up the poster in front of his chest, "what do you think?"

"I think you're psychopathically insane," Brian answered, turning his attention back to his revision.

"Oh come on," Justin whined, "it'll be fun."

"Bullshit," was the blunt answer, as Brian pondered his homework, chewing furiously on his pen. "Damn it," he groaned. "Wives of Henry VIII… go."

"No idea," Justin shrugged. "Ask Emmett, he's good with queens."

"I bet," Brian smirked, looking up to his boyfriend for a split second before realising that looking at the blonde stood in the centre of his bedroom also meant looking at that goddamn poster. Wasn't it bad enough he had to look at them all round school? The event wasn't for weeks anyway.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" He called, grateful for the interruption.

"Er, the only one of your brothers who doesn't think entering your bedroom might give him AIDS," Eric answered his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Asshole," Brian muttered. "What do you want?"

"Was that a 'come in'?" Eric asked, warily.

"Yes, come in. What do you want?"

Eric's head appeared around the door.

"Hey Eric," Justin smiled politely.

"Er, hi," Eric gave the blonde a very forced smile and pretended that he was okay with having a fag in the house. It was weird but despite everything, Eric still couldn't stand faggots. In his mind, Brian was Brian and Justin was a fag and that was the way it was.

"What do you want?" Brian repeated, unable to hide his utter enjoyment at Eric's obvious awkwardness.

"Do you have a compass?"

"What do you take me for, a dork?" Brian scoffed. "Go and ask some loser."

"Er … I have a compass you can borrow," Justin said somewhat timidly.

Brian just shook his head and muttered, "dweeb," in the blonde's direction but before Justin had chance to respond Eric had asked.

"You do?"

"Sure," Justin smiled. "It's in my bag, hold on."

Justin put the poster he'd been holding on the desk and started rummaging in his enormously oversized rucksack. Of course Eric picked up the poster. He looked at it for a second before showing it to Brian.

"Are you going to this?"

"Not in this lifetime," Brian reassured him. "Anyway, it's not for our year, it's for yours."

Eric nodded and put the roll of glossy paper back on the desk. "Still," he smiled, "imagine if you two showed up. The parents would have a shit fit, it would probably make national news or something."

"That's what I said," Justin agreed, finally emerging from his bag with the pointy compass in his hand.

"Yeah, but Eric was using that as a reason why we shouldn't go," Brian pointed out. "You were using it as fuel as to why we should."

"I just think it would be good, that's all," Justin said. "A real fuck you to everyone in that year. Here," he handed the compass to Eric.

"Thanks," Eric mumbled, as Brian stated, "I think I've made enough grand gestures this year already. I don't need to turn up to prom with you on my arm."

"How do you know you wouldn't be on my arm?"Eric snorted a little and suddenly felt the full force of a Taylor glare. He coughed embarrassedly and held up the compass.

"Er, thanks," he repeated. "I'll give it back to you before you go."

"Or whenever," Justin nodded and Eric ducked out of the room.

"He's definitely going to return that before you leave," Brian laughed. "He wouldn't be caught dead speaking to you in school."

"Well I think that limited conversation nearly killed him," Justin chuckled sadly.

"He doesn't hate you personally, you know."

"I know, he just hates fags."

"Well, yeah. It's kinda drilled into you from an early age in this family."

"Good job you got over it then, huh?" Justin smiled sexily as he sauntered over gracefully like a fox.

"Uh-huh," Brian agreed whole heartedly. He dropped his pen to his desk, happy that the time for revision was over. "I recovered remarkably well."

"How well?" Justin teased him.

"I'll show you," Brian smiled wolfishly, throwing Justin onto the bed and pouncing on top of him.

Brian pulled Justin's shirt over his head so violently, the younger boy was worried that it would rip in two but he was passed caring, he just leaned into everyone of Brian's touch. Since they'd made the extra-curricular fucking policy their sex-life had improved massively. They always had new tricks they'd learned. New moves to try out. It was always hot and different and sexy as fuck. Brian's hands went above his head as his vest was removed and then he slid down Justin's body to remove his shorts and pants.

He was about to yank them off when….

"Oh I also wanted to know if… urgh. FUCK ME," Eric groaned, turning away looking slightly green in discuss.

"Well I was gonna fuck him but whatever," Brian huffed sitting up on the bed as Justin rushed to pull his trousers up to a more respectable position.

"Oh that was more than I can even…. Urgh. I feel a bit sick," Eric was moaning.

"Eric," Brian shouted, snapping brother out of a seemingly endless cycle of gagging noises. "What do you want?"

"Erm, nothing," he said quickly. He was pale, like he'd seen a ghost, or perhaps his brother about the fuck a guy. "Nothing. I'll er… I'll go."

"Good," Brian nodded, following Eric to the door.

As he was about to shut it, Eric said, "be safe."

And Brian slammed the door and chuckled.

Justin pulled an anxious expression and nibbled on his thumb. "Woops," he whispered.

"He shouldn't have barged in," Brian shrugged.

"He's being really good about this, you probably shouldn't push him."

"He shouldn't have barged in," Brian repeated more firmly.

"Still, maybe we should go to the Baths or something."

"Or," Brian smirked, latching onto one end of his desk and hauling it sideways until it covered the door, "I could just stop people coming in."

"I like that idea too," Justin smiled.

"Mmm, so … where were we?" Brian laughed, pouncing back on the bed and continuing where they'd left off.

::

Eric was grateful for a second time that his bedroom was at the front of the house. It meant he could hide safely in his bedroom until he knew Justin had gone.

When he finally emerged, he walked downstairs to find Brian in sweatpants and no top, chugging juice straight from a carton.

"Mom'll kill you if she catches you doing that."

Brian smiled and offered the carton to his brother.

"No … thanks."

Brian shrugged and replaced the juice before raiding the fridge for food.

"Sorry," Eric blurted out, blushing horribly.

Brian smirked, he'd wondered how long Eric was going to ignore the elephant in the room.

"It's okay. Justin and I have fucked in public loads of times. You were more freaked out than us."

"Well, can you blame me?"

Brian shut the fridge door, munching on some ham that he'd found on the top shelf and looked at his brother for a moment before sighing heavily. "Sorry, you've been really good to me recently. I didn't mean to take advantage. I won't bring him here again, we'll find other places to hang … and fuck," he smirked. He couldn't help himself, it made him chuckle to see Eric squirm but, still intent on winning brother of the year, Eric said;

"you don't have to do that," but a blind man could see he was lying.

"Yeah," Brian laughed, "I do." And then after a second he said quietly, "you don't have to be perfect you know. I can see you're not comfortable with all this and I don't mind if you wanna tell me you don't like me having Justin in the house."

"Well, I don't," Eric wriggled uncomfortably, "but it's not up to me. If you want him here, that's fine but I wouldn't make a habit of it. If dad or Jack catches him…."

"Yeah, I know. I'm grateful you know, of how cool you're being."

"I'm just trying to make things easy for you."

"Hey," Brian smirked, tapping his brother on the shoulder, "the fact you haven't tried to murder me in my sleep is enough for me." Then he sniffed a little and said, "I need a shower."

"Yeah," Eric joked, "you stink."

"Asshole."

::

First class was boring as hell. No Lindsey, no Justin, no anyone, so he blended in with the jocks at the back of the class and carried on as usual. The next lesson was chemistry with Lindsey, the next was History with Justin and then there was English, which he now shared with Michael after some mix-up with the faculty timetabling but that was all there was, just lessons and working and life. Brian still met Eric and Jack for lunch, Jack had finally shut up about his night at the strip bar because Sandy was around and he was still keeping her sweet for times when other girls weren't there. There was a new face at the table too, Sarah, the girl from Jack's private party had appeared at the table, special guest of Eric Kinney and Brian was glad to see them getting on so well. Sarah was a nice girl, talented, smart, pretty, he figured Eric could do worse - a lot worse.

The only thing that changed was that tonight, instead of going with Michael after school, he was going with Justin.

"Well, don't be too late, yeah?" Eric warned him, "you don't want dad getting pissed at you. You know he's drinking in the mornings before work at the moment."

Brian had noticed that and it terrified him. Jack Kinney Sr drinking before work was like hitting start on a 'countdown timer'. They all knew from that moment they only had another month or two in the city at the very most. And Brian hated that thought. He hated the thought of leaving Pittsburgh, and Maple Grove, and Justin and Michael and Lindsey and the others too, though he probably wouldn't be too bothered if he never saw Mel again. But the thought of never seeing Justin made him feel physically sick. Maybe that's why he insisted they go back to Justin's that evening and fuck in a bed instead of in the weird magazine room. Maybe it was because he was trying to begin saying goodbye. It certainly wasn't because he'd expected Craig Taylor to walk in on them and grab him by the scruff of the neck and hurl him onto the front lawn wearing nothing but a rubber.

Of course Justin threw him his clothes out of the window and he rushed to pull them on before calling Eric for a lift home but that didn't really take away from the embarrassment as Eric pulled up in the car and leant across to push the passenger door.

"Don't tell me," he sighed. "I don't want to know."

"Sorry," Brian mumbled, getting up off the curb and clambering into the passenger seat. Eric just shook his head disapprovingly but as he pulled away he asked,

"Is this where he lives?"

"Yeah," Brian nodded, noticing his brother's gaze fixed on the reflection of Justin's house in the mirror.

"Shit," he whistled. "He's fucking loaded."

"In more ways than one," Brian quipped, earning himself a very disapproving groan from his brother, which caused Brian to laugh hard.

"Faggot," Eric huffed somewhat fondly as they rounded a corner leaving Justin's perfect estate behind them.

Brian went almost straight to bed when they got home. Jack Kinney was in the living room screaming about some football result that hadn't gone the way he'd wanted and Brian knew that if he so much as breathed the wrong way he'd be for it. Eric seemed to recognise it too, so he went up to Brian's room and they held a Forza championship, followed by NHL. Eric won both and was decidedly smug about it.

"Fuck off," Brian groaned pushing Eric's smirking face away from him.

"You're not on your game tonight, Bri," Eric teased.

"Whereas you're on top of the world," Brian replied suspiciously. "What's brought this sudden bout of psychopathic niceness?"

"Fuck you, I am nice."

"Not this nice."

They looked at each other for a second but neither said anything. Brian smirked when Eric finally looked away.

"So," he drawled, flopping lazily onto his bed, "Sarah Baxton?"

Eric grinned a little and gave his brother a shy sort of smile.

"Ah," Brian nodded, knowingly, "so she _is _the reason for your good mood."

"Not the only reason," Eric said, getting to his feet and perching himself on the end of his brother's bed.

"Uh-huh, so how long have you been fucking?"

"It's not like that," Eric countered quickly.

"Christ," Brian half-chuckled, half-gasped, pushing himself up into a seating position. "You actually like her, don't you?"

"Well, you said it yourself, she's funny, smart, knows about football."

"And she's hot," Brian smiled.

"Hey hands off."

"Please, she was in my room for hours. I had my chance."

"Mmm, guess I'm just lucky you're into blondes."

Brian laughed a little but as his laugh died away, the mood suddenly seemed very serious. "Eric."

"Yeah?"

"Don't fuck it up by trying to be Jack, okay?"

"Are you seriously giving me advice on girls?"

"No, I'm giving you advice on life. You're not him, he might be more popular but … you're a better person and Sarah clearly agrees." Then after a moment or two, he said, "do you not find it weird that you're seeing someone who tried to seduce your fag brother?"

Eric seemed to think for a second, before concluding, "I think I'd find it weirder if you were dating someone who'd tried to seduce your straight brother."

Brian almost collapsed with laughter at the horrified look on his brother's face. "Could you imagine that?" He snorted, "you could barely handle Justin passing you a compass."

"Yeah, well I can't be sure that 'compass' isn't fag slang for butt-plug."

Brian just stared at Eric for a second before collapsing into a fit of laughter all over again. "You're … so … straight," he managed to gasp out between laughing fits.

"You're so bent," Eric countered quickly with a kick in Brian's helpless direction, which caused his younger brother to lose his balance and fall to the floor moaning about his laughter-induced aching sides.

Neither noticed that the door had opened a crack and that the other Kinney boy had been stood in the doorway for quite some time.


	22. The Worst Kept Secret

**It's the moment that's been coming since the beginning of this story … the end of the repetitive cycle is upon us…. Hope you enjoy boys and girls! =D**

**(This chapter contains the worst child abuse. I guessed I should warn you before you start just incase.)**

**

* * *

**

"Sorry my dad went mental," Justin sighed, leaning up against the sinks whilst Brian pissed at the urinal in the school restroom. "I honestly didn't think he'd just barge in like that."

"I've told you a million times, it's okay," Brian sighed, zipping his jeans up and moving to wash his hands.

"I know but," Justin looked at the floor for a moment and whispered, "sorry."

"Justin," Brian moaned. "You're driving me crazy with all this apologising."

"Sorry."

Brian just glared at the blonde, who giggled a little and before he could stop himself mumbled "sorry." And, "Shit. I can't help myself. Sorry."

Brian just rolled his eyes and laughed and Justin's utterly useless attempt to stop apologizing.

"I can see I'm going to need another way to shut you up," Brian smiled, placing his hands either side of Justin before leaning in to capture his lips in the sweetest of kisses. Well, it wasn't as though anyone else was in the restroom. It was fine, they were alone. Well, they _had_ been alone and then the door had creaked open and someone shouted faggot and Brian immediately found himself being torn from Justin and crashing backwards into the mirrors. The wind rushed out of his lungs and his eyes watered a little but he wasn't stupid enough to wonder who his attacker was, even if the only thing he could think for a second was that he was glad he hadn't picked on Justin but as he looked into the murderous eyes of his brother he cringed.

"You disgust me," Jack snarled, squeezing tightly on his throat. "You filthy, fucking faggot! You're sick, you know that! Fucking sick!" And with that he turned around and walked away. Brian just gasped in the air around him, coughing and spluttering.

"Are you okay?" Justin asked quietly, touching Brian's arm. The taller boy flinched away.

"Sorry," he whispered as soon as it had happened. "I'm fine, I just…." He looked to the door of the restroom. "I'll see you later okay."

Justin didn't see Brian for the rest of the day. He wouldn't see him for the rest of the week but there was a very good reason for that.

::

Eric was having a very standard day. Nothing had happened that was even slightly different to the day before or the day before that, all his lessons had nearly put him to sleep and each hour seemed to have taken an eternity. There wasn't even football practice tonight to break the day up a bit. He trudged through the school doors and to the car that he and Jack had drove in this morning. It wasn't as though their parents would need it. They'd both been wasted out of their minds by ten o'clock this morning.

The gravel was crunching beneath his feet, the bitter mist was wrapping itself around him and the whole place seemed eerily quiet for this time of day. A couple of people were milling around, finding their lifts home. Gaylor was amongst them and he waved politely at Eric as he climbed into his mom's expensive car. Well, fuck if he thought Eric was going to openly wave at some queer, he'd do his best when it came to his brother but fags were still fucking cocksucking pieces of shit. It didn't take him long to realise why he felt it was so quiet. His brothers weren't there. Brian wasn't moaping silently at his side like some tortured walking dead and Jack wasn't yakking his ears off about some ridiculous inconsequential subject, like the size of Tracey Beedle's mom' tits. He glanced over to the forty something, orange, platinum blonde, MILF with perfect f-cup knockers.

Well, he smirked a little to himself, he supposed Brian wouldn't be noticing that anymore. Maybe he'd be more into Mr Beedle, the wanna-be biker dressed all in leather, with a long beard. He could just imagine Mr Beedle fucking feminine little fairy fags on the side. He shook his head, just because he _could _imagine it, didn't mean he wanted to.

"Psst," a hiss in his ear thankfully drew him from his rather weird thoughts about whether Brian and Mr Beedle would match up. "Hey, Eric!"

He turned to his right, to see Brian hid amongst the school dumpsters.

"What the fuck are you doing by here?" He frowned.

"Shhhh," Brian hushed him sharply, grabbing his arm and dragging him to hide between the dumpsters with him.

The smell was horrific but all Eric did was raise an eyebrow and ask; "is this a fag thing?"

Brian shot him a look that said 'shut up' before asking, "is Jack around?"

"No, I don't know where he is. He might be at Sandy's."

"Still stringing her along then, is he?" Brian said a little bitterly.

"Yeah, she has the worst taste in guys."

"Yeah, Kinney's," Brian agreed, slumping a little against one of the yellow-metal sides.

"Look, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are we hiding between dumpsters?"

"Jack saw us."

"Saw who?"

"Me and Justin." Brian sighed heavily and lifted his gaze to meet his brothers. "He saw us kissing in the restroom."

Eric just looked at Brian for a moment with an odd expression that Brian couldn't read, until he eventually said, "never become a spy. This is about the worst kept secret ever."

"Shut up Eric, this is serious. What if he beats up Justin again?"

"I saw Justin get in a car," Eric soothed his frantic brother.

"I know, I text him but," Brian looked up with pure fear in his eyes. "That won't necessarily stop Jack. He waited twenty-four hours last time. I couldn't live with myself if…."

"Look," Eric said, grabbing Brian's shoulders and shaking him a little. "I know you're a fag now but that doesn't mean you have to dramatise everything into a fucking stage show. We'll go home, we'll find out where Jack is and we'll take it from there." He took a deep breath and held Brian up tall, looking carefully into his eyes, "now, will you _please _stop acting like a fucking fairy."

Brian frowned and pushed his brother away huffily but he didn't say anything. After all, Eric was right, he'd probably blown this out of all proportion.

Their little talk had meant they were stuck behind all the school traffic and had even ended up getting home later than the school bus, which explained how Jack Kinney junior could sitting in a big arm chair in the sitting room with an evil smirk on his face by the time they got back.

"Where've you two been?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous. Brian shuddered a little but Eric just answered brightly,

"Brian decided to impersonate a hobo for five minutes and hang around the garbage so we got stuck behind the traffic. I thought you might have gone to Sandy's?"

"I might have but I had more important things to do than her," Jack continued, with the same creepy tone, his eyes flicking just momentarily to Brian. "But that's okay, she's used to being turned down in bed, isn't that right Brian?"

"I never turned her down," Brian said as casually as he could as he followed Eric and sat on the smaller sofa at the opposite side of the room to Jack.

"So what, you just couldn't get it up?" Jack pressed, "because everyone knows girls can't be satisfied by fucking faggots!"

"Who's a fucking faggot?" Their dad asked, staggering drunkenly from the kitchen to the sitting room and his namesake grinned widely.

"Jack," Eric warned, a note of desperation in his voice, "don't."

"Why should I listen to you?" Jack jr demanded. "You're practically encouraging him. I heard you both last night. Don't become like Jack, you're a better person. You're bent … you're straight. You make me fucking sick!"

"What's going on?" Jack sr asked, clearly completely confused by his own drunkenness. "Watch your language," he added as an afterthought, "you know how _St Joan_," he sniggered, "feels about cursing. She even had a go at me when my boss rang me up this morning. Said cursing was the devils words."

Then he leant heavily on the wall. "I say it's more because…." He trailed off his mind unable to finish a thought let alone a sentence. Brian felt his stomach churn horribly. He hadn't seen old Jack this drunk in a very long time. In fact, he hadn't seen him this drunk since before they'd moved to Pittsburgh … he hadn't seen him this drunk since the last time Jack Kinney had.

"You," Jack sr slurred loudly, saliva spraying everywhere as he tried to point a finger at his youngest son, "It's your fault, I lost my goddamn job today."

Yeah, Brian thought, his whole world seeming to melt around him, he hadn't seen Jack this drunk since the last time he'd lost his job. Brian felt sick. He knew he was for it tonight but that didn't seem to matter, he knew Jack jr was going to do nothing to help him but that didn't seem to matter either. Because all he could think right now was that soon they'd move states and Justin would be forced to become a distant memory. He barely focused on the words as his dad screamed drunkenly at him;

"If you hadn't taken my fucking car, I could have driven in."

"You were too drunk to drive this morning, dad," Eric explained slowly and calmly, hoping to keep the peace but he could already see that he was only putting off the inevitable.

"So this piece of shit, thought he could use my car," Jack sr reached out and pulled his son up.

"I didn't dad, I swear," Brian whispered. He knew it was futile but it didn't stop him, begging was all he had left.

"You're a money pit, a mistake," Jack sr paused, breathing whiskey and cigarettes right in Brian's face.

"I'm sorry," Brian gabbled, though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.

"Sorry's bullshit!" Jack sr spat. "You should have thought about it before you did it. You're a…." He stopped, scrunched his hand up more firmly in Brian's t-shirt and hissed, "Do you know what you are?" He slurred. "You're a…"

"Faggot," Jack junior supplied helpfully.

"What?" Their dad asked, glaring to look at his oldest son.

"He's a faggot," Jack repeated, slowly so that an alcohol addled brain would understand. "A cocksucking, fudge-packing little queer." Jack lounged back in the chair casually, hatred oozing from every cold, calculating pore. "That what he's doing when he's out all night, dad. He's butt-fucking his little boyfriend."

Brian could only stare in disbelief. Jack was getting him killed. Their dad was drunk, he'd lost his job, he was pissed at the world and therefore Brian … the beating would have been bad anyway but now…. Brian shivered as the tears rolled down his face. Would Jack sr stop before it was too late? Was this going to be his last moment? Killed for being the unfortunate queer son of a fag-hating, republican family.

"Why?" He asked his oldest brother, the words barely making a sound.

"Because you need to know that fags die, Brian," he seethed. "All fags deserve to die!"

And he stood up slowly, turned his back and walked out. Brian turned to his dad, he looked straight into the cold, dead blue eyes. The pupils were unfocused, his eyes were wandering but they were angry, murderous even.

"Please," Brian breathed. "Please dad. I'm sorry. I…."

But just like that, the first punch was thrown. Brian could see stars. His cheekbone felt like it had been shattered across his face. The next punch came to the gut and the oxygen raced out of his lungs. He could barely hear the homophobic slurs as he fell to the floor and his dad's shoe came into contact with his stomach again and again and again. He could barely focus on anything. He was dimly aware that his mother was mumbling prayers and he thought he could hear Eric asking him to stop but Brian knew it wouldn't be that easy. It would never be that easy to stop the force of a drunken, driven Jack Kinney sr.

Eric watched in horror at the scene that was unfolding. His dad usually stopped by now. It was usually over before he really did Brian any permanent damage. One punch to the ribs, maybe two and it would be done he'd always said he only wanted to teach Brian a lesson, not hurt him, not kill him. But Jack was drunk and angry and now he was fuelled by homophobia. Eric was worried it would never stop.

"Please father, find it in your heart to forgive my son for his sins and please stop my husband before it's too late. Help Brian to see your plan, to follow in your footsteps and not to disobey his father anymore."

"Mom, stop praying and help Brian," Eric yelled, as he watched his brother's eyes roll back in his head and his body go limp on the floor.

"Dad, stop. Please. He's had enough. Stop!"

But Jack wasn't listening, he just kept kicking.

"Fuck," Jack junior breathed from the door, causing Eric to look up. "Shit. He's gonna kill him, isn't he?"

"You have to help him," Eric begged. "He's still your goddamn brother."

"He's a pervert," Jack said firmly. "You've forgotten that Eric, you pretend like he's more than a cocksucking queer." But with every word Jack jr was saying, Eric could see he was coming round, wincing as Brian took another massive blow to the temple. "Shit," he whispered. "He really is going to kill him."

"So stop standing there and _do something_!" Eric bellowed.

Jack had never heard his brother shout like that before but it shocked him into reality and suddenly, he really took in the scene ahead of him for what it was. It wasn't his dad beating the shit out of some deserving queer, it was his dad on the brink of killing his youngest brother, Brian. The one he'd played hours and hours of football with in the park, the one he used to play hide and seek with in the house, the one he'd spent hours setting up dominos with only to accidentally knock them over when he'd sat down to admire his handiwork, the one who'd cheered him up after another disappointing birthday, the one who'd helped him with his homework, the one he'd grown up with.

"I'll grab dad," he said suddenly, "you take Brian … somewhere. Anywhere. FUCK!" He yelled and in that second everything seemed to stop.

Joan stopped praying in favour of admonishing her son for bad language and Jack senior turned to look at his oldest son in shock. It was just a split second but it was long enough for Jack to grab his father and drag him to the kitchen, whilst Eric darting in and helped Brian to his feet.

Brian was all over the place. He was completely disorientated, with no idea what was going on. Blood poured out of his mouth when he tried to talk, not that he was really trying, he was just slumped, half-dead on Eric's side. Eric tried not to think about the warm liquid he could feel running down his neck as Brian's split lip bled all over him. He tried not to think about the fact, he could barely feel Brian's breathing, he just hauled him into the passenger seat and drove.

"Is there anywhere you can go?" He asked frantically.

Brian just stayed silent, his eyes were barely open as his chin rested on his chest.

"Come on, Bri," Eric urged, reaching over to shake him a little. "Think. There must be somewhere you can stay."

More silence greeted him and he didn't know whether it was because there was no answer or because Brian was too out of it to know.

"What about Justin?" He asked eventually.

"No," Brian looked up suddenly, his eyes shining with a weird dead light. "His dad hates me."

"What the fuck did you do to his dad?"

Brian leant somewhat heavily on the window-down button and spat a mouthful of blood onto the road, before falling back into his seat, leaving Eric to wind the window back up. "It's a long story," he wheezed quietly.

"You need to go to the hospital," Eric said, shaking his head and rubbing his palm across his face, trying to dislodge the panicked, frantic tears that were welling up in his eyes.

"We can't pay them," Brian pointed out, coughing a little and collapsing back into the seat. His face was already a mess and his ribs had to be worse, he was pale and sweating. He looked awful.

"Justin's family could," Eric pointed out.

"I'm …" Deep breath, concentrate Brian, it's easy; in, out. Just like always, but it didn't seem easy right now. Right now, breathing seemed like the hardest thing in the world. "I'm not … scrounging from them."

"I'll offer to pay them back," Eric promised. "Brian, please. You _have _to go to hospital."

"No," Brian tried to shout but it came out as more of a hoarse whisper. "No," he repeated a little more forcefully, before coughing mouthfuls of blood everywhere. Then he went silent. Eric looked over to see his brother's body hanging forward limply against the seatbelt.

"Brian!" Eric yelled, leaning over and shaking him a little. There was no response. "Brian, for fucks sake, wake up. Bri!"


	23. Moving House

When Brian woke up, he was surrounded by white. Everything in the entire room was white and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if he was dead. There were white sheets, white walls, white floors, white skin and blonde hair of a sleeping boy in the white chair at his side.

"Justin," he said. He sounded raspy and croaky but he was determined for the boy to hear him. "Justin!" He tried again and this time, the boy stirred from his awkward slumber. His eyes opened, slowly, blinking at the harsh light of the lighting but when he saw Brian sitting up, he beamed at the older boy.

"Oh my god, Brian!" He cried, leaping up and carefully hugging him. Brian's body felt sore and abused but, even though the hug was contributing to the pain, it was also making him feel better. "Are you okay? Is there anything you need?"

"A blowjob," Brian suggested and Justin just laughed a little, perching gently on Brian's bed.

"Not now, eh," he grinned, jerking his thumb towards the large open window, which had Lindsey, Michael, Ted, Mel and Emmett's faces pressed against it.

"I don't mind an audience," Brian tried to shrug but the movement made him hiss with pain as the bruises stretched and burned in various places.

"Lets just wait until you're out of hospital."

"Hang on," he said slowly. "I'm in hospital. I can't afford hospital. I don't have health insurance and…"

"It's been covered," Justin assured him gently.

"No," Brian shook his head firmly. "No. Not by you. I told Eric not to ask you."

"He didn't ask," Justin insisted. "You just passed out and he called to tell me what had happened. I was at the diner, Deb overheard … it just sorta went from there," Justin shrugged. "She and my mom chipped in, you don't have you worry about a thing."

"No," Brian said more forcefully. "I can't pay them back."

"So, pay them back when you're a professional football player," Justin smiled, taking Brian's precious right hand and squeezing it gently. "The school team's been a mess without you," he grinned. "They lost the game you missed this week."

"Wait, a week! I've been out of it for a week!"

"Not really, they put you in a bit of a coma so you could recover better. They say you're going to be fine though. They reckon you'll even be playing football again soon. Well, you'll be just about ready to start training as the end of the season arrives but … next season, you're gonna be amazing. Maple Grove are going to be glad to have you back."

"Not for a while though, eh?" He looked down at his recovering body, sadly.

"Well, that doesn't matter right now. All that matters now is that you're okay."

"I guess," Brian nodded, running his thumb over Justin's palm where they were holding hands.

"It was a horrible thing … what your dad did to you."

"I know," Brian whispered, but he didn't sound very convincing, even in his own ears.

"You didn't deserve it Brian," Justin said more firmly, "you know that, don't you?"

"Sure," Brian nodded a little but he still wouldn't meet Justin's eyes. His eyes just focused on their hands.

"Brian," Justin said, a stern tone to his words, "Brian, look at me. You don't deserve anything your father did. He's an asshole and a homophobe and a drunk. There are people that love you, Brian." He paused for a second, "I love you," he mumbled, a shy sort of smile on his face.

Brian looked up then, his brown eyes, set deep in a myriad of bruises, some faded yellow, some still blackish-purple like a crisp winters night, found Justin's blue eyes, which were crinkled with worry.

"Come here," Brian said and Justin got to his feet so he could be closer to Brian, and taller boy kissed him gently, because he could never put into words what he could say with a kiss.

Then a tapping on the glass distracted them and they looked up to see Michael mouthing 'let us in'.

::

The hospital room was full and colourful now, they'd brought in green and blue chairs from the corridor and they were all wearing bright clashing colours and they seemed genuinely happy; things looked less bleak and white now. Michael was stood at the foot of the bed with a tube of rolled up glossy paper.

"Ready?" He asked with an excited smiled, and after a slight nod from Brian he let one end of the paper go so it unrolled itself to reveal a 'RAGE IS HERE' poster with yesterday's date stamped at the bottom. "It was a total hit," Michael beamed at him. "We printed off five hundred and sold them all within three hours. We've got another thousand on order. Isn't that amazing?"

"It's amazing," Brian nodded, sitting up slightly when Michael handed him a copy of the comic. He looked at the first page, there was a middle-aged man, standing over a boy that looked just like Brian and was called Byron, saying 'you're worthless. We don't want you in our family anymore'. The boy then stood up and walked into a thunderstorm, as he strolled along the streets he was hit by lightning and turned into Rage, a superhero with mind control and super fucking skills.

"Don't you think people might work out that it's based on me?" Brian asked cautiously, looking down at his graphite alter-ego. "I mean, his name is Byron Ginny, for fucks sake and, thanks to Justin's considerable artistic talent, he looks just like me."

"It's not like people from our school are going to read it and your family kind of already know," Lindsey pointed out.

"Shit, yeah," Brian nodded, putting the comic down and looking at his friends. As something suddenly dawned on him, "I can't go home. Where the fuck am I going to live?"

"You don't worry about a thing, honey," a boisterous voice announced from near the doorway. "You're going to come and live with Mikey and me and Debbie's boarding house for runaway boys. Eric's already brought all your stuff around. We've done up the spare bedroom, you're going to love it there."

* * *

Brian had been lounging around Debbie's house in his dressing gown all week.

"I'm acting like my favourite aging fag," Brian had smirked when Michael has asked him what exactly he was doing.

"Watch it," Vic had warned from the kitchen but he found it hard to really complain when he was dressed exactly the same way, doing much the same thing.

Brian had managed, after a lot of painstaking effort, to convince Eric to bring his Xbox around and had spent a lot of the week attempting to teach Vic how to play NFL and Forza Motorsports. He was just about getting it but Brian had to play really badly to even make in a contest.

"Well, I'm gay," Vic protested. "We're not supposed to be good at playing sports real or animated. We're better at arraigning flowers and interior design and knowing who looks fabulous at the Oscars."

"Well, I'd rather be kicking breeder ass on the football field."

"Not for a while though, eh?" Vic said, referring to Brian's current battered state of broken ribs and bruised … everything.

"I'm fine," Brian insisted, just a bit weak. "By next season I'm gonna be back to normal the doctors said so. Then it's to college, then the Jets."

"The Jets? Why the Jets?" Vic asked. He was genuinely curious.

"Dunno really," Brian shrugged. "I met one of the players once when we were living in Brooklyn. He sorta came into the school and taught us how to play football. A sorta giving back to the community campaign you know, reminding everyone that even the stupidest kids from the shitiest backgrounds can play football. Anyway, after the lesson, he kept me behind and told me I had talent, that he hoped I'd try to develop it. I just went all pathetic and handed him the football I was holding for him to sign. I think it was one of the school ones but I didn't care. I stole it and took it home with me. It said; 'never give up on your dreams, anyone can play for the Jets' and then he signed it." He smiled for a moment, lost in the blissful memory, the first time he'd really set his heart on the big-time. Then he became sombre and said, "my dad sold the ball a few months later because we'd run out of cash. I didn't even know, just got home from school one day, my room was trashed and it was gone." He sighed a little. "Maybe one day I could sign a ball for some kid, make his day."

"You keep dreaming big, kiddo," Debbie agreed making both men jump.

Brian turned around to see Debbie stood just inside the front door with a cake.

"Chocolate-chocolate-chip," she smiled, raising the cake a little. "Your mother tells me it's your favourite."

"My mother?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why the hell have you been talking to her?"

"I wanted to let her know how you were doing."

"She doesn't care," Brian scowled.

"Honey, you can't blame her for what your father did."

"So what did she say, huh?" Brian seethed, "was she even sober enough to form a sentence?"

"Well, she'd had a little drink, yes," Debbie admitted "but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about you."

"I bet she didn't even realise I wasn't there," Brian scowled, getting to his feet and heading to the kitchen.

"She's confused. She's religious, I think she'll come round."

"She'll never come round Deb," Brian yelled. "She blindly follows her fucking minister, she probably thinks I deserved what I got. She went to Liberty Avenue to try and save queers. She actually called homosexuality a 'disease to be cured' in Justin's article. I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to see her ever again."

"Well that's good," Debbie said steadily, "because their moving to Brigham City."

"What?" Brian asked in disbelief.

"The whole move's happening in less than a fortnight," she said. "So, if I were you, I'd think carefully about never wanting to see your family again, because unless you fancy a trip to Utah, you're not going to be bumping into them anytime soon."

Brian just stared in horror. He didn't know how to feel as this new information began to sink in.

"Hey," a happy voice from a welcomed guest suddenly broke through his thoughts, "how is the patient?"

"The patient, is nearly as good as new," Debbie said, her mask of cheery, prefect fag-hag slipping perfectly back into place. "Back to school Monday Brian and don't you forget it."

"How can I?" Brian sighed, "You remind me every five fucking seconds." Before turning his attention to their blonde houseguest. "How was school?" He smirked as both Justin and Michael trudged in with bags full of books.

"You won't be laughing when you go back in on Monday and you're almost three weeks behind, which is why," Justin smiled angelically rummaging in his bag, "I've brought you some work."

"You're so thoughtful," Brian said, a disgusted look on his face.

"Well, I figured if you were up for it, we could do it now," Justin suggested, shooting Brian a very meaningful look, "in your room."

"Excellent idea," Brian nodded eagerly. "Er Deb, we're going upstairs to er," he looked at Justin a grin on both their faces, "study." Justin nodded vigorously and they both disappeared.

"Well, they weren't fooling anyone," Debbie chuckled as a door slammed above them. Then she looked at her son, who'd become suddenly quiet, slumped in a seat at the dining table. "Oh baby," she sighed, pinching his cheek, "they'll be other guys. Guys that will care about you as much as you care about them."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael said sulkily "I'm going to my room."

He stomped loudly up the stairs. He almost hoped that if Brian and Justin heard him they might keep the noise down a bit but he should have known better, neither boy was shy about performing in front of an audience, why would they care that Michael was next door? He led on his bed and buried his head between his two pillows. He couldn't bare it. Why did Brian have to like Justin? Why did Justin have to even exist? He was sure that if it wasn't for the stupid perfect blonde, Michael would have been the one Brian was with. But instead, Brian saw him as a brother, someone to confide in and have a laugh with and he saw Justin as someone to spend his life with or at least at the moment. Michael heard the headboard of the bed next door hit the wall methodically and he pulled his duvet over his head too to muffle the noise and although it dulled the sound, it did nothing to dull the ache in his heart.

::

"That was amazing," Justin grinned. He was lying on his stomach, looking down at Brian, who was led flat on his back next to him.

"Sure was," he smiled, his hand coming up to touch Justin's face. The smaller boy nuzzled into it a little before pressed a kiss at the base of Brian's thumb.

"I've missed fucking you," he whispered, his lips still resting lightly on Brian's palm. Brian smiled lazily and Justin thought he looked so beautiful, he couldn't help lean down and kiss him again.

When he pulled away, Brian had a dizzy kind of contented smile as he asked, "so, what were the guys like while I was in hospital?"

"Hot," Justin chuckled, wriggling so he could snuggle into Brian's side. "I went to Babylon, met a doctor who decided he wanted to probe my prostate."

"Nice," Brian whispered, it was clear he was exhausted but he was listening.

"There was a surfer…"

"In Pittsburgh?"

"He was stopping over night, but instead of riding waves … he rode me."

Brian laughed a little.

"And I went to the Adonis, you're right, it is full of trolls, I was lucky to leave there with my virtuousness still in tact."

Brian couldn't help but laugh at that. "Virtuousness?" He questioned mockingly, in a croaky, tired whisper.

"Asshole," Justin said, giving Brian's chest a gentle slap. Before kissing the same spot and squeezing him tight.

"Are you okay?" Justin asked, after a moment or two, "you seem kind of quiet"

"I'm just tired," Brian insisted. Now just didn't seem like the time to tell his Justin that his family were moving away forever and that he didn't know how to feel about it.

"Oh, okay," there was another pause before Justin mumbled, "Brian, I … I mean…. Right…."

"Christ Justin, spit it out," Brian said, his eyes snapping open so he could glare at the smaller boy, well, glare at the top of his head anyway.

"Right," Justin nodded, pushing himself into a seating position and looking at the older boy seriously. "There's a rumour going round in school."

"There're always rumours going round in school," he said dismissively.

"This one's about you. And specifically about the reason you've been off school."

"Oh?" Brian raised an eyebrow calmly, though he had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming.

"They're saying that you got beaten up because you're a fag."

"Well, what do you know," Brian scoffed, " for once the rumours are right."

"People know about you living here, Bri. They're just rumours and gossip, most people don't really believe it but … well…."

"It doesn't matter," Brian said shortly. "I'll figure it out when I get there on Monday."

"Right," Justin agreed, before resuming his position squashed at Brian's side.

* * *

"So," Eric said as he sat on the park bench where his brother had been waiting, "what did you want to see me for?"

"When were you gonna tell me that you were moving to fucking Utah?"Eric was quiet for a second before saying, "I didn't think it would matter. It's not like you're coming with us. Anyway, I thought you'd be happy, this could be good for you. Next year you'll be completely free from all of mom and dad's shit."

"Yeah," Brian nodded, glumly. "I'll just be the out and proud fag at school. I mean that's the rumours, right?"

"I swear I didn't start them," Eric said quickly.

"I know," Brian sighed, leaning back and stretching his arms along the backrest. "I'm pretty sure I know who did."

"Hobbs?"

"Hobbs," Brian nodded.

"Jack's been trying to find out who it was. Threatening anyone who spreads the 'lies'. He's wasting his time, just making people more suspicious."

"I don't care anymore," Brian sighed. "It can't get any worse than being beaten half to death. What's a bit of name calling?"

Eric turned his head to face his brother, smiling at him in a way Brian didn't recognise.

"What?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm proud of you," he shrugged.

Brian laughed, an uncontrollable giggle bubbling up in his throat at his brothers attempt at sincerity.

"Asshole," Eric muttered, "don't laugh at me when I'm being nice."

"Sorry," he smirked and they fell silent. A young kid ran past kicked a soccer ball and what could only be an older brother chased him asking for a pass. It clearly wasn't going to happen. The kid was only kicking the ball because it happened to be in his way as he took the slow prolonged stumble over his own feet young children try to pass off as walking. Brian smiled sadly to himself watching this moment of sibling camaraderie, before mumbling,

"I'm gonna miss you."

"Don't get all sentimental on me."

"I'm not," Brian protested punching his leg. "I'm just saying, I never would've made it without you, so … thanks."

Eric was quiet for a second before saying, "I'll miss you too … you fucking fairy."

Brian chuckled to himself and then Eric suggested they throw a football. Brian nodded and they went to the other side of the park. Brian's arm started to ache after a short period of time so Eric dropped it back home at Deb's. He went to bed early that night and cried, but if you asked him, he wouldn't really be able to tell you why.

**

* * *

**

For any of you who actually like American Football, have a great Super Bowl tomorrow and I'm rooting for the Stealers - yes, because of my QAF love and also because they're slightly the underdogs! =D

**Thanks for reading!  
****xx**


	24. Leather or Letterman's?

"Do I look alright?" Brian asked, changing his jacket for what felt like the millionth time.

"You look fine," Michael reassured him, without looking up from his breakfast. It was like he needed to see the outfit again, it was only a jacket and both looked good. Well, everything looked good on Brian.

"Yeah, but do I look like a fag?" He asked, pulling at the leather jacket and eyeing himself in the mirror.

"No," Michael said, shovelling some more Captain Crunch into his mouth. He was sick of this now.

"Shit, I do, don't I?" Brian groaned, removing the jacket and throwing it to the sofa. "Right," he said, "what about this jacket? Do I look too much like a jock?"

"You _are _a jock," Michael pointed out, finally looking up at his friend, who was now wearing a red and white Letterman's jacket.

"Yeah, but I don't want people to think I'm trying too hard to look like a jock, therefore leading them to the realisation that I am a fag."

"What does it matter anyway?" Michael asked, "your family already know, your dad beat the shit out of you. I mean, surely it can't get any worse than that."

"What if I get kicked off the football team?"

"There's only one game left," Michael shrugged, "and you've been told you can't start training until the end of the school year."

"And next year?"

Michael dropped his eyes and went back to his cereal. "I'm sure you'll work it out," he mumbled, scooping some more cereal into his mouth, "you always seem to land on your feet."

"Mmm," Brian hummed, before turning his attention back to the mirror. "So, which one? Leather or Letterman's?"

"OH MY GOD!" Michael suddenly exploded, causing Brian to jump a little. "It doesn't matter! Neither of them make you look any more or less like a fag, so just fucking pick one!"

"Woah there," Brian smirked, as though he were talking to an angry horse. "What's eating you?" He asked, coming over to sit in the seat at his friend's side.

"Nothing," Michael sulked.

"Come on Mikey, you've been in a mood all weekend."

"I haven't," he lied, but his sulking expression gave away his lies.

"Sure," Brian humoured him sarcastically. "But say something _was _wrong, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Right." Michael rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious Michael." And he was. "So, what is it?" He smirked, "syphilis, gonorrhoea, crabs?"

"No!" Michael exclaimed, blushing vibrant red and pushing Brian hard.

"So what then?" Brian asked, chuckling a little.

"It's nothing," Michael insisted, then he looked into Brian's eyes and summoning all his power he said, "I promise, it's nothing."

"Okay then," Brian sighed, realising he wasn't going to be finding out what was wrong any time soon. "Just remember, whatever it is … I still love you." He pressed a kiss to the corner of Michael's mouth and then jumped up and returned to the mirror.

"So," he said, "leather or Letterman's?"

::

Ted had arrived to take Brian and Michael to school and Brian had taken one look at, Emmett's over-the-top pink and orange ensemble and decided he was making a terrible mistake.

"Christ, Em," he moaned, climbing into the back seat. "Couldn't you have dressed slightly less like a fairy for just one day?"

"I thought I'd dress up and celebrate your return to school," Emmett said huffily. "I wish I hadn't bothered now."

"I wish you hadn't bothered either," Brian groaned. "Everyone's gonna think I'm a fag now."

"Everyone thinks you're a fag anyway," Ted said. "It doesn't matter if Emmett wants to dress up like a drag queen at pride." Which earned him and indignant look from one, Miss Emmett Honeycutt.

"Yeah," Michael smiled, "and that leather jacket makes you look like a right queer," and before Brian had time to freak out, or demand the car be turned around, he said, "I'm joking. I'm joking!"

Brian didn't exactly see the funny side. Sulking heavily, he just looked out the window for the rest of the journey.

::

Brian wasn't sure what he'd expected as he stepped out of the car, maybe banners condemning him to hell, or anti-cheerleaders or something. What there actually was, was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway. There were the usual people walking around, and although a few people looked in his direction and whispered, there was nothing more than that.

In fact, apart from Emmett choosing his over the top outfit, no one seemed to give a shit that the great Brian Kinney had returned.

"Were you expecting a band to commemorate your triumphant return?" Mel's sarcastic voice broke through his staring.

"No," he answered coolly "just having you moved to another state would have been good enough for me." He smiled , Mel scowled and Linds giggled; even that was like their usual encounters.

"It's great to have you back, Bri," Lindsey beamed, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Chemistry's been horrible without you."

Brian smiled hugged her and then spotted Justin, who'd been stood just behind the two girls.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde asked.

"A little nervous," Brian admitted, "I'm certainly not looking forward to seeing Jack or Hobbs but," he shrugged. "I guess I'm okay."

Justin nodded and Brian forced a smile, though he still hadn't let go of Lindsey and anyone could tell, right now, he needed support and if hugging Justin in public would fuck up his chances of being on the football team then he'd hug Lindsey instead.

::

The first lesson was history. He sat at the front with Justin and nervously awaited the onslaught from the back few rows but none came. He stole a glance over his shoulder to see them all looking at him and whispering behind their hands but whatever they had to say, they were keeping it to themselves. Brian squirmed nervously in his seat, a feeling of impending dread rising up inside him. He knew the proverbial shit was going to hit the proverbial fan … he just didn't know when.

Second lesson chemistry was a blessing. He was with Lindsey and the only other jock, Mark Finlay, barely made the team, the laws of high school sport hierarchy meant he wasn't going to start accusing first pick quarterback Brian Kinney of anything, regardless of what he thought.

It was lunchtime when things kicked off, he walked to the cafeteria with Lindsey.

"What do I do?" He questioned her nervously, "I mean, do I go and sit with the football team? Hobbs and Jack are gonna be there."

"Well, didn't you say that Jack's been looking out for you, trying to stop the rumours?"

"That's not for me," Brian laughed bitterly. "That's for him. He doesn't want anyone thinking his brother's a fag."

"Well I certainly can't think of anything worse," a voice from behind them said. Brian didn't need to turn around to know it was Eric. "So," the middle Kinney brother said, walking in step with the other two, "how's the first day going?"

"Weird," Brian said honestly. "It's like everyone knows but no-one's willing to say anything."

"Jack's scared 'em shitless probably," Eric chuckled. Lindsey just rolled her eyes. "So, are you sitting with us or are you gonna be sitting with the queers?"

"There's a seat at our table if you want it, Bri," Lindsey said.

"Yeah, thanks," he nodded to the girl. "I might take you up on that, I can't face Hobbs right now."

Eric pulled a semi-impressed, semi-surprised face and said, "excellent choice." And then sped up his walking pace so he'd get to the cafeteria before them.

Brian could feel most of the eyes in the cafeteria on him as he walked with Lindsey to get his food. And he could hear the collective gasp of breath as he bypassed the jock table and sat down right next to Justin at the fag-mag table.

"Brave move, Kinney," Mel said and for a second she almost looked impressed.

"I just wish everyone would stop staring at me," he said. "I hate eating when people are watching."

Justin chuckled a little and Ted smirked, "so you can fuck guys with an audience, no problem. But having to eat a sandwich you struggle with."

"What can I say? I'm complex," he shrugged. He took a drink and whispered to Michael, who was the one sat facing the jock table, "just tell me, are they looking over here?"

Michael glanced up and shook his head. "They're not _looking _over here," he said honestly. "They're walking over here."

Brian's head shot up immediately and he watched as Hobbs marched towards him, with a few cronies in tow. He, like everyone else, if the slowly gathering crowd was anything to go by, knew that this was it; the fight or flight moment. He could lie, he could tell the truth but either way the rumours were going to end now, to give way to the truthful gossip.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, before getting to his feet with seemingly all the confidence in the world. "Hobbs," he greeted the other boy like a long lost friend.

"What are you doing sitting at the fag table, huh Kinney?"

"Just eating lunch with my friends," Brian said casually, though he was beginning to feel less casual by the second with the growing crowd and the increasing number of his team-mates who were seemingly backing Hobbs up.

"Friends with fags now Kinney, huh?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe it. They're just like real people."

"Only sick," Hobbs retaliated quickly. "Perverse."

"Leave him alone, Hobbs," Eric shouted from the crowd of jocks. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Bullshit," Hobbs insisted. "He's a damn queer. Aren't you Bri?"

Brian said nothing, he just set his jaw and stared at the boy ahead of him. The whispers began to fly around the crowd of onlookers.

Justin just peered around for a teacher. Why wasn't anyone putting a stop to this?

"Go on Brian," Hobbs smirked, taking a step closer to the other boy. "Tell 'em all how you leapt through the air to save this queer," he gestured to Justin. "Tell 'em how you fuck him, how you fuck so many guys…."

Brian stayed silent, but he couldn't understand how Hobbs would know that, and despite his attempts to stay emotionless, his confusion must have been apparent on his face.

"Strange place, Liberty Avenue," he said with a smirk. "My mother's church go there sometimes to save queers. I didn't go the first time, but they went again a couple of weeks ago to try and find and save the son of one of the parish members."

Brian closed his eyes tightly. Shit.

"You might know her," Hobbs continued smugly. "Joan Kinney. There's a whole article about it in the parish newsletter," he smirked. "I've got a whole load of copies if anyone fancies a read."

Brian opened his eyes and glared at Hobbs.

"So, Brian," he said his name like it was dirty, "what do you have to say to that?"

"Can I see the letter?" He asked calmly. Hobbs handed it over with the warning, "don't bother to rip it up, I've got hundreds more in my locker."

Brian just nodded and pretended to scan the letter quickly. He laughed a little through his nose as he got to the end. "That's strange," he said turning the page over as though looking for more.

"What is?"

"Well, nowhere in this newsletter is there any mention of your little run-in with homosexuality." Hobbs shook his head and said, "what the fuck are you talking about?" But he was a little pale and nervous.

"I'm talking about the time I walked into the sports cupboard to find you getting jerked off by Justin here," he put his hand on the blonde's shoulder and Justin stood up. "And I have to say, you didn't seem to be minding it too much."

"Shut the fuck up," Hobbs growled.

"So you tell _me _Hobbs, do you like faggots?"

"I said shut the fuck up."

"I mean, you've spoken about fucking fags countless time in the showers. In fact," Brian said with overdramatic realisation, "it's almost like you're obsessed with them … or at least with Justin." He said, putting his arm fully around Justin's shoulders and pulling him in close.

"I'm warning you, Kinney."

"No, I'm warning _you _Hobbs," Brian growled, letting go of Justin and stepping right into Hobbs' face. "If you so much as look at Justin like that again, you'll make me do something you'll regret."

"Was that a threat?"

"I don't know, was it?" Brian asked innocently.

Suddenly, Hobbs had Brian by the throat and the two boys went crashing into the nearest wall. Brian clawed at Hobbs' hands, struggling to gasp in breath.

"You think you're a big man, Kinney."

"Bigger than you," Justin's voice floated over the crowd and then he grinned, his widest most radiant smile and added, "and I would know."

Chris looked winded, which helped Brian to tear his hands off his throat and push him to a more reasonable distance.

"Come on then Hobbs," Brian taunted him. "What have you got to say for yourself now, huh?"

Hobbs turned to looked at Brian, his eyes were focused and wild at the same time. It was like he'd lost it, like he had no control anymore and Brian suddenly felt all his confidence leave him. He knew that look all too well, he knew what it meant, he'd seen it on his father's face ever since he could remember. He watched as Hobbs pulled back his fist, then he winced and shut his eyes, just waiting for the pain. Waiting … and waiting … and waiting. Confused, he allowed himself to open just one eye to see what was going on and when he did, he couldn't believe it was happening.

Jack was stood at Chris' side, crushing his arm in his hand.

"Leave him alone," Jack said calmly. "He may be a filthy, fucking faggot but he's still my goddamn brother and I won't have the likes of you hurting him." Hobbs' face was contorting with pain as Jack squeezed tight on his wrist. "Now," the older Kinney continued, "get out of my sight."

Hobbs nodded and began to push his way out through the crowd. No one was exactly making it easy for him and Brian knew there'd been no winners in this fight as one of the boys shouted, "hey, Hobbs, you wanna suck my cock?"

Jack turned to Brian, who just smiled gratefully and said, "thank you."

"Don't talk to me," Jack spat. "Faggot!"

And he disappeared too, no one was getting in his way. Brian just let out a long breath and looked up to catch Justin's eye in the crowd of people he didn't give a shit about. He smiled and beckoned him over. Justin grinned back and walked towards him, as soon as he was within arm's length, Brian reached and used his shit to pull him close enough to kiss him.

There were slurs all around them from 'get a room' to 'faggot' but they didn't really care. Brian actually felt happy, despite the shit people were shouting at him.

Eric grimaced and turned away from the scene. He was proud of Brian for finally telling the truth about himself but he didn't want to watch him and Justin making out. It still freaked him out a little … well, a lot.

"You know," Eric's girlfriend, Sarah, chuckled as she came to stand next to him, "I don't fancy your chances much."

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"I had huge crushes on both of those boys. I mean, clearly I have some kind of queer-Midas touch. I'd watch out, you're next."

"I don't think so," he said shaking his head. Then he noticed that she wasn't really looking at him, more passed him.

"What are you staring at?" He asked.

"Don't you think it's hot," she said, squirming a little as she watched the two boys making out.

"Er … honestly, no."

"I do," she said, looking back to Eric with a wry smile. "In fact, I'm totally turned on."

Eric raised his eyebrows, "seriously?"

Sarah bit her lip and nodded flirtily.

"Fucking hell," Eric said, "come on, lets get out of here."

She giggled as he grabbed her hand and raced down the corridor, stopping at every doorway to kiss until someone shouted, "Oi, Kinney."

Eric looked up to see Hobbs furiously standing next to a locker that had smoke coming through the vents. "Did your fucking brother do this?"

"What are you talking about?" Eric asked, taking Sarah's hand and walking slowly towards the locker, which just had the word 'jealous?' scrawled in red paint right down the centre. Sarah struggled to stifle a laugh but she smiled and said,

"Oh Chris, that's terrible."

"They've set fire to all my fucking stuff," he growled, punching his locker, not only crushing his fingers under the impact but burning them too.

"Well, that was a stupid thing to do, wasn't it?" Sarah smirked. She couldn't help it, she didn't like Hobbs. He was horrible to everyone, he treated his girlfriends like shit and he'd just tried to cause trouble for two guys she really liked.

"Shut the hell up," Hobbs snapped at her.

"Hey, watch it asshole!" Eric warned.

Hobbs lowered his glare and turned back to his locker. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I knew who did it. And you can tell Brian to watch his back."

"How the hell could it be Brian," Eric pointed out steadily. "You've been speaking to him in the cafeteria the whole time."

Hobbs considered this for a second before saying; "shut up." And storming off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Sarah began to laugh.

"What's up with you?"

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Eric gave a slightly guilty smile before claiming he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Lies," she exclaimed, with an excited twinkle in her eye. "You disappeared right after Hobbs said he had copies of the letters in his locker.

Eric just shrugged and suddenly Sarah launched herself at him, kissing him deeply. "You're a fantastic brother, you know that," she smiled, kissing him on the nose. "And a fantastic boyfriend."

"How fantastic?" He smiled, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"Come on," she smiled, tugging on his arm. "I'll show you."


	25. A Hollow Victory

**This chapter's a little short but I have a feeling the next chapter is going to be quite long, there's a lot about to happen in one day! =S**

**

* * *

**

"That was intense," was all Justin could say about the event that had unfolded that lunchtime.

"Intense," Michael agreed flatly. He was squashed in the backseat of the car with Brian and Justin as they all drove back to his house to celebrate the days events and he couldn't have felt more awkward if he'd been accidentally entered into a 'Lesbian of the Year' competition. Brian insisted there was nothing to celebrate and that, if anything, things were worse now; Hobbs was pissed at them, he didn't know how the rest of the football team were going to react and his brother Jack still hated him.

"Sweetie, you'll learn that when you're gay, you have to celebrate all victories, even the small ones," Emmett smiled. "And having an openly gay jock walking the corridors of Maple Grove High is a victory worth celebrating."

"Uh-huh, well, we'll see how well I'm 'walking the corridors' when Hobbs breaks both my legs."

"Will you cheer up," Justin berated, slapping him on the thigh. Brian forced a strained smile and Justin rolled his eyes and mocked, "good try."

::

Debbie was practically bouncing around the house when they got back. "Hello boys," she beamed. "Boy have I got a treat for you," she grinned, indicating the mountains of snacks that were already piling up in the middle of the dining table.

"Christ Deb, have you invited a small country we're not aware of?" Brian asked, picking up one of the dozens of chicken legs and looking at it like it might be poisoned.

"Asshole," Debbie said fondly.

"It looks great, Ma," Michael insisted, kissing his mom on the cheek, gently.

"Thanks baby. It isn't ready yet, so you boys go and entertain yourselves for a while and I'll call you when it's done."

"Entertain ourselves?" Brian smirked, wrapping his arms around Justin from behind.

"You pair can stay hear and enjoy our company," Emmett insisted.

"Enjoy?" Brian quirked an eyebrow, earning himself a slap on the arm from the flamboyant older boy.

"Listen you and the rest of you," he quickly addressed the rest of the group. "You have to help me and Teddy here," he slipped his arm through Ted's and rested his head, somewhat awkwardly, on the shorter boy's shoulder. "We need to decide what to do about our prom this year."

"I always forget you guys are leaving next year," Michael said, slumping into the arm chair, Brian sat on the sofa, whilst Justin opted for a bean bag. Emmett manoeuvred himself and Ted onto the rest of the sofa so they could be at the head of this meeting of 'prom-dilemma'.

"I think you should go." Justin said firmly.

"Christ," Brian muttered, "who do you think you are, Harvey Milk?"

"Why do you have such a problem with the prom?" Justin demanded.

"It's for breeders," Brian shrugged. "So that they can dress up like princes and princesses and wear corsages and pretend like their pathetic high-school romances are going to last forever. It's bullshit, and it's just an excuse for horny heteros to fuck without consequence. Something, which I certainly don't need an excuse for," he reached out a hand to touch Justin's face but the smaller boy pulled away. There was so much about that sentence that Justin couldn't stand he didn't know what to be mad about first, so he just turned away from the brunet beacon of pessimism and turned his attention instead to Emmett and Ted.

"So," he said, "are you gonna go?"

"I don't know," Ted said uncertainly. "Maybe Brian's right, maybe we don't belong there."

"Bullshit," Justin cried. "The prom's for everyone, right Deb?" He said calling to her as she rushed through the living room in the pursuit of something which would no doubt be horribly tacky to finish off the meal perfectly.

"Absolutely baby," she agreed breathlessly. "You tell 'em."

"See," Justin said smugly.

"That doesn't count," Brian protested, "she wasn't even listening."

"Why don't we all go?" Michael beamed. "We can make it a group thing."

"That's such a geek thing," Brian smirked. "Everyone knows you go to prom with a date or you're the dweep _no _one wanted to date."

_"_Wow, Bri," Ted scorned, "you always know the right thing to say."

"It's just the truth Theodore," Brian shrugged.

"I think we should go," Emmett said suddenly. "Even if we have to take Mel and Linds."

"Ah, ah, ah," Brian said in a bit of a sing-song voice. "You all know Lindsey is _my _fag hag, besides, everyone knows your fags, what exactly would taking Mel and Linds achieve?"

"He's got a point," Justin said, almost reluctant to agree with Brian when he was in such an opposing mood. "You either come as yourselves or you don't come at all."

Brian snorted loudly and Michael smirked too as he watched Brian unable to keep his filthy mind out of the gutter for even a second as he said, "isn't that the idea of prom? Everybody comes?"

"_I _was talking about attending the prom," Justin scowled.

"So was I," Brian shrugged, a smirk stretching his lips into an annoyingly attractive smile.

"Good," Justin said triumphantly. "So you agree that everyone should come to the prom, excellent. Brian and I will be there," he smiled to Emmett and Brian just hit his head dramatically on the arm of the sofa three times muttering 'kill me now' to the beat of every head bash.

The group ignored him, except Michael who smiled a little and then stammered, "w-well, if you're all going then … I may as well come too."

"Of course your coming," Brian said quickly. "Like I said, the idea of the prom is that everybody comes."

"That's the right idea Brian," Debbie laughed as she walked past with armfuls of glittery, rainbow coloured decorations. "I remember my prom, it was so hot that night." Then she hid her mouth from Michael and said loudly, "and the weather was pretty warm too."

"MA!" Michael protested, his face burning up as he tried to disappear into the armchair.

"What?" Debbie asked innocently, "I had a life before you Michael. I was young, free and single once too and I was allowed to fuck who I liked."

Michael just buried his face in his hands and Emmett shuddered overdramatically.

"Breeder sex," he cringed, "can you imagine anything worse?"

"Your mom talking about it front of your friends," Michael suggested.

"Ask Brian," Ted said suddenly, "he's done it."

"It's not so bad," Brian said honestly. "I mean, you still get off. It's just less intense, less primal," he looked to Justin purposefully, "less … hot," he said, snapping the 't' and making a shiver run down Justin spine.

"Quick, change the subject before they both suddenly decide they need to retrieve something from upstairs," Emmett gabbled.

"We could just hose them down," Ted suggested.

"Don't tempt me," Michael said and although his face said he was joking, his tone was more than a little bitter.

"So we're going to the prom?" Emmett asked, looking around at his friends excitedly.

"We're going," Michael confirmed, Justin nodded eagerly too.

"Yay! Fags to the end," Emmett beamed, putting his arm straight out so his hand was in the middle of the room as though to do some corny team cheer and Brian just raised an eyebrow.

"You're fucking kidding right?" He asked.

"Fine," Emmett scowled and then removed his hand with a lonely, belated and less than enthusiastic 'woo'.

::

By the time Debbie had to allowed them to go to the dinner table, the kitchen-dining area looked like the Liberty Avenue dumpsters the day after gay pride. There were rainbow coloured streamers everywhere, glitter scattered all over the table, and more food than any of them, even Justin, could begin to make a dent in.

"Well, my aunt Lula always says, it's not a perfectly planned party if you don't throw away a lot of food," Emmett said, peering in awe at a huge mound of profiteroles, stacked next to a precariously balanced plate of sandwiches, next to that were turkey something, pork something and beef something. They all looked pretty similar and stew-y but no one was about to mention that as they sat down and tried to work out where to begin without causing some kind of food avalanche.

"When do you think would be a good time to mention I don't feel that hungry?" Brian whispered in Justin's ear. The shorter boy chuckled and gave the brunette a quick kiss on the cheek, mainly so he could whisper without the other's hearing.

"Is the pain medication still making you bloated?"

"Mm," Brian nodded, taking one sandwich carefully, as though he were performing a high risk operation. "But not taking the medication makes me vomit from the pain so," he shrugged and smiled. Justin returned his smile sadly.

Brian was still really suffering at the hand of his father, he guessed the Kinney's moving away would probably be the best thing for him, it wouldn't be as though they'd want to take him with them anymore.

The meal went on forever, Debbie refusing to let anyone leave the table before they were full to bursting and even then she tried to force desert upon them repeating over and over again that they were celebrating. Brian didn't feel much like celebrating. He picked at his food, he barely listened to the excited chatter about the big prom stunt, he barely paid any attention to any of it. His medication was starting to wear off and he needed to go upstairs to take his tablet but he also just needed to be alone for a while. He needed to get things sorted in his head. He was out to the whole world now, there was no one left to tell. The coach would know soon enough and then he wasn't sure where his football career would stand at either Maple Grove or anywhere beyond that. Jack may have stopped him getting the shit kicked out of him by Hobbs but the look in his eyes suggested he wasn't going to stick up for Brian if any of Jack's own friends took a shine to shoving the newest fag in a locker.

He sipped his drink carefully and winced a little as the pain began to seep across his chest like a heart attack. He took another sip of his drink, half-listened to Emmett prattling on about the perfect prom suit he'd found in torso and tried to block out the fear that tomorrow, he might not be so lucky with Hobbs or any of the others.

He stood up suddenly and announced he was feeling tired and needed a lie down. Debbie let him go. Justin made to follow him but Brian just said, "alone" and the blonde nodded a little dejectedly.

Brian trudged slowly up the stairs and moved painfully into his room. He found his pills and took one before practically collapsing onto the bed. Now, he finally had chance to work through the thoughts in his muddled mind but he actually just fell asleep, the stress of the day finally taking it's toll. He only woke up again when the front door to the house slammed shut. He could hear them shouting their goodbyes and he reached wearily for his phone. He knew he should probably tell Justin he was sorry for slinking away but he didn't have it in him to apologise for something he wasn't sorry for. He needed this time, if he'd persevered with their celebrations he might just have exploded.

A quiet knock at the door, forced him to sit up. He yawned a little as he called for whoever it was to come in. He expected to see Debbie with a hot cup of cocoa but he actually saw Justin push his head around the door.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Brian shook his head. Then scowling a little, he added, "Emmett did, with his fond farewells."

"Ah, well you know Emmett, he can't do anything quietly."

"Mmm."

"Are you okay?" Justin asked, pushing the door open and walking in a few paces.

"I'll survive," Brian said honestly, though he was beginning to wonder if there was anything he _wouldn't _survive. He'd certainly felt like he'd lived through more than his fair share of bullshit.

"You always do," Justin smiled, "beautifully, I might add."

Brian thought of his beat up, battered and bruised body when he'd woken up in hospital a few weeks ago. "Well, there's no accounting for taste," he mumbled. And with a smirk he added, "I'd like to present Debbie Novotny as exhibit A for that argument. I've never seen so much tack in one place."

Justin chuckled a little through his nose and closed the distance between them so he could perch on his bed.

"I know it's shit right now," he said seriously. "But it'll get better, I promise."

"You can remind me of this tomorrow evening when some jock's tried to shove me in a fucking toilet."

"That might not happen. But if it does, I'll be there to crowbar you back out again."

"Aren't you a sweetheart," Brian scorned.

"What can I say, I love you."

Brian pulled a strained sort of expression and his eyes dropped to his lap like he'd done something wrong or felt guilty.

"It's okay," Justin continued, "I don't expect you to say it back, I just want you to know. And, I know you love me too," he grinned, "because you wouldn't have agreed to go to prom if you didn't."

Brian rolled his eyes a little and Justin chuckled. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm talking to a mime."Brian mimed getting his brains blown out by a shot gun and Justin just shook his head and held Brian's face softly, running his thumb gently over the faded-yellow bruise just under his right eye.

"You look really tired, I'm going to let you sleep." He pressed his lips to Brian's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Brian nodded, before rolling onto his pillow and allowing his eyes to close again. They didn't stay closed.

He tossed and turned all night, images of Hobbs and Jack running through his head, dreams of him getting stuffed in a locked, dreams of people pushing a match through the vent. He knew it was a dream but he still felt hot, he felt like he couldn't breath as the thick smoke flooded his lungs, drowning him. He gasped in oxygen, screaming for help but as he tried to peer out of the vents he saw the entire football team shrugging as though they'd care more if it were a cat screaming for it's life … and perhaps they would.

Brian woke up and went back to the same dream three times that night and when he rolled down to breakfast the next morning, the ever subtle Debbie Novotny announced he looked 'fucking awful'.

"Thanks Deb," he scorned, sitting down and picking mindlessly at his cereal.

"Are you okay?" Michael whispered, "you look like you hardly slept."

"That's probably because I hardly slept," Brian said, allowing his spoon to fall into his bowl and splash milk over nearby table.

"Was the bed comfy enough?"

"The bed was fine, perfect even. I just couldn't settle down." He wasn't going to tell Michael that a nightmare had kept him up. Nightmares were for kids and even then, his parents never gave a shit. The only person who'd help him out was his brother Jack and that was usually because the boys were all sharing a room. He sighed as he imagined that telling Jack about last night's nightmare would probably be step one towards making it a reality.


	26. A Shocking Discovery

Ted arrived to pick Michael and Brian up just like he always did. He had some opera crap playing softly in the background but it was grating on Brian's very being, the screaming woman's voice was gnawing at his brain and he felt sick … totally sick. Emmett was chatting away brightly, like he always does regardless of a situation. He was one of those 'things could be worse' people but Brian didn't really see how that was possible right now. He stayed sullen and silent, willing the car to crash or career off the road or _something _that would mean they wouldn't make it into school.

Of course, the journey went without a hitch and they were soon pulling into their usual spot in the car park at Maple Grove. Brian looked out of the window at the people milling around and felt his stomach plunge anxiously. He'd never thought of school as threatening before … but now.

"Brian," he heard Michael's voice, "are you going to get out of the car or are you just going to sit there all day?"

"Sit here," Brian said quickly. "I'm glad I had the option."

"Asshole," Michael sighed. "Come on, we have to go."

Brian grumbled a bit more but he knew ultimately he would have to get out of the car at some point, he guessed it would probably be better to leave now, rather than be late for his first class. He dragged himself slowly from the back seat and stretched himself as he stood up. He couldn't stop himself from eyeing his peers suspiciously. He expected someone to throw something at him at any second, which was why he jumped so hard when Justin touched him on the shoulder.

"Christ, you're tense," Justin said as he was thrown off.

"He's been like it all morning," Michael sighed.

"Mmm," the blonde hummed, peering into his boyfriend's face, "you look tired."

"So everyone keeps informing me," Brian scowled, running a hand quickly through his hair to give himself something to do with otherwise quivering hands.

"Come on," Emmett said brightly, "lets go to class."

The group began to walk towards the building, Brian followed but Justin could see his steps were short and reluctant.

"It won't be as bad as you think," Justin promised soothingly. "It's just words."

"Usually," Emmett added, then noticing several glares focused right on him, he said, "sorry," and tried to prance away before the angriest blonde-headed expression could to him any damage.

Brian, however, just shook his head a little, pushed back his shoulders and adopted a sudden swagger, similar to the one he had on Liberty Avenue.

"Fuck 'em," he muttered under his breath. "None of them matter." With that, he slipped his hand through Justin's and walked into school as a proud homosexual.

Justin didn't bother to mention that Brian's hands were clammy and shaking.

::

"Hey Kinney, you wanna suck my dick?"

Brian looked up to see who'd shouted it. Tylor Clarke, a shitty little bench warmer from the football team. He was a nobody, most people weren't even aware of his existence and Brian only knew him because he'd always made an effort to know everyone on his team.

"Fuck you Clarke," he snarled.

"You're like that wouldn't you," Clarke quipped, causing the classroom to giggle.

"Please," Brian scorned, "I'd rather plunge by face into a box of broken glass than go anywhere near your inexperienced dick."

"Well, that can be arranged," Clarke snarled.

"Just try it," Brian replied. He sounded cold and calm and almost a little insane, like he would happily engage in a fight with Tylor Clarke if the middle-class breeder-boy didn't shut the fuck up soon.

Tylor's relief was apparent as the teacher walked in and told them both to calm down. Brian sank into his seat and Clarke coughed the word 'queer' under his breath. Brian waited for the laughter to calm down before coughing 'virgin'. There was laughter again and Brian peered over his shoulder, to see Tylor's face burning red.

"Score one to the fag," he mumbled to himself and proceeded to do his work.

::

Next lesson, he was on his own again. He spotted his usual seat crammed in with the jocks and shook his head quickly, deciding to sit right at the front, near the teacher. He opened his bag, ready to pull all his work out, when he saw a pair of top of the range trainer stop right in front of him, he looked up to see who they belonged to. Hobbs. He was standing with a bottle of cola, which he, very slowly, poured straight into Brian's bag, soaking everything inside. Brian fumed. Hobbs shouldn't even have been in this lesson, he was having to take the class again because he'd failed it so miserably last year. If he'd had enough sense to do some work, Brian wouldn't have had to put up with this; watching as Hobbs shook the bottle to make sure every drop of cola had fallen. He listened to the reaction from the room. There were a few gasps and there was a lot of laughter but that wasn't important what was important was proving he wasn't a silly little faggot to be pushed around. Brian waited until Hobbs and began to walk away before he got purposefully out of his chair and marched after him.

He put a hand on his shoulder and span him around.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snarled. "Are you trying to prove to these people you're not gay?" He asked, looking around the classroom. "Think people will be fooled into believing you ain't gay because you poured your drink on a faggots work?" He took a step closer to Hobbs so they were barely an inch apart. "Tell me, Chris, how does this make you feel?" He whispered, sexily in the other boy's ear.

The whole class were staring at them, Hobbs was scowling menacingly. Suddenly, Brian grabbed the back of Hobbs neck and pulled him even closer. He whispered something, the same thing he whispered to all the men on Liberty Avenue that he wanted to fuck, and smirked as he leant back to see Hobbs' face flushing beautifully. His eyes dilated and Brian smirked to himself.

"Look at you," Brian laughed mirthlessly, "you're pathetic."

Brian turned his back on Hobbs and made his way back towards his seat. Suddenly, he felt a punch his lower back and he cried out in pain.

But fuck if he was gonna take this from this closeted homophobic asshole. He span, his fist flying and caught Hobbs right in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Hobbs doubled over, tears forming in his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I might be a fag," Brian said, steadily. He was aiming his words at Hobbs but it was clear the warning was meant for everyone. "But don't think that means you can mess with me. I'm not like the others, I'm not just gonna take it lying down."

"He takes it on all fours," one of the boys, Jon, said loudly and the class giggled again.

"What was that Jon?" Brian asked threateningly.

"Nothing," the boy replied quickly, burying himself in his text book and refusing to meet Brian's eyes.

The day had carried on in much the same way. Brian was beginning to feel as though he was being chased around the school my homophobic slurs and the only people who would talk to him were those from the fag-mag. It made sense that they'd all been forced into friendship, they were all the others had. Not even Eric would talk to him, he shot him a sympathetic smile but it seemed his support of his brother was purely behind the scenes. Brian knew deep down, Eric probably agreed somewhat with what people were saying about him. He was a good brother, he'd pushed all his beliefs aside to help him, but there was a line and he'd drawn it. He wouldn't publicly stand by Brian whilst people insulted him relentlessly.

He'd gone to his locker after before going to the cafeteria only to find the word faggot scrawled across it but he barely flinched. It wasn't worse than anything else that had been said so far, little did he know it was about to get worse … much worse.

Brian had been walking to the cafeteria alone when his phone vibrated to tell him there was a text from Eric.

He opened it, and the words made his heart sink;

**One New Message  
****From: Eric**

_Carlson's jst accused Jack_  
_of bein a fag coz he stopped_  
_Hobbs hittin u yest. He's_  
_on a rampage. B careful!_

::

Brian had barely lifted his tray of food off the support rail and begun to make his way to the table, before a fist came and smacked the food out of his hands. Everything spilt all down him, his shirt covered immediately in food stains.

"Fucking faggot!" Jack yelled in his face, causing an eruption of laughter from the jock's table. Eric and Sarah were the only ones sat over there not laughing.

Brian kicked his tray hard across the floor accidentally striking one of the dinner ladies in the ankle. He didn't give a fuck as she hobbled about, hissing about old joints. He just ran, as quickly as he could, away from everyone.

"Kinney!" The stricken dinner lady yelled after him. "Kinney, get back here now. I'm going to tell the principal about this!"

But Brian wasn't listening. He just ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran out of the school gates, onto the street, turned right and ran. Eventually, he couldn't keep up his pace anymore and he slowed to a walk. He was totally lost but he refused to let that bother him. He just kept walking purposefully. His phone was going mental in his pocket. Text after text asking where he was, what he was doing and was he okay but he didn't reply to any of them, he just turned off the phone and buried his hands deep in his pockets as he continued to walk.

He was glad that summer was nearly here. He could smell cut grass and flowers and warm tarmac, all the smells of imminent summer. The air felt pleasant and the breeze didn't chill him. He figured he'd be okay outside until the sun went down and maybe by then he'd have found some place he recognised. There weren't too many cars around but it was a strange time for cars, lunchtime on a weekday wasn't exactly a notorious time for people to be travelling around.

He sighed a little and continued his walk to nowhere. The buildings were pretty tall on either side of him so he knew he must be getting closer to the centre of city life but he couldn't even really be sure if the city was Pittsburgh. He'd lived a very limited life, he knew school, his home and Liberty Avenue, everything else was just a foreign jungle of concrete and mortar.

He impulsively decided to turn left when he reached a shop with a red awning, he couldn't tell you why other than he had a good feeling about this street, which was odd because it was quite dark, hidden from the sun by the tall buildings and was more like a back alley than anything.

"Hey, hey! You!" He heard a gruff voice yelling at him. He looked up to see a boy about his age with short spiky black hair, wearing a leather jacket and pair of tight ripped jeans, with grass stains on the knees and all sorts of other stains everywhere else.

"Get the fuck out of here," the boy yelled, his voice sounded hoarse, like it had been broken brutally and was slowly being put back together. "This is my patch, got it? Got it?"

"Sure," Brian nodded, not really sure what the boy was talking about. He figured it had something to do with drugs though, the boy had a pale gaunt face, with sunken eyes but his pupils were large in his green eyes. He was clearly high as a fucking kite and Brian had no intentions of messing with him.

"I'm just passing through, honest," he insisted.

"Good," the boy snarled at him. "Get moving."

Brian just trudged along the dark street, seriously regretting his decision to walk this way. He should have stayed on the main road where there were lots of people and lots of light and no crazy addicts threatening him. He was more than a little disturbed to hear footsteps behind him. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and found the boy was just a few paces away following him. Brian sped up, so did the boy. He started to panic. What if this boy had a knife or a gun or even just punched him? But it seemed things were worse than that, because Brian found himself slowing his pace as he heard the boy shout,

"you wanna fuck me?"

Brian gulped a little, a part of him knew that he _was_ looking for a fuck but not like this, with a druggy off the street. "No," he said steadily, forcing himself to keep walking.

"Want me to fuck you?" The boy asked, getting closer.

"No," Brian said more firmly.

"It's only $50 for a blowjob," the boy continued and Brian stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at the boy. They were probably about the same age or maybe the other boy was younger and his life had already come to this, fucking strangers for money. Brian couldn't believe he'd thought he'd had it bad. Yeah, his family had kicked him out of his house and yeah, he was bullied at school and yeah, he may never be able to play football again but at least he still had people and friends who cared about him.

"How old are you?" He asked suddenly.

"How old would you like me to be?"

Brian scrunched up his face a little as he asked, "what's your name?"

"Anything you want?" He smiled, showing yellow crooked teeth.

Brian just frowned and turned away from the boy, whispering, "I'm so sorry."

"Wait, wait," the boy yelled after him, "one time only offer. Half price for you, coz you're hot. Hottest that walked by here for a long time."

"I'm okay, thanks," Brian frowned, trying to shake the boy as he began to march quicker.

Suddenly the boy appeared ahead of him, his green iris' barely visible around his huge pupils, but he looked pleadingly up at Brian, "I'll let you fuck me if you just give me 5 bucks."

"I don't want to fuck you," Brian said. "I just wanna go home."

"And where's that?" The boy asked, scratching his greasy black hair furiously.

"I don't know," Brian said honestly, he pushed his way past the boy and was about to practically run away when a car pulled up besides them.

Brian couldn't help feel he'd seen the car before but he wasn't sure when or where. He just watched in captivated horror as the window rolled down and the boy walked across, strutting sexily.

He heard the driver of the vehicle say gruffly, "how much?"

And he heard the boy reply, "50 bucks for a blowjob, 100 to fuck me, 200 I'll let you do it without a condom."

Then Brian heard something that made him feel sick, "how much for both of you?"

"500," the boy had replied immediately.

"No fucking way," Brian shouted.

"Don't listen to him," the boy was saying, "he's new to it. But I'm sure he'll feel better about it when I tell him what a gentle lover you are."

"Hmm, 500 seems a lot, get him over here. I wanna see this kid."

In the nanosecond it had taken Brian's brain to instruct his feet to run, the boy had already buried his claws into Brian's arm, pinching angrily. Brian tried to shake him off angrily but he quickly found something metal and hard pressed against his side. He froze immediately and stole a glance at the object. It was a gun, hidden from the view of the driver but perfectly visible to him.

"I'm warning you," the boy whispered, "never get in the way of an addict and his hobby, got it?"

Brian gulped and nodded steadily. Sex with a stranger didn't seem worth getting killed over, besides, he'd had anonymous sex hundreds of times, though granted none of that had been paid work but he didn't think he'd be seeing any of the money for this anyway.

He allowed himself to be dragged to the car's open window and his head was shoved through, giving the man a chance to look at him. When Brian saw the driver, he immediately relaxed. His face snarled up into a cruel smirk and he almost laughed. Suddenly, he felt like he had the upper hand.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled. "It's a surprise to see you here … coach!"


	27. A Most Excellent Adventure

"Kinney! What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Honestly, I was trying to find my way home but then this," he indicated the boy still pressing a gun to his ribs, "delightful boy, held a gun to me and dragged me over to see you, his most recent client. His prices are good though, right coach? 200 to fuck him bareback," he whistled, long and low, "the diseases you must be carrying."

"I don't do that," the coach said quickly. "It's just blowjobs, I'm not gay."

Brian actually laughed out loud at that. "I'm almost getting tired of hearing from people how they aren't gay. You, Hobbs … me? It's getting kind of boring. What do we think because we understand football that immediately makes us straight … coz, I don't know about you coach, but there's nothing I like more than dick. I love it down my throat, I love pumping it when I'm fucking the ass it belongs to, I love all of it."

He watched as the coach gulped water down his dry throat and his cheeks flushed, hot and horny.

"Oh dear," Brian chuckled. "Aren't we just the tragic, closeted little faggot?"

"Shut up," the man spat angrily.

"Right," Brian said seriously, lowering his voice as the other boy began to grumble about what was taking him so long to decide. "You, help me out of this mess and I won't tell anyone about your little boy hustler fetish. I mean Christ," Brian smirked, "is he even legal?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kinney," the coach growled quickly.

"That'll be a 'no' then," he said triumphantly, a big smile on his face. "Oh, wait until the principal hears about this."

"Wait," the coach said quickly, "I'll help you but you have to promise to keep your mouth shut."

"Okay," Brian nodded.

"Promise me," he hissed.

"Fine, I promise," Brian said solemnly.

"Okay," the coach nodded. "His gun's a lighter. It's the only thing he owns apart from the clothes he's wearing. He uses it to make sure people pay-up but it also lights him up for his addiction. He can't hurt you if you run … now."

Brian just nodded and slowly withdrew himself from the car but not before saying, "and don't worry coach, I'm a man of my word. I won't tell a soul."

As soon as he was breathing fresh air again, he span quickly and pushed the boy away sharply before running like hell. Brian didn't look back, so he couldn't be sure of what happened but there was no gunshot, just wheezing breaths of a rundown drug addict angrily waving a novelty lighter around in the air.

Brian hailed a taxi, not worrying that he didn't have any money to pay the man. He just asked him to take him to Liberty Avenue. The man seemed to eye him a little strangely in the mirror but Brian wasn't sure if he was just being paranoid. He didn't really care, he just slumped back into his seat. He knew he was going to have to run out on this taxi driver, he just wasn't sure when the best time would be to do it. He was exceedingly grateful when he recognised the street they were on as one just a few minutes walk from the baths. The taxi drew to a halt as the traffic lights commanded and Brian threw the door open an legged it quickly down the sidewalk. He could hear the voice of the taxi driver screaming after him but he didn't give a shit. He was only focused on one thing, getting to the baths.

He ran in, the guy at the door greeted him like an old friend and Brian smirked at him in response as he began to strip off quickly. As soon as he was strolling around in his towel, he felt free. He soon found a corner and some willing men to go down on him in turn and he just leant back against the wall and tried to make sense of his day but thankfully, the two guys he'd chosen were good at what they were doing, experts even, and soon he couldn't think of anything except the feelings of ecstatic pleasure that ripped through his every fibre. He felt relaxed and happy for a moment, glad he was a fag and glad for Justin and his friends. He decided not to think about the coach, he decided he'd try not to have to think of that ever again.

He dropped to his knees and got to work on a man nearby him but the man just grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet.

"I'm gonna fuck you," he whispered into Brian's ear. "I'm gonna be the best you've ever had.""I don't think so," Brian shook his head, and flipped the man, who had to be several years older than Brian around. "I'm gonna be the best, you've ever had."

And from the way the man screamed and begged, Brian could only assume he'd followed through on his promise.

::

Brian got home late. The streets were dark but the breeze was warm and his jacket was more than enough to keep him from getting too cold. He didn't feel happy, he just felt a bit lost, as though he couldn't quite remember his day, as though it had been a dream. Maybe there was so much he wished he could forget that he'd already begun to block it out. The walk to Debbie's from Liberty Avenue was straight forward, well lit and full of people he knew and recognised, it just took ages, especially after a long day of running and fucking. He was still a bit weak from his time in hospital, his ribs were straining now as he picked up his pace. It wasn't enough to make him stop, just enough to be a painful reminder of his father's love.

He walked up to Debbie's bright red front door and gave it a tentative push, as always, it swung open easily. She barely ever bothered to lock the door. She never saw the point, no one had stolen anything so far and she didn't expect anyone to steal anything in the future.

Brian swallowed thickly as he heard Debbie's voice stricken with fear as she gabbled quickly down the phone.

"How long? About eight or nine hours? … Yes, yes. … He's probably about six foot. Brown hair, brown eyes, slim … muscular even. No, no … I don't know."

He shuffled forward a little, and took in the site ahead of him. Debbie was on the phone, pacing up and down as far as the chord would allow her. Michael was fixing a picture of them both to a piece of paper saying 'Have You Seen This Boy?' with an arrow to Brian and Vic was just sat in an arm chair trying to calm the dramatic Novotny's down.

Not knowing quite what to say to this scene, Brian just cleared his throat loudly. Michael was the first reaction he noticed. The boy looked up and his eyes grew even wider as he leapt to his feet. It was like he'd seen a ghost and Brian could only imagine the horror stories he'd been telling himself in the few hours he'd been missing.

The next reaction he noticed was good old reliable Uncle Vic, who had a smug 'I told you so' look on his face as he picked up the receiver Debbie had dropped and informed whoever she'd been talking to, probably the police, that everything had been sorted and sorry to bother them.

But it was Debbie's reaction that took almost all of his attention.

"Where the hell have you been?" She yelled storming over to him. "We've been worried sick! You just ran away, no message, no way of getting hold of you! I should really…" She raised her hand into the air.

She was going to clip him round the head, just like she did to Michael, just like she did to Vic, just like she did to anyone she considered to be part of her family that pissed her off. But this was Brian … for a moment, she forgot Brian was different, she forgot what a raised hand could do to him. For the first time ever, she saw how truly fucked up the kid was.

He cowered, trembling, a look of terror on his face like nothing she had ever seen before. He looked like he was trying to climb through the wall, pressed up against it, so close. He didn't sound like he was breathing, it was as though all his energy was going on preparing himself for a beating. He doubled over slightly, to protect his ribs and covered his face with his arms all the time whispering,

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

Brian panicked. He prepared himself for the worse. He'd fucked up, he'd pushed the limits of what was acceptable and now he was going to be taught a lesson. He just hoped it wouldn't be too bad. He prepared himself for the worst, his eyes were closed as he anticipated the first impact but it never came. Instead, he felt two arms go around him and he was engulfed with Debbie's flowery smell.

"I'm sorry kiddo," she whispered in his hear. "I didn't mean to do that to you."

Brian was completely confused. Why the hell was she apologising to him? He didn't understand so he just whispered. "I'm sorry, I swear I am Deb."

"I know," she said softly, stroking his hair with her fingers. "It's okay." Brian frowned and pushed himself away from her, a look of utter confusion on his face.

"It's okay?" He repeated, his words were filled with anger. He was confused, he didn't understand and that made him suspicious. He felt almost trapped by kindness and it was weird, his eyes flicked between the three people in the room. "What do you mean it's okay?"

"I accept your apology," Deb said slowly. She too, clearly didn't understand anymore.

"But dad always said that sorry was bullshit that, you should have considered your actions before you did it and not rely on sorry to cover up your mistakes."

"Well, I have no doubts your father said a lot of things I'd disagree with," Debbie said angrily.

Brian still looked confused and apprehensive, so Debbie sighed and put on her most motherly voice.

"Listen honey," she said softly, "you're just a kid. You can't be expected to get it right every time. You're going to make mistakes, right?"

"I guess," Brian nodded.

"Right. Just don't make 'em again," Debbie said firmly. "And next time," she added, "leave your damn cell on."

"Sorry," Brian muttered dropping his head. "But they don't let cell phones in the Baths."

"You've been to the Baths?" Michael cried indignantly. "I thought you'd been kidnapped … or murdered."

"Clearly," Brian smirked, nodding to the poster the other boy was making.

"I was worried about you," Michael scowled, scrunching up the poster. He felt stupid now and he'd ruined a really nice photo of himself and Brian. It had seemed worth it twenty minutes ago, now it seemed like the biggest waste of time.

"Does Justin know you went to the Baths?" Michael demanded cruelly, feeling suddenly like he might be in a position of power, something he could hold over Brian the way Brian seemed to have a million and one things to hold over him; his unrequited love, his obsession with Captain Astro, his somewhat disturbing crush on Buzzy the comic book store owner but of course Brian just said,

"not yet. But I'll tell him. I tell him about all my conquests."

And with that, he began to make his way up the stairs. He needed to call Justin, he needed to apologise for disappearing and not telling anyone where he was going.

"Where are you going?" Debbie demanded. "Dinner won't be long."

"I'm not hungry," he insisted as he disappeared around the bend in the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."

::

Brian turned on his cell and within five minutes was informed of sixteen missed calls and seven texts. He could hardly believe it. How many times had he run away in the past for a few hours without anyone so much as noticing. There might have been the odd text from Jack or Eric asking him where the hell he was but in general no one had ever cared but now. Well, now he had a whole family of people. There were texts from Lindsey, two from Michael, three from Justin and the standard one from Eric and there were calls from Lindsey, Michael, Justin too, as well as Emmett, Ted and Debbie. He could barely believe it. He sent the same generic text to Emmett, Ted, Eric and Lindsey to inform them he was sorry that he'd run away without saying anything and that he was home safely now and then he punched in Justin's number and dialled. He needed to hear Justin's voice to put a pleasant end to what had so far been a hellish day.

"Brian! Oh my god! Thank God, thank Buddah, thank whoever the hell is up there."

"There's no one up there," Brian informed him with the utmost confidence.

"Well, thank karma then," Justin snapped but Brian could hear the smile in his voice. The 'I'm just happy to hear from you regardless of what your saying' smile.

"That does exist either," Brian said, relaxing into his pillows. "I guess I'm just lucky, huh?"

"Hmm," Justin hummed. "So, what happened to you? Why did you run out like that?"

"It just got a bit much, I guess," Brian frowned and Justin could practically hear the famous Kinney 'change the subject' shrug.

"Right. Where did you go?"

"The baths."

"You walked from the school to the Baths!" Justin exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm not sure how I got there to be honest. Just lucky I guess. I had to take a few dodgy looking alleyways."

"Brian!" Justin scowled. "You could have been mugged or killed or … worse!"

"Worse?" Brian snorted. "What's worse than being killed?"

"I don't know. You wouldn't know until it happened would you."

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise on Justin's end of the phone. It was so loud it made Brian jump violently.

"What the hell was that?" He asked.

"I don't know," was the whispered response. "I'll ring you back in a bit, I have to go. I'm glad you're okay Bri."

"Yeah, okay well just…." But the dial tone buzzed loudly in his ear. He frowned and hung up the phone not really sure what the hell had just happened. He was exhausted from his ridiculous day, so he led down on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn't think he'd fall asleep. He didn't think he'd miss Justin's call but he certainly didn't expect to be woken by a knocking on his bedroom door.

He was disorientated for a while. He wasn't sure why he was still fully dressed or why his door was creaking open slowly or why he had a phone in his hand. He sat up a little and dug his knuckels into his eyes to try to dislodge the sleep.

"Mikey?" He croaked, maybe he'd had a bad dream again, that wouldn't be the first time. "Are you okay?"

"It's not Michael," Justin sniffed as he pushed the door open to reveal himself. He looked a mess. His clothes were haphazard, as though he'd thrown them on without really paying much attention, his hair hadn't been brushed and his eyes were red and bloodshot.

"Justin," Brian sat up a bit his bed, "what the hell happened? What are you doing here?"

"My parents are rowing," Justin sniffed. "Worse than I've ever seen them. Dad even smashed a vase onto the floor and they woke my sister up. Mom asked me to take her to a friends so she didn't have to see any of it. I took the car and drove, I didn't know where her friends lived and she was sobbing and asking all these questions about mom and dad and I just panicked and came here. I didn't know what to do Brian … I didn't know what to do." He broke down into tears, his hands covering his face as he sobbed loudly, every gasp of breath shaking his entire body.

"Hey, hey…" Brian got to his feet and went over to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. "It's okay," he muttered in his ear. "It's okay."

Justin didn't say anything, he just clung to Brian like his life depended on it, scrunching his hands up in Brian's clothes as his tears seeped through the front of his shirt.

"Sorry," he sniffed eventually. "I'm acting like a silly faggot."

"Don't be daft," Brian sighed, guiding the smaller boy gently to his bed so he could sit down. Brian didn't know what to do, he'd never been faced with Justin needing his help before, it had always been the other way round. Though no one would believe it, Justin was the strong one, the one who always saw them through any situation. Brian had always been week and hid it under a façade of anger and bitterness.

"It's okay," Brian repeated uselessly, rubbing Justin's back in a way he hoped was soothing, the truth was, he'd never really been soothed in his life, except perhaps for Eric bringing him a sandwich and saying he was sorry.

"I'm worried, Brian," Justin said eventually, when he'd managed to get his tears under control and dropped his head onto Brian's shoulder. "I think this could be it."

"What do you mean?"

"Divorce."

"You don't know that," Brian countered quickly. "People fight all the time, it doesn't mean they're going to get divorced."

"It's been on the cards for a while and now that Dad's found out about-" He stopped abruptly. "Never mind," he sighed. "The point is, he's mad; madder than I've ever seen him. I can't stand it."

"They're not blaming you."

"No," Justin answered quickly. "Not directly, though dad said things hadn't been the same since I told them I was gay."

"G-A-Y," Brian corrected a little smirk on his face as he remembered Jennifer Taylor's attempts at political correctness but Justin didn't smile, he just nodded.

"Exactly."

"So what were they rowing about?"

"It doesn't matter," Justin said, turning to lie on the bed. He had a little colour back in his cheek and he even managed a smile, so Brian decided not to push him on it. "Tell me about your day," Justin continued.

Brian nodded and led down next to his boyfriend. "Okay," he murmured, "but it's not that exciting."

He told Justin about the slurs and school. He told him how his brother's comments had been the final straw, he told him that he'd just run, with no thought for direction or consequence, he told him about the hustler he'd found, he told him about the man in the car, but he didn't mention it was the coach. He told him about going to the baths and he told him about the men.

"Sounds like you had a most excellent adventure," Justin smiled, touching Brian's face gently. Brian smiled back, they were both sleepy and warm and exhausted from their emotional days and before they really thought about it, they were asleep.


	28. Goodbye Cruel World

**Hi. So, work at uni has suddenly just arrived and smacked me in the face from nowhere. Sorry it's taking a while to update and I kind of hope you guys will stick with me, there's still a couple of loose ends to tie up ….**

**I get the feeling it's starting to drag a bit now, but as I've written the ending already, I really want to get their now!**

**Hope a few of you at least will stick with me to the end as I have a horrible feeling this could be the last fic for a while. =(**

**I.B…xx**

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Morning in 'Sister Debbie's Home for Strays' was always a loud, noisy, bustling affair. It usually involved too much food and picking up the wrong bags and not having what they needed for school and worrying how everyone was going to get to the place they needed to on time but this morning, it was worse than normal. The Taylor's late-night arrival had caused Debbie to be nervously working out a plan of action this morning. She had five breakfasts laid out ready, she'd already eaten. She'd worked out that she could take the bus into work as usual, that the boys could catch the school bus but she had no idea how she was going to get Molly in.

"Mom said she could swing by and pick her up on the way to work," Justin said, crunching the mouthfuls of cereal in his mouth as he reached for his fourth piece of toast. Brian just stared at the boy, wondering exactly where he put all this food.

"Or Ted could probably take her in his car," Michael suggested.

"She could walk," Brian mumbled, only half-joking, after all, the school was less than a mile away, it would only take her ten minutes.

"Brian!" Debbie scolded, throwing the lid of an orange carton at him.

"I had to walk a lot further when I was her age," he shrugged, before eating a minuscule amount of cereal.

"Hey look!" Michael beamed, suddenly pulling a figurine from the cereal box, a small green, crudely made plastic superhero. "Captain Astro," he grinned.

"Captain 'Piece of Shit' more like," Brian scowled, taking the plastic figure and studying it more closely. "Christ, the shit they make in Thailand. If it wasn't for their food, I'd wonder what the point of the country actually was."

"Brian," Justin frowned, shaking his head as Michael snatched his toy back."What's 'shit'?" Molly asked, from her place at the table and Brian smirked to himself.

"It's a naughty word," Debbie informed the little girl quickly, "Brian's very naughty for saying it."

"When I'm naughty my daddy sends me to my room." Molly said, eyeing Brian warily.

"Well, when I'm naughty, my daddy beats the shit out of me," Brian smiled sweetly back at her.

"Okay, that's enough," Debbie shouted in the tallest boys direction. "Go and find something to do somewhere else, please Brian. I know you're worried about going to school today but that doesn't mean you can be horrible to Molly."

"I'm not being horrible," he stated firmly, "I'm just letting her in on a few home truths."

"It is true," Molly nodded, breaking off some toast before putting both pieces back on her plate.

"See," Brian smirked, "the kid knows."

"Daddy does what to hurt Brian," Molly continued. "That's why they were rowing because you stole dad's new car money."

"His new car money?" Brian frowned and then it dawned on him. His hospital bills, Craig Taylor must have found out his wife and been footing the bill and was pissed. That's why they'd rowed. That's why the two youngest Taylor's had sought refuge at Deb's, that was why Justin's parents were thinking of getting a divorce. It was all him. All his fault … yet again, he was to blame for everything.

"Shit," he whispered and with that, he turned around and left the house. He didn't know where to go, he didn't want to go to the baths, he didn't want to get high or get drunk. He didn't believe he deserved an escape from this, he felt he should feel every bit of pain, every second of hurt his brain and heart had to offer him.

It was no more than he deserved. How could Justin bear to look at him? How had he snuggled up to him last night? Why hadn't he hit him? It didn't make sense, he'd ruined everything, he'd destroyed his family and his life and Justin hadn't said a thing. Brian walked, he stole a light from a passing queer, being a good-looking fag on liberty avenue had no end of advantages.

He knew he shouldn't be smoking but he didn't fucking care. If he was going to make it as a football player, one cigarette in a time of great need wouldn't stop him. He walked until he got to Woodies, he stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and then strolled in. It was early so the only people there was one guy behind the bar and a few sad old queens sat in a corner playing cards.

"They'll be here all day," the barman smirked, "morning to night, I don't even know if they have a home to go to."

"I know how they feel," Brian sighed, hoisting himself onto a barstool.

"Aren't you a little young to be here?" The barman asked.

"If I'm hot enough, I'm old enough," Brian shrugged. "That seems to be the general rule around Liberty Avenue."

The man raised an eyebrow but he kept quiet.

"Is there something you wanna talk about kid? I've heard it all, you know."

"I'm sure you have," Brian smirked. "But I don't air my dirty laundry in public and I certainly don't share it with a barman at Woodies."

"Fine," the man sighed, "what'll it be?"

Brian seemed to consider this question for a moment before saying, "nothing," and sliding off the barstool and back out of the pub. He didn't want booze, he didn't want smokes, he didn't want to get high or get laid. He didn't know what he wanted, maybe to apologize to Justin and Molly, explain that he never meant to hurt them or to break-up their family, maybe he should apologize to Craig and Jennifer too, then his parents and Jack and Eric, Michael for leading him on and Debbie for being a burden. Maybe his dad was right, the world would have been a better place if he'd never been born.

He turned suddenly on his heels and went to set the world right again.

::

It wasn't as dramatic as he'd imagined it would be. He just stood on the roof of a building, a hospital building because he'd always thought irony was amusing, with his arms out peering out across the Pittsburgh landscape. There wasn't much to talk about, there were buildings and cars and people living their lives, there were trees and parks and animals but it all looked bleak and broken. All of it was just another person he could hurt. He shuffled a little closer to the edge of the wall.

He wished Justin were here now, to help him; 'to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die'. He shuddered as he looked out over the landscape, it didn't feel very heavenly, just final and necessary. Maybe if Michael were here, he'd come with him, Michael never let him face anything by himself, they could both stand here, they could jump together and for a moment they would fly, like Superman and Lois Lane, like Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad.

He smirked, truthfully though, he needed courage because as he peered over the side of the building, he felt sick to his stomach. His mind raced with the people he'd never see again, the things he'd never do. The thought of dying terrified him, the thought of falling off this building scared him more than the thought of living through the hell of school and college and life. He was a coward, that was all there was to it. He took a step backwards, grateful that the rooftop wall was wide.

He heard a voice behind him telling him he was doing well and now just keep moving in that direction. Brian just sighed, he'd almost forgotten about the group of doctors, nurses and police that were stood behind him, watching his every move.

Some idiot had decided he needed a smoke whilst Brian had been pondering his fate and now the whole hospital were there to watch some idiot police man, with a low voice and a patronising tone talk him out of 'doing something stupid'. If Brian was honest, the man and his voiced words of encouragement was about the only thing that really made him want to jump. He just wanted to see the other's faces when he failed, he wanted his blood to be on that man's hands, he wanted that man to feel as guilty as he did, he wanted to hear all the doctors saying 'it wasn't your fault' or 'there was nothing else you could have done', whilst the man had his insides rotted away by the guilt.

But Brian knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy another man being as guilt-ridden as him, he'd be dead and that would be a waste.

He sighed again and edged closer to death. He'd been stood up here twenty minutes now, he may as well give them a show. He covered his eyes with his left hand and shouted,

"goodbye cruel world," before jumping backwards and landing safely on the hospital roof.

"Gotcha," he smirked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to go" but as he reached the stairs he turned and said, "I was never gonna jump you know. In fact, I wasn't even going to get on the wall until this guy," he pointed to the first smoking man, "came up and jumped to conclusions but I nearly did jump," he said, looking at the guy who'd been talking to him, "and you were the one motivating me to do it, with every false kind word."

And with that, he left. The hospital staff were chasing him, reluctant to let him go without counselling and therapy but Brian felt fine. Now that he'd reached the ground and looked up, he knew he'd never have been able to jump off. He had too many people he needed to prove wrong, and that meant going to school. He knew what to do, he had to be the best, most successful fag he could and that's what he would do. It was amazing how standing on a roof could help you think.


	29. Don't Mess With Me

He arrived at school in time for the last lesson of the day; gym class.

"Where the hell did you go all day?" Justin demanded, when he saw Brian rushing past everyone to the gym.

"I needed time to clear my head," Brian smirked, stopping to go over to the blonde. He didn't want to expand on that his morning's activities. He actually felt alright. He kissed Justin chastely and promised to explain after school. Or at least spin Justin a believable tale that didn't involve him being stood on a hospital roof for ages.

"Okay," Justin agreed and raced off to maths. Brian sighed and readied himself. He needed to be strong for this lesson, the abuse was going to be rife.

He pushed the door to the changing rooms open and strolled in. Everyone changing stopped immediately. They all started grabbing the closest item of clothing, desperately trying to cover themselves up.

"What are you doing here?"

"Get the hell out faggot!"

"Are you trying to get a look at our dicks, Brian?"

Brian said nothing and sat on one of the benches, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. He didn't need any of these boys accusing him of staring at them. This was ridiculous, he may as well have gone home. All he was going to do was sit at the side of the gym watching the rest of his class run around a basketball court, whilst he sat feeling like an outcast and a freak. He couldn't help glancing up to the overlooking window of the magazine room. It was empty, but that didn't stop him looking, hoping to suddenly see Lindsey's face smiling at him and beckoning him up.

He barely noticed when something softly bumped his leg but he heard the coach's voice shout

"Kinney," and he glanced up to see the whole gym class glaring at him.

"Toss the ball back," the coach said patronisingly, and Brian did as he was told. He hated the looks everyone was giving him. There were only two; disgust and sympathy and Brian wasn't entirely sure which he hated more.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours of noisy ball-bouncing and squeaking trainers, the coach blew his whistle and the boys began to trail into the changing room. Brian hauled himself laboriously to his feet and made to follow them, but he quickly felt an arm shoot out in front of him.

"Not you, Kinney," one of the boys snarled, "we're taking showers and you're not even getting changed, you can stay here, or better still … go home."

"Fuck you, Kyle" Brian said, hitting the boy's arm hard.

"Fucking faggot," Kyle hissed, squaring up to Brian, "you could have broken by goddamn arm. Then how would I have played basketball?"

"Badly, as usual," Brian replied calmly.

Kyle lashed out but he was slow and unpractised and Brian knew how to dodge a first punch, he'd been doing it for years. He ducked skilfully and tackled him around the waste so the both collapsed to the floor in a heap.

"Get off me!" Kyle was yelling and he thumped his balled up fists limply into Brian's sides, "fucking queer. Get off! Get off!"

Brian just smirked as he felt himself being hauled away by two of Kyle's friends, leaving Kyle looking completely pissed and thoroughly embarrassed. He was being dragged towards the changing rooms, which surprised Brian until his captors took a sharp left turn and he found himself being forced into a toilet cubical.

Brian looked around the would-be red plastic walls which were covered in graffiti and shit, probably literally shit and gum and all manner of other things that Brian didn't really want to think about.

"If you want me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask," Brian said sweetly, but he'd barely got the words out before he felt a hand go on the back of his head and he was plunged face first into the disgusting toilet bowl.

It stank and he gagged, the bowl wasn't the colour it used to be and there were stains at the bottom. He was almost grateful to be in the water because at least then he didn't have to see anything or smell anything. Finally, they pulled him back out.

"Had enough faggot?" One asked, Brian said nothing and found his head going back in again.

This was bullshit, he'd come back to school for this. He couldn't wait to leave forever, to never have to look at another jock ever again. He felt another sharp tug on his hair and oxygen filled his lungs once more. He panted sharply, trying to get back to normal but before he had chance, he was plunged back into the toilet. The time his head spent under water was getting too much, if they held him under any longer he felt like he'd drown but this was the last.

As he emerged, spluttering and coughing and gagging and gasping, the boys let him go. He sank to the filthy, paper and piss covered floor, clutching at his throat. He coughed and heaved a little as he dragged himself to his feet.

There was a knock at the door.

"Are you okay?" A small voice asked.

Brian opened the door to see some socially retarded nerd that he'd never bothered to learn the name of stood there with a towel.

"I thought you might want this," the boy said, holding out the towel. "It's my spare," he explained quickly, "my mom always makes me pack a spare."

"Oh, er thanks …?"

"Carl," the boy said, with an awkward smile.

"Carl, right," Brian pretended to remember but he wasn't fooling either of them. "Well, thanks," he lifted the towel and then dried his face and hair.

"It's completely wrong what Mark and Paul did to you," Carl continued. "They think they can treat you badly just because you're homosexual. It's not fair."

"The world ain't fair," Brian said quickly.

"Isn't," Carl corrected, and then clocking Brian's confused expression he clarified, "the world isn't fair."

"Oh, fucking grammar geek."

Carl practically recoiled in horror at Brian's swearing.

"You don't like swearing?" Brian asked incredulously. "Christ, you really are a nerd." And hearing Carl's little gasp, he sighed heavily, "religious too?"

"Yup, church every Sunday for the twelve o'clock service."

"Excellent, so you think I'm going to hell. Well, thanks for the towel, that'll be all."

"I don't think you're going to hell," Carl said quickly, stopping Brian in his tracks.

"What?"

"I don't think you're going to hell. I think God makes us all and that he creates us perfect and equal. It doesn't matter what you are, you are still a child of God and he still loves you."

"What about all this man who lies with mankind as with womankind is an abomination bullsh-… nonsense," he omitted.

"I think it's extremist and impractical," Carl said honestly. "I prefer to focus on the positive teachings."

"Uh-huh," Brian nodded as he began to stroll back towards the changing area.

"How come you know the teachings of Leviticus anyway?"

"My mom and dad used to teach it to me as a child, it was kinda like a bedtime story." He put his hand on the door and turned to his nerdy companion, "you might wanna wait a few minutes," he said, "people will think you're a fag."

"I don't mind," Carl shrugged. "They think I'm weird anyway so being thought a homosexual might be better."

"It's your funeral," Brian shrugged and pushed the door open. He strolled through, Carl right behind him. Brian looked quickly around the room, trying to pick out the two who'd held him in the crapper, which was difficult seeing as he hadn't actually seen their faces.

"Hey," he muttered to Carl, "which ones are they, Mark and Paul?"

"There," Carl nodded quickly and Brian looked up to see two boys chuckling to themselves near their open lockers. He smirked to himself, turned to Carl and said,

"don't judge me."

Before marching straight over to them, putting a hand on each of their heads and shoving them headfirst into the lockers before shutting the doors hard so the smashed the back of their skulls. Then he leaned between both of them and muttered,

"don't make the mistake of messing with me."

He turned around to see the coach glaring at him, a look of thunder furrowing his expressions as he tapped his foot authoritatively.

"Kinny, my office … now!"

Brian just nodded glumly, snatched up his bag from the nearby bench and made his way to the coaches office.

::

"Sit down," the coach suggested, gesturing to a plastic seat that reminded Brian of the chairs in the hospital corridor. He didn't need to be reminded of that.

"It's okay, I'll stand."

"Suit yourself," the coach sighed, leaning back in his own, threadbare swivel chair and sighing dramatically. This was a farce, they both knew there was nothing the coach could do, Brian had the upper-hand, he knew the coach's dirty little secret and one wrong move from the older man meant he'd reveal it. Short of murder, the only way to keep Brian Kinney quiet would be to be nice.

"So," the coach continued eventually, twirling the marker pen he used to right down the plays on a whiteboard, "do you wanna tell me what happened in the toilets?"

Brian smirked a little, "sorry to disappoint your perverted lust but the boys stuck my head down a toilet. Nothing you'd be interested in, no underage fucking."

"Language," the coach growled but he knew he was wasting his time. If Brian wanted to swear, he'd swear.

"Look coach," Brian said slowly, "we both know you're not going to do anything."

"You slammed two of the boys headfirst into lockers, I have to do something."

"Like…?"

"Like detention, if these were, erm … normal circumstances, you'd have detention."

"And if they were abnormal circumstances?"

"You'd go to detention as I asked?" The coach said hopefully.

"Mm, _or_" Brian beamed, "you pretend you didn't see anything and we all just carry on like it didn't happen."

"Right," the coach nodded dejectedly. It wasn't like he was in any position to call the shots. "Fine. Just, get out of here quickly, we've got football training and they're not gonna want a faggot in the changing room."

Brian coughed out a very harsh, very fake laugh. "The irony of that," he spat, "is a thing of beauty."

He exited the office, his head held high. He saw the scowling faces of Mark and Paul, glaring at him as he went but they didn't say anything. Well, at least he'd silenced them, it wasn't a completely wasted effort.

He was looking at the floor, attempting to avoid eye-contact with anyone who may enter the locker room for football practice, which is how he marched straight past Jack and Hobbs and Joey and a few of the others without really noticing, so when he felt a hand reach out and grab his arm, he flinched automatically assuming he was in for another mouthful of abuse and a shouting match that would leave him feeling battered, so he was pleasantly surprised to look up and see Eric.

"Hey," Brian smiled a little weakly. "What's up?"

"Nothing really, you sticking around to watch practice?"

"I was going to watch a few minutes of it in the bleachers, why, have the boys got something special planned? Maybe they'll shove me in a wooden cage and set fire to it."

"Drama queen," Eric sighed.

"You don't know how shit it is."

"No, you're right, I don't," he said honestly. "But I know that you're strong and you'll get through this, so, how about hanging around until after training. I've got something I wanna talk to you about."

"Erm," Brian considered this for a while. He didn't really want to sit in the bleachers for an hour and half waiting for training to be over but, at the same time, this was Eric. He owed him so much. He probably owed him his life if he was honest with himself, what was a few cold hours anyway.

"Fine," Brian nodded. "I'll see you after training."

::

Brian was glad that the warmer weather meant he wasn't going to freeze to death in the concrete stand but it didn't mean he felt any better about himself as he watched the school team practicing. He missed it so much and watching Hobbs play his position was making him sick. Every time Hobbs missed a pass or called the wrong play, Brian felt like it was a personal slight against him. Hobbs wasn't better than him in anyway, he wasn't as good a player, he wasn't open about who he was. He was a liar and an asshole and yet he'd managed to convince the school everything Brian had said had been lies. No one was calling him a fag. No one was chasing him around with their latest slurs. No one was wishing him dead. Hobbs still had everything going for him and watching him was like torture, like the 'this is what you could have won' moment in an old game show. If you'd stayed in the closet Brian, none of this shit would have happened.

He sighed dejectedly, he knew, in reality, he could never have been happy living the lie that straight people seemed to want him to live and he knew that he was strong enough to face all this but he didn't want to. He wished he didn't feel like he had to put the world to rights, a fag-jock, a football player that fucks men. He looked up to see Hobbs throw another shit pass and slumped further into his seat. Bullshit.

Of course he waited. He watched the team run into the locker room shouting and talking, all the usual banter of a high school football team. None of them even acknowledged him, except Hobbs, who kept glancing up at him fearfully, as though Brian might try and out him again. What was the point? Brian was beginning to feel like any of the team might be a fag. After all, he was, Hobbs was, the coach was. If only the team knew. Luckily for Brian, it didn't take Eric long to shower and change and he was soon stood at the end of the row of seats calling him and asking him to go for a coffee in a café near by.

"Sure," Brian nodded, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his bag.

The café was nice enough. Some of the seats had cigarette holes in them and a lot of the tables had lost the varnish and were chipped and scratched, the odd one had long lists of past customers carved into them but the girl who ran the place was pleasant enough and the smell of coffee was comforting and relaxing.

"So," Brian said, sipping at his drink cautiously, "what's all this about?"

"All what?" Eric asked innocently but his fidgeting gave him away.

"Asking me to wait around, buying me coffee," Brian held up his cream, ceramic mug, "what are you up to?"

"Nothing," the older boy protested, "can't a guy buy his brother a coffee without him getting suspicious?"

"No."

"Fair enough," he smirked. Then he sobered a little and said, "I just wanted to know how things are going. I haven't seen you around school much and you went running off yesterday."

"Yeah," Brian took another sip of his coffee, it was much too hot and it burnt his tongue but at least it stopped him looking into his brother's prying eyes.

"What? That's it? No explanation?"

"I'd just had enough of the little comments everyone feels they have the right to make. I lost it a bit," he cringed a little at his embarrassing flea from the cafeteria. "I acted like a right faggot."

"Well, if the shoe fits," Eric chuckled, leaning back in his chair. He looked a little more relaxed now but Brian could tell that there was still some burning issue he wanted to get out but he wasn't about to push it as he was doubting it would be anything particularly good.

"Things still going okay with Sarah?"

"Yeah, excellent," Eric nodded. "She's amazing."

"Taken her to meet mom and dad yet?"

"Are you kidding? I'd actually like to hold on to her."

"Ah, she'll never be able to meet your family then."

"That's the plan."

Brian smiled a little. He missed just talking with Eric. He missed watching football with him and discussing it, he missed recreating it on the Xbox. It wasn't the same watching football at Deb's, they barely knew the rules and what rules they did know they could quite fathom and Brian would spend half the time explaining, half the time watching.

"You taking her to prom then?" He asked.

"Yeah, actually," Eric sat up straight and suddenly Brian felt less relaxed, "I wanted to talk to you about prom."

"Oh?"

"Are you planning to go?"

"Well, I don't want to," Brian answered honestly, "but I sort of got myself into a situation where I accidentally promised Justin that I would."

"Accidentally promised?"

"Well, I'm not sure how it happened but…"

"Could it _un-_happen?" Eric questioned quickly.

"What? Why?" Brian was suspicious of Eric's badly disguised desperation.

"No reason, it's just …." He looked up pleadingly. "Come on Bri, it's prom. It's not for your year anyway and I'd like to spend it enjoying myself."

"What does that mean?" Brian snapped. He couldn't help but sound defensive, he'd been feeling pretty self-conscious about being a burden to be his brother and his natural reaction was to be defensive.

"It just means that if you turn up it's all gonna be about you and your massive statement to the school."

"I don't want that!" Brian snapped.

"So don't go," Eric pleaded. "Please."

Brian looked at his brother. He owed him, he truly did and he could pay him back, even a little, by not going to the prom then that's what he'd do.

"Fine," he agreed. "I won't go. You better have a fucking good time though, you got it!"

Eric chuckled a little, "I will. I've seen the dress Sarah's wearing," he raised his eyebrows smirking widely.

"Urgh," Brian shuddered dramatically, "breeders," he moaned.

"Fag," Eric chuckled, throwing the first thing he could find, a slightly coffee stained serviette.

"Er, get the hell off," Brian groaned, pulling the serviette from his jacket as dropping it disgustedly onto the table.

"You're pathetic," Eric said fondly and Brian could see his dad and Jack saying the same thing in the same tone when he was younger and being his most geeky, dreaming of his future Super Bowl days.

"How's things?" He asked suddenly out of the blue. "At home, I mean."

"Alright," Eric shrugged. "Everyone's pretending nothing's changed but it's kind of awkward. Mom and dad aren't talking at all. Dad doesn't say much, he just yells abuse now and again and throws his fists around."Brian looked horrified. "Please don't tell me he hurts you or Jack?"

"No," Eric shook his head. "He hasn't laid a finger on anyone since…." He dropped his head sadly. "I kinda wish he had though."

"What?" Brian frowned, totally confused.

"Well, I mean, I figured it was because he needed someone to take his anger out on, I didn't want to believe it was personal about you."

"But it was," Brian sighed dejectedly. "Well, at least no one's getting hurt."

"Mmm," Eric nodded. Then he said, "mom practically got a vicar in to exorcise your room."

"You're kidding."

"No, she's put a lot of new symbols of Jesus around, reckons the place needed cleansing. If only she knew what you and Justin had got up to, eh?" He chuckled. "She'd probably soak the whole house in holy water. I might try it, just to see her reaction."

"Uh-huh," Brian nodded, with a smirk. They both knew Eric wasn't going to say anything about Brian. The risk of bringing up the youngest Kinney in that house at the moment was pretty high and certainly not anything like worth it.

"Look, I've gotta head home soon," Eric said. "Everything's a bit frantic with the move any everything."

"Er, yeah, I can imagine," Brian nodded. He remembered the moving period, boxes everywhere, stuff not getting put away but everyone too lazy, drunk or hung-over to actually do anything productive.

"Do you want a lift back to Debbie's?"

"Yeah, thanks."


	30. Broken Promise Land

"Which tux is best?" Justin asked twirling around in front of a mirror. "Mom's promised to buy me whichever tux I want and I want it to be nice. What do you think of this one?"

"It's an excellent choice Mr Taylor," the shop assistant gushed, "it suits you, fits your shape perfectly."

"Mm-hmm," Justin nodded, checking his reflection in the mirror again. "Brian, what do you think?"

The taller boy was led on a sofa, with a copy of 'Bridal Weekly' over his face. He'd started this trip pretending to give a shit what tux his friends were going to end up wearing but he'd quickly run out of patience and had been napping on the sofa on an off for about an hour, only disturbed when Justin or Michael wanted a 6th opinion on the outfit they hadn't quite chosen. He'd tell them it looked great, because he figured if they picked one soon, then they could all go to Woodies and get drunk but so far, they'd both declared him a liar and gone back to choosing another one of the endless suits that all looked the same.

"Huh?" Brian started a little, pulling the magazine off his face and peering over to his boyfriend. "Yeah, you look great," he yawned, before replacing the magazine and dropping his head back on to the arm.

"Brian," Justin scolded, marching over and ripping the magazine off his boyfriend's face. "How do I look?"

"Honestly?" Brian asked, blinking a little as the artificial lights blinded his sensitive eyes.

"Yes, honestly."

"You look exactly the same as you did in all the other tuxes."

Justin just rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror.

"I'm not saying that's a bad thing," Brian added. "You look hot in all of them. It's just, you know," he sighed, "the same."

"Brian Kinney, do you not have a romantic bone in your body?" Emmett scolded as he pranced back into the fitting room, he and the shop assistant had been eyeing each other up for the last hour, which was the only reason the flamboyant boy was still hanging around. Ted had managed to escape what felt like days ago when it was revealed Ted already had several suits. Michael had picked his tux too. It was the only one that fitted into his price range but he looked okay in it. Cute and clumsy, like he was wearing a posh hand-me-down, very Michael, Brian had thought.

Emmett had chosen his suit quickly too, it was bright pink with a black trim and had screamed Emmett Honeycutt as soon as the shop assistant had revealed it. No expense was spared and Emmett had been striding around in the ghastly thing for ages. So now it was just Justin left and he seemed hell-bent on trying on every single flaming tux in the shop … and then probably trying them on again.

Brian, so far, hadn't moved. He hadn't told Justin he wasn't going to the prom yet. It was just an inevitable argument he wanted to avoid for as long as possible but he knew he wasn't going to be able to play dumb on the subject much longer. He guessed he should feel happy today though, Maple Grove had lost their last football game of the season, which had given them a very mediocre mid-table. Hobbs was taking the flack for all of it and he'd almost lost out completely on his scholarship to college in Pittsburgh when he'd attempted to throw a punch at Jack after the taller boy and told him he was 'fucking shit'.

It had been a terrible end to the season and Brian had never felt more smug.

"Bri, what do you think of this one?" Justin asked. Brian sat up on the sofa and studied the suit carefully. It looked just like all the others. It was black, he was wearing a white shirt underneath with a black bowtie. It looked a little big on him but perhaps that was because suits are meant for men and Justin's face was too boyish and sweet to carry on man's clothing. He smiled a little, Justin looked hot, so he told him so.

"Yeah?" Justin blushed a little, peering back into the mirror. "Will it go with your suit?"

Brian tensed a little and chewed nervously on his lip. His eyes flicked momentarily to Emmett who was stood with his luminous pink arm around Justin's shoulder. He knew neither of those two men would be happy, he looked to Michael, half-dozing in a throne like chair. Well, Michael would back him up if he proposed they dive into shark invested waters wearing diving suits made of raw meat so he figured it would at least be two on two in a fight.

"Brian," Justin caught his eye in the mirror. "What's up?"

"Er," Brian got to his feet and shuffled a little closer to the mirror. "I'm not entirely … going to the prom."

"Not entirely going? What does that mean?"

"Well, I'm not going at all."

"What? Why the hell not!"

"Eric asked be not to and I owe him, as a brother and as a friend and as someone I may never see again."

"But you promised me," Justin felt like stamping his foot. He'd been planning the perfect entrance, the perfect dancing, the perfect kiss; the perfect fuck you to Maple Grove.

"We've got next year," Brian pointed out, shrugging a little. He was pretending he didn't give a shit that he was letting Justin down but the truth was, there were probably only three people in the entire world he'd do anything for and two of them were asking him to do opposing things. He was going to have to choose, he knew that but he'd been hoping, by putting things off, it would go away or one of them would change their minds. Looking into Justin's face right now, Brian couldn't see that happening anytime soon.

"If you do this, Brian." Justin said steadily, "how am I supposed to trust you?"

"What?"

"You lied to me," he said. "You said you'd be there and you're not."

"Don't make this about you, asshole," Brian scowled. "Coz it's not. It's about Eric and it's about me doing the one thing he's asked me to do. And after all the things he's done for me … this is the least I can do."

"But you fucking promised," Justin whined and Brian could see the hurt in his eyes and he felt sick to his stomach but he wasn't about to explain to Justin that he might never see his brother again and that, potentially, he could have the rest of his life with Justin. That this could be a parting gift from one brother to another, that he owed Eric his life and more but he didn't say a word. He just locked his jaw tight, turn on his heels and left the store. He didn't need this kind of stress right now. He couldn't afford a suit anyway, he didn't want to go to the stupid dance, he'd only said he'd go to make Justin happy and now he wasn't going to go to make Eric happy. He felt torn and he couldn't be bothered with the guilt.

He already felt guilty for enough. He was responsible for his families demise, he was responsible for his mother's alcoholism, his father's violence, he was the reason Justin had the shit beat out if him, he was the reason Michael's heart was broken, he was the reason Hobbs hated himself, he was the reason Justin's parents were getting divorced. He kicked a lamppost hard and immediately regretted his decision as he hobbled down the street. He went to Woodies, he let some stranger chat him up and he went home with the guy, he needed to forget and this seemed safer than copious amounts of alcohol and a few joints.

He got home in time for diner and Debbie served up a huge meal. Brian didn't eat much, he didn't really feel like it and from the angry way Debbie was slamming dishes and plates in front of him, he knew that Michael hadn't halted to fill her in on Brian's decision to abandon the goddamn prom.

He picked slowly at his food but he got fed up quickly. He couldn't be bothered to sit there, under the glares of several people. He put his fork down eventually and said he needed to go. Michael and Debbie hadn't expected to see him again for the rest of the evening but he was back incredibly quickly, fully clothed in tracksuit and sneakers.

"I'm going out," he called, not really listening to the response, he just went and he was glad he did. He felt free, completely free as he paced down the sidewalk. He could feel the breeze through his hair, he could feel the floor pounding beneath his feet and he could feel his lungs protesting in his chest. He felt a little sick and he had to stop. He slowed to a halt and leant heavily against a wall as he tried to gulp in much needed oxygen. He almost felt like crying. He hated feeling this pathetic and rundown and broken. He'd been away from sport and exercise for so long, now he just felt weak and all this stress of getting Justin pissed wasn't helping but at least he could run. And he smiled a little, every time his foot hit the tarmac it was like another fuck you to his asshole father and that thought spurred him on until long after the average person would have given up and gone home.

He walked back to the house and took a shower and went to bed and tried to put off the world for another few hours.


	31. The Final Goodbye

Brian sat watching the television, refusing to take in the nonsense that was going on around him. Every time someone went to talk to him, he just ignored them and turned up the volume on the TV. It wasn't like they were talking to him anyway, more yelling and shouting at him for sticking to his guns and not going to the prom. Now and again Debbie would stand between him and the TV and yell at him for being lazy and pathetic and a coward but he just let it wash over him. He'd blocked out worse in his life.

He thought about going to his room but quite frankly, he didn't want to be forced out of the sitting room by the prom-fever that had taken over. He wasn't sure why they'd all decided to come here to get ready. He couldn't understand why Emmett was painting his face orange with some kind of powder. He couldn't understand why they were _so _angry with him. Alright, he hadn't entirely bothered to give any of them a reason as to why he'd ducked out but it was just a prom, just a silly breeder ritual. It didn't mean anything.

His feet were pushed rudely from the coffee table as Debbie told him to 'move it asshole'. Brian just scowled. Never in the time that he'd lived there had she _ever_ asked him to take his feet off the coffee table, but now, because she was angry at him, it was the hot topic. He was quickly getting completely fed-up. Ted was the only one who wasn't rushing about like an idiot but even he was shifting nervously on the edge of his seat and twisting his fingers together. Brian just turned the TV up a little louder. The Jets were playing the Cleveland Brown and he would _quite _like to be able to hear the commentary over Emmett's squeals that his face was the wrong colour and Michael's sarcastic response that he could have told him that before he'd plastered it all over himself. Brian did smirk a little when Justin suggested Emmett's face and suit were now clashing but that only led to more squealing until eventually Brian gave up on the game. He wasn't that bothered anyway. He had every faith that the Jets would win, so he stood up and went up to his room.

It was maybe half an hour before he heard the sounds of them all leaving. He could see them all dressed in their suits, he could almost feel the excitement radiating off them but then there was Justin. Justin seemed just a little flat and little miserable, not so much that anyone who wasn't Brian would notice, just enough for Brian to feel horrible inside. Just enough for Brian to pull apart Michael's closet, and then Vic's in search of a suit. He had to believe that Eric would forgive him.

::

Sarah was barely aware that Brian Kinney hadn't arrived at the prom along with the rest of 'The Queers'. In fact, no one had really paid much attention to the fact he wasn't there. It had just been a quick glance up when Emmett's bright pink suit had appeared but apart from that, the feeling toward the Queers showing up to the prom were generally uninterested. Lindsey and Mel had been dancing together for ages and no one had raised an eyebrow. There was the odd comment made about Emmett's costume but he was revelling in every second of it. In fact, the only person who really seemed to feel Brian's absence was Justin.

However, he was _not_ the only one to feel Brian's arrival. He turned up late, 6ft 2 of golden skin and perfect hair and deep, dark eyes. He strode in with confidence and everyone turned to look at him. Brian just did that, he attracted eyes to him like metal to a powerful magnet. He wore a smirk and he walked straight up to Justin, took his hand and led him to the dance floor. They were just dancing, just like all the other couples at the school but of course, the murmurs were deafening. The football team and their slutty cheerleader dates in particular were furious to see the display. Sarah just grinned and nudged her boyfriend,

"you never told me Brian was coming."

"What?" Eric asked, looking in the direction Sarah was pointing. And his face fell dropped in disbelief and anger. He peered around the room and every set of eyes was staring at his brother, some in awe, some in disgust but it didn't matter what they were thinking, the point was, once again, the whole night was going to be about Brian Kinney, about the way he strode in and danced with Justin Taylor on the dance floor about how they kissed as the song came to an end. Eric nearly threw-up when he saw their lips meet. He was sick of Brian and he was sick of all his faggy problems and he was sick of everything being about him. Hadn't he asked him nicely not to show up? Hadn't he been kind about it, understanding? Hadn't Brian said he wouldn't show up? Hadn't Brian lied?

Eric didn't stick around to see any repercussion, he snatched up his drink and marched outside, without any explanation to Sarah or anyone else he'd been stood with. Sarah chased him, just as Brian and Justin walked, without any hassle, to the side of the room to get a drink.

"Thank you," Justin grinned, pressing butterfly kisses all over Brian's face, anywhere he could reach but Brian wasn't really paying attention to Justin's gratitude, he'd just watched his brother storm out with a face like thunder and he felt like shit.

::

"What's wrong with you?" Sarah demanded, as she tottered along in her horribly high heels after a fuming Eric.

"He said he wasn't going to come," Eric muttered, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He could barely light it, he was so angry. Then he looked at Sarah and practically screamed, "he promised he wasn't going to come."

"So he changed his mind," Sarah shrugged.

"No," Eric took a much needed drag of tobacco. "No," he repeated more calmly. "He promised. I just wanted one day, _one _fucking day, where everything wasn't about him. It's always been about him, even when we were little. Yeah, he's had a shit life, yeah, mom and dad blame him for everything. I know all that, I do. But at least they haven't forgotten him. They barely even noticed I was there, I'm not as good at school, I'm not as good at football, I'm not a fucking fag. I'm just…"

"Overreacting?" Sarah chuckled. "Eric, come on. It's just prom."

"No," he shook his head and took another long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before inhaling slowly. "No, he broke a promise. I don't want anything else to do with him."

"You don't mean tha-"

"Don't tell me what I do and don't mean!" Eric snapped.

Sarah jumped a little at the outburst. "Ooookay," she drawled. "Looks like you need some time to cool off. Come back inside when you've stopped being an asshole!"

"I'm not an asshole! He is."

"Eric, listen …."

"Why are you even talking to me?" Eric demanded. "I leave the state tomorrow! This is goodbye so why don't you fuck off?"

Sarah just stared at her boyfriend. He seemed to have gone insane. She knew that he was going to be leaving, of course she did, but she didn't know it was that soon and she didn't realise that he never intended to speak to her again once he'd gone but she didn't cry. She didn't even let her face crumble. She held her head high, spun on her heels and walked calmly back inside.

::

Sarah'd barely got back through the door when Brian was tapping her on the shoulder.

"Brian," she beamed overtly happy, kissing him gently on the cheek.

"Hey Sarah," she smiled, "you look enchanting, as usual."

Sarah giggled a little but she quickly sobered when Brian asked seriously, "how pissed is he?"

"It's bad," she answered honestly, "he's being an asshole." She sniffed a little, "I think he just dumped me."

"What?" Brian frowned. "Why?"

But Sarah couldn't speak, she knew if she opened her mouth the tears would start to fall so she just sniffed little and shrugged. Brian didn't know what to do then, Emmett would be better at this, or Justin, probably even Michael. But he was saved as two of Sarah's friends from cheerleading came running over to ask her what was wrong. The only thing left for Brian was to find his asshole brother and ask him just exactly what was wrong with him.

He found him, stood near the fancy manmade waterfall-cum-lake that was in the centre of the car park. There was a tiny windmill and a little duck house but there were no ducks and no tiny windmill dwellers. It was just an abandoned picturesque scene that Eric could stare at numbly and drop cigarette ash all over.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Brian demanded.

Eric didn't turn around, he smirked and muttered, "wrong with me? What a fucking joke. Faggot."

Brian didn't react. He just waited. He knew that Eric wouldn't sit on all this anger forever, he knew that eventually the boy would turn around and yell unreasonable bullshit in his face.

"I wanted one day!" Eric said suddenly, loud enough for Brian to hear and with an unmistakable edge to his tone. "Just one." His eyes flicked to Brian and he gave a bitter sort of laugh. "You couldn't even give me that."

"I tried," Brian said honestly.

"So then what the fuck are you doing here?" Eric snapped. "How hard is it to just not go somewhere?"

"But Justin was so…."

"I don't give a shit about Justin. I don't care about your fucking pet faggot, I care about the fact I asked you for one thing, _one, _and you couldn't give me it." He threw his cigarette wildly and it landed near the windmill. Brian watched it as it glowed orange and then faded.

"You're being an asshole," Brian said calmly, coming to lean against the fence next to his brother. "I know you're pissed at me but to break up with Sarah? Why?"

"What's the point in staying with someone I'm going to be thousands of miles from by tomorrow?"

"You're leaving tomorrow?" Brian asked, his stomach suddenly feeling like it had dropped to his feet.

"What do you care, asshole?" Eric snapped. "You couldn't even do the one thing I asked, you clearly don't give a shit." And with that, he stormed off towards the building. Brian just slumped to the floor. He'd fucked up everything, just to make Justin happy by swinging him around a dance floor to some corny old song. And yes, Justin face had lit up the room and yes, everyone's eyes had been on them and yes, in some small way it was a slight 'fuck you' to everyone in the year above, but it was also a massive 'fuck you' to his brother and now it seemed like he'd lost him forever.

* * *

Brian had been quiet all morning. He'd barely eaten any breakfast, he'd barely spoken to anyone, he'd just sat staring into the distance.

"… always a dangerous sign," he heard through his daydream and he looked up to see Michael holding a glass of water with a daft look on his face.

"Huh?" Brian frowned.

"I said, you look like you're thinking hard. Always a…"

"…dangerous sign," Brian finished with him. "Yeah, just got a lot on my mind, I guess," he shrugged. Then spotting the water he asked, "is that for me?"

"Sure," he nodded, passing the glass to him. "Thought it might cure your hangover."

"I don't have a hangover," Brian snorted, "I didn't even drink last night and I certainly wasn't their long enough to get drunk."

"But…." Michael trailed off and sat down on the sofa next to Brian. "Is everything okay?"

Brian snorted at the irony of that question. He didn't even have time to list all the many things that weren't okay about his life, it would be much quicker to list the things that _were_ okay, namely his fag of a football coach wouldn't be able to stop him playing next year and his friends, than trying to name all the millions of things he'd fucked up in his few short years on earth. So he took a sip of his drink and put his arm around Michael, resting his head on top of the other boys and sighed.

"Everything's okay," he lied.

::

The doorbell rang and rang and rang and rang and rang. The shrill high-pitched trilling slicing through the Novotny household.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't get your dick in a twist," Debbie grumbled as she bustled from the kitchen still with kitchen knife in hand. She flung the door open and shouted,

"what!" at the top of her voice, causing her visitor to jump out of his skin and take a few rapid steps backwards, eyes fixed firmly on the knife.

Debbie followed her panicked visitors gaze and quickly hid the knife behind her back and with a disturbingly sweet smile she said, "Eric, it's good to see you."

"Erm, yeah, same to you. Are you planning to stab me with that thing?"

She smiled a little and told him to come in whilst she went to place the knife back in the kitchen. "Now," she smiled, finally turning to look at the boy stood somewhat anxiously in her sitting room, "what can I do you for?"

"Is Brian in?"

"No, honey, he's out jogging but you're welcome to stay here until he gets back."

"I can't," Eric sighed. "I shouldn't even be here. Mom and dad don't know I snuck out, we're leaving soon."

"Leaving?"

"Yeah, for Utah. That's why I'm here," Eric sighed. "I just wanted to say goodbye. And tell him I'm sorry for overreacting yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon, sit down. Have some tea or coffee, or I have some shortbread, it's homemade."

"No, thanks. I can't wait just," he pulled a crumpled bit of card out of his pocket and handed it to Debbie, "give him this." He smiled weakly, "thanks."

And before Debbie could stop him, he'd gone.

::

Brian returned just ten minutes later and Debbie felt heartbroken as she passed him the crumpled card and told him Eric had been by to say goodbye. She watched as Brian opened the card and she watched as Brian tried to pretend he wasn't bothered but he said nothing as he marched silently up the stairs. She heard the thud as he fell to the floor in a heap in his room, she heard every sob that thundered through him. Debbie just closed her eyes tight and returned to the kitchen. She felt pretty certain she'd never know what was on that piece of paper and she knew he'd never mention this again. So she never saw that the cardboard was actually a photo, a photo of a ten year old Brian in a New York Jets shirt stood with his arms around Jack and Eric. They were all grinning widely and on the back of the photo, Eric had scrawled, "I know you can do it, Bri. Make your dream a reality. X"

* * *

**For those still following this story, I can promise updates will be much more frequent now, so hopefully this won't drag on too much longer!  
Thanks for sticking with it.  
I.B...xx**


	32. Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye My Enemy

Brian made out he got over his family's silent departure quickly but anyone who knew him could see it was eating him up inside. He had the photo Eric had left him in pride of place on his bedroom mirror so he could see it everyday and it certainly seemed to be driving him. He woke up and went for a jog every morning before school, he'd go out again after school on most days, he was constantly at the gym and doing extra reps where he could. It didn't matter … he _had _to get fit. He was obsessed with it.

He'd given up smoking except for the absolutely crucial occasions, like the time Michael ruined his favourite shirt, by pouring milkshake down it. He still went to the baths, he still had Justin over every other night, he still got drunk from time to time but as the summer wore on, he began to get an overwhelming sense of happiness. So overwhelming, he barely noticed Justin becoming quieter and quieter. And he barely noticed how much more time the blonde was spending at Debbie's or how his smile just wasn't quite as bright as it used to be.

The next year went by as a bit of a blur. The great 'Brian Kinney' didn't seem interested in getting himself into any more trouble. He just kept his head down, he worked hard and put in a huge amount of effort to getting fit and getting back out on the field. The team had rejected him completely off the pitch but on it, they respected his talent. They'd do what he said because he was the best and if Maple Grove wanted to finally fulfil their potential and win the championship, they'd have to use their best player. Brian wasn't really allowed in the changing rooms before or after the games. The coach banned him saying that it was bad for team morale. Brian had just reminded him of his little secret.

"Be nice … coach," he'd snarled.

He still hung out with the queer crew, though without Emmett it was distinctly quieter at the table. Mel had tried to keep the magazine going for a while but that had soon fallen through as had everything else. Justin started to spend more and more time at Debbie's and the reason became clear a few months later when Justin turned up on the doorstep crying his eyes out as he told Brian that his parents were getting divorced and his mother was moving out.

"He cheated on her with some woman from work. It's probably his secretary, like it isn't clichéd enough. Anyway, mom's moving out and Cindy's moving in," Justin fell to the bed and Brian comforted him. They got through it, like they got through all the other crap life seemed to be throwing at them in their short lives.

When things got shit, really shit, like the day Brian fell out with Justin or the day the coach tried to make an example of him or the day Michael told him he loved him or the day the captain of the school team told him to give up now because fags don't make it to the NFL, Brian would look at the picture his brother left him and remind himself to keep going and not give up.

So he didn't, despite everything, Brian Kinney refused to give up on his dream. He turned out for training and matches every week no matter what life threw at him and he kept getting better and better. He could read the game better than anyone and he'd dragged his team kicking and screaming to the top; the finals minute of the championship final.

::

"Right, Kinney," the coach said looking straight at Brian. "It's play 42."

"But coach, we've played it three times already. They're gonna intercept Finlay, they're practically waiting for it. I say we run 15."

"Fuck you Kinney," one of the boys growled, "you're only saying that coz you wanna look like the hero."

"It's not about looking like a hero," Brian snarled back. "It's about winning the damn game. If we play 42, they're gonna intercept and they've shown us all match that our defence can't cope with their offence."

There was a grumbling from the boys he'd insulted.

"Kinney!" The coach yelled suddenly, right in his face, "you listen to me! You're very lucky I even let you play on this damn team. Now we've got a shot at this championship and you are not gonna screw it up by trying to be the hero. Stop insulting the team and start acting like a team player."

"Coach," Brian said slowly and steadily as though he were talking to a particularly dense and infuriating child, "listen to me. If I throw this pass to Finlay, we're going to lose."

"And you listen to me, there's a lot of scouts here today and if you don't throw the ball to Finlay, I'm gonna make sure that each and every one of them know that you're a fag."

Brian's jaw set as he stared defiantly up at the man. He grimaced a little and shook his head. Then he smirked, look the man right in the eyes and said, "fuck you."

Then he pulled on his helmet and ran out onto the field.

The sound that erupted from the bleachers was deafening but he blocked it out. He blocked everything out, sound, light, the coach going crazy, it was like he was underwater and they were all far away. The team followed him out onto the pitch and set up. He leant in and whispered to Finlay, Brooks and Carter as they took their positions.

He called it, the ball came to him, he cocked his arm and looked for Brooks. He'd told him to run but the boy had failed to move even an inch, he looked for Carter but he was stood still too.

"Fuckers," Brian shouted under his helmet as the oppositions defence broke the line. He dodged one and then another still looking for the pass but he could see what had happened. His coach had sent the entire team running in a frenzy so that not one of them was in the right place, except, of course, Finlay. Brian knew it was a mistake, he knew it would cost him the game but as he sprinted away from the opposition, he knew he didn't have any other options, he launched the ball high and long and straight into Finlay's running path. The ball was just reaching him, when a huge boy from the other team ran and intercepted and, just like that, it was all over.

It had been just like Brian predicted. He pulled off his helmet and threw it to the ground before slumping down next to it. He rested his head on his knees, and glared at the coach, who'd thrown his own hat to the ground and leapt up and down on it. He screamed and yelled at the team, he ranted at Finlay as he chased them into the changing rooms. He didn't even acknowledge Brian's existence.

Brian waited, he watched the awards given to the other team and he clapped them solidly. What did he care anyway? They deserved it, they were a better team than the lot at Maple Grove ever would be.

"You played a great game," the captain said shaking his hand warmly.

"You too," Brian said politely.

"I thought you had it, I thought you were gonna throw it out left and we'd have been done for."

"I wanted to, believe me," Brian muttered. "Still, you can't control what everyone else on the pitch is gonna do, no matter how many numbers you call."

The captain of the other team just smiled, clearly confused, so Brian apologized and congratulated him once again on a great game. He figured he'd waited long enough before entering the changing rooms, he didn't want to hear all the usual hateful comments on top of the fact he'd just told the coach to fuck off.

As he was strolling back towards the changing rooms, he heard the muttered sound of people talking, he glanced back quickly and was shocked to see several important looking people, some in tracksuits, some in suits, practically chasing him across the field. He stopped and turned around, frowning as they caught up with him.

"Brian Kinney," one of the men said, holding out his hand, "my names Miles Brandon, I'm a scout from the University of Notre Dame. We'd love to offer you a scholarship."

"Mitchell Langley," another man said, suddenly bumping the first one out of his way to shake Brian's hand, "Loisianna State University. We'd love to…"

"University of North Carolina," another guy said, reaching past the first two to make himself known. "The names Francis McCoy and the Tarheels would be proud to have you on their team."

Brian felt in a daze as other names were called from the small crowd of men, along with figures and statistics, including percentage of drafting, and amount of games won by the given team. Offers from Texas, Alabama, Mississippi and good old Pittsburgh, he just stood, feeling completely overwhelmed. Of course, all year there had been rumours and speculation that there were college scouts around looking at Brian but Brian hadn't met a single one or, more probably, Brian hadn't been aloud to meet a single one, but as they all talked at once, Brian felt like his mind was spinning.

"I don't know what to say," he said eventually, it sounded clichéd and ridiculous but it was the truth so he didn't give a fuck.

"Say you want to come to North Carolina and these other schmucks can go home," one guy, that Brian was pretty sure had introduced himself as Francis or was it Miles, said loudly. But this only provoked them all to start talking again.

In his head, Brian couldn't get it straight, he desperately tried to sift through the information being shouted at him. He could go to college on a football scholarship, he could join any of these universities, in fact, they were pretty much fighting over him but in his head it was just a mangled mess. He needed time to think about it but these brash over the top scouts weren't giving him any time at all. They were just after their prey and that seemed to be all that mattered.

And suddenly, his decision was made very, very easy … in fact, it was taken away all together.

He'd heard footsteps approaching, he'd seen the crowd of scouts part a little and he'd watched as his coach pushed his way through and said,

"what's this Brian? You giving out free blowjobs?"

The group stared at the man, a mixture of horror and confusion on their faces and Brian felt the feeling of elation draining quickly from him like someone had pulled the plug. He could do nothing but watch, completely helpless, as his coach explained, "he's a fag. Aren't you, Brian?"

He could feel all the eyes on him, daring him to tell the truth and willing him to deny it but he couldn't do that so he remained defiant and said,

"I don't see what that has to do with my ability to play football."

But as his coach pointed out as the scouts seemed to run away like escaping convicts, "it seems you're the only one with that opinion."

Brian closed his eyes for a long time, he felt his coach pat him patronisingly on the shoulder and he felt almost stung by the contact. He was pretty sure he couldn't have hated the man more at the moment and to feel him touching him made him want to scream and throw things. That man had cost him the match and now he'd cost him his future. He couldn't believe it was all over, just like that.

Brian finally opened his eyes again and was gob smacked to see a small man, with wispy grey hair and a wizened old face smiling at him kindly.

"I like you, kid," he said softly. "You got balls."

"Who are you?" Brian frowned. It probably sounded rude but quite frankly he was too pissed to try and be polite.

"Waylon Coburn," the man said, holding out his hand. Brian took it and almost flinched away at the feel of his paper-fragile grip. "I'm a big fan of your work on the field, Brian."

Brian couldn't help beginning to feel a little bit freaked out. He half expected the man to suddenly knock him out and drag him somewhere and have his wicked way with him. The only thing that reassured him that this wouldn't happen was the small group of his friends who were stood at the side of the pitch waiting for him. He was pretty sure this man wouldn't be able to drag him away before they caught up with him.

"Oh?" was all he said.

"You're incredibly talented, son. One of the best I've seen … and I've been doing this job a _very_ long time."

Brian had to bite his tongue very hard to stop an 'I can tell' involuntarily slipping out.

"It would be crazy to pass up the opportunity of having someone like you in the team just because of your sexuality."

Brian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was this guy seriously going to offer him a place at … wherever the hell he was from?

"It's my strong belief that it's what a player does on the pitch that matters, not what he does behind closed doors. So, Brian Kinney," he continued, drawing himself to his full height of what could only have been 5ft 3, "we, at the University of Miami, would like to offer you a full football scholarship allowing you to study whichever subject you would like as long as you sign a commitment to the college team."

"The Hurricanes?" Brian asked in disbelief. "You're offering me a place with the hurricanes even though I'm…?"

"Like I said, Mr Kinney," Waylon Coburn cut him off abruptly, "I am only interested in what you do on the pitch and, in this man's opinion, there's no one better at the moment."

"Fuck," Brian breathed. "This is amazing."

"Mm," Coburn nodded, "well, here are the details." He pulled a letter out of his bag and handed it to Brian. "Take your time," he said, "think about your options and then let us know."

"Right, I will," Brian nodded, shaking the man's hand again. "Thank you so much Mr Coburn, you won't regret it."

Brian just stared at the letter. It wasn't long, it just had all the details of the scholarship sketched out in painful detail with a number at the bottom to phone. Brian couldn't help wonder if 'right now' was too soon.

"Who was that?" Justin asked, being careful not to get too close. He knew the trouble Brian was having in the football world because he was gay, Justin didn't need to make it worse by displaying a huge amount of public affection.

"That was Waylon Coburn," Brian said, smirking as his boyfriend and their friends strolled across the pitch. "The scout from The University of Miami." Justin's eyes grew wide. "He thinks that what you can do on the pitch is more important than what happens off the pitch and he's offered me a place," Brian beamed, holding the letter up. Justin snatched it away immediately and began to read it as Michael dived at his friend and gave him a hug.

"I knew you could do it Brian," Michael said excitedly and Brian thought if the boy were even a fraction less restrained he'd be leaping around.

"That's wonderful news Brian," Lindsey agreed, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well done," a slightly sullen Mel agreed.

"This is unbelievable," Justin whispered, a look of complete amazement on his face. "Fucking unbelievable. I thought that when the coach went storming across outing you to everyone that…."

He looked up and smiled, "I thought that was gonna be it."

"Me too," Brian chuckled. "I guess it goes to show that some people do believe that fags can play football or at least that football players can be fags."

::

The end of high school was signified by the senior prom. A final farewell and fuck you to Maple Grove. Brian went without a fuss this year. He didn't enjoy it but he'd never enjoy being made a spectacle of just because he loved a boy. He danced when Justin wanted to, he sat and listened to Michael moan about the fact he didn't have a date. He got bored eventually and mixed a little 'e' into the punch. It did liven things up a bit … for a while. Or atleast, until Justin beckoned him outside with a very solemn look on his face.

"What's up?" Brian asked as he followed Justin's somewhat purposeful march across a field and to the same duck pond thing Brian and Eric had stood at the year before. Just looking at the bond brought back memories he'd rather forget. The moment Eric had decided they'd never see each other again. He had a horrible feeling this would be a bit of a replay of that time.

"Justin," he said calmly. "Is everything okay?"

Justin stopped and leaning on the railings around the pond he looked up at Brian. He was blinking furiously, tears brimming up over his eyelids.

"This is it, isn't it?" He whispered softly. "I mean, this is the last time we'll be in school together."

"Yeah," Brian nodded. "But what's wrong with that, schools been a living hell for two years."

"But, it was sorta okay," Justin sighed, "coz you were here but … you're not gonna be here anymore."

"What are you saying? I can't not go."

"I know," Justin nodded. "But maybe I could come to New York."

"Justin," Brian said firmly. "You got a place at Pitsburgh's IFA. People come from all over the country … all over the world," he omitted, "to go there. You're an incredible artist. Don't thirow it away because of me. I'm not worth it and, I couldn't live with myself if you did."

"But I'll hardly see you and I love you so much and I know you can't say it back but I know you love me too. I just…"

"I'll be back," he promised. "I'll come visit you on weekends and you'll come visit me."

Justin nodded, sniffing loudly as he wiped his eyes with the base of his palm.

"All the time," he sobbed.

"Justin, listen to me. Are you listening?"

The other boy nodded in response.

"I love you," Brian said softly. So softly, Justin almost thought he'd imagined it but luckily Brian decided to repeat it. "I love you," he said more firmly. "But we don't need monogamy or even to see each other everyday to know that, right?"

"Right," Justin nodded, a watery smile playing across his lips.

"So," Brian smirked, dragging the blonde closer, "give them this," he whispered, placing his hand firmly over Justin's cock. The smaller boy chuckled a little. "But," Brian continued solemnly, moving his hand so it was resting over Justin's heart, "never give them this."

* * *

**Unbelievably, there's more! :S**


	33. The Time Inbetween

Brian and Justin made an effort to try and see each other every other weekend, which was made all the more difficult by Brian's hectic playing schedule but they often managed it. Brian would go to Pittsburgh, usually staying in halls with Justin. Justin would introduce him to all his friends at the IFA including Daphne, a quirky girl with a brilliant sense of humour and good sense of what's right and wrong. Justin's friends had accepted Brian easily. It was an art school, there were a huge proportion of gay students, could they help it if gay kids are just better at art than straight ones?

When Justin came to visit Brian, however, it caused a bit of a stir. Brian's flatmates had applied a bit of a don't ask, don't tell policy when it had come to Brian's sexuality. He hadn't felt it was their business to know that he fucked men and although they all suspected it, from the way he fobbed off the advances of the women, whilst he disappeared into the toilets with the water boy for a fifteen minutes, they'd never really wanted to ask outright. But that policy came crashing to an end about a month into the first term, when they caught Brian making out freely with a blonde guy on the sofa in front of the TV.

One of the boys cleared his throat purposely and Brian broke the kiss.

"Oh, hey guys," he smiled, like nothing was out of the ordinary and perhaps it wasn't, not really. "This is Justin. Justin, this is Brody, Kent and Slade," the boys waved as their names were called, "they play football with me."

"Oh," Justin smiled. "Hi."

Brody's face just crumpled, it was almost comical as he opened and closed his mouth, whilst Kent turned and asked him for ten bucks. Clearly he'd won a bet but it was Slade that came out with the classic breeder line,

"I've got a cousin in Alaska who's gay."

"Oh," Justin mocked, "hey, maybe I know him."

"Don't be an asshole," Brian scorned and Justin smiled.

"We were just coming to ask if you wanted to come to club and meet up with the rest of the team. There's some hot new DJ playing, he's supposed to be really good," Kent said. "Bring, er, Jason?" He looked to the blonde.

"Justin," he corrected.

"Right, sorry, I'm terrible with names." Then he looked back to Brian, "well, what do you say?"

"Sure."

It turned out no one was at all surprised to see Brian turn up with a boyfriend, though a lot of money did start changing hands and Brian just scowled as one of the guys, a boisterous 6ft8 black man, nicknamed Growler stood up and offered to buy everyone a drink thanks to Brian turning up with a blonde pretty boy. Turned out Growler and predicted it pretty much spot on and had earned himself nearly a hundred bucks.

"I can't believe you'd all fucking bet on it," groaned Brian as a few of the lads returned with the drinks Growler had bought them.

"There's nothing else to do in the changing room," Kent pointed out. "We all bet on whether you were gay or straight and then Growler decided to put in some crazy bet that you'd turn up with … well, someone who looked almost exactly like Justin."

"Is it really that fucking obvious?" Brian sighed.

"'fraid so man. No straight man in the world, would take as long getting showered as you do after the game."

"Asshole," Brian said fondly.

"Faggot," Kent repeated in exactly the same tone.

"Having said that," Brody joined in, "I didn't think a fag, er, I mean a homosexual gentleman…"

"Fag's fine," Brian said, "please don't get all PC on my account."

"Right, well, I didn't think a fag could throw a football like you can."

"They're not all pansy's who listen the Madonna and aspire to do something creative like dance or sing or paint," Slade scolded.

"Bet most of them are though," Brody insisted.

"Bullshit," Kent snapped. "What about Justin? What does he do?"

Brian put his head in his hands embarrassedly as he muttered, "he studies art."

And Brody let out a triumphant little noise earning himself a punch from the three boys he was stood with.

Over at the pool table, Justin was just potting the black to convincingly beat Growler.

"Not bad," the taller man said approvingly.

"I guess I just got lucky," Justin shrugged with a smile. "Not as lucky as you though, with your bet. How did you know what I'd look like?"

Growler smirked a little, looking at the pint in his hand before muttering almost in Justin's ear.

"I've read Rage, I just don't tell everyone."

Justin started laughing hard and Growler looked like he was going to tell him to shut up when someone interrupted.

"Y'all should be ashamed," a southern drawl came as a boy emerged from the crowd to stand in front of Justin, "letting this damn faggot just join in like there ain't nothin' wrong."

"There isn't," Kent said loudly and firmly and the murmur of agreement from the rest of the team made Justin's heart swell.

"Well I reckon y'all wrong. Faggots shouldn't play football, faggot's are good for nothin' but spreading AIDS." He glared at Justin and the smaller boy felt his blood run like ice, frozen with fear and then his view was blocked as Growler stepped between them snarling, "back off."

But the boy just kept talking, "you know AIDS is God's attempt at riddin' the world of queers."

"One more word from you Austin and you're gonna be asked to leave," a handsome boy that Justin hadn't really noticed before said calmly. He'd been sat right in the middle of everything but in a quiet, controlled kind of way, but it was clear now that he was the captain.

"Y'all think I wanna stay here with this damn queer hanging around," Austin said. "I don't wanna be anywhere near him. And I ain't setting foot on that pitch again if he's there," he said, turning his attention suddenly to Brian.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that Austin, but I'm not going to tell Brian to leave the team."

"Yeah, Brian could win us the cup," Kent spoke loudly from behind his hand.

"You just sit and keep the bench warm" Brody added and the team laughed.

"Hey," the captain said, turning to the boys. "I won't have anyone on this team treated like an outcast."

"Well I ain't being part of this team no more," Austin said, "I got places I gotta be fixin' to now an' I ain't coming back."

"Southern asshole," Growler muttered shaking his head, as Austin marched off. "He's still stuck in the goddamn 60's. He doesn't realise a lot of things have changed since then."

Suddenly Brian was at Growler's side and the two participating in that weird movement that starts like a handshake shake and ends like a hug.

"Thanks man," Brian was saying.

"You know I take care of my team-mates," Growler nodded, "and that includes those who are important to my team-mates," he smiled at Justin who beamed back and as the tall man walked away, he said, "nice to finally meet you JT!" He winked.

"I thought he was gonna hurt you," Brian was saying, rubbing his up and down Justin's biceps.

"Me too for a second, then Growler saved me" he beamed up at his boyfriend. "The rest of you're team seem nice though."

"Yeah, they're good guys."

"So, Justin, you coming to the game tomorrow?" Kent asked, Justin was quickly learning that this was Brian's closest friend here in Miami.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Justin beamed, leaning into Brian's side proudly.

"Your boys got some skills," Slade smiled slapping Brian on the shoulder.

"Oh, I know," Justin said suggestively.

"I don't think he was referring to those kind of skills," Brian muttered.

"Well, I was," Justin mumbled. "Anyway, we both know you play better the night after you get laid."

::

Justin was gob smacked; completely gob smacked. He'd never in a million years expected Brian to be that good. He'd always been the best at school, calling plays at the right time, throwing impossible passes and dancing around people like they were stood still but now … now he could do all that and more. Now that he was surrounded by brilliant players whom he could feed off and work with he was unstoppable, unplayable. It probably helped that no man alive looked like they'd ever get passed Growler if they kept trying all day, it probably helped that the kicker a small man called Randy Turnbuckle seemed like he'd kick the ball through the posts from anywhere on the pitch and it probably helped that the captain, who's name was Tony Lopez, was excellent too. In fact, Justin had never known the Hurricanes to have such a strong team but he supposed it was mostly coming from their star Quarterback and this weeks player of the game for the Hurricanes, Brian Kinney.

All the girlfriends of the players were waiting around outside the changing rooms after the game. Justin felt like a bit of a fool waiting with them. He'd never felt so much like a woman in his life.

"Excuse me are you Brian's boyfriend?" A pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair asked.

"Er, yeah," he frowned. He hadn't expected anyone to talk to him.

"I'm Maddy," she offered her hand, "Kent's girlfriend."

"Oh right," Justin took her hand and shook it heartily.

"Kent just loves Brian," she said, "the two of them are like peas in a pod, same sardonic wit, same sick sense of humour."

Justin smiled.

"I swear, if Kent were any less straight, Brian would have turned him by now."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Justin joked and Maddy smiled.

"You know, the team usually go for a pizza after the game so we all go for a coffee but, you're welcome to come with us."

"Oh, I dunno," Justin frowned. "I don't wanna feel like a girlfriend, you know."

"Don't be daft," Maddy chuckled, "we'll just keep you company for half an hour until that boyfriend of yours comes looking for you."

Justin agreed and conveyed the plan to Brian, who agreed to meet Justin back at halls in no longer than forty-five minutes for some much needed alone time.

Neither Brian, nor Justin emerged from the room for the rest of Justin's stay and that became a ritual for all the stays after that.

::

They were three long years, a long, long, long time to be a long, long, long way apart but they managed it. Brian was always rushing back to Pittsburgh for Justin's latest show and Justin was always there to support Brian whether it be on his TV screen or live.

There was the game against The Fighting Irish and his brother, Eric.

"Son of a bitch," Eric was breathing heavily as he shook and equally exhausted Brian's hand. It had been a close game but the Irish had taken it 38-34.

Brian ignored the hand and went straight for the hug.

"Great game Eric," he said, holding him close and then releasing him he said, "how about we go out for a drink after the game, have a bit of a catch up?"

Eric had agreed and the two brothers had gone out to a bar with Kent and a friend of Eric's from his team.

"To the players of the match, Eric and Brian," Kent had toasted and then they'd all just talked. Brian promised to stay in better touch with Eric but he never did manage it.

There was the game against Pittsburgh, which the entire family came to watch.

"Now, sunshine," Debbie had warned before the game, "you remember to tell me what's going on."

"I will," laughed Justin.

"Er, baby," Emmett said, "while your telling her what's going on, maybe you could let me know too."

"And me," added Michael. As the only two who hadn't gone to college, Debbie and insisted they go out to watch Brian play, despite not knowing, or caring anything about the sport. But they were there, like the good friends that they were to cheer on the boy from Pittsburgh.

"Which one is he?" Michael wined.

"Number 46," Emmett said immediately and when Justin looked at him with amazement, he explained, "I'd know that ass anywhere."

Justin shook his head but he couldn't help smile.

The game wasn't even close. The Hurricanes walked all over home team 53-7. It was an embarrassment and a certain Chris Hobbs didn't even make it off the bench. Brian made no attempt to shake his hand afterwards and Hobbs stomped off like a moody child. Well, why wouldn't he? He was a closeted fag, barely scrapping a game for the Panther's, whilst the out and proud Brian Kinney, was facing off all controversy and was being hailed as the Miami Hurricanes greatest asset.

Over the three years, each of Brian's friends came to see him play. Ted saw him when Brian was in Louisiana, even Mel made the trip out when he was in New York and Lindsey went to see him when he played in West Virginia, they went out for a drink after the game and he comforted her whilst she moaned about how her and Mel had broken up … again. It seemed to Brian they were always breaking up and getting back together again, it wouldn't be long before they were leaping back into each others arms, but in spite of that knowledge, he still told the team he'd be staying an extra couple of days to comfort his friend.

They went back to her flat, they smoked a toke that Lindsey found in her flatmates stash, they drank some beer from the fridge, they watched re-runs of old comedy shows and giggled like high-school children and then they kissed. It was soft at first, not unlike the way they'd kissed many times before but it was also very unlike all those previous times.

Lindsey found herself melting into the moment and both quickly discovered that this wasn't completely horrible. Lindsey started to unbutton his shirt and suddenly Brian pulled away.

"Woah," he said, holding her at arms length. He found her oddly attractive and he knew the only thing stopping him fucking her would be his brain, which lets face it was all drugged and alcohol-ed out.

"Have you ever fucked a man before?"

Lindsey shook her head. "I've only been with Mel … and that girl Rebecca a couple of times when Mel and I broke up the first time."

"Riiiight," Brian drawled. "Are we sure this is good idea?"

"Of course it's not a good idea," Lindsey reasoned, "it's a fucking terrible idea but lets just put it down to experimentation and fuck."

Brian shrugged, that sounded good enough to him.

When they woke up together the next morning, they just both gave embarrassed laughs.

"Well that was er," Brian started.

"…interesting?" Lindsey finished.

"Right, interesting. Veeery interesting." Then he looked at Lindsey and said, "never again though, right?"

"Right," Lindsey nodded. "We'll just put it down to…"

"Midsummer madness?"

"I was gonna say, a lesbian's high-school guy-crush," she blushed a little. "But I like your one better."

::

When Brian retold the story to Justin a few weeks later, laughter was not the response he'd been realistically expecting but that's what he got.

"Lesbians and gay men sleeping together," he giggled, "isn't that the sign of the apocalypse?"

"It sure felt like that," Brian said and Justin laughed again.

"So who's better, Lindsey or me?"

"No contest," Brian said sweetly, running his hands almost lovingly thought Justin's hair before adding, "Linds was far better."

"Asshole," Justin said, slapping him on the chest.

"Well, I suppose it could just be my memory," Brian conceded with a glint in his eye. "Perhaps you could remind me wha-…"

But Brian didn't get to finish his sentence, or even his word as Justin suddenly pushed him onto the mattress to do a very thorough job of reminding Brian exactly how good it could be.

Brian got a phone call the next morning to say Mel and Lindsey had gotten back together and everything was right with the world once again.


	34. The Beginning of Our Happily Ever After

**A/N: Third time lucky. I've been having a few problems with this chapter ... mainly that no one's been able to read it. Then wouldn't let me log in so I couldn't fix it ... until now. :D**

**Thanks to the people who contacted me to let me know it wasn't working.**

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**LIVE FROM THE COMMENTARY BOX**

"So John, it's the moment we've all been talking about. One of the most hotly anticipated first NFL drafts in the history of the game, would you say that's right John?"

"I sure would Brad. The controversy surrounding this is more than any I've seen before."

"So I guess the question I have to ask would be; 'Brian Kinney, would you have him in your team'?"

"You know, Brad, I really think I would. You know the boy can play football, he's probably the best of all the potential new players this year."

"He didn't win the Heisman Trophy though, did he?"

"No, but everyone agreed that was an outrage caused by homophobic corporate America. I mean Kurt Baxley is a great player but Kinney gave him a lesson in playing Quarterback when the two came head to head last season. And Kinney won the ESPN fans vote every year for the Heisman Trophy and was won both the Walter Camp Award…"

"Aptly named."

"… and the Maxwell Award three times. He's the only player in History to have done that, Brad. He really is outstanding."

"Well that's not under debate. The question is, would having an openly gay player on the team cause issues in the changing rooms?"

"I don't see why it should. As long as he doesn't start chasing the other members of the team around the changing rooms I don't think it'll be a problem. Quite frankly, it's his ability on the field that matters not his sexual orientation."

"I have to say, I disagree. Having a gay player in the changing rooms could be incredible disruptive to a team. We all know how important it is for a team to all be on the same page and being gay immediately isolates you from the rest of the squad."

"I don't know, his college team didn't seem to have a problem with it. I'm sure the players will be able to adapt."

"Okay, so we begin and The San Diego Chargers have first pick."

"Yes, it was a very disappointing season for them last year."

"Absolutely and they could do with a new quarterback so the question is do they go for Kinney, Baxley or, well, if I were them I'd go for Foxx. Foxx is steady, will definitely do a good job but they won't need to pay a huge wage to keep it at the club."

"I agree. I don't think the Chargers will be looking at Kinney or Baxley. And, yes, it's Foxx that's been picked up there and that's a handsome wage as well. Okay, Steelers up next. The team from Pittsburgh never really recovering after the O'Malley injury left early on in the season."

"No. Now they could probably do with a new runner to replace Tonkin but if I were them, I might go for one of the big names and see if I could do a trade later on. Oh and there it is they've chosen Kinney. Brian Kinney has just been drafted in by the Pittsburgh Steelers. Well, I can't say I was expecting that. Though I guess it shows that the NFL have decided to overlook his sexuality."

"I'm going to throw this out there though Brad. Kinney does not look happy about that at all."

"Do you think he's not happy because of the quality of the team?"

"No it looks to me like it's the location of the team geographically rather than their location on the table."

"Well, I suppose after Miami, Pittsburgh would be a let down."

"I suppose so. Well, lets see who's up next. Looks like the Lions are going for Tony Lopez. I think that's a good choice for them."

"Yeah, predictable really. But that's another pick from the Miami University team."

"They have had three phenomenal seasons, though John."

"Absolutely, thanks in no small part to Lopez there."

::

"Welcome back, if you're just joining us the big news today was Brian Kinney drafted almost immediately into the Steelers with some annoyance, I think would be fair to say."

"Yes, not a happy man Brad."

"No, not at all. Baxley's still sitting in that room. It's not going so well for the Heisman Trophy winner."

"I think he'll get picked up by the Jets next. God knows, they need a decent quarterback this year."

"Mm-hmm. So we're expecting Baxley to go to the Jets and … well. I don't think anyone saw this one coming."

"The whole country has been stunned into silence. New York Jets have just signed Todd Anderson . Now Todd Anderson, I'm not saying he's not a good player. He's lighting fast and he's had two great seasons for The Fighting Irish but surely the Giants don't need anymore runners."

"No, but perhaps this is a tactical decision."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Just that perhaps that the Giants have chosen Anderson as a gamble to trade for Kinney later on."

"Are you suggesting the Giants are risking no quarterback to get Brian Kinney, instead of just going with Baxley?"

"It certainly seems that way."

"Well, if that is the case I've never seen anything like it."

"Mmm, Anderson would be a brilliant asset to the Steelers though."

"I can't deny that…. So that's the second shock this even ladies and gentleman, stay tuned in here, for more as the drafts continue."

::

"Well it's all over here at Lambeau Field. Kinney and the Steelers are already embarking on long talks with the New York Jets. At this rate it looks like the swap could be finalised by the end of the day."

"Yeah, Kinney really not happy about the Steelers is he?"

"Well, in an interview earlier he claimed, he had a lot of respect for the Steelers and their fans but that Pittsburgh held some bad childhood memories. What do you make of that John?"

"I think we're only just beginning to realise the complexity of that young man, still, I'd like to see him at the Jets linking up with Bradley Wilson and Carson Holt, that could be a pretty impressive combination."

"I don't doubt that. Okay, word from behind the scenes is that Brian Kinney _will _be making a transfer to the Jets, straight sway for Todd Anderson and that will be finalised in the next day or so. So Kinney now for the Jets, Anderson for the Steelers. And it's already shaping up to be a great season."

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**A LITTLE BIT OF HAPPILY EVER AFTER**

Brian just grinned at Justin as the blonde legged it around their new fancy, two story penthouse apartment.

"And you're sure we can afford this?" He asked for the millionth time.

"Have you seen how much they're paying me a week," Brian smirked. "We can afford anything we want."

"I love you" Justin said sweetly, smiling at him before bouncing off to inspect another aspect of the home.

"Yeah, when I'm buying you stuff," Brian chuckled as the blonde whirled past again.

"No, I loved you when you were poor and pathetic too," he beamed, halting his excitable, whirlwind running to plant a sloppy kiss of Brian's cheek. "It's beautiful Brian," he smiled contentedly resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"You haven't seen the best bit yet," the taller man smiled wolfishly, grabbing Justin's arm and dragging him up the glass spiral staircase to the floor upstairs. Upstairs was just a room with a giant bed set on it's own platform like an alter.

"It's very you," Justin nodded approvingly. "I like the lights above the bed.

"I bought those especially," Brian smirked, "and this," he pointed to the far wall made only of windows that slanted back towards the room. "I figured this was enough light for your art."

"It's perfect," Justin nodded, falling onto the bed and looking up at the window-wall. "So," he smirked, "were you worried when you got drafted to the Steelers?"

"Don't bring that up," Brian sighed, falling onto the bed next to his lover. "I actually thought I was going to be back in that shithole whilst you were in New York chasing your dreams."

"Well, I'm glad it worked out like this," Justin sighed, reaching over and squeezing Brian's hand.

"Me too," Brian nodded.

"But you know we're still going to have to visit Debbie's some weekends, right?"

"Or she'll be on the phone shouting at us," Brian nodded. "And I've had to promise that we'll let Michael come to stay at some point."

"And there's Lindsey," Justin smiled. "She's not gonna let the father of her unborn child never see her again."

"Oh God, don't remind me about my future son or daughter," Brian pulled his hands down his face. "How did I ever let her talk me in to that?"

"I tried to talk you out of it," Justin reminded him in a sing-song voice, "but you insisted that it was a good idea."

"I was drunk. I think everything's a good idea when I'm drunk."

"I tried to talk you out of being drunk too," he smirked.

"Fuck off," Brian frowned, rolling on top of Justin and tickling his ribs mercilessly until Justin kicked him onto the floor.

"Shit," Brian muttered, "you're lucky you didn't injure me," he whined. "You'd have had a lot of Jets fans hunting you down in anger."

"Well I've warned you before that I cannot be held responsible for what happens to you when you tickle me."

Brian just raised an eyebrow and jumped to his feet, before holding out his arms and doing a bit of a twirl. "So, what do you say? Are we buying it?"

"Yes," Justin nodded, wrapping his arms around Brian's waist and going up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on the taller man's shoulder "we're buying it."

"That's good," Brian chuckled, "coz I've already put down the deposit."

Justin chuckled and nibbled lightly on his boyfriend's ear. "So, what happens next?"

"We check out the local gay bars?"

"Should you be careful, aren't the press gonna be hounding your ass?"

"The only person I want hounding my ass is you," Brian chuckled. "So, here's the deal, we go out and, by the time we get back, the removal men have moved all our stuff in."

"I like the way you think Mr Kinney."

::

"Brian, ESPN."

"Hey," he stopped, knowing that, unfortunately, interviews were a regular part of his life now.

"First off, great game."

"Thanks."

"Do you think a performance like that will silence the critics that suggest you shouldn't be allowed, or perhaps it's not appropriate for you, to play because of your sexuality?"

"My sexuality has absolutely nothing to do with the way I play. If the critics were really sports fans, they'd see that nothing matters out on that field except getting the ball to the end zone and having the eleven men best suited to that job, should be on the field."

"Well, you keep proving week-in, week-out that you're good enough to be there. Are you hoping to pave the way for a flurry of gay players in NFL?"

"Don't kid yourself," he checked the man's name tag, "Robert McCoy," he smirked. "I'm not the first gay player in NFL. I'm just the first one that's out, so, yeah, if my success gives other gay football players the confidence to be honest about who they are, then I think that's great."

"And what about the Jet's future? It's looking bright, isn't it?"

"Very," Brian nodded. "I think if we can get lucky with the transfers at the end of the season, we'd have the potential to start building a really great team for the future."

"Thanks very much, Brian."

"Thank you," Brian picked up his bag, ready to walk away quickly, but the journalist called his name. He stopped, plastered a smile on his face and turned around.

"I just want to apologise for the questions," the journalist said. "I wanted to focus on the game but the bosses said I had to ask."

"It's okay," Brian said honestly. "I'm used to it by now."

"Look, just know that, I don't care what you do it bed or who you do it with, you're still a hell of a football player."

Brian's mouth twisted up a little and he nodded slightly before saying, "you have no idea how sorry I am that you felt you had to say that." And with that, he turned away from the journalist and got in his car to go home.

::

"Brian, channel 5 news. Great game."

"Thanks."

"The Jets are looking better this year than last, do you think that this level of improvement is set to improve in the future?"

"Of course," Brian said confidently. "The coaching staff and the players here are always striving to better themselves and I think that's obvious to everyone watching, the team gels well and we're looking really good."

"Do you think that your sexuality ever puts you on the outside of the team bonding?"

"Of course not, the team look at me as a player and a person not a fag."

"Right, final question, is the super bowl calling?"

"You know it is."

"I saw your interview," as Brian came through the door the next day. He was tired from the plane journey home from the west coast but seeing Justin, covered in paint as he sweated over his latest master piece had cheered him up.

"Oh?"

"They've been replaying it on all the sports channels all morning," he said, turning his music down and flicking ESPN on. As though on cue, the interview was being played.

"See," Justin grinned. "I told you."

"Why the fuck are they replaying it? What did I say?"

"Nothing," Justin reassured him. "It's not what you said, it's how you said it."

"And how, pray tell, did I say it?" Brian asked, his words dripping in sarcasm.

"Angrily," Justin smirked. "Some ESPN journalist called Robert McCoy has been saying that journalism focused mainly on your sexuality is boring, repetitive and unimaginative. He's been fighting your corner all morning, reckon you should give him a call, you know, say thank you."

Brian nodded and watched his interview.

"Of course not," he was saying and Brian had to admit he did look totally fed-up, "the team look at me as a player and a person not a **BLEEP**."

Brian smirked as his mouth became suddenly pixelated.

"Did you say fag?" Justin asked knowingly.

"Mm," he nodded. "I guess I wasn't really thinking," he shrugged as the television cut to Robert McCoy, a journalist Brian was very familiar with. He was always waiting at the end of a game to hurl questions at him.

"I think that says it all," McCoy was saying. "Kinney's clearly fed-up of the constant questions. He's proved it time and time and time again that he's good enough to be here and that being gay isn't an issue. I think it's time to leave the guy alone."

"Have your say," the shows host suggested "we've got texts and emails coming in from people falling on both sides of the fence so far."

"But aren't they just the same tired old arguments," McCoy insisted. "Leave him alone and let him play football."

Brian turned to Justin who had an oddly proud expression on his face.

"What?" The taller man asked curiously.

"Look," Justin said, pointing at the screen. "You're really making a difference to fags everywhere."

"I don't think so," Brian chuckled. "But we both know nothing pisses of a straight person more than a successful fag."

"Mm-hmm, what do you say we go out and do a little celebrating?" Justin grinned.

"Excellent. There's a new restaurant in town, food only got one star," he smirked, running his hands up and down Justin's arms, "waiters got five."

Justin beamed up at his partner. "Sounds perfect."

"Great." Then he noticed the painting Justin was working on, "can you leave that?"

"Yeah," he insisted, turning around to view his future masterpiece. "I need this colour to dry first anyway."

"It looks amazing," Brian breathed, wrapping his arms around his partners waist. He was pretty sure his jacket would be covered in paint when he pulled away.

"You think so?"

Brian just nodded. Justin could feel the gesture as their faces rubbed together. "Exquisite," he whispered. "Now, you go and take a shower and I'll call Mr McCoy. I think he deserves my gratitude."

::

Justin was cooking when Brian got in.

"That looks delicious," he said, dropping his bag by the door, then walking closer to Justin, he added, "the food looks good too."

Justin smiled a little, before turning to look at his partner. "I saw your game, you were excellent."

"What the hell were you doing watching that?" Brian groaned, "you were supposed to be enjoying incredible success with your art show."

"I was," Justin beamed, "but in between bouts of unyielding admiration, I would sneak into a staff area, which had a small TV set up for your game."

"Mmm," Brian nodded, leaning forward and capturing the shorter man's lips with his own. They kissed languidly, before Brian finally pulled back and whispered, "I'm sorry I missed the opening."

"It doesn't matter," Justin insisted. "It couldn't be helped. I'll just tell my agent never to organise and opening on a weekend."

"Okay," Brian smiled. They kissed again, before Brian looked back to the food. "So, what's for dinner?"

"Cajun chicken, with rice and a mild pepper sauce."

"Sounds hot," Brian said, close to Justin's ear the 'H' sound tickling his neck and causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Mm, it is," Justin nodded, his head falling back against Brian's collar bone for a second. He craned his neck so he could press and awkward kiss to Brian's jaw. "I was thinking after dinner, we could go to Rush, have a drink, have a dance … maybe have a boy," he smiled.

"If it's okay with you, I'd rather it were just me and you," Brian pressed his lips to Justin's, before going to empty his bag.

"You've been saying that a lot recently," Justin said. He couldn't help the tone of surprise that came with his words. Brian shrugged.

"Maybe I'm becoming a mature adult," he smirked.

"Uh-huh," Justin mumbled sarcastically. "Well, that's probably a good thing with a baby on the way."

"Don't," Brian said quickly, pulling out the stuff he to be washed. "Please, you'll make me feel older than I am."

"Well you are twenty…"

"Don't!"

"…eight."

Brian said nothing, he just scowled at Justin, his eyebrows furrowing so much, Justin couldn't actually see the taller man's eyes anymore. "I'm gonna start watch this," Brian said, pulling out the DVD of his game from the bag.

"I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Well, be sure to shout loudly, I might not hear you with my advanced years," Brian muttered and Justin couldn't help but chuckle.

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**Final Chapter will be up tomorrow! =D**

**Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading this. I know it's been a very long journey!**

**xx**


	35. The Final Seconds Tick Away

**Okay, so with all the mess-ups with fanfiction . Net last week I wasn't able to put this chapter up until today … sorry about that. Also, I have no idea of the rules of alcohol in the stadiums, I looked EVERYWHERE on the internet but it was still unclear so I just went with them being allowed to drink in the stadiums.**

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**Several Years Later**

All over the country, lives were coming to a halt. For the next few hours, the TV would be king, men, women and children were sitting down to enjoy the spectacle, whilst an equal number of men women and children were being banned from talking, interrupting or being within a yard of the TV or the remote.

Bars were all flicking to the same channel, a nation united and equally split by what the television had to say, mainly;

"Hello sports fans and welcome to the forty-ninth annual Super Bowl. It's shaping up to be one of the best and most controversial Super Bowl finals in recent years, so if you don't want to miss a second of the action, this is _the _place to be."

"This is amazing, isn't it?" Emmett beamed, clapping a little as he and the rest of the family followed Justin up some stairs and towards the area where all the players families and friends were seated. "I feel like a VIP."

"You are a VIP," Justin smiled, "at least today." He finally stopped and pointed out the seats that Brian had got them. Kent and Brody were already sat there, a crate of beer at their feet.

"Well it's about time you arrived," a man Justin recognised as Kent stood up and embraced him tightly.

"How long have you been here?" Justin asked knowingly.

"Since it opened," Brody yelled. "Go Jets," he lifted his t-shirt to reveal the Jets sign painted onto his body.

"You wouldn't believe how long they took," Kent chuckled, lifting his own shirt to reveal the same thing. "Still, it's not everyday one of your best friends plays in the super bowl. How was he holding up?"

"Umm … I think he threw up twice this morning," Justin said honestly. "But you know Brian, he's a nervous wreck until he crosses that white line…"

"… and then he's an arrogant son of a bitch," Kent chuckled. Then he peered past Justin to the group or loud, brightly coloured people. "Is this the entourage?"

"The family," Debbie corrected immediately.

"Sorry," Justin smiled let me introduce everyone. "Everyone," he turned to his family, "this is Kent and Brody, Brian's friends from college."

"Nice to meet you all," Kent smiled.

"Go Jets!" Brody yelled, pulling his shirt up to reveal his body paint on a perfect six pack which went down very well with most Brian's family. Kent just frowned at his friend, "I thought you were a Giants fan."

"Not today," Brody beamed, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt to shout 'Go Jets' again.

"Alright," Kent frowned. "We don't need to see it again at least not until the game starts." Then he turned to the others. "Sorry, he's a bit drunk."

"Oh well if he wants to show off his torso," Emmett smiled, flirtily "don't make him stop on our account."

Kent chuckled a little and Justin continued the introductions. "This is Emmett." Emmett gave a little wave. "This is Ted and Michael."

"Michael," Kent shook his hand. "I believe we've met before, when you came to visit Brian in Miami."

"Yeah," Michael nodded.

"And this is Debbie."

"Hi."

"Mel and Lindsey. And this," Justin ruffled the hair of a small boy who couldn't have been more than about three, "is Gus. He's Brian's son."

Kent raised an eyebrow and Brody said, "but he's a fag."

"Well, he's our son," Mel explained, putting her arm around Lindsey's waist. "We raise him and look after him. He's just 50% Brian's genes."

"My daddy plays football in the super bowl," Gus said brightly to Kent.

"Yeah, that's right buddy" Kent said. "So are you a Jets fan then?"

"No," Gus shook his head. "I support my daddy's team."

"Right," Kent smiled as Gus continued,

"Did you know that the super bowl isn't a real bowl?"

"Really?"

"Nu-uh, mama explained it to me on the way here."

"It took the entire car journey," Mel groaned, "but I think he's getting it now."

"Hey Gus," Kent said suddenly, "would you like to get your face painted so that everyone knows you're here to support the Jets, er … I mean, your daddy's team."

"Can I mommy?" Gus turned to his mom's pleadingly. Mel and Linds both looked to Justin, who confirmed with just one brief nod that Gus would be perfectly fine with Kent.

"Okay, you be good then," Mel warned.

"I will mama," he smiled.

"Come on then, Champ," Kent grinned, "your uncle Kent will have you looking like a Jet's fan in no time."

"That kid's got more uncles and aunties and parents than he knows what to do with," Debbie chuckled.

"It just means we're never short of babysitters," Lindsey smiled.

They were all sat down now and Justin couldn't help notice the four free seats to his left. They'd puzzled him for a moment, he couldn't imagine who else Brian would have got a ticket for and then, like a sickening jolt to his gut, he realised who it would be and he couldn't help think it might have been very wishful thinking. He wished Brian could just let go of his family. He wished he could cut off his ties to them, like they had with him. He wished they weren't four empty seats, he wished that they weren't seats at all.

Kent brought Gus back, complete with Jet's shirt, scarf and a hat, as well as the Jet's symbol painted on both of his cheeks.

"Look mommy," Gus beamed. "I'm like Daddy." He turned around the reveal 'Kinney 69' on his back.

"Oh Kent, you shouldn't have got all this," Lindsey said.

"It was no problem," Kent said honestly. "I couldn't have Brian Kinney's son without a shirt."

"How much do we owe you?" Mel asked.

"Put your money away," Kent chuckled, "I can afford it."

"But I…"

"Mel," Justin whispered in her ear, "his names Kent Pukett of Pukett Sports Clothing. Trust me, he can afford it."

"Well, thank you," Mel said gratefully, shaking Kent's hand firmly.

"Anyway," Justin smiled, "if he hadn't bought it, I would have. How could you have brought your son to the super bowl without a single item of Jets merchandise?" He chided, with a big grin on his face.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed, "what kind of dykes are you?"

"And of course," Debbie said, suddenly looking proudly at Justin, "you could afford to buy anything now, I heard one of the pieces at your show last week sold for nearly two and half grand."

"Yeah, it did," he nodded, blushing a little as everyone around him began to congratulate him.

Time began to wear on. The cheerleaders had stopped dancing and the bands were dying out, prompting Emmett to suggest that the best bit of the super bowl was now over and that perhaps he'd go shopping until half time, which earned him glares from everyone around him.

"Er, I mean … go jets," he whooped half-heartedly, slumping back into his seat miserably, earning himself a chuckle for Ted.

Justin looked to his right, the four seats were still empty.

"Look, there's daddy!" Gus cried suddenly and Justin's attention snapped back to the field as Brian stood near the centre, his helmet under his arm clapping the supporters. The announcer, who was reading out the names suddenly got to Brian's and the stadium erupted and Justin felt tearful as the pride brimmed up inside him. He stood up, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves, when he looked to his left he saw Lindsey and Michael in a similar way, Debbie was practically bawling.

Suddenly, Justin felt someone appear at his right hand side, and whisper, "we haven't missed the start, have we?"

Justin looked up and was surprised to see not one Kinney but two. Brian's brothers were there to support him; both of them.

"You're just in time," Justin answered honestly.

"Excellent," Eric said, a look of relief on his face. "The traffic was a nightmare and Jack can't read a goddamn map," he groaned. "Anyway," he smiled, holding out his hand, "it's nice to see you again Justin."

"You too," Justin agreed, shaking his hand warmly. "Brian will be so please to know you're here."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world. As soon as I knew the Jets had a chance of reaching the final I'd been searching everywhere for tickets. I was considering taking out loans against Kinnetik if I had to."

"Kinnetik?"

"Oh it's my advertising business in Pittsburgh," he grinned. "I'd pulled all the strings I could with all my biggest clients even Pukett Clothing. Hey Kent," he looked up and smiled at one of his clients, who replied by offering him a beer.

"I dropped names everywhere," Eric continued, taking a sip of his beer, "explained he was my brother, explained I did work with one of the match sponsors but I couldn't get anywhere. Then a few weeks ago, a ticket to the VIP box drops on my doormat. I rang up Jack and we made arraignments to get here."

"Speak for yourself," Jack insisted, in a muted grumble, also receiving a beer from Kent. "I'm just here for the free Super Bowl ticket."

"Don't let him fool you," Eric winked. "He's proud as hell, he just can't be seen to show it."

Justin smiled and looked past the two men, at the empty seats, "what about your parents?"

Eric just shook his head sadly and looked to the match as the teams were getting ready to start. Justin understood. They weren't there, they couldn't see past the fact their son was a fag.

::

Jack Kinney turned the Super Bowl game on in his sitting room and called Joan to bring in some more beers and snacks. He'd invited the bowling team over to watch the game like he had every year since he'd been married. He intended to eat too many salty snacks, drink too much beer and pick a team to support, New York Jets vs. Indianapolis Colts. The Colts were firm favourites, everyone knew it but Brian Kinney had been playing out of his skin this season and had lead the Jets firmly to this game.

"Hey Jack," one of his friends joked, "Kinney, he's not a relation of yours is he?"

"No," Jack said firmly.

"He may be a fag," another one chimed "but the kid can sure play."

Brian played the game of his life. Jack watched every perfect pass completion, every perfectly called play, every run with precision timing. He just watched, finally realising the skill his youngest son possessed. Despite Brian playing the best game of his life, it still all came to the last play.

::

Brian breathed steadily. He called the play. He knew this one so well, he'd been running it all his life. He ran this play every time he closed his eyes at night, every time he'd imagined this moment, every time he was alone. He breathed out and received the ball. Then he ran.

He side stepped one.

He twirled away from another.

There was a free sprint to the end zone.

He stretched his legs and ran.

::

"GO ON BRIAN!" Justin screamed.

"RUN DADDY!"

"RUN BABY!"

"GO ON!"

"SPRINT BRI!" Eric joined.

"RUN FAGGOT!" Jack bellowed.

But their voices as well as the frantic yelling of the others sat with them were lost in the cheers of the Jets fans all egging Brian on. He ran, he could see one of the Colts gaining on him. He could see him coming quickly in the corner of his eye. He didn't think he'd make it. And he dug deep, he dragged something from somewhere, another burst of energy from a place he didn't know existed and he sprinted even faster and dived...

"TOUCH DOWN!" A commentator yelled.

Jack Kinney got to his feet calmly and left the living room as his friends clapped and complemented the run.

Jack just went outside and looked into the sky. He held his beer above his head, pride welling up inside him, pride he'd never show anyone, not even himself and he whispered tearfully;

"Here's to you sonny boy. You played a great game."


End file.
