I slide open the door to the loft and am instantly reminded of two facts. My home has been occupied by a blond with questionable viewing habits (and the fact that I actually invited the invader to stick around and plunder my cupboards, my closet -- and occasionally my ass -- is something I don’t often like to dwell upon.) And said invader has taken to inviting his friend over at the most inopportune moments. For example, any time that I am home. Or due to arrive home. Or thinking of being home in the immediate future.

Justin glances up at the sound of the door fumbling its way across the track, then turns his attention back to his guest. I roll my eyes. So much for my hello kiss.

“You’re insane,” Justin says emphatically. “Bringing Buffy back from the dead was totally nowhere near a jump-the-shark moment.”

“Right, like Dawn was,” Daphne snaps back. “And how many times did they bring Buffy back? Like a thousand!”

“Two! Two times. Meanwhile Dawn--”

“She was adorable.”

I cross to the island and lean down to kiss Daphne’s cheek. “Hello, Daphne,” I say. “You look adorable.”

“Hey, Brian. Whatever,” she shrugs me off and turns back to Justin. How times change. “Remember that singing episode, when they had her in that really cool icy blue ball gown?”

Justin runs his fingers through his hair and leans forward to smack his forehead against the countertop. I try to remind myself that there are many facets to Justin. He’s a talented artist, dedicated, intelligent, strong -- and not just the drooling fanboy who surfs the internet late at night searching for stories in which Angel shoves Spike against a wall and fucks his brains out.

“Oh My God,” Justin groans. “She was made up! Adding Dawn to the show totally invalidated everything that had happened before her!”

“That’s ridiculous.” Daphne swivels on her stool. “Brian, will you tell your boyfriend he’s being ridiculous?”

Sure, now she wants my attention. I grab the makings for a salad out of the fridge, slap the carrots on the cutting board, snatch up a paring knife, and ignore her.

“Brian!” Justin protests.

Like I’m going to take his side. I sigh and put down the knife. Justin should be proud of my self control.

“What’s ridiculous,” I say, “is the two of you sitting around arguing over which pathetic plot twist on an extinct TV show was the most lame. What’s next -- which demon was the most poorly accessorized?”

Daphne and Justin exchange a look.

“Well, Spike was definitely the best accessorized,” Daphne says.

Justin nods. “That leather jacket was pretty cool.”

“Although a case could be made as to whether Spike actually was a demon in the end, with his soul and everything,” Daphne points out.

“True,” Justin says. “By definition, weren’t demons soulless beings? So Spike--”

I wince. “How old are you, twelve?”

“Only in spirit,” Daphne grins. She bends to gather up her bags. “Anyway, I have to be going.”

“You don’t have to,” Justin says with a glare in my direction.

“You’re always welcome in our home, Daphne,” I recite, doing my best to keep the eye rolling to a minimum. I hope Justin is thankful for my discretion. Very thankful.

Daphne laughs. “Thanks Brian, but I really do have to go. Matthew’s taking me to that new restaurant. The Subliminal Onion? It’s supposed to have great food.”

“And hot waiters,” I say.

“Yeah,” Justin says as he hops down from the stool to escort Daphne to the door. “I’m sure Matthew will appreciate that.”

“So that’s what you do when I’m not around,” I say when I can hear Daphne’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. “And here I thought you were off thinking deep thoughts. Or creating masterpieces to wow the art world.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Justin says. “Even a genius needs some down-time.”

I slap at the hand that reaches out to swipe one of the carrots from my neatly proportioned pile, and Justin grins. “I’m going to have a shower,” he says pointedly.

Suddenly my salad doesn’t seem very appealing.

But I don’t want to seem too needy. Brian Kinney doesn’t do needy -- at least not daily. So I concentrate on the snick of the knife against the cutting board, and not on Justin as he slowly sheds his clothing in the bedroom.

The tease.

I will not falter. I think about MacIntosh Mints, and the upcoming Brown account renewal, and the Dandy Lube spot that starts airing tomorrow, and TV shows about little blonde girls who manage to dispatch the bad guys while tossing off quips and never falling off their platform shoes, and---

“Everybody knows Buffy jumped the shark when Willow tried to destroy the world,” I mutter at the romaine.

“I heard that!”

Fuck the salad.

I think I’ll go and use my powers of persuasion to convince Justin of my point of view. Repeatedly.