I mean, honestly, I’d just been fucked to within an inch of my life, and then I’d been fucked again, and then, well, Brian hadn’t been that playful since our first time. Not our first TIME, but that first night, with the juggling and the handstands and the Joe Cocker impression. It didn’t even matter that I’d never heard of Joe Cocker, Brian made him seem really funny and cool even if this Cocker guy was mildly retarded. Mentally challenged. Whatever.

Anyway, it’s not every day that I get invited to Brian’s place. So I tried to just enjoy it. But though his hands and his mouth were as skilled as ever, and the whole thing with the ice cream was beyond hot, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was only there as a distraction. Brian was missing his best friend, which was of course confirmed as soon as I brought up Michael’s name and Brian got all testy. And then he got stubborn when I suggested that he just call Michael and admit that they needed each other.

I just really don’t get this whole Dr. Dave thing. And Brian sure as hell wasn’t talking, beyond “as long as Mikey’s happy”. The martyr thing just totally doesn’t work for Brian, but I’d never tell him that or I’d never feel his cock in my ass again.

It was late, and a school night, and I was probably going to get in shit from Debbie for staying so late at Brian’s anyway. Normally I would have just asked to stay over, especially since he was in such a good mood with the ice cream, but then my own big mouth ruined that plan. So it would be public transit for me and a tongue lashing from Deb. But I passed the comic -- the special first edition that Brian probably paid a fucking fortune for -- just sitting there on the counter as I walked out, and on an impulse I grabbed it. I’d figure out a plan later.

Between school and work and studying for tests and seeing the guidance counsellor about universities, I really sort of forgot about Captain Astro. Then on Saturday, Daph came over. Deb had the day shift and Vic was napping, so the house was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with Vic snoring. We were supposed to be heading to the mall to look for shoes -- oh joy -- but so far we hadn’t made it from the bed and the small stash of very good weed I’d appropriated from Brian.

Daph found the comic lying underneath my geometry textbook on the nightstand and pulled it out. “Hey,” she said, “I didn’t know you were into superheroes.”

“Oh shit.” I grabbed it from her, checking quickly to make sure it wasn’t damaged or bent. Michael and Brian would both have a shit-fit if I’d ruined it. Luckily, it was still in mint condition. “It’s Michael’s,” I explained once I was done inspecting the cover. “Sort of.”

“This whole room is filled with Michael’s comics,” Daph shrugged, snatching it back. “What’s the big deal?”

“Jesus! This one’s different.” I quickly grabbed the magazine back and got up to put it carefully on the desk. Then I had a thought. Maybe Daph could help me sort out the Dr. Dave conundrum. Coz we are best friends and stuff. We know things about each other that are so completely private that nobody else knows, just like Michael and Brian. We are Michael and Brian -- well, except for the whole one of us lusting after the other one for years thing. And the whole one of us manipulating the life of the other one thing. Okay, so maybe we’re more Ted and Emmett than Brian and Michael, but whatever.

“Hey,” I said, determined to forge onward, “if I got a boyfriend that you hated, would you get all weird?”

“I thought Brian wasn’t your boyfriend.”

“He’s not. He’s not into boyfr-- wait, do you hate Brian?”

“Why would I hate Brian?”

Okay, somebody’s talking in riddles and it sure as fuck isn’t me. I shook my head and tried again. “I just asked if I had a boyfriend that you hated--”

“But Brian isn’t your boyfriend.”

I am never getting high with Daphne again. I threw up my hands. “Daph--”

“Brian’s hot. And he’s got a great ass.”

Okay, somehow it’s weird thinking of Daphne admiring Brian’s ass. I don’t know why; it just is. Not that he doesn’t have a great ass, he really does. Not as great as my ass, but...

“Would you get weird if you didn’t like my boyfriend?” Daphne asked, interrupting my inner soliloquy on the joys of great asses.

“Like you have a boyfriend,” I said.

Daphne snorted and tried to get off the bed, and managed to roll onto her side. “’Cause if you did get all weird about my boyfriend, I’d tell you to back the fuck off and find your own.”

Yeah, we are completely not Brian and Michael.

I would have gone to Babylon that night, except I was still grounded. Deb didn’t believe me when I told her that I’d stayed late at Brian’s earlier in the week because we were having ice cream. I could have fought the punishment, but honestly it gave me some necessary time to do my History revision, and also to attempt to work out a Rekindle Brian and Michael’s Friendship plan.

I came up with a few fairly elaborate schemes. My favourite was the story of the fire in the loft, and the extensive damage, and how the only thing Brian wanted saved was the first issue of Captain Astro because it meant so much to his dear friend Michael. I was even going to make myself all sooty and gross.

It would have been pretty cool.

Then I realized that Michael didn’t need elaborate tales. Now Emmett -- Em would love a whole shebang like that, complete with details like what the firemen looked like, what I was doing there to being with, and how devastated Brian had been. But Michael was a simple man. He had simple tastes. He didn’t need the big show -- something I’ll have to explain to Brian one day. All Michael would need to know is that Brian did what he did through a misguided and clearly dysfunctional sense of duty, and that he was sorry, and that he missed Michael desperately. Michael would forgive him, and then Brian could stop moping. And if I was lucky, Michael would also knock him in the head a few times so he never tried anything so ludicrous again. I wasn’t going to hold my breath on that one, though.

I planned to accomplish my goal by noon on Sunday, thus freeing up the rest of the day for fun. Usually Michael shows up early Sunday morning for breakfast, but the one morning I actually want to see the guy, he goes AWOL. And unfortunately, Debbie didn’t have a clue where Michael was.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” she brayed when I asked about his whereabouts. She was brandishing a spatula and looking rather put-upon, so I backed out of the kitchen slowly before I could be assigned pancake duty.

I really had no choice but to call Michael directly. I braced myself for a barrage of questions about the state of “his” room, but I got David on the phone instead. A decidedly cool David, who informed me that Michael wasn’t there either, and no, David didn’t know where he was. I hung up, feeling frustrated. Don’t these people ever communicate?

I finally decided to head to Brian’s. Even if he didn’t have any ideas where Michael could be, it would still be the perfect place to work off some of those frustrations.

Brian buzzed me up right away, and I took the stairs two at a time, trying to conceal my excitement even as I rushed up to the fourth floor. I reminded myself that I was there on Michael’s behalf, and on Brian’s behalf, even though neither of them realized it, and the ultimate goal was to get them talking again so that things could just go back to normal. That didn’t stop the rush of adrenaline I felt coursing through my veins as I neared the dented metal door, or dim the hope that I felt that maybe, just maybe, Brian would be interested in more than just talking.

I didn’t bother to knock, just slid the door open and stepped inside. I dropped my backpack on the floor and called out Brian’s name. I was on my second attempt when he stepped out of the bathroom, still in his robe. I had this sudden fear, then, that he wasn’t alone. That maybe he wasn’t quite done with his little lessons in messing with other people’s lives, and I was going to get yet another reminder that we weren’t boyfriends, weren’t lovers, blah blah blah. I glanced guiltily toward the bed... but it was empty. Thank god.

Still, it smelled kind of funny. It smelled like... “Geez Brian. It smells like my dad in here.”

Brian stopped halfway down the steps and snorted. “Justin, I can assure you that your father hasn’t been within fifty feet of my dick.”

I wrinkled up my nose. Still, all I could smell was the cheezy aftershave that Dad used. The sort of stuff that went out of date the year I was born. Usually Brian has better taste in tricks. He must be really off his game. I shook my head and tried to focus. “Oh? Did you get a restraining order?”

Brian resumed his forward progress and ignored me completely. “Now the younger Taylor, on the other hand...” he said. And then he was on me, mouth covering mine and long fingers twisting in my hair. Yeah, so much for talking.

Brian danced me backwards across the floor, his warm wet tongue exploring my mouth. I couldn’t smell the cologne anymore, not when he smelled of whiskey, of heat, of smoke and fire. He finally tipped me onto the bed, and I had no memory of even going up the steps. His body followed, covering mine, and only then did he break the kiss. I gasped in a breath for my oxygen starved lungs while one of his hands expertly grasped the hem of my shirt and pulled, flicking it off in one sinuous motion even as his other hand tugged at my zipper. I was naked before he was, my own fingers shaking as I tried to push the robe off his shoulder. I rose onto my elbows to nip at the flesh of his collarbone, mouthing the skin and gasping against his chest when the cool gel of the lube touched my flesh. The rip of the packaging. The snap of the condom.

And then he was inside me.

He paused, letting me adjust. And I closed my eyes because no matter how many times we did this, it never ceased to thrill me, the feel of him inside me, filling me up so completely. His forehead nudged my chin and his tongue laved across my neck and he pulled out and immediately plunged in again, and again, and again, his upper body holding me down, and I locked my ankles at the small of his back and squeezed my thighs around his waist and pistoned my hips to meet his thrusts. Everything dwindled down to the push of his dick in my ass and the scrape of his stubble on my chest. And then the warmth of his fingers on my cock as he tugged once, twice, and then the bright flashes behind my eyelids were all I could see.

He rested against me, catching his breath before he rolled onto his back and disposed of the condom. He tossed me a towel and lit up a smoke all in one motion.

“You know,” he said around his cigarette, “I told you to never show up here without calling first.”

I finished cleaning up before shifting onto my side to face him. I smirked. “Hmm. I obviously didn’t learn that lesson. I think you’ll have to punish me.”

“Maybe later.” He smacked my ass and slid from the bed. “Get dressed. I have plans.”

Well, shit. I reluctantly searched for my shirt, trying not to pout. “Don’t you even want to know why I’m here?”

“Not particularly,” Brian said, his head already buried in his closet as he searched out his own shirt.

I sighed, but I forged onward with the plan. “I was feeling kind of down today. You know, about my family and stuff. So, I came here. This is where I come when I’m, like... when I need someone to talk to. Or whatever.” No response. But I think the rustling of clothing stopped for a moment. I’m sure it did.

“What about you, Brian?” I continue as I pull on my pants. “Where do you go when--”

“Justin,” Brian emerged from the closet, button-down denim in hand. “Have you suddenly mistaken me for a lesbian?”

“Right.” I bit my lip and wondered if I should continue. ‘Cause the last thing I needed was Brian to go ballistic. Still, I had to focus on Rekindle The Friendship. “What about Michael?”

Brian stilled, and I didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he said softly, “A-1.”

I blinked. “Umm... the steak sauce?”

Brian huffed out a laugh. “It’s a comic store on Bleeker. Michael goes to Buzzy’s if he’s looking for comfort and familiarity, but he goes to A-1 when he’s upset and he wants to forget about shit. His eyes light up and he spends a couple of hours pretending to be Captain Astro. Fucking lame.”

His voice had gotten softer the longer he talked, and I crossed the room to wrap my arms around him from behind. “I don’t think he pretends to be Captain Astro,” I told him, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. “I think maybe he casts somebody else in the starring role.”

Brian let me hold him for a moment, then shrugged me off. “Whatever. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Actually... I do.”