Brian, unlike Justin, did not read minds he controlled them. He knew that Rikert was checking out Justin but figured it was for the same reason why everyone else at Babylon had checked-out his young friend - he was fucking hot. In that moment, it had dawned on Brian that Justin Taylor fit the victim profile of whoever the sick-fuck running through Pittsburgh and strangling people was. 

Brian began reviewing what he knew about the murders as soon as he'd returned to the loft. There was nothing linking the victims besides the fact they were twinks under twenty, and the fact that the time of death was always anywhere from twelve o'clock to two in the morning. Try as he might to find some lead, Brian was at a complete loss to find a clue. Every loose end had been tied-up, all the evidence was nonexistent - it was as if the guy knew crime so well that he could work the system in his favor - or he worked for the system. Either way, Brian wasn't any closer to figuring out who the enemy was. Turning off the lights systematically in the loft, Brian made the decision that either way, he wasn't letting Justin Taylor out of his sight, though he was reluctant to assess the reason for this protectiveness he was suddenly feeling. It was easy enough to dismiss it as a logical reaction, since Justin seemed to constantly attract trouble, and Brian was satisfied for the moment to leave it at that.

…………………….

The car was parked across the street from the apartment, looking inconspicuous - a brown Volvo between a beat-up Volkswagen, and a green Sunfire; but Justin had seen it there every day for the past three days and the driver never left the vehicle. Justin knew the precise moment it would pull into that spot across the street because a shiver would wrack his body no matter where he was in the apartment, and he would no longer be able to sit still.

This time was no exception and he was relieved when Daphne finally came out of the bathroom and rolled her eyes. “Come on!” she said, as if he had been the one preening in the bathroom for the passed forty-five minutes. “We're going to be late!”

Justin didn't say anything; simply rolled his eyes right back at her and exited the apartment. He made a point of keeping his head down when they stepped outside of their building and didn't glance up until Daphne had cleared their street and turned onto the main road. “What's up with you?” she asked, glancing at him briefly before turning her eyes back on the road. Justin shook his head and absentmindedly rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to ward off the shivers - the Volvo was following them. “Is he back, Justin?” she asked, her tone serious.

“Of course,” Justin said. When she flashed him a worried look, he rolled his eyes. “We knew this was going to happen,” he reminded her.

“No, we fucking didn't. In fact, didn't I tell you this was a bad idea? I told you this was a bad idea!” she said, and hit her hand on the steering wheel to make a point. Justin huffed but didn't say a word. “Look, talk to Vance. He can arrange for you to get out of town for a bit. There's the McAllister account, he could send you out to work on that. You can visit your friends in London.”

“I have no friends in London,” Justin reminded her. Justin didn't have 'friends' period. He didn't trust people enough to have them. He had Daphne, and he had Vance - and lately, he had Brian, though why he felt so comfortable with the man was beyond him, but he trusted his instincts and there were no warning bells yet so he yeah, he had Brian. 

“Dammit, Justin,” she said, almost to herself. He knew she worried about him but he really wished she wouldn't. He could look after himself, just like he always had. His first concern was that she was being placed in trouble because she was with him. Justin had made a point of keeping an eye on her, so far it seemed he was the only one who's steps were being haunted and that was fine, so long as they left Daphne out of it.

They pulled into the parking lot at Vanguard and the warmth slowly returned to Justin; they hurried out of the parking lot, into the building, and up to the office. “Justin,” Daphne said, just before the elevator pinged to release them onto their floor. He turned to face her, but she seemed unable to form words, instead, she wrapped her hand gently around his upper arm, and he knew immediately everything that she was trying to say, but couldn't.

“I promise,” he answered her with a smile, and she smiled back though without much enthusiasm. As they stepped out of the elevator, they were both wondering about Justin's ability to keep his word in this matter.

………………………..

“Hey,” Brian said as he glanced up from computer and noticed the blond, his head resting heavily against his propped arm, more asleep than awake despite the pencil he still clutched in his hand. “Fuck,” Brian said, as a glance at the clock revealed the hour to be closer to morning than midnight. “Hey,” he said again as he walked over to Justin and prodded him gently. Justin blinked bleary eyes up at him, looking slightly disoriented. “You can sleep here tonight. It's late.” Justin just nodded his head.

With three new, major accounts in need of their attention Justin, more often than not, found himself crashing at Brian's loft. Most times he had ended-up sprawled on Brian's couch, and but there were a few occasions where he had ended-up in Brian's bed, and usually because the sound of Justin's back cracking as he'd sat upright had forced Brian to gruffly order him into bed, and Justin had gladly obliged - passing out on top of the soft mattress before he could even shed his shoes. The next morning, Justin had never stopped to analyze the fact that he'd awoken shoe and sock free - he and Brian had become comfortable like that with each other, an easy acceptance of the other in every respect, though they had done nothing remotely intimate, save for a few shared dances at Babylon when they found the time.

Brian headed up the steps to the bedroom and then through the bedroom to the bathroom where he made use of the toilette and went through his well-practiced routine as he prepared for bed. When he exited the bathroom there was no sign of Justin, either collapsed in the bed or sprawled on the couch. A quick glance towards the table revealed the blond exactly where Brian had left him - fast asleep, arm crossed over the sketch of the ad he'd been touching-up, and head resting against his arm. 

Brian prodded Justin reluctantly, feeling suddenly guilty for making such a big thing out of these accounts and making them both work so hard. He quickly quelled the thought, these were huge accounts that would bring in loads of money if they worked it right, and Brian never did anything that was less than perfect. Justin wrinkled his nose and shifted his head slightly but otherwise showed no reaction to Brian's attempts to return him to the waking world.

With a sigh, Brian maneuvered the sleeping form off the chair, hefting Justin's lax body in his arms. In retro thought, it probably would have been easier to deposit Justin on the couch. The young-man had slept there before and though it would have been sweetly sentimental to say that Justin was feather-light with bones like a bird, he really wasn't. As lithe and lean as the kid was he had muscle hidden on that sleek frame, and muscle had weight to it. While it was true that, for Brian with his more developed muscles, he could haul Justin about without issue, he found his balance was never quite trustworthy when he was exhausted, and the short trek to the couch over even terrain would have been simpler than navigating the steps up to the bedroom.

It probably would have made more sense for Brian to put Justin on the couch, as well. The only time Justin had ever slept in Brian's bed, it had been an accident, a result of exhausted minds getting directions mixed-up when presented with the lure of soft sheets and a mattress just one step away, rather than a couch a considerable distance further. Or guilt, when the sound of Justin's creaking bones had reminded Brian that this was yet another night he had sentenced the Art director to a spot on a couch instead of the chance to return home and into his own cozy bed. 

Now, however, Brian had no excuse; whether Justin was asleep or not, Brian was awake and heading directly towards the bedroom with only the briefest of glances spared to the couch. This was a conscious decision, and Brian didn't give a fuck. He'd found it remarkably comfortable the one time Justin had ended-up in the bed, and he liked the idea of Justin being there. And anyway, the kid was going to get a crick in his back if he continued crashing on the couch - and at the table.

…………………….

Justin usually slept quite soundly. He remembered one time when a thunderstorm had crashed and rumbled when he had been at the manor in England; how he had walked in for breakfast the next day to see everyone looking rather tired, and rubbing their eyes and talking about memories they'd created the night before when they had all found their way to the parlor because no one could sleep through the storm. Justin had asked what they were talking - he hadn't heard a thing.

The only time Justin was ever startled awake was as the result of a strange noise not usual to his surroundings, the presence of someone in his room where there hadn't been one before - or as a result of a nightmare. Most times, if it were a sound or a person he would never be jolted into full wakefulness, unless he couldn't recognize the noise or the feel of the person. Nightmares always woke him, and refused to let him fall back to sleep and plagued him with an alarming regularity that had not diminished with the distance the passing days allowed him from the bashing.

So when Justin began feel aware of his surroundings he was surprised because, though he wasn't completely awake, he was certainly not asleep, and the only thing that was remotely disturbing was the feel of being suspended in mid-air but cradled against something warm, with strong arms wrapped about his body. He could tell without even opening his eyes that Brian was carrying him somewhere, likely the couch. What startled him was the sensation that this was not something new. That he had been in these arms before; they certainly seemed familiar.

Try as he might to ponder this, Justin found that the steady rhythm of Brian's heart, beating against his ear and the warmth from Brian's body seeping into his own was amazingly calming. The last thought to pass through his mind as they arrived at whatever destination Brian had in mind was that the couch felt amazingly soft tonight and then he snuggled happily into a warmth that was suddenly draped over him, which he only fleetingly acknowledged as a duvet, and Justin fell back into sleep.

…………………..

“Hey,” Brian said the next morning as they walked up the steps to the building that housed Vanguard together. Noticing the worried frown on Justin's face, and the way the blond refused to look up from the ground as he walked Brian was immediately aware that something was wrong, but a brief scan around the area revealed nothing out of the usual. He refrained from asking patronizing questions: 'what's wrong?' ' Are you okay', because he knew damn well that Justin wouldn't tell him. 

“I'm fine,” Justin was suddenly saying, and Brian glanced again at the blond out of the corner of his eyes. When they reached the doors dark blue eyes darted to the right where they latched onto a brown car pulled against the side of the curb before Justin hurriedly entered the building, shoulders tense. Brian paused at the door, watching Justin retreat into the building. He glanced at the car and realized that he had seen one similar parked outside the loft this morning when he and Justin had left for work.

Brian didn't frown, didn't chew his lip or quirk an eyebrow. Simply looked at the brown car and took-in the details down to the bulky man whose shadow he could make out sitting in the driver's seat. Brian didn't even linger long at the door, but when he turned to follow Justin he knew every detail about that car, and he'd be watching out for it.

…………………….

Brian didn't see Justin until almost four o'clock when he made his way over to the art director's office to arrange a time when they could head-out together. They were almost done, but Brian wanted the boards perfect and they had agreed on another 'all-nighter', though usually they both fell-asleep before they could really fill the entire night with work. They'd both become practically nocturnal, but unfortunately that meant that even the merest hint of sunlight in the sky made their eyes fall close and seal-shut, sometimes so suddenly that they'd be awakened moments later when they're heads harshly connected with the table they were working on.

Coming around the corner to where Justin's office was, he was just in time to see Daphne being showered with papers and photographs as Justin's office door slammed closed. Daphne, ignoring the papers, lunged at the door and banged on it. “I'm just worried, is all!” she shouted through it. “Brian!” she said as she suddenly noticed him, and her expression and tone changed so drastically that Brian wondered what he had just witnessed, and whether it had really happened or not.

“What's wrong with him?” Brian asked.

“He's just being a shit,” Daphne said, with a large smile that didn't reach her eyes. As Brian's eyes began to drift towards the floor Daphne moved faster than lightning, dropping into a crouch and hastily scooping the papers up into a pile which she quickly placed the folder they had originally been kept in on the top. Brian hadn't had a chance to see what it was and assumed it was another project that was frustrating Justin. Vance, in Brian's opinion, was too dependant on his art director, and though the man had been gaining trust with the new department, he was overworking Justin by insisting that he keep an eye over all the accounts so closely, and help when it was necessary. It was nice to know that anything that came across the desk to them would be perfect, but the dark circles under Justin's eyes were only the most obvious signs of the man's state of exhaustion.

“Maybe you'll have better luck with him,” she joked, and Brian frowned as she stood again and headed back to her desk.

Brian knocked quietly on the door and was greeted by Justin's voice ordering him happily to, “Fuck off!”

“Justin?” Brian asked, and there was the sound of things falling to the floor and hasty footsteps and then the door was opened suddenly though not fully, and Justin peered out at him. “Can I come in?” Brian asked, his tongue in cheek.

“Yeah, sure,” Justin said, and ruffled a hand through his hair as he turned his back and disappeared into his office.

Brian was quite fond of Justin's workspace. It was a mess of canvases and boards and photographs, but it managed to be organized in its chaos, and all of the work was Justin's. The colours in the office were bright but not overwhelming and the furniture was tasteful, with clean lines that Brian approved of. And Justin had a couch that was the most comfortable damn couch Brian had ever sat upon.

He sprawled onto that couch casually and watched as Justin began to pick-up the stack of files that had fallen to the floor, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples to ward off the headache he could just feel encroaching on his senses. His moment of peace, however, was interrupted by a quiet curse and he opened his eyes to see Justin stand hastily and turn his back to Brian. He seemed to be holding both hands to his chest, but Brian couldn't make-out what he was doing.

A moment later, Justin turned around to face him sheepishly, cradling his right hand in his left and keeping them both close to his chest. They stayed that way for a moment before they were interrupted by Daphne who startled them when she flung the door open, stomped into the room loudly, and slammed a little orange bottle onto the desk. “Just fucking take the damn things!” she said, and stomped out again.

The look of relief that flashed across Justin's face was overwhelming, and Brian watched as the blond popped the lid of the orange bottle, meticulously spilled two round magenta pills into his palm, and then knocked the pills back without chasing them with water. A moment later, and Justin was leaning against his desk sighing a deep sigh of relief and then reopening his eyes to meet Brian's intense stare. 

A faint blush coloured the pale cheeks as Justin quickly broke the stare. When blue eyes again met hazel, Justin seemed oddly defeated and he approached the couch cautiously, sitting down on the far end and leaving lots of room between them. “A couple of years ago,” Justin began, and licked his lips. Again he glanced towards the door as if pondering the merit of simply fleeing through it, but he turned his gaze back to his hands, and it was then that Brian realized that the right one, which Justin was still cradling, was curled in on itself and looked rigid with tension. 

Justin cleared his throat, glanced briefly at Brian to make sure he had the man's attention, then stared solidly back at his hands. “I lived in Pittsburgh,” Justin began again. “Until a few years back,” he elaborated, as if Brian hadn't been able to pick-up these facts through snippets of information gleaned from overheard conversations and Justin's own half-hearted attempts to share pieces of his own history. “I had been out to my parents for a while. My mum was struggling with it, but trying to be supportive, you know?” Brian nodded, though he had never experienced that -- both his parents were still unaware of his sexuality. He hadn't spoken to them since he had stuffed all his belongings in his gym bag and walked out the front door on his way to university. 

“My dad,” Justin continued. “He wasn't -- He wasn't so supportive.” Brian could tell from the way Justin's left hand raised to that place behind his ear he always toyed with when he was nervous that there was a story there, but apparently this wasn't the moment that Justin would share it. “We had a fight one night, a really bad one.” Brian could imagine how the argument had gone; he wondered if Justin's father had ever gotten physical with his son. “I left,” and Justin's voice cracked slightly. He took a moment to regroup. “I had to get out.” Brian recognized that quiet, plaintive desperation in his tone; knew it from his own youth when he had confided in Michael, had said almost the same words to his friend, and used the same tone as well. “I just walked, I had no idea where my feet were taking me. I ended-up on Liberty Avenue, and I just walked.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Justin looking at his hands and Brian looking at Justin looking at his hands. “It was pretty late. It was dark. I was right by Babylon when it happened. A kid from school - a gang from school, had picked that night to peruse Liberty. They recognized me walking. --I didn't have a chance to run, they just swarmed around me and suddenly I was being dragged into a side-alley and they just - they just ---“ Justin trailed off, raised his eyes to the upper right corner of the room. 

“I don't remember what happened,” Justin admitted, and Brian worked hard to stop words from spilling out. From admitting that he knew, that he had been there at least for a part of that night, and he understood. He stopped all of that from tumbling out because Brian hadn't been there, it had been Rage, and Justin was in enough trouble as it was without knowing about Rage. “As far as I can make out, they jumped me and then one of them hit me in the head with a baseball bat. I was in a coma for two weeks, rehab for a month. And -“ Justin held out his right hand -- curled into a tense claw -- and stared at it with a pained sadness that made Brian ache. “And it's never been the same. I have meds for it, and it's been getting better, but if I work too hard, or - it just - and,” Justin let his hand drop back to his lap and looked away from Brian only to turn back when the man gently picked-up the curled hand and pressed long fingers into it.

They didn't say anything. They didn't look at each other. Brian stayed intent on his task and Justin was staring at their hands as if they were foreign objects. Brian worked patiently to unkink the muscles that had gnarled together, and when Justin let out another long sigh Brian glanced up to see the blond with his eyes closed, his face looking lost in bliss, and Brian couldn't help but smirk. The kid was too damn easy to please.

“Do you have your things together?” Brian asked after a while.

“Yeah,” Justin said, then opened his eyes and looked around as if just returning to earth. “Yeah,” he said, sounding firmer. “Let's go.”

……………….

Brian wasn't quite sure how it happened. When they had left Vanguard, they had stayed quite close to each other, not touching, but brushing arms as they walked. They'd kept close to each other once they had reached the loft as well, and though he was certain they were both keenly aware of the nearness, they didn't bring it up and neither one of them had moved apart.

The furthest they got from each other was five paces away from the table as Brian repeatedly paced from where Justin sat at the table to five steps away, and then back again as they brainstormed the last ad they had to design. “What if we just took-out the models,” Justin said, as Brian once again paced five steps away. Brian paused long enough to rub at his temples and Justin hunched over the table where he used the art computer Brian had bought for his loft (it was simpler to have one there, since Justin was constantly coming over to go over designs and ideas). 

“Here,” Justin said after a moment, leaning back in his chair. Brian paced forward bending over the back of Justin's chair, chin pressing gently onto the top of Justin's head as he peered at the screen. Justin had removed the two models from the picture - they'd both been bickering about the damn models, and their expressions and their placement - and now what was left was a sleek, modern flat, with clothes strewn about the floor as if they had been shed by eager hands, marking a path to the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar and dominated the picture.

“Brilliant,” was Brian's professional assessment - and then it happened as if they'd done it every day since the beginning of time. 

As Brian straightened-up Justin, smiling broadly, tilted his head back so he could see Brian's face and on impulse, Brian found himself leaning down again, pressing his lips against Justin's. When he thought to pull away he managed only the briefest of separations between them before both he and Justin pressed their mouths together again.

It wasn't like how Rage had kissed Justin. 

Or maybe, it wasn't only how Rage had kissed Justin. Brian had remembered thinking that the blond had been hot -- standing there unfazed as he was, teasing Rage like he was in the company of superheroes every day. He remembered seeing in Justin in that moment, an equal. Someone who was a match for him on so many levels, could get him hot and bothered, could meet his wit with wit and sass, and he had also seen someone who could, perhaps, temper him, balance him in a way he had never found anyone capable of before. Rage had wanted to see how far he could push Justin, to see how far Justin could go - could continue to match him. Justin had passed the test.

This time they came together like magnets, like their lips belonged there - pressed against each other. There was the same intensity, the same union of equals and opposites; and also, there was surrender, as if they were both giving-in to something that they had been sidestepping for months. And maybe they were. Maybe this had been building between them from that very first moment Justin had stepped through to his office. As their tongues sparred, taking each other's mouths like enemy territory, it seemed like an unsurprising, completely natural progression. As if they had always been 'Brian and Justin', as if they had always shared this between them.

So when Brian slipped his hands beneath Justin's sweater he was unsurprised when the blond arched his body into the touch and turned to press more of himself to Brian. And when the blonde's arms wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, Brian wasn't shocked to find that his feet were already stepping backward, pulling Justin up out of the chair, following that familiar path from the table, up the steps, and to the bed where they dropped together onto soft sheets in a tangle of limbs. 

They lay there, wrapped together; with neither one quite able to figure-out which limb belong to whom, both drowning in sensation, pressing together as their passion grew. And through gasps and muffled groans and shaking, groping hands, they managed to divest each other of clothing, and Brian's fingers were twining into Justin's soft gold hair, and Justin was following the gentle tug, arching his neck upwards in offering to Brian's devouring mouth. 

Brian couldn't remember a time when he had been so overwhelmed, so adrift in sensation, so urgent that his hands were practically shaking as he reached for lubricant and a condom, not even able to remove his lips and tongue from the pale soft skin shuddering beneath his body.

He tore open the condom packet with his teeth and rolled it down his heated cock and when he looked up, Justin's dazed blue eyes were on him. “I haven't - just -- take it easy,” Justin said, his voice thick and rough, and Brian felt his body grow impossibly harder at the notion that Justin had never once been penetrated, that Brian would be his first.

Brian pressed his lips to Justin's temple in response, he flicked the cap off the lube and spread a liberal amount on his fingers but as he shifted his hand between Justin's legs he heard a strangled moan from his partner. A glance up to impossibly blue eyes revealed that the boy was combating fear and want and making a brave attempt to focus on what was going on. The expression was too much, and Brian couldn't resist pressing their mouths together once more, he kept them together as he pushed his finger into Justin's body, pushing it in and then pausing as he felt Justin spasm around him, adjusting to the intrusion. Brian kept their tongues sparring as he pressed his second, and then his third digit passed the ring of tight muscle and flexed and stretched and prepared Justin.

His lips had wandered to that place where neck met jaw, just below Justin's right ear which Brian had discovered made the boy press his body upwards, and made his head fall back, and the most exquisite whispered keen issue from that pouting, gasping mouth. As Brian removed his fingers, and then pushed his straining cock to the blonde's entrance, Justin's hands moved from where they had previously been clutching the sheets and wrapped tightly around Brian's biceps. 

“It hurts,” Justin said, a little out of breath. “Does it always hurt?”

“A little bit,” Brian admitted, keeping his lower body still and maintaining eye contact. He watched as Justin's eyes scrunched closed and then opened once more. He felt the body beneath him shift slightly, and then Justin swallowed, his mouth falling open again because he was still gasping for breath, and Brian realized his hands had moved from where they had been keeping Justin's legs draped about his shoulders, to Justin's neck and head, his thumbs stroking back and forth across Justin's jaw. 

“Better?” Brian asked, because Justin was no longer wincing, was simply looking at him with a sort of calm curiosity, and with two affirmative jerks of his head Justin gave permission for Brian to move.

And god, it had been so long since Brian had felt like this during sex. Had it ever felt this way? Brian couldn't think straight, had no desire to think straight. The room filled with the sound of their bodies in friction, with their moans and gasps and Justin's fucking whimpers as Brian's cock scraped against his prostate at the same time Brian's tongue exploited that particularly sensitive erogenous zone just below his ear. Brian wasn't even aware that his palm was pressed against Justin's palm, that their fingers were intertwined and resting above Justin's head, that his other hand was tangled in blond hair, and that Justin's free hand was clutching tightly at the back of his neck, keeping him close, keeping their bodies tight together.

When Justin came, his toes curled, his body tensed - lifted upward and pressed against Brian's chest, clenching down around Brian's cock. His neck arched up his eyes close, his mouth opened in a soundless scream and he was fucking glowing under the blue lights, looking ethereal and gorgeous, and Brian was momentarily stunned by it. 

Then Brian came, and his orgasm started in his toes and rocketed through his entire body, leaving him spent and useless, and feeling oddly complete, and he gasped for breath as he collapsed against Justin's chest, and all of it was natural, as if they'd been expecting it, as if they knew it was inevitable; and maybe it was.

When they returned to the world, Brian slid out of Justin's body with a twinge of loss and disposed of the condom, collapsing onto the bed beside the boy. There was a slightly awkward moment when Justin shifted slightly to look at him, his eyes asking a question, perfectly prepared to act on whatever answer he received; but Brian put an end to the thought by lifting his arm upwards, and Justin fitted his body closely against Brian's, and Brian lowered his arm around the boy, and they fell asleep.