Copyright April 2, 2002-February 2, 2004 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Thus far we've had JC/Justin, Nick/Drew/Brian, Nick/Jeff, Nick/Drew/Brian/Nick/Jeff, AJ/Lance, AJ/Howie, AJ/Kevin, Chris/Howie, and partridge/pear tree.

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and 98 Degrees are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashwriters.  It also is for Elizabeth and Jeff.

Notice: First, read "I Need You Tonight," "Boy Lead the Way to Ecstasy," "Not Easy," "No One," "Rest in Peace," "Destiny," and "Together." I know it sounds like a lot, but it'll only take you an hour or two.

        Drew grabbed Nick’s hand and looked him in the eyes.  “Step away from the phone.”

        Nick pulled his hand free, grabbing the phone.  “I’ll-”

        “You’re not calling Howie.”

        Nick frowned, momentarily refraining from dialing.  “You didn’t know I was going to call Howie.”

        “Yes, I did.  That’s why I said, ‘You’re not calling Howie.’”

        “How did you know?” Nick asked.

        “I can read minds,” Drew said.  “And I overheard your conversation with Chris.”

        Nick’s eyebrows went up in amusement and surprise.  “You were eavesdropping?”

        “I happened to put myself within earshot,” Drew said.  “You’re not calling Howie.”

        “Chris is going to propose to him!  Do you know how huge that is?  It’s large.  This is a large thing, Drew, and Howie needs to know about it.”

        “I think it’s up to Chris to tell him about it, not you.  Come on, away from the phone,” Drew said, steering Nick in the other direction.  “Let’s talk about our wedding.”

        “Our wedding?” Nick asked, sitting on the sofa.

        “What do you want to have at our wedding?” Drew asked, sitting beside him.  “Have you thought about it?”

        “It has to be in the church,” Nick said.  “I want my bridesmaids to wear lavender off-the-shoulder dresses and carry white orchids.  Right, Drew.  I don’t know, we dress up, we say ‘I do,’ the whole thing takes ten minutes, and we’re married.”

        “I’m serious,” Drew said, shifting closer to him, leaning into his personal space, knowing that it would be easier to keep his attention.  “Do you want ushers?  Who do you want to be there?”

        “I don’t know, I want…  If you have Nick and Jeff, and Brian has Kevin and AJ, I can have Howie and JC.  Except what about Justin J.?  And who’s carrying the rings?  What are we doing about rings, anyway?  Are we getting new ones or keeping the old ones or some of both?”

        “What’s bothering you?” Drew asked, brushing Nick’s hair out of his eyes.

        “I want my family to be there,” Nick said.  “That’s dumb, it’s not like they’ve been supporting me all of this time, it’s not like they’ve even met you.  Your family and Brian’s family didn’t come to your wedding, so why should my family come to mine?”

        “I had Nick there,” Drew said.  “Brian had Kevin there, and I know that it meant a lot to him.  I’m sorry, Nick.”  He didn’t understand how anyone with the chance to be close to Nick could break those ties.  “We’ll invite them.  We’ll call, and send invitations.  Maybe they won’t all come, but maybe some of them will.”

        “Yeah.”  Nick shrugged it off, pulling himself back together.  “I wonder how triple weddings work.”

        “We each say our vows,” Drew said.  “Instead of going back and forth, we go in a circle.”

        “We could each have two bridesmaids.”

        “Attendants.”

        “Sure.  And we could get someone to be the ringbearer and someone to be the flower girl.”

        Drew smiled.  “Okay.”

        “I don’t want to write my own vows, but Brian will,” Nick said.  “Tiebreaker.”

        “I think we should,” Drew said.  “I think it’ll be important to Brian.”

        “Suck,” Nick muttered.  He brightened.  “I bet we could make him start crying.”

        Drew smiled.  “I know we can.”

        “I want a photographer this time,” Nick said.

        “At the reception, or at the wedding?”

        “Wedding,” Nick said.  “Nobody who’s even related to press can be at the reception.”

        “Where do you want to hold the reception?” Drew asked.

        “Where it all began,” Nick said.

        “And where’s that?” Drew asked.

        “Duh,” Nick said.  “Kendig.”

        Drew looked at him.  “You’re not serious.”

        “I’m serious,” Nick said.

        “Nick, I want to have it here, at home.  Besides, every time we’re together in Kendig, we’re in a hotel.  You want to get married in a hotel lobby?  It’s not even in the U.S.”

        “Our marriage isn’t legal here, anyway.  Why get married in a state that won’t even recognize our union?”

        “Nick, not only are we gay, there are three of us.  Our union isn’t likely to be recognized anywhere.”

        “So, what, you want to get married in the same church, right?”

        “Yes,” Drew said.

        “And have the reception where, on our front lawn?”

        “Somewhere that would respect our privacy,” Drew said.  “We’ll look around.”

        “I’m going to have to wear a suit again.”

        “Maybe even a tux,” Drew teased.

        “Why can’t we get married in our regular clothes?” Nick asked.  “I love you no matter what you’re wearing.”

        “We’re getting dressed up to demonstrate how important the occasion is to us,” Drew said.

        “I think the experience of getting freakin’ married speaks for itself,” Nick argued.  “But, okay.  Just this once, for you and Brian.”

        “Thank you,” Drew said.  “Do you want to tell the guys they have to wear off-the-shoulder lavender, or should I?”

        At two thirty, Kevin arrived.  “Planning something for Chris?” he asked, passing from the foyer into the kitchen, eyeing the bouquets.

        “These are from Chris,” Howie said.  “They’ve been coming all day.  That’s why I didn’t want to leave the house.  Thanks for coming.”

        “No problem,” Kevin said, and handed him a shopping bag.  “Here you go.”

        “Great, thanks,” Howie said, opening the bag, checking its contents.  Bottle of wine, bottle of cologne, tie.  “This is perfect.”

        “Big night?” Kevin guessed.

        “I don’t know,” Howie said.  “Chris invited me out to dinner.  We almost never go out on dates.  Now with the flowers, like I said, I don’t know.”

        “Either he’s breaking bad news, or celebrating good news,” Kevin said.

        “That’s what I thought, but I have no idea what it could be,” Howie said.  “It’s not like he got a big promotion at work.”

        “You don’t think he’s going to propose, do you?” Kevin asked.

        “No, I know he’s not going to propose,” Howie said.  He touched rose petals.  He smiled, a little sadly.

        “That’s a shame, because this would be a great build-up,” Kevin said.  “He must have picked up a few things from you.”

        “He’s really topping some of my best work,” Howie said.

        “He’s doing a good job of showing you he loves you,” Kevin said.

        Howie smiled.  “I think so.”

        “Fine fine fine,” Chris said too rapidly, feeding it more quarters.

        “I’m only asking because you’re giving that thing about ten dollars.”

        Chris stopped what he was doing, looked at the change in his hand, and pocketed it.  “Want a drink?”

        “Sure,” Justin said.  “I could use a Coke.”

        “I have a date with Howie tonight,” Chris said, pressing the button for Coke.  “We’re going out to dinner.  I ordered a new suit.  I’m going to pick it up, get dressed at Joey’s, and show up to pick up Howie looking all spiffy.”

        “That sounds great,” Justin said.

        “There’s always the chance that the suit won’t fit,” Chris said.

        “If worst comes to worst, you can show up naked and make Howie wait while you put on something,” Justin said.

        “I ordered a limo.  That was probably too much.  But Howie likes limos.  He’ll like it.”

        “Is there a special occasion?” Justin asked.

        “Not yet,” Chris said.  “I’m going to make it one.”

        “I can do anything I want to do,” Justin said.

        “You’ve never painted one wall, and now you want to paint entire rooms.  You want to hang wallpaper.”

        “I have detailed instructions.  Besides, I won’t be alone.  I’m going to make you help me.”

        “There’s no shame in hiring a professional.”

        “There’s no shame in tackling a new project and trying new things, either.”

        “Lance still hasn’t called.”

        “I noticed that,” Justin admitted.  “Is your ringer off?”

        “No, it’s on,” Joey said, checking his phone at the stop sign.  “It’s - - fuck!”

        “What?” Justin asked.

        “It’s off!”

        “The phone is off?” Justin asked.

        “It’s fucking off!  Damn it!”  Joey turned onto his street, pounding his steering wheel.  “Damn it, I-”

        “Lance,” Justin said.

        “What?” Joey asked, distracted, frustrated.

        “Lance is here,” Justin said, gesturing ahead.

        Joey almost slammed on the brakes, seeing Lance’s car parked in his driveway.  “He’s here.”  Nothing could explain the hammering of Joey’s heart.

        “You can pull up,” Justin said.  “I wonder how long he’s been here.”

        “He came,” Joey said.

        “Yeah,” Justin said, getting out of the truck.  “I’ll go on in.”

        Joey got out more slowly, stalling for time.  He stepped out, closing the door.

        Lance exited his car, removing his sunglasses.  “Joey.”

        “You came,” Joey said.

        “I thought you forgot,” Lance said, his eyes unforgiving.

        “I was waiting for you to call,” Joey said.  “I wanted you to come.  But my phone was off, I don’t know why or how.”

        “You didn’t check it?” Lance asked.

        “No,” Joey confessed, hearing how weak it sounded.  “How long have you been here?”

        “Too long,” Lance said.

        “I’m sorry,” Joey said.  “Come in.”

        Pissed-off disbelief crossed Lance’s face.

        “I would never deliberately make you feel like shit,” Joey said.  “I’m sorry you thought I ditched you.”

        “Joey, you don’t even know how many times you’ve made me feel like shit,” Lance said.  “You’ve shown me that you don’t respect me.”

        “How?” Joey asked, upset to hear that.  “When?”

        “Every time you started something, then stared at me in horror and pulled away like I was disgusting.”

        “That won’t ever happen again,” Joey said.

        “I don’t know that,” Lance said.  “Every time you touch me, half of me is trying to get as much out of it as I can, and half of me is cringing, because I’m just waiting for you to pull away with that look on your face.”

        “That won’t happen again,” Joey said.  “Lance, I want you.  I was confused then.  I’m not confused anymore.”

        “I’m not putting myself through this,” Lance said.  “I’ll see you later.”  He turned to go.

        Joey grabbed Lance’s elbow, dragging him back, getting two hands on him, pulling him in close.  “Let me show you that I won’t ever pull away from you again.”

        “Joey-”  Lance’s voice was cut off when Joey’s mouth descended on his.  He shook his head, pushing on Joey’s chest.  “Joey!  We’re outside!  We’re in public.”

        “So?” Joey asked.

        “You want a video clip of this to end up on ‘Entertainment Tonight?’” Lance asked.

        “Remind me to tape it,” Joey said, and kissed him again, wrapping him into a strong embrace.  This time Lance tolerated it for a minute or two before pulling away again.

        “Justin’s inside.”

        “He lives here,” Joey said.

        “All right,” Lance said, putting on his sunglasses, jingling his keys.  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

        “Lance,” Joey said.  “Come inside.  We can go to my room.  Or I’ll send him to his room.”

        “I told you, if he was here when I came over, I’d turn around.  Maybe someday you’ll start taking me seriously.”  Lance went to his car.

        “Damn it, Lance.  Justin’s our friend, he’s staying here.  You can’t ask me to get rid of him.”

        Lance got in his car and closed the door, starting the engine.

        Joey jerked the door open.  “Lance, get out here.”

        Lance pulled on his seatbelt, putting the car in reverse.

        “You’re not leaving it like this.  We had a communication problem, it was my fault, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry!  What is wrong with asking you to be in the same building as one of your closest friends?!”

        Lance backed down the drive.  Joey released the car door; Lance yanked it shut and drove off down the street.

        “Fuck!” Joey shouted.

        “Which photographer?” Drew asked.

        “What’s his face, you know him.  Damn.  Where were we?”

        “What were you wearing?” Drew asked.

        “When I met him?”

        “In the pictures.”

        “Why does that matter?”

        “Trust me.”

        “Like I remember.  Okay, he was taking pictures, we were talking about Australia, I was squatting and kneeling and shit, we were inside…  I had on…  Bare feet, ugly yellow T-shirt, black motorcycle jacket-”

        “Brace Tucker,” Drew said.

        “How did you know that?” Nick asked.

        “I’m a very good fan,” Drew said.  “Yeah, he’s good, we can use him.”

        “You’re sure we can’t hire someone for all of this?”

        “We don’t need to,” Drew said.  “Do you know what they charge for normal weddings?  Do you know how much they’ll charge us?  And for what, calling caterers?  We can do that.”

        “You’re a horrible celebrity,” Nick said.

        Drew gave a proud smile.  “Thank you.”

        Upstairs, Howie was getting ready.  Dressed, he pulled back his hair.  Instead of using a hairbaid, he secured his ponytail with a thin length of black silk.  Pulling on his suit coat, Howie looked at himself in the mirror.  Not bad.  He adjusted his tie.

        “Don’t freak out,” JC said, polishing his shoes.

        “You’re sweating like a pig,” Justin said.

        “I’m not going,” Chris said.  “I’ll stay here.”

        “You’re going,” JC said.

        “I don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Chris said.  “Brian gave me good advice, if I could remember what the hell it was.”

        “Can you get dressed?” Justin said.  “You’re wasting time.  It would be bad to show up late, and it would be bad to show up in your underwear.”

        “I’m wearing the wrong underwear.  This is not good underwear.”

        “It doesn’t matter,” Justin said.  “He doesn’t know what underwear you’re wearing.  He won’t find out until after you’ve proposed.  Unless you get freaky in the back of the limo on the way to dinner.”

        “What am I going to do with the ring?” Chris asked, panicking.  “I can’t put it in my pocket, he’ll see the lump, but I can’t hold it in my hand, but I can’t leave it in the limo.  What am I supposed to do?”

        “Keep it in your pocket,” Justin said.  “If he asks what the lump is, tell him it’s a surprise for later.”

        “He’ll know!  He’ll know!  What if he knows?  Maybe he already knows!  He knows right now!  He’s at home, trying to think of a way to let me down  gently!  No.  No.  No, he doesn’t know, and even if he does, he’ll say yes, he’ll say yes, he’ll say yes.”

        “Get dressed,” Justin said.  “And calm down, please.”

        “Where’s Joey?” JC asked.

        “Joey!” Justin shouted.  “Chris, get dressed.”

        “I’m freaking out,” Chris said.

        “I’m going to knock you unconscious and dress you myself,” Justin said.

        “Please do.”

        Joey came into the room.  “You’re not dressed.”

        Chris threw a bed pillow at Joey, then began to dress.

        “Hey,” Jeff said, coming over to kiss him.  “How was it?”

        “Much better today,” Nick said.  “Chris was all over the place, but we all sounded a lot better.  We were vibing better.  I think a lot of weird tensions are getting cleared out.”

        “That’s great,” Jeff said.

        “Let me change real quick and we can go,” Nick said.

        “All right,” Jeff said.  “I’m right behind you.  Did Brian say what time he wanted us to come over?”

        “He said whenever we were finished up at the studio,” Nick said, heading back towards the bedroom.

        Once Nick was out of sight, Jeff skinned out of his sweatpants, whipping off his T-shirt, pulling on a sweater and a pair of shoes tucked beside the sofa.  He ran his hands over his hair and waited.

        “It’s been a while since all five of us were doing anything together, especially anything friendly,” Nick said from the bedroom.  “Don’t worry if anything’s strange or awkward.  Everything should be okay, Nick doesn’t let anything stay awkward for long.”  Nick came out of the bedroom, fastening his fly.  “I’m just saying things might be a little…”  His voice trailed off as he stared.

        “Ready?” Jeff asked.

        Nick blinked.  It took him a moment to verbalize.  “Uh-huh.”

        “You look great,” JC said, tweaking a spike of Chris’s hair.

        “You look great,” Justin agreed, brushing off Chris’s shoulders.

        “You look great,” Joey said, standing back to survey him.

        “I’m going to throw up,” Chris announced weakly.

        “Don’t,” Justin said, fixing Chris’s tie.

        “I forgot my watch,” Chris said.  “I left it at home.”

        “Your new one?” JC asked.  “Bring it tomorrow.  I want to see it.”

        Chris caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  “Is that me?”

        “It’s not me,” Justin said.

        “I look good,” Chris said, walking closer.  “I need to stop sweating, but I don’t look half bad.  Look at me.”

        “You look great,” JC said, standing behind him, making minute adjustments to his shirt collar.

        “I’m wearing shoes, my fly is done, I have the ring,” Chris said.  “Am I forgetting anything?”

        “You might want to go get Howie,” Joey suggested.

        “I look good,” Chris said.  “I wonder what that’s about.  I wonder if Howie will think I look good.  I wonder if he forgot about tonight.  What if I didn’t say it was tonight?  What if he thinks it’s tomorrow?”

        “Breathe,” Justin said.  “JC, stop fussing over him, he’s fine.”

        “Can I get you to wear lip gloss?” JC asked Chris.

        “Over my dead, dead body,” Chris said.

        “Good luck tonight,” Joey said, and pulled him in for a quick hug.

        “He’s going to say yes,” Justin said, hugging Chris next.  “Don’t even worry about that.  Just have a good time.”

        “We’re here for you,” JC promised, giving him a third hug.  “You’ll be fine.”

        “I hope I can stop sweating,” Chris said.  “If you ever see me again, you’ll know that he said yes.  If you never see me again, you’ll know that he said no, and I died of embarrassment, shame, humiliation, horrible disappointment, and overwhelming heartbreak.”

        “Okay,” Justin said, patting him on the back.  “Until then.”

        “Kiss!” Nick yelled from the kitchen.

        “Kiss!” Brian called back.  He went into the bedroom, shedding clothes.

        Back in the kitchen, Nick said to Drew, “I’ll rock-paper-scissors you for Brian duty.”

        “Okay,” Drew said, putting his hand behind his back.  “One, two, three, shoot!”

        “Shit,” Nick said, as Drew’s rock bent his scissors.  “Okay, give him this for me,” he said, kissing Drew.  He went back to getting out plates and silverware, while Drew went upstairs.

        “Hey,” Drew said, finding Brian in the bedroom.

        Brian kissed him.  “Nick went home to get Jeff, so they’ll be here soon.”

        “Okay,” Drew said, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning in the open doorframe, his eyes on Brian’s half-naked body while Brian flipped hangers in the closet.  “How was the studio?”

        “Better today,” Brian said.  “Nick didn’t talk to Howie, did he?”

        “No,” Drew said.  “I kept him off the phone.  We talked about the wedding.”

        “Yeah?” Brian asked, glancing at him with curiosity.  “Did you decide anything?”

        “Nick wants his family to come.  Do you have any idea how to make that happen?”

        Brian pulled a shirt off of a hanger.

        “I know they’re not exactly supportive of our relationship.  They’ve made that clear.  But maybe if we could get one or two of them just to show up, it would mean the world to Nick.”

        Brian sat down to put on his shoes.

        Drew knew that Brian was listening to him, but it was entirely out of character for Brian not to respond.  Something was off.  He pushed the issue, but carefully, keeping his tone conversational, not frustrated.  “You know them a lot better than I do.  Do you have any idea of who we could talk to?  Maybe if you talked to Aaron-”

        “They won’t come,” Brian said, brushing past Drew to get to the bathroom.

        Drew stepped to the bathroom doorway, taking the direct approach.  “What do you know?”

        “Nothing,” Brian said, running a comb through his hair.  “They won’t come.”

        “Brian, what do you know?” Drew asked again.

        “Do we have food?” Brian asked.

        Brian’s completely lack of subtlety displayed how thoroughly unwilling he was even to pretend to discuss the matter.  “The delivery guy brought it a minute ago,” Drew said.  “Why has Nick’s family shut him out?”

        “Are you wearing that?”

        “Fine,” Drew said.  They didn’t have time to get into it.  “We’ll talk about it later.  Go downstairs, get the table ready, tell Nick to come up here to change clothes.”

        “You know why,” Brian said, turning to face him.  “You know why they shut him out, and so does he, but as long as we never bring it out into the open, as long as I keep putting off that conversation, we never have to address it, and we get to pretend.  That’s my responsibility, I’m the one burdened with the truth.  Don’t push for something you’re not ready for.”

        What was Brian talking about?  “Have you hit your head on something?!” Drew demanded as Brian jogged down the stairs.  Both irritated and bewildered, Drew went back into the bedroom, undressing.  As he was pulling on his pants, Nick came in and smacked his ass.

        “Hey, Drew angel.”  Nick took his clothes from the closet.  “What’d you say to Brian?”

        “Is he acting weird?” Drew asked.

        “He just kissed me and told me he’d always love me,” Nick said.  “Then he broke the silverware drawer because he couldn’t find the right fork.”

        “I talked to him about inviting your family to the wedding,” Drew said.  “I thought we could try talking to Aaron.  Brian seemed to think that no matter what we did, they’d never come.”

        “They won’t,” Nick said.

        Drew watched Nick’s eyes.

        Nick caught him watching, and shrugged.  “I’ve cried on Brian’s shoulder about it for too long.  As long as I’m with you and Brian, they want nothing to do with me.  I argued and fought and begged, but they’re not changing their minds.  I can’t do anything about it.”

        “Do you know why?” Drew asked.

        “Brian’s family is afraid for his soul, and I get that.  Your family is afraid for your life and afraid for your safety, and I get that.  My family, I don’t know, maybe they’re afraid I’m making them look bad.  Maybe they’re afraid it’ll ruin my career.”

        Drew couldn’t believe that any family that had produced a son as loving as Nick was would put career and celebrity above the family bond.

        The doorbell rang.

        “Shit, I’m not dressed,” Nick said.  “You go, hurry up.”

        Drew hastily pulled the rest of his outfit together.  He didn’t want to leave Brian down there alone, in case things became awkward.  “Don’t worry about Brian.”

        “Me?” Nick asked.

        “We’ll work it out later,” Drew said.  “Right now, we’re going to have a nice evening.”

        “Nice evening?” Nick repeated.  He snorted.  “Judging from the past, ‘nice evening’ isn’t really how I’d describe what happens when the five of us get together.”

        “I’m saying, don’t worry about Brian.”

        “I’m not worried about Brian,” Nick insisted.  “What are you wearing?”

        “Clothes,” Drew said.

        “If I have to wear my new clothes, you have to wear your new clothes.”

        “You’re not wearing your new clothes, you’re wearing your underwear,” Drew said.

        “I’m about to put on my new clothes, and so are you,” Nick said.  “Change.”

        “I’ll see you down there,” Drew said, out the door.  He reached the top of the stairs before firm hands clasped his arm and yanked him back into the room.

        “Change,” Nick ordered, shoving him in the direction of the closet.  “I’m not worried about Brian.”

        “Yes, you are.”

        “He broke the drawer!”

        “There’s something he needs to get off his chest,” Drew said.  “We’ll talk about it, he’ll get it out, we’ll take care of it.”

        “If he’s weird all night, it’s going to jack up shit,” Nick said.

        “If he displays weird tendencies, I’ll talk to him,” Drew said.  “I’m not wearing any of this.”

        “You bought it.”

        “I’m not wearing it.”

        “Why not?” Nick asked impatiently, trying to find a pair of socks.

        “They’re going to laugh at me.”

        “For what?”

        “For dressing like that!”

        “For dressing like your clothes are having sex with your skin?”

        Drew looked at him.  “That sounds strange, but it’s eerily accurate.”

        “Yeah, whatever,” Nick said.  “Fuck it, I’m going barefoot.”  He turned to Drew.  “Come here.”

        Drew walked over to plant himself in front of Nick, crossing his arms over his chest, jaw firm, eyes expressing the complete impossibility of him being impressed by anything Nick had to say.

        Nick tipped up Drew’s chin and looked into his eyes.

        Not impressed.  Not close to impressed.  He didn’t know what…  What…  Drew blinked, inhaling unsteadily.  Blue.  Blue and…  Intense.  He was aware that Nick was zoning him, and he had to be impressed that Nick could do it with a look.  He knew he should shake it off, but he’d rather just - - Drew kissed Nick, his hands latching onto Nick’s naked upper body.  He found Nick’s tongue and sucked on it, feeling odd things flip around in his stomach.  Oh, god, he wanted-

        “Whoa, stop, down, down,” Nick said, holding him at arms’ length.  “Greedy,” Nick accused.  “Change clothes.”

        Drew shook his head, trying to break free of Nick’s hold on his brain.  “No,” he said, and then he smiled.  “You do it.”

        “Do what?” Nick asked.

        “Undress me,” Drew said.  “Then dress me again, in whatever you want.”

        Something flared in Nick’s eyes.  Desire.  Another wave of desire.  Then something like pride.  “If I’d done that to you a year ago, you would’ve stood there, taking it,” he said.  “You wouldn’t have grabbed me like that.”

        “I’m learning to take what I want,” Drew said.

        Nick grinned.  “I like it.  And you shouldn’t let me be in charge of what you wear.  I’ll send you downstairs naked.”

        “Don’t even try it,” Drew said.  “And hurry.  We’re leaving Brian down there alone.”

        Nick tried to smile back.

        Jeff shifted uncomfortably beside Nick on the sofa.

        Brian’s gaze drifted over Jeff, then picked a spot on the carpet.

        Nick resisted the urge to bite his nails.

        It was strange, for Jeff to be seeing Brian today.  Last time he’d seen Brian, he’d been outraged, hurt, even suspicious.  But he’d vented all of that anger; he’d said what he’d needed to say.  Now, he felt like he was back in time, like none of that had ever happened.  This was Brian, someone he cared deeply about, someone he suspected God lighted specially.

        Things were awkward.  Unnecessarily awkward, but awkward nonetheless.  They’d started a few conversations, but each one had drifted into silence after a few brief, desperate sentences.  Jeff was fairly certain that the awkwardness was primarily his fault; Brian wasn’t sure what kind of treatment to expect from him, which was stifling Brian’s natural warmth.  Jeff knew that he could show Brian that there were no hard feelings, that everything was in the past now, but he wanted to demonstrate that through his behavior, which was difficult since he couldn’t think of anything to say.

        Jeff was fairly certain that all three of them were thinking the same desperate, irritated thing: where was Nick?!

        “Nick,” Drew said, his voice cautious, cautioning.

        Nick took Drew’s thickening arousal in one hand, pumping it gently while he sucked the crease of Drew’s hip.

        “We shouldn’t, oh,” Drew said, reaching back to the dresser for support.  “We don’t have, ah, ah, time for, oh, Nick…”

        “Yeah,” Nick said.  “Yeah.”

        Silence.

        Jeff couldn’t believe their relationship with Brian had come to this point.

        Brian shifted.

        Nick cleared his throat.

        Jeff watched Nick twist the wedding band on his finger, and inspiration struck.  “Have you set a date?” he asked Brian.  “For your wedding?”

        “No,” Brian said.  “Not yet.  We’ve been talking about it.”

        “Are you thinking of using the same church?” Nick asked.

        “Probably,” Brian said.  “The pastor there, he’s willing to marry all three of us.  It’s not that easy to find someone who would do that.”

        “I guess not,” Nick said.

        “We’ve actually had a few offers before, but they were doing it for the publicity,” Brian said.  “I take this too seriously to be married by someone I can’t respect.”

        “Sure,” Jeff said.

        And just as quickly as conversation had lived, so it died.

         Where was Nick?!

        “Says the man who’s not even dressed,” Drew said.  “Is my-”

        “Your hair is fine,” Nick said.  “I wouldn’t let you look stupid.”

        “Okay.  Hurry, or we’ll have all of the fun without you.”  Drew kissed him and left.

        Nick turned to the clothes he’d put on the bed.  “Gross,” he said, and went to the closet to see what else he had.

        Drew came down the stairs.

        Jeff was on his feet before he realized what he was doing.  Just as he felt stupid, he realized that Brian and Nick had leapt up, too.

        “Hi,” Drew said, crossing over to where they were.  He smiled.  “What’d I miss?”

        “Nothing,” Jeff said.  Maybe it was because Jeff was grateful for the interruption, but Drew looked great.  His eyes were shining, his skin was glowing, and his hair was perfectly mussed.  He was wearing a tight forest green shirt, which brought out the green in his eyes.  The sleeves and the lower half of the torso were sheer, displaying Drew’s muscular arms and incredible abs.  His pants were close-fitting leather, two shades darker than the green of the shirt, with a thin criss-cross pattern in green two shades lighter than the shirt.  Jeff had never seen him wear anything like it before, but he looked as confident and comfortable as he did in his normal clothes, which Jeff thought was pretty cool.

        “Do you realize you’re wearing green leather pants?” Nick asked.

        “Get all of the laughter out now,” Drew said.  “I haven’t even looked in the mirror yet.  Go ahead, tell me I’m dressed like the Jolly Green Giant’s short gay cousin.”  He put his arms out, doing a slow turn.

        “You’re like a mutant green Smurf,” Nick said.

        “While we’re laughing at me, let me ask, what are you wearing?” Drew asked Jeff, tilting his head to the side and giving Jeff the once-over.  “Is that Spandex, or did you just skip fabric and paint your clothes on?”

        “You’re talking a whole lot of smack for someone looking like the Jolly Green Pygmy,” Jeff said.  “This isn’t paint, this is…  I have no idea what this is.”  He rubbed his thigh, testing, then stopped, aware of eyes on him.  He turned his head and looked at Nick.  “May I help you?”

        Nick met his eyes, turned red, and looked away.

        “Is everything ready?” Drew asked Brian.

        “No,” Brian said, something new flickering through his eyes.  “Come help me in the kitchen for a minute.”  He took Drew’s hand and started walking.  “We’ll be right back,” he said to Nick and Jeff.

        “Sure,” Jeff said.  Drew was in for it.  Brian - - Jeff looked down.

        Nick’s hand slid up Jeff’s thigh.

        “Not here,” Jeff said, taking Nick’s hand from his thigh, returning to the sofa.  “But nice try.”

        Drew spread his feet further apart, closing his eyes.  They shouldn’t, someone might walk in, they were supposed to be, they, this wasn’t…

        Brian moaned, hands rubbing insistently over Drew’s legs, tongue flicking just below Drew’s navel.

        There wasn’t even a door on the kitchen, anyone could find them, this wasn’t safe.  Besides, Nick had just, he’d already, he wasn’t-

        “Did Nick fuck you?” Brian asked.

        At the question, Drew looked down.  He watched the tip of Brian’s tongue trace the ridges of his defined abs.  Fascinated, he felt himself getting hard.  “No.”

        Brian’s hands stroked his thighs.  “Can I fuck you?”

        Shocked, scandalized, Drew said, “No!”  No, not in the kitchen, not with the open doorway, not with Nick and Jeff in the next room!

        Brian licked over Drew’s fly, applying pressure.

        Biting back a moan, Drew put his hand down there, intending to push Brian away.  Brian licked his fingers, sucking on them, grazing them lightly with sharp teeth, making Drew’s knees weak.  Drew pulled his fingers from Brian’s mouth, undoing his fly, pulling out his erection.  “Suck it,” he whispered, guiding it to Brian’s lips.  Brian’s tongue lapped at the head, and Drew moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.  God, Brian made him so fucking hard...  When Nick was dirty, Drew could take it, because that was Nick.  But when Brian was dirty, when Brian made him dirty, god, it was a whole new thing, it made him ache with desire in places he’d never known he had.

        Drew’s hand dropped to the side, letting Brian take over as he melted back against the wall.  Brian peeled his pants down, fingers tracing lightly along the lines of his thong, lowering that as well.  Then Brian’s hands were spreading his thighs, bringing his hips forward, and Brian’s fingers were sliding back, behind his balls.  Drew clenched his jaw, fighting to hold back a rough groan as Brian’s fingers pressed into his body.

        “Hi,” Jeff said, unable to resist touching Nick’s hair.  “What’ve you been up to?”

        “I dressed Drew,” Nick said.  “What’d you think?”

        “He looks like a green, gay Smurf,” Nick said.

        “What are you wearing?” Nick asked Jeff.  “I can see right through it.”  He touched Jeff’s chest, as though trying to reach the black tank top beneath the thin, near-translucent off-white sweater.  “These aren’t the infamous blue pants,” he realized, and put his hand on Jeff’s knee, his thumb rubbing across the fabric.

        “Infamous?” Jeff asked.

        “If you flex at all, you’re going to rip right through these,” Nick said.

        “No, it’ll be okay,” Jeff said.  “They’re not actually fabric.  I painted them on.”

        “I can tell,” Nick said.  “Where are my people?”

        “In the kitchen,” Nick said.  “Checking on the food.”

        “Separate, squish apart,” Nick said.

        “Squish apart?” Nick repeated, but he and Jeff shifted to make room for Nick, who settled comfortably between them, spreading his long legs out before him.

        “So,” Nick said.  “You’re not giving my pixie a hard time, are you?” he asked Jeff.

        “No,” Jeff said.  “That’s all behind us.  He apologized, and I’ve forgiven him.”

        “Good.”  Nick idly ran his fingers through Nick’s hair.  “How’ve you been?  Staying Nick?”

        “Full-time,” Nick said, very casually moving his leg so that his thigh was no longer pressed to Nick’s.  “You look good tonight.  Really good.”

        “Thanks,” Nick said, fingers still in Nick’s hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind Nick’s ear.  “This is one of my brand-new selling my ass on the street outfits.  I’m wearing it for Brian, so in case things are weird with you two and the night doesn’t go well for him, he can let me distract him into feeling better.”

        “Yeah, that’s nice of you,” Nick said.

        Nick stretched, putting his arm around Nick’s shoulders, crossing his ankles.  “Who’s your best friend?”

        “Jeff.”

        “Second best?”

        “Justin.”

        “Third best?”

        “Probably Drew,” Nick said, looking at Nick’s naked feet.

        “Drew doesn’t count, he’s your brother,” Nick said.  “I’ll be third best.”

        “Okay,” Nick said.

        “Great.”  Nick kissed his cheek.  “I like your shoes.”

        “I like your feet,” Nick said.

        Nick laughed.

        Brian tucked him back into his thong and stood a little shakily.

        Drew licked jism from the corner of Brian’s mouth.  Then they were kissing, kissing, Drew’s hands pulling Brian close, Brian’s fingers once more tracing the lines of Drew’s thong, stroking Drew’s skin.  Just as Drew was getting one hand under Brian’s shirt, his other hand on Brian’s ass through Brian’s pants, his tongue slicking its way into Brian’s mouth, Brian pushed him away, saying, “No.  No, Drew, we have guests, company, your brother, Jeff.”

        “I spend months on tour waiting for them to get off of each other,” Drew said, his fingers tucked into Brian’s belt loops, tugging Brian back again.  “You’re hard,” Drew whispered, and kissed him.  “I can’t leave you wanting after you’ve been this good to me.”

        “I’ll be fine,” Brian insisted.  “It’ll go away.”

        “All right,” Drew said, giving in.  He stepped back and pulled up his pants.  “You stay here and get everything set, and I’ll go see what they want to drink.”  He walked out to the front room, where Nick was sitting between Nick and Jeff, telling them about Chris’s plan to propose to Howie, walking his fingers up Jeff’s arm.

        “Is the food ready?” Jeff asked, looking prepared to smirk.

        “Almost,” Drew said.  He leaned in, hand on Nick’s knee, whispering softly into Nick’s ear, “Brian’s hard and he’s asking for you.”

        “I have to go,” Nick said, pushing Drew out of the way, standing.  “See you all later.”  Nick was gone.

        Drew dropped into Nick’s vacated spot.

        “Does anyone around here ever get anything done?” Jeff asked.

        “Not a whole not, no,” Drew said.

        “Should we order pizza?” Nick asked.

        “This part of the evening should be over soon,” Drew said.  “How’ve you been?  I haven’t seen you in a while.”

        “Well, let’s see,” Nick said.  “Nick’s my third best friend now.”

        “Third?” Drew asked.  “Who got bumped?”

        “You.”

        “Me?” Drew asked.  “I’m your brother.  Bump Jeff, he’s your husband, he shouldn’t count.”

        “How about I drop you both and just keep Justin and move Nick up to second?”

        “Works for me,” Jeff said.  “I can’t stand you anyway.”

        “You are kind of annoying,” Drew told Nick.

        “You broke The Invincible Zepper,” Nick said.

        “You wouldn’t let me come to your birthday party!”

        “You were four!”

        “I’m your brother!”

        “I wanted to have a party with my friends!”

        “Your friends were assholes,” Drew said.

        “My friends were not assholes,” Nick said.

        “Billy Ferguson was an asshole.  Mark Standish was an asshole.  Ryan Blackwood was an asshole.”

        “Didn’t I fight Ryan Blackwood?” Nick asked.

        “Fight him, you beat him up,” Drew said.

        “He was picking on you.”

        “You broke his arm,” Drew said.

        “He pushed you down so hard your elbow was bleeding.”

        “I could handle it,” Drew said.

        “You were four,” Nick reminded him.

        “Like that was going to stop me.”

        “I still can’t believe you broke someone’s arm,” Jeff said.

        “That part was somewhat accidental,” Nick said.

        “Somewhat,” Drew repeated.

        “He was picking on Drew,” Nick said.

        “I knew there was a reason I was always nice to you,” Jeff said to Drew.

        “You still shouldn’t have touched Zepper,” Nick said.

        “Do you want me to buy you a nice shiny new toy, Nick?” Drew asked.

        “No.”

        “Then let it go.”

        “I got in trouble!”

        “Poor baby,” Drew said.  “Like you never messed with my stuff.”

        “You were a kid,” Nick said.  “I didn’t play with your toys.”

        “Then I guess my entire collection of racing cars was left out in the rain by our invisible friends?” Drew asked.

        “That was your fault,” Nick said.  “Those were your cars.”

        “I didn’t take them outside, you did!  I wasn’t even home!”

        “How long will this continue?” Jeff asked.  “If I remember correctly, we still have several grudges to go, including the G.I. Joe incident and the ‘who ate the icing off the birthday cake’ mystery.  Let’s not forget the question of whose fault it was you both were grounded and Drew couldn’t take Angela Watson to the movies.”

        “You were such a bastard!” Drew told Nick.

        “You can’t take a joke!” Nick said.

        Jeff should have known better.

        “I love you,” Brian said between kisses, “so much.”

        Nick’s hand rose to the back of Brian’s neck; he sucked on Brian’s lower lip.

        “I’ve always loved you, but it’s more every day, and sometimes it’s so powerful I don’t know if I can take it.”

        Nick heard it, that thing in Brian’s voice, that “there’s something I need to say” tone.  He lifted his head, feathering his fingers through Brian’s hair.  “Brian?”

        Brian’s eyes raised to his, drawing him in.  “I never, ever, wanted to hurt you,” Brian said.  “I want you to know, I want you to trust, that at any point, as much as you loved me, that’s how much I loved you.  I loved you, Nick, you weren’t even real to me, sometimes all I wanted to do was breathe you.”

        “If you loved me…”

        “I loved you, I loved you so much, Nick, I would have given up anything for you, everything for you, the world for you.  You don’t know how close I came.”

        “What are you talking about?” Nick asked.

        “Drew’s your miracle, Nick, because he let you love again and live again when you thought you never could.  You’re my miracle, Nick, you always have been, from the first day I loved you.  Love is where I found my strength and love is where I find my faith, and you’ve given that to me, you’ve given me love and you’ve shown me how to love in return.”

        “What are you talking about?” Nick asked, not liking this, not liking that he didn’t understand.

        “I’m saying that I love you,” Brian said.  “I’m saying that you’re one of God’s greatest gifts.  You’re His greatest gift to me.  And if you want your family at our wedding, I will make it happen.”

        “How?” Nick asked.  “They hate you, they hate Drew even though they’ve never met him, I can only visit if I go by myself, my mom won’t book Aaron for award shows we’ll be at because we’re not allowed to sit in the same damned audience, but you think they’ll come to our wedding?  When Drew was, when they, he almost, and Aaron was the only one who fucking acknowledged it!”

        “He did?” Brian asked.  “You didn’t tell me that.”

        “His security guy sent me an envelope.  It had a get well card inside, addressed to Drew.  The note wasn’t signed, but I know Aaron’s handwriting.  I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but it was a huge deal to me, because I can’t even imagine what kind of fucking brainwashing they’re working on him.”

        “I’m sorry, Nick.  You love your family more than anyone else I know.   You always were so close to them, it was really special.  I know it’s killing you that they’re cutting you off.”

        “It’s not killing me,” Nick said uneasily.

        “It’s killing you,” Brian said.

        “I can’t change things, I can’t do anything about it.  I won’t give up you and Drew, I can’t.  Not even for them.  I can’t give up Drew, I couldn’t then and I can’t now, he’s my Drew, he loves me, he trusts me.  And you, you’re the Frick to my Frack, I can’t give up a whole half of myself.  Not even for them.”

        “We won’t be able to get all of them to the wedding,” Brian said.  “But we can get one.  Who do you want?”

        “I don’t know,” Nick said.  “None of them will come.”

        “Aaron,” Brian said.

        “Stop reading my mind!” Nick said.  “You know I want Aaron, I know I want Aaron, but he can’t come.  He’s the absolute last person on earth who’d be there.  They’d never let it happen, not if world peace depended on it.  Somebody would find out, reporters, the press, and they can’t let that happen.  They’re keeping him as far away from this relationship as possible.  He’s not even allowed to answer questions about me.”

        “I’ll talk to him.”

        “You don’t have his phone number.”

        “You have it.”

        “No, I don’t.”

        “You don’t?”

        “He has a private number, yeah, I have that, but he doesn’t answer that phone.  He has people who do that for him.  They’d never let you through.  They don’t always let me through.  His private-private number, he answers that one, but even I don’t have it.”

        “Who does?”

        “Our parents, our sisters, his celebrity girlfriends.”

        “He can’t answer his own phone?”

        “They’re paranoid.”

        “About what?”

        “His image being corrupted.”

        “By what?” Brian demanded.

        Nick tried to shrug it off, but the pain of betrayal was in his eyes.  “Me.”

        “Sweetheart.”  Brian embraced him, smoothing his hair.  “I’m sorry, Nick.  I’m so sorry.  I would have done anything to spare you this pain.”

        “You know what else?” Drew’s voice demanded, nearby.  “Mom was afraid to tell you this, but she dropped you on your head when you were a baby!  Twice!”  He came into the kitchen.  “Jackass.  Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softening as he came forward.

        “Brian’s being a little bit strange and I miss my brother,” Nick said.

        “Brian’s always a little bit strange,” Drew said, and hugged Nick.  “You can have my brother, if you want.”  He kissed Nick’s mouth.  “I’m sorry, Nick.  You never talk about it, and that’s how I know how much it hurts.”  His touch crossed Nick’s forehead.  “You can talk about it, if you want.  I’d love to know more about your family.  Maybe if you talked more, it would hurt less.”

        “I don’t want to talk about it,” Nick said.  “We’re having a dinner party, and we’re ignoring our guests.  You get the food to the table, you get the drinks, and I’ll get Nick and Jeff.”

        “Nick,” Brian said.

        “I talked about it for at least two minutes,” Nick said.  “That’s enough for the next six months.  Discussion over.”  He left the kitchen.

        “I wish I understood them,” Drew said, his arm around Brian’s waist, briefly kissing Brian.  “How anyone with the chance to love Nick could turn his back is beyond me.”

        “Maybe, if I’d told him,” Brian said.

        “Told him what?” Drew asked.

        “Let’s get the food out to the table,” Brian said, slipping away from Drew’s touch.

        “Discussion over?” Drew guessed, frustrated.

        “That’s correct,” Brian said, handing him a plate.

        “I must love running smack into brick walls,” Drew said.  “I really must enjoy it.”

        “You’re babbling,” Brian informed him, giving him another plate.

        “The two of you are turning me into a raving lunatic,” Drew said.

        “That,” Brian said, “was inevitable.”

        “Have me?” Nick asked.  “That had better not be what it sounds like.”

        “Have you for my brother,” Nick said.

        “I’m your brother?” Nick asked.  “You have a brother.”  Jeff pinched him, so he shut up.

        “You’re my brother now,” Nick said, his arm around Nick’s waist, guiding him to the dining room.  “I wonder if that means I get the same perks Drew got.”

        “I don’t think so,” Nick said.

        “Those were some pretty big perks,” Nick said.

        “They’ve been discontinued,” Nick said.

        “What a shame,” Nick said.  “Pick a seat somewhere.  Hey, food,” he said, as Drew came in with plates.

        “You drive me crazy,” Drew said.

        “I wasn’t even doing anything,” Nick protested.

        “I need a hobby,” Drew said.

        “Like what?” Nick asked.

        “I’ll think of something,” Drew said.

        “Something what?” Brian asked, carrying in a platter.

        “Drew wants a hobby,” Nick said.

        “Like golf?” Brian asked.

        “I need something to do,” Drew said.  “Something constructive.”

        “Good luck,” Nick said.  “In the meantime, go get us something to drink.”

        Drew saluted and left.

        “I don’t know,” Nick said.  “I think being my full-time bottom boy is a great hobby already.”

        Jeff laughed.  Nick coughed.  Brian put his hand over Nick’s mouth.

        “I heard that, and you’re dead,” Drew said from the kitchen.

        “Okay,” Nick said.  “No ice in mine.”

        The door opened.

        “I love you,” Chris said, the words leaping from his heart without warning.

        Howie’s mouth took his in a slow, stunning, soul-binding kiss.

        “Didn’t you want to save that for after the date?” Chris asked, blinking.

        “I have other things in mind for after our date,” Howie said.

        “Oh.  Okay.  I brought you something,” Chris said, handing him a book.  “It’s all love poems.  I thought maybe they could say it better than I can.”

        “You say it beautifully,” Howie said, and kissed his cheek.  “Thank you.”

        “You smell different,” Chris said.  “It’s good, I like it.”

        “New cologne,” Howie said, stepping outside with him, closing the front door, taking his hand.

        “I got us a limo,” Chris said.

        “I noticed that,” Howie said, going down the walkway with him.  “I like it.”

        “Good.”  Chris wiped sweat from his face as Howie got into the limo.  “Do you know CPR?” he asked the driver.

        “No, sir.”

        “Okay.”  Chris got in, and the door closed.

        “I know CPR,” Howie assured him.  Suddenly, Howie was sitting very close to him, stroking the side of his neck, eyes full of sex.  “I’m very, very good at mouth-to-mouth.”

        “Oh,” Chris said, getting hard right then and there, “I know you are.”

        “Do you remember,” Howie’s hand slid up Chris’s thigh, “the last time we were in a limousine together?”

        Howie groaned, riding Chris’s dick at a faster pace, one hand back on Chris’s knee for balance, his other hand reaching up, palm flat on the ceiling.  His skin was flushed, his back arched slightly, his muscles flexing as he rocked and rode.

        “Not remotely, no, not at all, not at all,” Chris said, and then shocked his own ears by saying, “Why don’t you remind me?”

        A sexy chuckle, and Howie kissed him, all graceful tongue and soft-soft lips.  “Chris,” Howie whispered, stroking his chest, “my Chris,” delicate kiss, “my love.”

        “Let’s get naked,” Chris said, undoing one of Howie’s shirt buttons.

        “Not yet,” Howie said, rebuttoning.  “Later, I promise you, as much as you want, as much as you can stand.”

        “God, you smell good.”  Chris kissed Howie’s neck.  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said against Howie’s skin.

        “I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you, I can’t imagine what I thought I was ever doing without you,” Howie said, and kissed his mouth.  “I was insane to think I was happy or complete without you.”

        “I forgot to shave,” Chris said.

        Howie laughed.  “That’s okay.  I like it.”

        “I’m all bristly, you know I need to shave five times a day.”

        “It’s okay,” Howie said again, and kissed his cheek.  “I like it.  It’s you.”

        “I wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

        “You are perfect for me,” Howie said, and touched his face.  “You know that.”

        Click, click, click, everything inside Chris locked into place.  Then, responding to the soft love glowing from Howie’s eyes, everything inside Chris melted into a puddle of goo right there on the seat.  “I do,” Chris said, and the two words reminded him of what he was going to do, and instead of scaring him off, instead of sending him into a nervous tailspin, the idea of proposing to Howie propelled him forward, closer into Howie’s embrace.  He kissed Howie, curling his fingers in the end of Howie’s ponytail.  He wanted to propose.  Even if Howie said no, he still wanted to do it.  It was right.  Only being sure that, for Howie’s sake, it should be done in the perfect setting, kept him from popping the question that very second.

        “Chris.  Chris, Chris,” Howie said, pushing him away.  “We’re here.”

        Chris looked around.  The car had stopped.  “Since when do we live two minutes away from Ferrando’s?”

        “We’ve been kissing for a little longer than that,” Howie said.

        That explained the hard, throbbing thing between Chris’s legs.  “After you did that thing with your tongue, I left the atmosphere.”

        “Thank you for leaving my hair intact.”

        “Yes, you should be very grateful to me for that,” Chris said.  The door opened, and he stepped out.

        A flash of light blinded Chris, and he bit back a curse.  “This was not my idea,” he told Howie, who stepped out beside him.

        “Howie!  Howie!  Over here!  Can I get a picture?”

        Chris laced his fingers with Howie’s and walked towards the door.

        “Chris!  Chris!  What’s the occason?”

        Chris opened the door for Howie, then went inside, taking a second for his eyes to adjust.  “Sorry about that.”

        “How did they know we’d be here?” Howie asked.

        “I don’t know, but I’m going to speak to the manager,” Chris said.

        “Did you make reservations for tonight?” Howie asked.  “They look closed.”

        “Don’t let the complete absence of other patrons fool you,” Chris said.  “They’re open.  For us.”

        “Us?” Howie asked.

        “Mr. Kirkpatrick?”  The hostess advanced smoothly.  “Your table is right this way, sir.”

        Chris followed Howie, aware of a waiter sliding in to lock the door behind him.

        The restaurant was softly lit around their table, a candle between them.  Chris accepted his menu, trying to take his eyes off of Howie.  He completely interrupted the waiter’s soft-voiced spiel by saying, “You look so good it’s hurting my eyes.”

        “Could we have a few minutes, please?” Howie asked the waiter, who gracefully slipped away.  “Thank you,” Howie said to Chris.  “You look wonderful.”

        “It’s the suit,” Chris said.  “It’s new, just for the occasion.  I was afraid it wouldn’t fit, but the guys said it looks okay, so I-”

        “Chris,” Howie said.  “It’s not the suit.  It’s you.  You look wonderful.”

        Click.  Melt.  Chris swallowed.  “Thank you.”

        Howie smiled at him, then opened the menu.

        Chris looked down at his menu.  Ah, a restaurant with no prices.  Maybe the food was free.  How generous.  He read a few of the overly dramatic descriptions.  “You think I’m cute.”

        “What?” Howie asked, looking up.

        “You think I’m cute,” Chris said.  “Physically.  Attractivewise.  When you look at me.”

        “Yes, I think you’re very cute,” Howie said.

        Chris grinned.  “Really?”

        “I also think you’re handsome,” Howie said.

        “Handsome?”

        “I also think you’re gorgeous,” Howie said.

        “Now you’re lying to me.”

        “Gorgeous,” Howie repeated.

        “You look at me and think ‘gorgeous?’” Chris asked.

        “Yes,” Howie said.

        “Me?”

        “Chris, you have plenty of fans, they tell you how handsome you are all of the time.”

        “They’re scary,” Chris said.  “Frightening young women.  Loud, also.”

        “I’ve met a few people like that,” Howie said.

        Chris laughed.  “A few?”

        “A few,” Howie said.

        Chris went back to his menu.  No squid.  Nothing with onions, not if he wanted to do serious kissing, which he did.  “I know you think I’m sexy.”

        “Yes, you’re very sexy,” Howie said.

        “Very sexy?” Chris repeated.

        “Very, very sexy,” Howie confirmed.

        “Very, very.  Very, very,” Chris said.  “Would that be because of the funny-looking nose or the fully ripped bod?”

        “Your nose is not funny-looking,” Howie said.

        “My bod’s not fully ripped, either.”

        “I thought you were sexy when I was just looking at you,” Howie said.  “When I got to know you, I thought you were very sexy.  When I fell in love with you, you became very, very sexy.  It’s the way you look, but it’s also your personality.  It’s everything about you.  Everything I love.”

        “And that’s why you have lecherous tendencies when you’re around me.”

        Howie smiled.  “Yes.”

        Menu.  Food.  He couldn’t get anything he’d look funny eating.  Howie had seen him slurp spaghetti before, and would again, but not tonight.  Fish?  No, no fish, he didn’t want to taste like fish for the kissing.  Fishy aftertaste was not romantic.  “JC said I should have plucked my eyebrows.”

        “I like your eyebrows the way they are,” Howie said.

        “They get all bushy like they’re trying to grow together.  I like your eyebrows much better.  They always look silky.”

        “Silky?”

        “They never do the bushy growing together thing.”

        “That’s because I pluck mine,” Howie said.

        “I know,” Chris said.  “You do that mysterious womanly thing.”

        Howie lowered his menu, raising his lightly manicured eyebrows.

        “People of the female persuasion have mysterious grooming tendencies,” Chris explained.  “They always look good.  They do extensive detail work.  I step out of the house in a T-shirt and jeans, I look like an idiot in a T-shirt and jeans.  A woman steps out of the house in a T-shirt and jeans, she has her hair just so, her jewelry just right, her nails done, her make-up flawless, her T-shirt tucked in, she has a belt on, all of that stuff.  You do those things, pluck your eyebrows, get your hair right, add the right accessories, little touches, little details.  You and I could wear the same outfit and it would look different.  You’re prettier than I am anyway, but it’s not just that.  It’s the extra grooming gene.  JC has it.  You’ve seen me.  I can’t dress myself.”

        “Chris, you dress yourself just fine,” Howie said.  “I’m a very public person, and since everywhere I go people look at me, I want to look my best.  I feel more confident when I think I look good.  That happens to be something I care about.  You put less deliberate effort into your appearance, because other things are more important to you.”

        “Do you ever worry that it’s less…macho?”

        “My best friend fills in his facial hair with mascara,” Howie said.  “My masculinity is fine.”

        Chris raised his chin, sniffing loudly.  “Some of us are manly enough to grow our own beards.”

        Howie smiled.  “Yes, you’re very manly.”

        “Thank you.”

        The waiter glided over to their table.  “Are you ready to order?”

        Chris realized that he’d put down his menu.  “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” he said.  “And a bottle of the most expensive wine you can find.”

        Howie ordered for Chris, then for himself.  Listening, Chris realized that what Howie was ordering for him was exactly what he wanted to eat.  Either Howie knew him better than he knew himself, or he was extremely predictable.

        When the waiter had gone, Chris asked, “Am I predictable?”

        Howie laughed.  “Never.”

        Pleased with that answer, Chris admired Howie in the candlelight.

        “Thank you for the roses,” Howie said.

        Chris considered passing it off with a light joke, but said, “You’re welcome.”

        “And the champagne,” Howie said.  “And the wine, and the chocolates, and the bear.”

        Chris grinned.  “I didn’t want you to get bored.”

        Howie put out his hand, so Chris put his hand on the table, too, and Howie laced their fingers.  “Thank you for the notes,” Howie said, gazing into his eyes.

        “You know what’s funny,” Chris said, except he forgot to use his “telling a funny story” voice, and it came out sounding serious.  That was when he realized that he was serious.  “I thought it would be hard to come up with enough notes.  I thought it would be impossible to come up with enough ways to tell you that I love you.”  He shook his head.  “It wasn’t hard at all.”

        “Chris,” Howie said softly.

        Chris looked at their linked hands.

        “Thank you for today, and for tonight,” Howie said.  “All of those flowers and gifts, this dinner, those notes.  Romance has always been important to me, but I’ve always been the one responsible for it.  Some women are touched by it, and some women expect it, but they never give it back.  No woman has ever sent me flowers or done any of these other things for me.  Romance is special to me, I think it’s important to keep it as part of a relationship, but it’s never happened to me.  I never thought it would.  Thank you for giving this to me, Chris.  You were willing to do this for me, and that shows how much you care.”

        “I know how important those things are to you,” Chris said.  “Candlelight and limousines.  How could I not send you flowers, when I know how much you want them?  It’s not fair that you’re always giving them and never receiving any.”

        “Thank you for pushing me,” Howie said.  “I told myself not to give in, I told myself that it would never work out, but you were so insistent, I let myself take the risk.”

        “I had to have been annoying as hell.”

        “I liked it,” Howie said with a wink.

        Chris felt warm inside.  “You’re the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

        “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.”

        The waiter chose that moment to bring their food.  Chris wondered what had happened to those eternal waits he always experienced at restaurants.  Then he wondered how long he’d been gazing into Howie’s eyes between sentences.

        He couldn’t possibly have been the best lover Howie had ever had.  Number one, Howie had had a lot of women, sexy young women with flexible bodies and supple breasts and interesting positions.  Number two, AJ.  More than enough said.

        Then again, Howie had had the opportunity to go back to AJ, and hadn’t done it.  Howie had had the opportunity to leave Chris for anyone else in the world, and hadn’t done it.  Granted, that was more about love than about sex, but it was worth remembering.

        Memories flashed through Chris’s mind, memories of Howie in ecstasy, memories of Howie moaning, coming, wracked with pleasure.  Exotic, carnal, shattering moments, and erotic, tender, loving moments.  The sexual pleasure they shared, it couldn’t be easily dismissed.

        Howie wouldn’t lie.  Not to him.  Not about this.  Howie hadn’t been backed into a corner; the words had come voluntarily, without provocation.  He was the best lover Howie had ever had.

        “Chris,” Howie said.

        “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had,” Chris said.  “I can produce names and numbers if you want to check.”

        “Thank you,” Howie said.  “I believe you.”

        “Did you want something?” Chris asked.

        “Yes,” Howie said.  “Eat.”

        Chris looked down and realized that he hadn’t eaten anything.  He began to remedy that.  “How do you know?”

        “How do I know what?” Howie asked, taking a sip of wine.

        “That you’re the best lover I’ve ever had.”

        “I didn’t know,” Howie said.  “You just said it, and I believe you.”

        “Why do you believe me?” Chris asked.

        “The way you respond to me,” Howie said.  “How often you initiate sex.  How often you ask for more.”

        “You’re incredible in bed,” Chris said.  “You’re incredible out of bed, too, but sex, it’s like you invented it.  Did you invent sex?”

        “No,” Howie said.  “That was before my time.”

        “You’re very good.”

        “Thank you,” Howie said.  “So are you.”

        “I knew you would be,” Chris said.  “I knew you’d be good.  And then we kissed, and I knew I was in over my head.  And then we actually had sex, and all of my brain cells were completely fried.  I don’t know how I lived through it.  You’re incredible.”

        “We’re very good together,” Howie said.

        “You’re very patient to put up with me.”

        “You’re very patient to put up with me,” Howie said.

        Chris choked a little and had to drink some water.  “Put up with you?”

        “Chris, I’m boring,” Howie said.

        “Boring?” Chris repeated.  “You’re sexy and sweet and romantic and easy-going and cheesey and well-travelled and articulate and gorgeous as hell, and you think you’re boring?”

        “You make every second new,” Howie said.  “I love that about you.”

        “You’re fascinating,” Chris said.  “I could spend all day being a fly on the wall, doing nothing but watching you with my compound eyes.  You’re not as hyperactive as I am, but no one is.  People who are, they’re on medication for it.  And you’re not boring at all.  Boring people stare at me with blank looks.  You’re a perfect audience, you laugh at all of my jokes.”

        “You’re the funniest person I know,” Howie said.

        “You know that means a lot to me,” Chris said.

        “You mean a lot to me,” Howie said softly.

        “I’m very much in love with you,” Chris said.  “Don’t say anything.  You’re being too perfect, and it’s making me extremely woozy.”

        Howie winked.

        “And no winking,” Chris added.

        The food was delicious.  Chris was happy about that, because he wanted everything to be right for Howie’s sake, but food was the last thing on his mind.  He barely touched his wine, not wanting alcohol to fuzz up his brain before he sorted out his proposal.

        They ordered dessert, and they talked, and Chris wondered how to find the right moment.  Suddenly, their plates were clean, and he realized that if he didn’t get started, they’d end up leaving and he’d miss his opportunity.

        “Thank you for dinner,” Howie said.  “It’s been a great night.  We should do this more often.”

        “It’s not over yet,” Chris said.  “No romantic evening would be complete without an expensive piece of jewelry as a token of my affection.”  He took the box from his pocket, sliding back his chair, getting down on his knees.

        Howie made a small sound, a swift soft gasp.  His eyes were wide, and widening.

        “I talk all of the time,” Chris said.  “I chatter on all day long, but I’ve never said words as important as these.  I love you, Howie.  I want to be with you for the rest of my life.  There are a lot of other people out there, but I don’t care about them.  I don’t want to meet them or date them or get to know them, I don’t want anything to do with them.  I want to be with you, and only you, as long as I live.  You’re enigmatic and you’re quirky and if there are fifty years left in me, I want to spend all fifty of them by your side, figuring you out.  I love you for all of your quirks and all of your strengths and all of your flaws.  I love your pretty eyes and your pretty smile and your gorgeous body.  I love your soft-soft lips and your transparent sense of humor and your cute overbite.  I love that you love your friends.  I love that you’re sweet as hell but not a pushover.  I love that I don’t know anyone in the world like you.  I love my life more than I ever thought I would, because you’re in it.”

        “Chris,” Howie whispered.

        “You know what I’m about to ask you, and I think you’re going to say yes.  I need you to know that I’m not asking because you want to be asked.  I’m asking because I have to ask, because I’ve been wanting to ask for months, because every time I open my mouth, this one question is in danger of falling out.  You don’t know how many times I’ve had to fight to hold it back.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  I love you, and I have to ask you.  You can say no, you really can, and I’ll still be glad I asked.  I want this, Howie, I want this for myself, I want to have this thing with you, I want it to be real and permanent and unchangeable.  Houses can be moved out of or burned down or blown up, but some things are undeniable, and I want that with you.  I never thought that I would ever have something as special as this in my life.  Even when I had it, even when I had you, I thought it would disappear.  It couldn’t be real and it couldn’t last.  But you’ve shown me things about myself, and I’ve learned more about you and more about me.  I want this thing, Howie, I want us, and I’m holding onto it.  I’m making it real, and I’m making it last.”

        Howie’s eyes looked wet, and his cheeks were flushed.

        “I love you,” Chris said.  “Howard Dwaine Dorough, will you marry me?”

        “What?” Howie whispered, like it hurt so much he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

        “Do you want the whole hour-long speech all over again, or just the ‘Howard Dwaine Dorough, will you-’”

        “Yes,” Howie said.  A tear started to slip down his cheek.

        “Yes?” Chris asked, stunned by the word even though he’d told himself to expect it, stunned by the tear.

        “Yes, yes!” Howie said, reaching for him, standing and pulling him to his feet.  The look on Howie’s face, it was pure happiness.  He’d never seen Howie look this happy, and it struck him that he’d done it, he was responsible for this happiness.  He’d made Howie happy, he really had.

        Chris touched Howie’s smile, touched Howie’s tear track with wondering fingers.  He was amazed.  Howie had said yes.  He was really, they were actually-

        It wasn’t clear who had moved first, or whose idea it had been, but suddenly they were kissing, really kissing, damn-being-in-public kissing.  Chris held onto Howie as tightly as he could, and there was no finesse to his kiss, it was all hunger and possessiveness and overeager celebration, but he knew that Howie would forgive him.

        Chris was so excited, he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned about kissing, and he hadn’t been breathing.  Running out of air, he broke the kiss and tucked his face into Howie’s neck, preferring to breathe there.  God, Howie smelled good.  He nuzzled.

        “I gave up,” Howie said.  He sounded…overwhelmed.  Howie never sounded overwhelmed; it was impossible to overwhelm Howie Dorough.  Chris looked into his face, worried.  “I, I gave up,” Howie said again.  “I knew you were never going to ask me.  I stopped believing it might happen.  It was, I thought, I kept hoping for such, such a long time, but you never, and I, I just gave up.”

        “Oh, love, I know,” Chris said, hugging him close, loving him so much and feeling like shit.  “I’m sorry for that.”  Howie’s halting, uncertain phrasing told him how truly overwhelmed Howie was.  His suave Howie never sounded like that.

        “I heard you,” Howie said.  He blinked, like his vision was blurry; it probably was, with all of those unshed tears in the way.  Chris chastely kissed his soft lips, stroking his cheekbones.  “You’d say it sometimes, you thought I was asleep, you’d say, you’d ask me to marry you.”

        What?  Chris stared at him.  “You heard me?”

        “I thought, I thought maybe, I thought it meant you were getting ready, that someday soon you might, might say it, might ask me, or someday soon you’d give me permission to ask you.  But then I realized, I realized that you’d never be ready.”

        “I wasn’t ready,” Chris said, cupping Howie’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking Howie’s cheeks.  “I’m ready now, I’m more than ready, it feels like I should have asked you months ago.”

        “Thank you,” Howie said, arms around him, chin on his shoulder.  “Thank you for this.  I never thought that this would happen.  This is everything I wanted from you, this is more than…”

        “I love you,” Chris whispered, closing his eyes.

        “You proposed to me,” Howie said, like he still couldn’t believe it.

        “Should I take it back?” Chris asked, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.  “Do you want to do it?  We can both do it, if you want.”

        “No, no, this is perfect,” Howie said, and his touch on Chris’s chin was loving.  “You’re doing a much better job than I did.”

        “Oh, shit!” Chris said, pulling back, kicking himself.  Howie looked startled, and he was quick to explain, “I forgot the ring!  Where - - here, here,” he said, and snapped open the box.  “Here, have a ring.”

        Howie stared at it.  “Chris.”

        “If you don’t like it, just pretend it doesn’t fit, and I’ll get you another one,” Chris said.

        “Chris,” Howie said again, and his voice sounded awed.  “I never, even when I thought, I never expected this.  You got this?  For me?”

        “You like it,” Chris realized.  “Oh, god, I love you,” he promised, relief flooding him.

        Howie’s fingers hovered near it, almost touching, not quite there.  “I love it, I can’t believe you did this.”  He met Chris’s eyes.  “Put it on me.”

        “Put it - - yes!  Yes.  I have to kneel again,” Chris said.  “Don’t try to stop me.”  He knelt, taking Howie’s hand.  “Marry me?”

        Howie’s fingers tightened around his.  Howie’s eyes looked suspiciously wet again, and Howie’s smile was sweet, sweet and happy.  “Yes.”

        “My stomach is full of busy butterflies,” Chris said.  “My heart actually feels like it’s swelling.”  He slid the ring onto Howie’s finger, then took a moment to stare at it there.  His ring on Howie’s finger.  His ring.  On Howie’s finger.  That was his ring.  His claim.  His promise.  All of his nervousness, all of his anxious fits, all of his fear, it was worth it, it had all been more than worth it.  His ring was on Howie’s hand.

        The hand in question grasped his hand, pulling him to his feet.  Howie kissed him, a slow, soft kiss.  “Thank you.”

        “You’re welcome,” Chris said.  “For everything.”  He nuzzled into Howie’s neck again, closing his eyes.  “God, I love you.”

        “Tonight already meant so much to me, and all of this, Chris, you…”

        Chris held him tighter.

        “You make me feel things no one else ever has,” Howie said.  “You make me see myself in such a different light.”

        “Thank you for staying with me even when you thought I couldn’t give you this,” Chris said.

        “Thank you for staying with me,” Howie whispered.

        Chris kissed his cheek, looking into his face again, not wanting to miss the happy, loving glow.  “I want to be sure, did I do okay?  The roses and the dinner and the proposal?  I put it all together pretty fast, and I didn’t practice the proposal, it was mostly off of the top of my head.”

        “It was all just like I would have wanted it to be, for you,” Howie said.  “It was romantic, and it was classy, and it was special.  Thank you, Chris.”  Soft kiss.  “I wouldn’t change any of it.”  Another kiss, a little deeper, and then Chris’s fingers were itching to pull at Howie’s clothes while his dick got hard and he got familiar with Howie’s tongue.

        “I’m getting laid tonight, aren’t I?” Chris asked, breathing against Howie’s mouth, fighting the urge to tug Howie’s shirt from the waistband of his pants.

        Howie’s eyes sparkled.  “You might want to stretch first.”