Friday Evening – 11:00 p.m.

"You're back." Justin swung the heavy loft door closed as he noticed Brian lounging on the couch, long legs propped up on the coffee table and his laptop perched on his thighs. "Did you take care of your errand?" He tried hard to keep the prying out of his voice, but inside he was burning with curiosity over what Brian had to do earlier that evening. When Justin had told the older man he was going out with Daphne to the movies, his partner had told him not to worry, because he had something "on his plate" he had to take care of, whatever that obtuse statement had meant. Yeah, it's done all right," the brunet smirked to himself, careful to keep the smugness out of his voice. It wasn't that he was deliberately trying to be vague, exactly. Well, maybe a little. Was it selfish of him to want to concentrate on more pleasant things at the moment? As he had told Mikey, he would have plenty of time tomorrow to tell Justin precisely how he had spent his evening. Right now, he was craving a certain creamy dish all to himself.

As his partner walked toward him, Brian shut his laptop and placed it down on the floor, just in time to reach out suddenly and grasp Justin's arms to pull the smaller man down on top of him; Justin laughed as they both toppled sideways down on the couch.

"How was your movie," Brian softly asked, his hands busily caressing his tasty dish wherever he could reach – Justin's back, his shoulders, his soft hair, his neck, his ass; truthfully, he really wasn't very interested at all in a critique of the latest Ben Affleck film; he had much more entertaining ideas in mind at the moment.

Now what had Brian asked him? Justin thought in a haze, as he tried to concentrate on the question. He was finding it quite difficult right then, however, because a certain man's hands and now lips were all over him. Oh, yeah – the movie. "It was okay," Justin finally answered a little breathlessly as a pair of soft lips and a probing, talented tongue attached themselves to the side of his neck, nuzzling and licking. "Ow!" the blond cried out, as he felt a little bite on his ear, following immediately by a soothing lapping of the brunet's tongue; he could feel his cock instantly harden at the continuing onslaught and a soft moan escape his own lips as the incredible assault continued unabated. Well, two could play that game, he decided, as he reached up to grab the other man's head with both hands and swooped in for a kiss of his own, both tongues now dueling for dominancy.

"Mmmm," Brian moaned; damn, what this man could do to him with a few seconds' of kissing. He brought his hands down to Justin's waist to reach up under the blond's t-shirt and was instantly rewarded with a large expanse of soft, warm skin; he could feel Justin's ab muscles flexing in delightful response as he roamed over the smooth stomach. Another soft groan escaped the blond's lips as Brian found his nipples and rubbed teasingly at the little pink nubs that immediately hardened at his touch.

"My own little cream puff," he murmured huskily, as Justin squirmed under his partner's unexpectedly corny endearment and his continuing ministrations. "Sweet on the outside, creamy on the inside," he announced, as he wrapped his arms around his partner's back and pulled him even closer.

Justin decided to take advantage of his position as well, reaching around to cup the brunet's ass and rub their crotches together.

"Aggghhh!" was about the only halfway-intelligible statement Brian could utter as a flash of heat ripped through him at the delicious contact.

"Yes, Brian?" the blond asked innocently, blue eyes peeking up from long lashes to gaze almost coquettishly at the other man. "You were saying something?" he smiled smugly.

The brunet managed to growl out in a sort of horny shorthand – "Bed – too many fucking clothes – NOW!" – before he quickly rolled himself upright to a sitting position, and standing up, pulled at the blond's hands to drag him up as well. Even though he was more than ready to tear off all of Justin's clothes right there and now and fuck his little tasty treat senseless, he knew if they stayed on the couch, he would be stiff as a board tomorrow morning, and not in a good, life-affirming way. So the dance they knew so intimately well once again began to play, as they continued to kiss and caress each other while Brian walked his partner backwards toward the bedroom, nothing heard but their mutual moans of urgency echoing through the loft before they finally reached their target and Brian impatiently threw his little dumpling down on the bed, Justin's giggles escaping in between gasps of pleasure.

Liberty Diner – Next Morning

"Well, someone looks like they had a busy night," Deb cracked, as she noted the two sleepy-eyed men slowly trudging into the diner. They had that distinctly fresh-fucked look, she noted. Even if she hadn't learned how to discern their late-night activities, she knew she hit the nail on the head when Justin smiled and blushed slightly at her statement. Even now, there was still a little of the eager high school boy left in him where Brian was concerned.

"Deb? More coffee, less editorial?" Brian asked, as he turned his cup right side up and sat down at a nearby booth next to Justin.

"Justin, honey? Can you take care of the growling tiger for me while I get these orders? You know where it's at." As Justin nodded and walked over behind the counter to grab the coffee pot, Deb winked at him knowingly and smiled, evoking yet another slight blush from the blond. Too easy, Debbie thought to herself, grinning as she walked over to the serving window.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the food critic," Emmett observed, as he rushed in with Ted and Michael trailing right behind him; the men immediately sat down opposite Brian and stared intently at the brunet, Michael inexplicably grinning. As Justin returned from behind the counter, he looked curiously at Emmett, who had a definite cat that ate the canary look on his face. "What's going on?" he asked them, as he sat down next to his partner.

"Yeah, what the hell are you going on about?" Brian demanded. "Do I have spinach between my fucking teeth or something?"

"No," Emmett answered nonchalantly. "Nothing like that." Brian noticed that both he, Michael and Ted were looking way too smug for their own good as they continued to stare at him, smiling. Brian suddenly felt like he was looking at three triplets: Hear no Evil, See No Evil and Speak No Evil. "Boys, I'd love to try and figure out what the fuck your problem is, but I for one have a job to go to."

Drowning the last of his quickly-cooling, bitter coffee, he started to motion for Justin to scoot his perky little, undoubtedly sore bubble butt out of the booth when he heard Michael ask, "Have you seen this morning's paper?"

Both partners looked at Michael, puzzled, as if he'd grown a second head. After their marathon fucking session last night, the paper was the last thing on their mind at the moment. "No, I'm sorry, Mikey, I haven't had time to look at Dear Abby today yet," Brian responded sarcastically.

"Well, I think you might find another part of the Life section of the paper particularly interesting. In fact, I think you BOTH might find it highly satisfying," Michael added mysteriously, as he produced the specific section with a flourish and laid it down flat directly in front of them on the table.

Justin frowned; what in the world was he talking about? As both men glanced down at the paper, Justin's eyes suddenly grew large as they immediately froze on a prominent headline: Famous French Chef Creamed by Mystery Assailant. Justin gasped as he recognized the man in the large color photo directly below the headline; it was an apparently unconscious Gaston Marchant, eyes closed and lying flat on his back, completely oblivious to some type of thick, white liquid that was slowly running down his face and onto the cement floor.

"Oh, my God!" Justin exclaimed. "It's Pepe!" He turned excitedly to his partner, who had his head down and was seemingly engrossed in the article as well. "What happened?" he asked Michael. "I don't believe it!"

Michael pursed his lips to try and keep from laughing; he noticed a certain brunet was not meeting his gaze. Obviously, he had not told Justin yet about their little adventure. "Well, it seems someone who attended one of his cooking seminars last night took offense, shall we say, at his teaching methods, and decided to literally throw a little of his smugness back in his face. But instead of egg on his face, he wound up with a couple cups of cream sauce."

"Well, you know what the Romulans say: Revenge is a dish best served cold," Emmett wisely intoned, looking pointedly at Brian – a fact that did not go totally unnoticed by his partner.

Justin, nevertheless, burst out laughing. "Shit! I don't believe it," he repeated. "Did he get hurt – other than his huge ego, I mean?"

"Nah," Michael verified, as he looked pointedly at Brian, who continued to look everywhere but at Justin. "They took him to Alleghany General just to have him checked out – he had a mild concussion and a pretty nasty bump on his head, but he was treated and released this morning. Of course, the paper says hundreds of his adoring fans were camped out by the hospital entrance last night, anxiously waiting for updates on their idol's condition until he was released."

"I think I'm going to puke," Brian finally snarled disgustingly. After he discovered what the asshole was like, he found it literally sickening that so many other seemingly intelligent people could be so totally deceived by his sugary, fake charm. His body tensed at the thought of just what that man might have tried to do to Justin if he hadn't interrupted the man's little plan back at the loft. He considered having a face full of sour cream extremely tame compared to what he had really wanted to do to the fucker.

"Do they know who did it?" Justin asked the other men curiously, looking over at Brian who oddly continued to refuse to meet his gaze.

"No," Ted verified. "At least the paper says they don't have any suspects currently. They said Marchant claims it happened so fast, he didn't really have time to identify the assailant."

Brian snorted and his face darkened as he continued to think about the smug, arrogant man who had dared to make a move on HIS partner. Well, Pepe, that is one sweet little morsel you are never, EVER going to taste. He had to admit, though, he was surprised the fucker hadn't identified him as his attacker. He wasn't quite sure what Marchant's game was, but he decided it was worth it, though, no matter whether the man pressed charges or not. It was definitely worth the intense satisfaction he got and the protection he had gained for his partner. Grinning to himself, he decided he could have done without their rift; however, the make-up sex had been unbelievable.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he noticed an eerie quiet at the booth all of a sudden as he raised his head and looked around at everyone sitting near him. He also noticed everyone had that cat that ate the canary look again, everyone, that is, except a particular blond who was seated to his immediate left. Brian could almost see the little wheels turning furiously in the cute, intelligent blond head as Justin's face changed expression from puzzlement to thoughtfulness, and then to a sudden epiphany as his partner apparently put two and two together and an imaginary light bulb went on in his head. Justin's eyes narrowed as he looked over at Brian, whose lips curled under as he finally returned Justin's gaze and smirked.

"Well, Boys, I think our work here is done," Emmett announced perkily, as he noticed Brian's eyes rolling around. "Shall we?" he asked Ted and Michael, who, nodding as they smiled broadly now, rose to get ready to leave.

"What about breakfast?" Justin asked them. They hadn't even drunk coffee or juice yet.

"Oh, we already ate down the street," Emmett announced. "We just wanted to spread a little sunshine, Sunshine. Later, boys," he added, as the three of them almost giggled as they rushed out of the diner, finally leaving the two partners alone.

Justin continued to stare at Brian for a few seconds more before the brunet couldn't stand it any longer. "What?" he simply asked, holding out his palm in a questioning stance.

"You know what," Justin retorted. "It was you, wasn't it? That little business you had on your plate?"

"Why, Sunshine, I'm not sure what you're insinuating," Brian responded obtusely.

"I'm not insinuating anything," Justin growled. "You cold-cocked him, didn't you?"

Brian sighed inwardly; there was really no point in trying to deflect his partner's accusation; after all, hadn't they just had an in-depth discussion about trust, just before they had an in-depth fucking session last night?

He finally muttered, "He's damn lucky he came away with ANY cock at all."

"What was that, Brian? I'm not sure I heard you correctly," Justin prodded.

Brian finally declared, "Fuck! All right! Yes! I gave the son of a bitch exactly what he deserved; the only kind of cream he was going to get – the only kind he fucking deserved! The prick's lucky I didn't throw the mug at HIS arrogant little mug, too!" He huffed in disgust, crossing his arms defiantly.

Justin looked over at his partner, now sitting like a petulant little boy, daring anyone to challenge his actions. He knew he really should be angry at him for resorting to violence to prove his point; angry at him for possibly placing himself in legal trouble, or maybe worse, for assaulting Pepe. But somehow he just couldn't gaze at his partner looking so childishly affronted without being amused. Despite his better judgment, he felt a smile begin to appear on his face, until it turned into a trademark beam, and then into a full-fledged giggle.

Brian looked over at his partner startled; he was expecting to be berated for his impulsiveness, or to be yelled at for taking such a risk to prove a point. But he did NOT expect the laughter bubbling up from him. He couldn't help joining in, though, as it became downright contagious.

"You should have seen him, Justin," Brian said, smiling almost proudly now. "Paler than the fucking Pillsbury Doughboy," he observed.

"Brian," Justin chided him, shaking his head. "What were you thinking? You could be in a lot of deep shit for that stunt."

"Don't worry, Sunshine," he reassured the other man. "I don't think Marchant wants it publicized that an angry lover of one of his students decided to retaliate because he tried to force himself on another man. That would be so unseemly for Pepe the Great. It would put a dark stain of scandal on his lily white uniform."

Justin continued to shake his head as he thought about his partner's impetuosity, but he couldn't help feelng touched, also, by the brunet's passion and protectiveness. Maybe Brian didn't always think things through completely but you certainly couldn't fault him for his motives. Sighing a little, he reached over to take the other man's hand, caressing it gently with his thumb as he rubbed circles on the tanned flesh. He felt Brian instantly respond to his touch when the brunet's long fingers curled around his to intertwine their hands together.

"You took a big risk, Brian," he murmured softly. "What am I going to DO with you?" he asked, pursing his lips together in amusement.

Brian leaned over and whispered to him, "Well, you can start tonight after my HARD day at the office by being my personal chef. I think I'll need you to whip up something using your own special brand of cream sauce. I'm downright addicted to it now. After sampling yours, no one else's even comes close," he smirked.

Justin murmured, "Is that right, Mr. Kinney?"

"Mm hmm," Brian responded, taking a short detour to kiss the blond's earlobe briefly, his hot breath making Justin's heartbeat quicken.

"Well, after your hard day of labor, the least I can do is labor to make you hard again. Don't worry - I'll fnd just the right recipe for you before you get home tonight," he assured the other man.

"I was hoping you'd say that, Sunshine."