Taste in Men

Part 1

Steve stumbled out of the elevator, spun around, gave a bow to the elderly couple still within and thanked them for coming to his show. On the ride up he'd started conducting the Muzak pumping through the tinny speakers, his arms flying with drunk abandon and nearly smacking the silver haired woman in the face. The couple offered no applause to Steve's curtain call and stabbed at the number for their floor.

After flipping the bird to the closed lift he started wandering down the hall looking for his room. He spotted a number that seemed familiar, figured it was his, and fished the key from his pocket. It took ten minutes of muttering and cursing before he realized the door was already unlocked.

He entered, kicked off his shoes, and left a trail of clothing behind him as he made a bee-line for the bed. He collapsed on the king size mattress clad only in a pair of unbuttoned jeans he'd lost the energy to take off.

"Trying to entice me?" a soft voice came from the corner of the room.

Steven raised his head and squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the face behind the cloud of smoke. "Brian? What the fuck are you doing in my room?"

"This is my room," he sighed, snuffing out the cigarette and moving toward the bed. "Yours is the next door down."

Oh," Steve mumbled, attempting to sit up then grabbing his spinning head with a moan. "Sorry Bri. I'll get going once I find my key." He started patting his bare chest, wondering where his jacket had run off to.

Brian snickered softly, sitting down beside him. "Don't worry about it, luv. It's not like you're interrupting anything."

"What about the kid from the front row? Didn't he come back with you?"

"Yeah," he sneered. "A complete waste of my time and alcohol."

"What happened?"

"He couldn't get it up."

Steve tsked, rolling over so he could look up at Brain. "I'm sure it's not your fault."

"Yeah, that's what he said. Doesn't make it any better though."

Steve reached his hand out, fixing the smeared part of Brian's lipstick. "You know you're beautiful, Brian. I mean, if I wasn't straight..."

"Don't," Brain said, placing a finger to Steve's lips to silence him. "Thank you for trying, but don't finish that sentence. It doesn't make things any easier." They exchanged weak smiles and Steve dropped his head onto Brian's knee. The smaller man cradled his friend's face on his velvet covered lap, stroking his soft hairs as he fell into a drunken sleep.

An hour passed before Steve's eyes tried to open again. He peered through razor thin slits at the form propped up against the headboard. Ugh, what's wrong with me?' he thought. More and more lately he'd been picking up the fans who dress like Brian. It was weird and more than a little creepy but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Brian invaded his dreams, his waking thoughts. He was starting to wonder if he'd fallen in love with his bandmate but try as he might he just couldn't get over the gender issue. So instead he'd scout the crowds for females attempting to be a Molko clone, bring her back to the hotel and spend the night lost in fantasy. It was never enough though. They weren't really Brian, just carbon copies. He wanted the real thing but, then again, he just couldn't imagine being with a man even if it was Brian. How do you tell your best friend you'd fuck him up, down, and sideways but first he'd have to get his willie cut off?

Steve gazed at his catch for the evening. She was a damn good match, the best he'd been able to find so far. He tried to remember her name but his mind came up blank. Oh well, it didn't mater. Giving her his most suave smile )which came out rather goofy considering how inebriated he was) Steve reached up to tug on the hem of her shirt. "Hey now. I'm practically naked and you're still fully clothed. That's hardly fair."

Brian jumped, startled out of his half-dozing state, and giggled down at his bandmate. "Are you trying to entice me to strip?"

"Yeah, come on, show me your tits."

Brian's face twisted into a smile laced with confusion. "What are you talking about, Steve?"

"Don't be shy. I don't mind flat chested girls. Really."

'Oh my god,' Brian thought, his eyes becoming as wide as saucers. 'He thinks I'm a woman!'

"Steve, I..." Brian tried to slide out from under his friend but a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist, cutting off his quick escape. Steven's free hand disappeared into his half opened fly and massaged what was fast becoming a noticeable bulge.

"I know I must have passed out or something but don't worry, I'm wide awake now. Come on, let's have a little fun. That's what you came up here for, right?"

Brian looked into those deep eyes, twinkling with seduction and need, and a whimper escaped his throat. "Oh, me dear hubby," he whispered, unable to stop himself from tracing those handsome features with a fingertip.

"Yeah, that's good, call me that," Steve moaned as he reached his arms out.

Brian found himself grabbed, lovingly but firmly, and pulled down on top of his drummer's chest. His head was pushed until there was just an inch between Brian's full bottom lip and the one article of clothing still covering Steve's taut frame. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice wavering.

Steve raised his head, his eyes meeting Brian's, and uttered one word that seemed to echo from his very soul, "please."

Brian knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn't take advantage of Steve's intoxicated state or betray his long proclaimed sexuality, but how could he say no to the pleading look in his friend's eyes? The jeans slid off easily, revealing the soft flesh of his hips, then thighs. Brian ran his hands up those strong legs, feeling the dark hairs tickle his palms. Another whimper passed his lips as his eyes landed on Steve's crotch. He'd seen the other man naked hundreds of times before in dressing rooms or on the tour bus or during after parties where he and a groupie didn't make it out of the common room. But this was different. Never before had he seen Steven's manhood a breath away from his face, pulsing and rock hard, waiting just for him. Brian kissed the tip, his tongue sliding out to lick the precum that had pooled on top. He moaned and closed his mouth around it, sliding down until it tickled the back of his throat. Unlike his previous partner of the night, Steve had no problem staying up between Brian's skilled lips.

He took him deep into his throat, watching the bigger man grab the sheets and arch up off the bed. He reveled in the power he had at that moment, how he could make the straight as nails Steve dance like a puppet on his string. He poured everything he had into the task at hand, years worth of fantasy and frustration finally released in one sexual act that could make time stand still. He held Steve's firm hips, pulling him deeper into his mouth, making sure there was no gap between them as his friend came with a strangled cry.

Steve tried to stay awake afterwards, mumbling thank yous and something that may have been 'I love you' but Brian could never be sure. The alcohol and exhaustion overtook him before long ad the drummer fell into a deep sleep, a satisfied smile plastered on his lips.

Brian only let himself revel in the after-glow for a few scarce moments before the reality of what he'd just done hit him full force. Steve could never know. He'd kill Brian, or worse, leave the band. Nothing could ever be the same between them if this night was remembered.

He jumped up and grabbed his bags, thankful that they were leaving early in the morning which meant everything had been packed up already. After digging through Steve's coat, he found his room key, ran next door and exchanged his bags for Steve's. He threw them in his old room, careful to set them in a messy pile that resembled Steve's scant organization skills. He allowed himself just one more moment to trail his hand down Steve's naked flesh before retreating the other room and locking himself in.

The next morning, Brian was roused from his thoughts by a knock on his doors. He opened it to see a surprised Stef on the other side. "Isn't this Steve's room?"

"No," Brian said with a tired smile. "He's the next one down."

"Oh," Stef said with a slight blush. "My mistake."

"Don't worry. It happens all the time. We ready to hit the road?" He loaded his bags in his arms and stumbled out into the hallway. Steve emerged moments later, fresh from a shower and slight spring in his step.

Stef couldn't help but laugh at Steve's happy demener. "What's gotten you in such a good mood."

"Oh, nothing really. Just had this dream last night that the most beautiful woman I've ever seen gave me the best blowjob of my life. Now why can't reality be as good as that?"

Brian shrugged, giving a soft smile and leading his bandmate to the elevator. "Perhaps it can be if we let it."

Part 2

The tour bus turned sharply, jostling it's inhabitants, and Brian let out a stream of obscenities as the eyeliner he'd been applying skidded across his face. "Bloody fuck! What the hell is he trying to do? Take my eye out?"

"Jesus Bri, it was just a curve," Stefan scolded, raising an eyebrow at his bandmate's steadily increasing bad mood.

Brian shot him a look and snatched a Kleenex from his box, scrubbing off the thick black line that was smeared across his cheek. He got out his tweezers and was attempting to pluck his eyebrows when Steve's voice interrupted the silence again. He'd been singing Lou Reed's 'Perfect Day' off and on since they got on the bus and, even more annoying, he only knew the chorus. Brian took a coy glance at Steve's smiling face and his own pout increased. If only he knew the real reason for his good mood.

Tossing his make-up back in it's case, Brian started digging through his bags. Finding a slinky, black acetate dress and pair of stockings he stripped off his jeans and t-shirt and started dressing. He did a half turn in the full length mirror that'd been installed on the bus just for him. 'What are you doing, Molks?' he thought. 'Playing dress-up for the straight boy?' Still, he couldn't help the satisfied smile when he caught Steve staring at his girlish form.

Lighting up a cigarette, he plopped down beside the still crooning Steve and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. "You did the world a favor by becoming a drummer. I don't think I could handle hearing that voice on the radio all the time."

Steve's travel pillow sailed through the air and bounced off the side of Brian's head. "Hey, my vocal stylings are a rare treat. You should feel privilidged."

Stefan rolled his eyes, "You two squabble like a couple of old nuns." He yawned and tossed aside the magazine he'd been looking at. "Alright Brian, out with it."

"Out with what?" he asked defensively, kicking Steve's pillow into the corner.

"What happened last night. We've been on the bus a whole hour and you haven't said anything about your latest conquest. Usually we'd know every detail by now, right down to the color of his pubic hair. So what happened?" He leaned over, waiting for the juicy pieces to start flying.

Brian shrugged. "Nothing special," he mumbled. His bandmates stared at him in confusion. Most days they couldn't get him to shut up about his sexual escapades. He'd jabber on about them until Steve would lock himself in the bathroom and even Stef would get fed up and threaten to gag him with a guitar strap. His aloofness all morning had already aroused their curiosity but now they were beginning to get worried.

"Are you alright, Brian?" Steve asked, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just peachy," the singer said, shaking off the touch and moving to a different seat, hoping some distance between them would help him relax. It didn't. He lit up another fag, his second of the day and the morning had barely even started. Steven and Stef exchanged an uneasy glance at Brian's increasing agitation.

"He didn't... hurt you did he?" Steve asked softly. The suggestion seemed unlikely. If he was remembering correctly, the kid Brian had left with was even smaller than he was. His mind flashed to a wicked image of how easy the kid would break in his hands if he had laid an unwanted finger on Brian.

"No, he didn't hurt me at all," Brian sneered, then cringed at the sound of his own voice, he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. He looked from Steve to Stef and back again, reading the lines of concern that creased their faces. Christ, he must really be acting strange for them to get this worried. Calling on his reserve of acting talent he plastered a smile on his face and tried to make his voice as happy and normal as possible. "Look boys, no offense, but a girl can't be expected to kiss and tell ALL the time. It was a bad night, one I'm not very proud of. No blood was spilled, no tears shed, it was just a misjudged match-up and I'd rather not talk about it. Alright lads?" He looked to his friends and their faces showed they weren't sure whether or not to believe him. He sighed and settled back in his seat. "Anyway, let's change the subject. How did your night go, Steffy?"

The lanky bassist chortled at his pet name, but Brian only used it when he was in playful mood so he took it as a sign that Brian was feeling better. "Oh, the usual. Got drunk, called the boyfriend, tried to have phone sex, he hung-up after I dropped the phone the third time, went to sleep horny and lonely."

Steve giggled, "What kind of band are we? I mean, it's supposed to be a life of sex, drugs, and rock & roll but we're all striking out in the sack."

"Well at least you've still got your dirty mind to keep you company, Hewitt," Stefan teased, sticking his tongue out. "What was so good about this dream last night that it's got you singing?"

"Yeah, tell us what this fantasy woman was like," Brian said, leaning forward in rapt attention. "We're all dying to know."

Steve looked around the bus, trying to find a way to get out of answering. Finding nothing to distract him, he let his imagination take over, constructing what people would consider his 'ideal woman' instead of admitting to his recent Molko fetish. "Well... she had... green eyes.. and long red hair... and these really big tits."

Stefan made a face, "Alright, skip the description and get to the blow job. It's hard for me to pretend you're talking about another guy if you say how big his breasts are."

The two erupted into peels of dirty giggles and Steve started giving graphic descriptions of the female sexual organ while Stef stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming to block it out. Brian only lasted a few minutes in this commotion before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Gripping the sink tightly, he looked at himself in the mirror as tears spilled over his thickly lined eyes. "A fucking redhead," he spat at his reflection. "He can't even remember his so-called dreams properly. He was probably imaging her the entire time I was doing it. I was just a fucking hole for him. Another convenient groupie to use."

He sunk to the floor, head in hands, and refused to leave the tiny bathroom for the next two hours. When someone would pound on the door asking if he was alright he'd just say it was the hang-over combined with motion sickness and it'd be best if he stayed in here rather than make a mess in the seats. He didn't dare to venture out again until the bus had stopped and everyone had left for lunch. A few moments were spent fixing the damage done to his face and a quick pep talk of, "Get over it, he doesn't want you. The bands future is more important than this silly facination. Just pretend it never happened."

Brian entered the cafe looking so bright eyed and in good spirits that his companions figured his earlier melancholy must have just been from the sickness. He took his seat, making small talk and annoying the waitress in his cute little fashion. To everyone around him, he was the normal Brian Molko just recovering from too much partying. Inside, he was a hurt and humiliated nancy boy shaking with a heart-wrenching scream.

Part 3

Soft jazz drifted through the smokey pub, giving the room a dreamy and relaxed feel. It was a welcome change to the night clubs they usually frequented where the music was so loud you could barely hear yourself talk, let alone someone else. But Steve hadn't come here for conversation, he needed time alone with his thoughts.

The dreams about Brian were non-stop now. He spent every night tossing and turning with fantasies of his mouth and hands. It was getting to the point where he was afraid to go to sleep, he just sat up most of the night questioning his sexuality. He knew he was straight, he'd always known that, there's never been a doubt in his head... until Brian. Now his head was nothing but doubts.

The way Brian was acting wasn't making things any easier. He'd flirt with Steve but not in his usual flamboyant torture-the-straight-guy way; this was subtle flirtation, almost shy. At other times he'd be aloof and snap at everyone, glancing at Steve with a look of pain in his eyes. He tried to ask what was wrong, if he'd offended Brian, but the singer just tsked and walked away.

There was a rustling behind him and a shy voice squeaking out his name. He tried not to groan as he turned around, plastering on a smile for whatever fan stood behind him. When his eyes hit her, he felt a familiar stirring; it was another Brianette. She was barely 5'5" and wearing a Slave to the Wage shirt and catholic school girl's skirt. It wasn't an exact match. Her nose was too small, her eyes too blue, but her lips were a similar shape and her shoulders had the same graceful swoop to them. Steve flashed her a grin, more genuine this time, and took the napkin and glitter pen she was clutching in her trembling hands.

"Who should I make this out to?" he asked, offering her the seat next to him.

"Sandra," she giggled out nervously, sliding onto the stool beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian dug through his suitcase, tossing things onto the floor or over his shoulder. He'd spent the past two hours drinking gin and chain smoking but now the bottle was empty and he was frantically searching for another pack of cigarettes. He grabbed his make-up case and turned it upside down over the bed, spilling bottle and tubes across the comforter but not finding his much needed hit of nicotine.

This thing with Steve was making him crazy. No matter what he tried he couldn't get it out of his head. He'd forgotten birthday parties, New Years eve, the entire trip to Amsterdam, but no amount of drugs could cloud this memory and all the alcohol in the world couldn't wash the taste of Steve from his tongue.

He'd been making a fool of himself lately. He chose his cloths based on the question 'will Steve like this?' He found himself making passes at him then getting angry when it was laughed off. His moods were swinging a mile a minute and his brain had turned into a pile of mush. At last night's show he'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he'd completely forgot the lyrics to Bionic. His lust for Steve had transformed into full blown obsession and the rejection was slowly ripping him apart.

Having found no cigarettes, he gave a violent kick to his luggage for not being more helpful then shrugged into his trench coat. A quick run out for fags and booze and in a few more hours he could be lost in drunken oblivion.

He stepped out of his door just as Steve was ushering his latest groupie into his room across the hall. All three stopped and an awkward silence descended on the corridor. Brian let his gaze roam over the girl at Steve's side, noticing the unmistakable similarities between her and himself. His face went pale as his tired, blood shot eyes raised to Steve's. "I thought you preferred red heads."

Part 4

The silence was torturous. Each passing second felt like the strike of a whip and each unshed tear that welled in Brian's eyes was like vinegar being poured into the wounds. Steve's mouth moved wordlessly. He tried to find a way to explain, to smooth things out and take away the hurt look on Brian's face. Instead, he just stood there dumb.

"Hey, you're Brian Molko!" Sandra's high pitched voice broke through the awkwardness and she reached in her purse for the napkin Steve had signed. She rushed forward, holding it in front of her, but Steve managed to grab her before she could ask for an autograph and ushered her into his hotel room. He shut her in, leaving him alone with his stunned bandmate.

"You know..." Brian stuttered, his face red with anger, "You... how... what the..." He groaned in frustration and turned away, stomping down the hall towards the elevator.

Steve raced after him, grasping his shoulder and spinning him around. "Wait, please, let me explain."

"Explain what?" Brian asked indigently. "Explain that I'm not good enough for you? That you like fucking with my head? Oh wait, let me guess, it's the age old excuse that co-workers shouldn't get involved. Leave me alone Steve. Go back to your groupie. Try fucking her up the ass, it'll make the fantasy more real."

It took him a moment to recover from Brian's stinging words. His hand clenched at his chest, feeling like he'd been punched repeatedly. He knew he couldn't let Brian leave, not like this. Jumping in-between the lift doors, Steve stopped them from closing and blocked Brian from getting out. "Would you just let me talk for five fucking seconds?"

Cornered as he was, Brian had no choice but to cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the wall. He looked at Steve with challenge in his eyes, trying to exude power and strength instead of crumpling to the floor like he wanted to.

"I like you," Steve said and cringed at the glimmer of hope that touched Brian's face. "You're just... not my type. I mean, you're smart and beautiful and I love you as a friend I just..."

"Fuck women that look like me?" He rolled his eyes, taking a step closer. "She's not the first, is she?"

"Steve didn't answer, but his eyes dropped to the floor and the look on his face was confirmation enough.

"How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged, still unable to meet Brian's gaze. "A few months maybe. Look Brian, I don't know why I'm doing it. I can't say how it started, it just did. I can't sleep, I can't eat, all I do is think of you. You're like a siren drawing men to you and even I can't resist your call."

Brian's face softened. He walked toward his friend, his love, his obsession, and placed one hand on his chest, the other reaching up to cradle his face. "Oh Steve, why didn't you tell me?"

Steve shrugged, staring down at Brian's shoes. "How am I supposed to tell you something like that?"

With a sly smile, Brian took a step closer, pressing his body against Steve as his hands snaked around his neck. "You could have done this," he whispered, pressing his lips to Steve's. He moaned, his entire body feeling like it was melting as sparks of fire passed from Steve's mouth into his.

He wasn't expecting the hands on his chest pushing him away, the sudden rush of air to his lips seemed foul compared to Steve's sweet breath. "Damnit Brian! It's not like that!"

The smaller man blinked in bewilderment, his bottom lip starting to quiver. "But... you said..."

"I know what I said!" Steve let out a frustrated sigh. "And I meant what I said, but that doesn't mean I'm going to act on it. I'm straight, Brian. I'll always be straight. I can't be with a man, it just wouldn't work."

At first Brian looked hurt, devistated, but then his lips twisted into a spiteful sneer. "We worked out just fine last week."

"What?" Steve blinked in confusion.

"Remember that dream? The one that had you walking on air? That was no dream, sweetie pie, that was me. Your straight boy cock had no trouble cumming in my mouth that night, now did it?"

Steve felt rage build up inside of him and it took all his reserve not to smack the smug look off of Brian's face. "You had no right to take advantage of me while i was drunk!"

"And you have no right to fuck me without me being there!" he screamed and pushed Steve clear of the elevator, a bit surprised by his own strength. He hit the door close-button while shouting, "Go! Fuck your groupie! Feel like a man because you've got a twat around you! Don't come crying to me when she leave you unsatisfied!"

He watched Steve's face disappear behind the closing doors, felt the box lurch and start it's decent. "Steve you bastard," he spat to the empty space, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes before they made it to his cheeks. "You stupid, selfish, uncaring bastard! Why can't I just stop loving you?"

Part 5

It had been three days of sheer hell. Brian kept up appearances, laughing and joking to the press, but once the cameras were gone he became a different person. Refusing to speak to anyone, he would just lock himself in his hotel room or curl up in the back of the bus. Stefan had tried to ask him what was wrong but Brian would always just shake his head, tears welling in his eyes. When he got no response there, he tried asking Steve if he knew what was the matter, but the drummer just shrugged, a look of guilt crossing his face. Stefan was starting to feel he was being shut out by his two best friends, both of which seemed to be in deep states of depression, and there was nothing he could do to make them open up.
The Swede knocked on Brian's door early Friday morning, expecting to have to go in and drag him out of bed like he always did when they had a 6 a.m. departure time. To his surprise, the door swung open and the raven haired boy gave him a weak smile, looking like he hadn't slept at all the night before. "Give me a hand with these, will you luv?" he asked softly, motioning to his bags.
They made their way silently down the hallway, Stef trying to think of a conversation starter but his mind pulling a blank. They watched the numbers above the elevator as it rose to their floor and the doors slid open revealing a very melancholic looking Steve. "Oh, I was just coming to get you two."
"Well, I guess we saved you a trip," Stefan said cheerily and stepped into the lift. Brian shuffled along behind him, setting down his heavy overnight bag and leaning into the corner furthest away from his bandmates.
There was a low rumble and a grating of gears. The elevator jumped, bouncing it's occupants and Brian grabbed onto Stef's arm to steady himself. There was another loud noise and the lift came to a jolting stop. They were plunged into total blackness for a moment before the hotel's generator kicked in and a small, dim light shone down on them.
"W...what's happening?" Brian whispered, clutching onto Stefan's arm.
He shrugged and looked to Steve. "Maybe it's a power outage?"
"It was raining pretty badly when I went downstairs," Steve replied.
Brian shot him a vicious look. "I was asking Stef, not you."
"Let's not argue," Stef pleaded. "Everything will be back on in a minute, I'm sure. We'll just hang tight and wait it out."
All three stood there, staring at the doors as if they could get the machinery to work through telekinesis. After a few minutes, Stef noticed a high pitched keening coming from his left. Oh great! One hell of a time for Brian's claustrophobia to act up.
"Stef?" he said in a small voice, his fingers digging into the taller man's arm. "What if they can't fix it? What if the cable breaks? What if we fall? What if we end up an icky pile of goo at the bottom of the lift? I don't want to die in such a cheep hotel!"
Stefan reached over to pat Brian's hand, trying to nonchalantly make him lessen his grip. "That's not going to happen, okay?"
"But it's so... small in here." He tugged at his collar like he was having trouble breathing.
"Just relax, okay? Hey, remember that birthday party I had at my place last year?" He had to ask the question twice before Brian heard and gave him a weak nod. "Remember when Berry suggested we play truth or dare and we all ended up in my tiny little closet for like two hours? Well, just pretend that we're doing that again. You were fine there."
"I was drunk," he said flatly, still pulling at his shirt. "And I wasn't suspend 20 stories above the ground."
Steve let out a deep sigh and reached into his coat, pulling out the one possession he hadn't been without since his fight with Brian earlier that week. He brought the large silver flask to his ear and shook it; still half full. "Here," he said softly, holding it out to his bandmate.
Brian glared, wanting to tell Steve he could shove it up his ass, that he didn't need anything from him. Then he remembered the current situation and the walls closing in seemed to be enough to make him swallow his pride. He reached out and took it between shaking hands. The whisky burned a way down his throat and spread a warmth throughout his skin. A few more shots and the floor began to wobble as he felt the alcohol creep up on him. "Damn," he whispered, not realizing how low his alcohol tolerance was on an empty stomach.
He tried to give the bottle back to Steve but stumbled over his bag and fell forward. The brunette caught him. His arms, strong from playing drums, kept him from landing on the floor. Their eyes met and for a moment the world seemed to slip away. They forgot about the blackout, the motionless elevator, and Stefan standing quietly against the wall. Brian looked into Steve's face and he felt his desire, his need to be touched and accepted by this man, to be looked at like he was beautiful and special again. As Steve stared between Brian's massacred lashes he remembered their friendship, the tingle that went through him when Brian smiled or a photographer asked them to pose a certain way. Steve broke the gaze. He helped the smaller man right himself and took a few steps away.
The band stood in strained silence, Stefan looking curiously from person to person and the other two staring intently at the carpet. Brian sunk to the floor in the corner rubbing his tired eyes, now bleary from the alcohol. He hiccuped, bringing his hand to his mouth with an embarrassed grin. "So little Brian does remember how to smile!" Stef said cheerily.
Brian giggled softly, reaching for the flask that had been dropped to the floor and taking another swig. "It was completely involuntary, I assure you. I wouldn't do such a thing of my own free will."
"And why is that?" Stef slid down the wall to sit next to him. "You used to smile all the time."
"Just.. not feeling all that happy lately." Brian tried to be passive and mysterious but Stef noticed his eyes flicker up to Steve.
"What is going on with you two?"
"Nothing," Steve answered quickly.
"Oh sure, ignore the problem. That's just like you Hewitt," Brian shot back, taking another hit off the bottle. The flask was snatched from him mid-gulp, making him cough and try to keep the liquid down.
"It's better than getting pissed an insulting people."
"At least I don't do it while I'm sober, like you do!"
"Enough!" Stef shouted, holding up his hands to try and get their attention. "For fuck's sake! You two ignore each other for days and now you finally open your mouths and it's just to fight! What the hell happened between you two?"
"Nothing," Steve repeated, turning around to see if the elevator had a call box.
"Bull shit!" Stef shouted.
With a soft hiss, the elevator sprang to life again. Steve immediately hit the button for the next floor and slipped out, saying he was taking the stair. Brian burst into tears the minute the doors had closed again.
Him and Stef rode down to the lobby where they found a quiet corner and sat down. With his face buried in the other man's chest, Brian told the whole story. He gave the details of their drunken night of passion, of his week of torturing himself with guilt, and the horrible fight that had brought them to their current state. "Oh Stef," he sobbed. "I just can't take it. I love him so much, I always have, you know that. But before it was just a silly crush, something to fantasize about when I needed a smile. Now that I know he feels the same way I just can't let it be a crush anymore. And he's too fucking scared to admit what he really is!"
Stefan stroked his hair, too flabbergasted to think of anything to say. When the tour manager came to collect them he had to hold Brian around the waist to keep him standing up, it'd been two days since he last slept and the events of this morning were wearing him out. The two climbed onto the bus and Stefan helped Brian into one of the bunks, taking off his shoes and pulling a blanket around him. "Thanks luv," he whispered, his small hand reaching out to squeeze Stef's.
The Swede smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Anytime. Just get some sleep."
He opened the door to the back, seeing Steve sip from his flask as he watched the scenery start to pass by outside. "Did the little bugger tell you?" he asked. "Look, he probably exaggerated the whole thing. You know how emotional and melodramatic Brian can be."
"Fuck you Hewitt." Stef picked up a magazine and sat down in the seat farthest away from the drummer.
"Oh sure, blame the straight guy."
The magazine flew through the air and pegged Steve on the back of the head. "I'm going to sleep," he announced, moving back through the door.
"Bloody fine!" Steve shouted, turning back to the window. "I like it better by myself anyway." He concentrated on the scenery as he killed off the rest of his flask.

Part 6

He was so angry, Stef had to remind himself not to slam the door as he passed into the other room. Sitting on one of the bunks, he shed his shirt then bent over to start unlacing his boots. A hand snaked out from the curtain across from him and pulled it back, revealing the tired and tear shrieked face of Brian. “Hey,” he mumbled softly.
“I thought you were going to sleep. You looked about ready to pass out.”
The singer shrugged and rolled onto his back. He unfrayed an endless loose string on his blanket, twirling it around his finger until the tip turned purple. “Can’t sleep.”
With a heavy sigh, Stef moved over to his bunk and sat down. Brian immediately rolled toward him, his head finding Stefan’s lap and his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Stef petted his hair lovingly, his fingers starting at his forehead and making a slow journey to the nape of his neck, feeling the raven tresses slip over his palm. “It’s not worth all this, Bri. You never sleep, you barely eat, every time I see you it looks like you just stopped crying. You can’t keep this up while we’re on tour or you’re going to exhaust yourself.”
“I bet he wouldn’t even notice,” Brian sighed, his arms holding Stefan’s hips a little tighter. “I could pass out in the middle of a show and he’d be oblivious. He’d just keep playing his drums, scanning the audience for cute girls. Oh, but not just any girls, cute girls that look like ME. Meanwhile, I could have one foot in the grave and he’d barely pay me any mind.”
“That’s not true. He cares for you just as much as I do. He’s just... I don’t know, confused I guess.”
There was a long silence. Stef kept caressing Brian’s hair, his other hand rubbing up and down his back. The bus rolled with a steady motion, rocking them back and forth. He thought Brian had finally fallen asleep and was leaning his head back to try and do the same when a small voice came up from his lap. “Stef? Do you think I’d make a better woman?”
“What?”
Brian leaned up on his elbows, tilting his head back so he could look at his bassist. “I mean, do you think I’m better as a girl than a boy? People have been saying it for years and I do like wearing skirts and make-up and... well... they say the operation’s not THAT bad.”
Stefan grabbed Brian’s shoulders and pulled him up so they were at eye level. He tried to keep his voice calm, trying to hide his anger incase Brian mistook it as anger toward him. “Listen to me very carefully. You are perfect just the way you are. I know that, the fans know that, YOU used to know that. If Steve can’t see it then he’s not worth your time. Jesus Bri, I can understand changing your hair to win over a guy but this is going too far!”
“I just want to feel beautiful again,” he whispered, his head hanging down toward the mattress. Stefan lifted it by his chin, forcing Brian’s eyes to meet his.
“You are beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful and you always will be. Just stop this, okay? It breaks my heart to see you like this.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, falling against Stefan’s chest. “I’m getting too old for these one night stands. I want something more, something that will last. The only stable things in my life right now are you and Steve and when he said he liked me, well, for that one second it made me so happy. I thought I’d finally found what I’d been looking for. Someone I could be with all the time and not just when the tour was in the right town. Someone who cared for me for who I am and not what I am. No one knows me, Stef. No one but you and Steve. Everyone else, all they see is an image and whatever paper doll the press has made me into that week. I just know I could make him happy, I KNOW it, but he wont even let me try.”
“Then don’t try,” Stef whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Don’t change yourself to make him happy. You make plenty of people happy just the way you are. You make me happy like this.”
Brian looked up at him, the barest hint of a smile shining up through his tears. “Really?”
Stefan cupped his chain, giving him a warm grin, “Really.” He leaned down, closing his eyes as his lips searched out Brian’s forehead again. The singer’s head moved from his grasp and the feel of two fleshy lips against his own made Stefan jump. He opened his eyes, looking down at Brian’s fluttering eyelashes, his hips moving as he pulled himself up more on the bed, his mouth pressing firmly against Stefan’s. Small fingers traced the curve of Stefan’s neck, flowing softly over his chest and moving around his belly button. “I’ll stop in a minute,” Brian moaned between kisses. “I just want to feel happy for one more minute.”
The kiss was broke before then as Stefan grabbed Brian’s legs and pulled hard, sending the smaller man slamming to the bed on his back. The Swede was on top of him in seconds, his mouth gnawing at Brian’s neck.
“Wait,” Brian gasped, his hands hovering about Stefan’s back, unsure if he should touch him or not. “What about Tony?” Brian knew that Stefan and his boyfriend were trying to be monogamous and the last thing he wanted was to have another friend thinking Brian the slut had taken advantage of them.
Stefan raised his head but his eyes didn’t meet Brian’s. “We broke up.”
“What?” Brian gasped, raising up slightly and placing a hand lovingly on Stefan’s shoulder. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“About a week ago. You and Steve both seemed to be having problems of your own so what would have been the use of annoying you with mine?”
Brian whimpered and snuggled his head into Stefan’s neck. “Oh baby I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you like that. I should have known. I’m a terrible friend. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Don’t be sorry,” Stef said with a shake of his head. “I’m not. It’s been over for a while but neither one of us wanted to admit it. We were convenient for each other. Just someone to be with since we couldn’t have the ones we really wanted.”
Brian pulled back and smiled at him, kissing the tip of his nose. “Who is it you really want?” Maybe practicing his matchmaking skills could take his mind off Steve for a while. Plus, Stef above all deserved to be happy.
“You,” he whispered, raising his eyes to meet Brian’s.
His face melted and he forgot how to breath. No one had ever looked at him like that before, with such love and sincerity in his eyes. Brian shook his head softly, “Don’t fuck with me Stefan. I can’t take it today.”
“I know, and I’m not” he said, leaning against Brian to push both of them gently back to the bed. His head dipped down again, his tongue rolling over one of Brian’s nipples. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t... stop,” he panted, his hips rising up to press against Stefan’s stomach. A smile flitted across Brian’s face as he felt his bandmate’s mouth journey lower and the rest of the world slipped away with the softness of his touch.

Part 7

Brian was awoken by soft lips kissing his eyelids and fingers running through his hair. He smiled, thinking it was the nicest wake-up call he’d ever gotten. “What time is it?”
“A little past noon. We’re stopped for lunch. You hungry?”
His eyes flew open as his stomach grumbled like mad at the suggestion. “Oh fuck yeah! I feel like I haven’t eaten anything in a week.”
“You probably haven’t,” Stefan smirked. “I know how you get when you’re upset.”
Brian wrapped his arms around the Swede’s neck, his face lighting up. “Well I’m not upset anymore. And I want a table for two, chicken marsala, and red candles.”
“How about a semi-clean booth, a BK Broiler, and a little plastic thingy trying to get you to buy an apple pie?”
“Only if you’ll king size my fries. I don’t like going out with tight-wads!” They both laughed and headed off the bus. Brian still looked haggard from his recent bout of stress but there was a genuine smile lighting up his face and showing hope of recovery.
Steve came out a moment later and glared at Stef and Brian’s joined hands. He’d heard everything they’d been up to, there was no such thing as privacy on a tiny tour bus, but he didn’t want to believe it was anything more than sympathy. Now he knew the truth. Shaking his head, he turned his back on the Burger King they were all in front of and headed to the liquor store across the street. Brian looked sad for a moment. “Maybe he’ll meet a nice girl in the whiskey aisle and go have 9 more babies with her.”
Stefan wrapped his arm around Brian’s shoulder, leading him into the fast food joint. “Just give him time to figure himself out. Everything will be back to normal in a few more weeks, you’ll see.”
He smiled up at him, loving Stefan’s constant optimism.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weeks went by but things were far from normal. Steve was hitting the bottle pretty hard and proving to be a nasty drunk. The rest of the band avoided him as much as possible and it was a wonder shows were still going so smoothly. They were just counting the days until the tour ended and they could get some much needed space.
Brian was standing at his hotel window, humming happily to himself as he brushed his wet hair and stared down at the twinkling city lights. The show had been fantastic but afterwards Steve had immediately disappeared, which was becoming habit for him. Stef and Brian had decided to skip the after party as well in exchange for a quiet night alone snuggled in the sweet smelling hotel sheets. They’d gone their separate ways to freshen up, the stage lights had been pretty intense and neither one was feeling his most attractive at that moment. Fresh from a shower and wrapped in a complimentary bathrobe, Brian was eagerly awaiting his lover’s arrival.
“It’s open,” he called out when the knock came to his door, turning and leaning against the window frame with a ‘come and get me’ look on his face, letting the robe fall open to reveal his thighs. Steve entered, stumbling and cursing, before catching sight of Brian and taking a moment to just stare.
“What the fuck are you doing here!” the singer said, pulling the robe tightly around him and wrapping his arms around his chest modestly.
“I… um… I just wanted to talk,” Steve muttered, his blood shot eyes turning towards the floor.
“Make it quick, I’ve got company coming.”
“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”
Brian could help but laugh at that remark, plopping down on his bed and pulling his legs up under him. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous!”
“What do you think?”
“Fuck you Hewitt. You had your chance. What do you want? You want me to give up Stef? Give up happiness? Be miserable and stay single forever just so you can worship me from afar? I can tell you right now that’s not going to happen.”
“No,” he said softly, lowering himself into the room’s only chair. “Fuck whoever you want, it’s none of my business.”
“Damn right.”
“That’s not why I came up here anyway.”
“Then why did you?”
Steve tried to raise his head, he was having trouble meeting Brian’s gaze. “I was thinking about.. what happened… that night. It was… you were… very good.” He shrugs softly, digging out his flask for another hit. “I just thought maybe… we could do it again.”
Brian gaped for a moment, glancing around the room for something to throw. Very slowly his astonishment turned to amusement, his mouth closing into a sly smile. He stood, tightening the belt of his robe and crossing the room in a slow stride. Steve’s eyes lit up and he quickly put down his flask, undoing his fly in preparation for what was to come. Brian sunk to his knees, his hands flowing over Steve’s denim cover thighs as his eyes raised to look at him.
“You think you’re original, Bean? I’ve lived this scenario before. Dozens of times. A girlish boy in school, trying to forget the humiliation of the P.E. class he’d just lived through, cornered in the locker room by that week’s top sports star. It was always the same. ‘Hey Brian, guess what, I’m gonna let you suck my dick.’ Like it was some great privilege. Mr. Sports star gets to lean back against the shower and be pleasured but what does Miss Nancy Boy get? A teaspoon of sperm to swallow? As if it’s some golden nectar of the Gods?” He reached his hands out, black enameled fingers finding Steve’s zipper and pulling it up. “MY sports star will be here in a few minutes,” he said coolly as he stood and backed away. “And this one gives and well as receives.”
Steve reached for him, grabbing Brian’s arm and pulling him back. “No wait, please.”
“Please what? Degrade myself so you can throw it in my face? That little boy in Luxemburg has grown up. It’s too bad you didn’t meet me sooner.”
He pulled himself away, trying to compose himself as he went to answer the knock at the door. His arms wrapped around Stef as soon as he came into view, kissing him with more force than he’d intended. Stefan grabbed Brian’s ass, pulling him close, and then noticed another prescience in the room. “Oh… sorry… am I interrupting?”
“Nonsense,” Brian giggled, slapping him playfully. “Steve was just leaving. Weren’t you Steve?”
Steve looked at them, his eyes taking in every inch of their bodies as they embraced, seeing Stefan do it with an openness that Steve knew he’d never possess. Looking back to the floor he nodded and pushed past them, stepping out the door.
“Oh Steve,” Brian called, moving over to the chair he’d been sitting in and tossing him the flask. “Don’t forget this.”
Steve didn’t move even after the door had been shut. He just stood there, staring at the numbers. ‘This is how it all started,’ he thought. ‘If I’d found the right room that night, if I hadn’t been so drunk, then Brian would have never known and everything would still be normal.’ He shoved the silver bottle back into his pocket, lowering his head and shuffling toward the elevator.

Part 8

Stefan crinkled his nose at the New York Times crossword puzzle that was spread out in front of him. He’d gone through half the clues and only managed to think up two answers. “Fuck, you’d have to be a doctor, scientist, and historian to do this thing.” He chewed on his lower lip, hovering his pencil lead above one of the boxes trying to decide whether or not the answer he was thinking was right.
The chair next to him scraped the floor and Stef did a pronounced double take when he saw Steve slide into it. The drummer had been redefining the word ‘antisocial’ in recent weeks and his company was the last thing Stef expected.
“Do you love him?” his voice was gruff and his eyes were badly bloodshot. He must have hit the bottle pretty early that day.
“I…”
“It’s not a hard question. Either you love him or you don’t”
“Easy mate. Yeah, I think I do.”
“You think? You’re not sure?”
“Oh you’re one to talk. You’re not even sure if you’re straight! Fine. Yes. I’m sure. I love him. Happy?”
The wince made it obvious he wasn’t. Steve’s bottom lip started trembling as a few sparkling tears rolled down his cheeks. Never, in all the years they’d known each other, had Stefan ever seen him cry.
“Does he… does he love you?”
“He says he does,” Stef mumbled, fixing his gaze on his hands fidgeting on the tabletop. Steve sobbed, it was a tiny sound but it was enough to make Stef feel like he was being ripped limb from limb. “We love you too,” he whispered, wanting some way to make his friend feel better.
“As a friend. Probably not even as that anymore.” Steve was sniffling and wiping his cheeks with a shirtsleeve. His free hand raised the ever-present flask to his flushed lips but Stefan intercepted and wrestled it away.
“This isn’t doing you any good. It isn’t doing any of us any good. You’ve got to pull yourself together. You’ve a life beyond me and Brian. How do you think Em would feel having a drunk for a father? You need to get on with your life.”
“Why… why wont he have me? Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t let him!” Stefan took a deep breath, getting his voice under control. “He would have, Steve. I bet he would have loved you until the day he died. But you broke his heart. You made him feel used and abandoned. How would you feel if you were in his shoes?”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair slowly, letting them glide from scalp to tip as soft as air. With a nod he rose and headed for the door. His tears had stopped but he didn’t bother to wash away the ones that were still wetting his cheeks. Stefan caught up with him, digging a Kleenex out of his pocket and using it to mop up the mess on Steve’s face. “Does he hate me?” Steve whispered.
“No, of course not. He’s just a little miffed. It’ll pass.”
“Do you hate me?”
“You know me better than that. You’d probably have to kill my first-born son to make me hate you. And considering I’m not having any sons, I think you’re pretty safe.”
“You’d make a good father.” Steve reached up, tracing the pads of his fingers over Stefan’s temple. “I bet you’re a perfect boyfriend too. Brian… he’s lucky to have you.”
Stefan nodded, giving Steve a small smile. “We’re doubly lucky.” He looked at Steve, studying his eyes, the pressure of his hand on his face.
“I had a strange dream last night,” Steve whispered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian flicked another pistachio shell at the t.v. screen, making booing noises as the cheating transsexual with a urination fetish took the stage on Jerry Springer. The outdoor concert they’d been scheduled to play had been cancelled due to adverse weather and American t.v. left a lot to be desired. He’d tried to call Stef over for some companionship but got a hurried, “I’m right in the middle of something, I’ll call you back” before the dial tone was sent to keep him company. He absently toyed with his cock as he watched the rain pound against his window. Up, down, in time with the storm. He wasn’t trying to come, just distract himself from his boredom.
He leapt from the bed when a knock came on his door. Figuring it was Stefan, he didn’t bother covering his naked body before answering it, finding a very shocked and blushing bellboy on the other side.
“Mr… Molko?” he squeaked out.
“The one and only.”
“A… a message was left for you.”
Brian took the slip of paper from his trembling hand with exaggerated motions, posing and flexing his body for the teen’s gaping eyes. “I would give you a tip but I’m afraid I don’t have my wallet on me. Unless, of course, there’s something else you’d prefer as gratuity.”
“Uh, not necessary sir, have a nice day.”
Brian couldn’t help but laugh as the youth made a dash for the stairwell. He retreated back into the room and unfolded the cream colored paper with the hotel’s emblem stamped on the front.

‘Brian Molko-
8 o’clock. My room. Bring an open mind.
-Stef’

With a giggle he pulled his suitcase out from under the bed, wondering what outfit would go with an open mind.

To be continued...