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One Ring To Rule Your Ass

QAF US, B/J, B/M friendship. Post-Season 3, no season 4 spoilers. Mentions fisting, but nothing graphic. For sisabet.

Brian was sitting at his computer when Justin opened the door to the apartment and walked up to him. He just stood there for a moment, staring at Brian, who didn't raise his eyes from the computer screen.

"Don't freak out," Justin said finally.

Brian's gaze slid up from the online classifieds suspiciously. "What did you do?"

Justin flashed a quick, nervous smile. "Okay, so I went to the mall with Daphne yesterday. It's a tradition with us. Ever since we were in sixth grade, the last weekend in August, we go to the mall and buy shoes."

"Sometimes I'm genuinely stunned that no one suspected your sexual orientation until you were seventeen."

"So we were at the mall," Justin continued, ignoring him. "And I wanted to go to the jewelry store, because I can't find my nipple ring. And I know it's getting to the point where I'm too much of an adult to be wearing a nipple ring, but I don't want the piercing to close up completely, so I wanted to buy something, and they have this nice store at the mall that has good stuff and it's not too expensive."

"Did you know that the average human life span is eighty-two years?" Brian interrupted. "So if you continue at this rate, I might not survive to hear the end of the story."

Justin reached into his pocket. "I understand that some level of freaking out is unavoidable," he said. "I just ask that you don't change your name and move away, or kill me in my sleep."

Brian's eyes narrowed. "I'm not making any promises."

Justin reached forward, careful not to let his body fall within grabbing distance of Brian. His hand was closed over something, and he was babbling quickly. "I gotta go to work and if I don't see you at Woody's later I'll be back here after bye." He dropped the item on the desk and ran out the door.

It was a small box. A small jewelry box, sitting in front of him, and Brian decided he was going to have to kill that boy in his sleep, just on principle.

He ignored the gift, continuing with his job search, hoping the box might just disappear. But after a while he realized he would have to get rid of it himself, so he poured a glass of scotch and opened it up.

It was a gold band with black lines around each edge, and a simple engraved pattern between the black. Brian could immediately tell it was fourteen carat, and while it probably didn't cost more than two hundred dollars, it wasn't cheap jewelry. It was actually a classy design, he had to admit, were he the type of person to wear rings, and not the type of person to pawn rings and then buy more scotch, which he'd probably do tomorrow.

He composed a few cover letters, printed them, took a shower, and called Michael. As he was getting dressed, it occurred to him that the ring might be a very good knock-off instead of real gold, which meant less scotch tomorrow, which would piss him off all evening unless he knew for sure. He took the ring out from the drawer where he'd stashed it, and looked on the inside for the marking.

It did, in fact, say "14K". But there was also an engraving, in light capital letters: "You'll do, for now."

Brian couldn't help but chuckle. It was somewhat clever, and he was almost moderately impressed. He tossed the ring back in the drawer and got ready to leave.

But as he was putting on his coat, he remembered one of his all-time favorite sex fantasies. It wasn't anything special, but it was the only one he hadn't been able to fulfill, which made it more exciting. The idea was to have someone blow him under the table at Sosiega while the waiter took his order. It was relatively tame, but since he'd never managed to do it, it was a constant annoyance.

There was no lack of people willing to blow him, but the logistics of the event kept tripping him up. Sosiega was the new, trendy, ridiculously expensive restaurant in town. It was high class for the average Pittsburgh resident, so your everyday trick was too timid to even go there, much less suck cock publicly there. Also, getting a guy to the place would involve picking him up at Babylon, and then either walking or driving to the restaurant, and Brian didn't usually have the patience to wait that long for a blow job once the guy was there and willing.

Not to mention that the funniest part would be all the patrons and wait staff witnessing the blowjob at the beginning of the evening, and then Brian and the trick staying to eat dinner while people around them whispered among themselves. But Brian wasn't going to spend an entire meal talking to some random idiot he'd picked up in a club. It would have to be someone he could fuck and also have a conversation with, someone who could suck dick like a pro and also knew hold a fork correctly, with narrowed it down to Justin.

Had he thought up the fantasy two years ago, he was sure a teenaged, eager-to-please Justin would've been happy to comply. But the idea didn't occur to him until a few months back, at the beginning of what he described as Justin's I-am-such-a-special-little-political-homosexual phase. So late one night when he suggested it, sure that the post-orgasmic calm would convince Justin of anything, Justin launched into a lecture about the pretentiousness and exclusivity of wealthy heterosexuals, and how Justin wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge their social hierarchy by openly mocking it. Then he said some other things, but Brian stopped listening and fell asleep.

Brian turned the ring over in his hand and considered its many uses. Like the ring in that movie about the gay elves that Justin had made him watch, this ring could have a great deal of power if wielded by a strong man for his own evil purposes. If he wore the ring, it would make Justin so happy. A ten year-old at Disneyland happy. Christmas miracle happy. Suck my cock in the most fancy restaurant in town happy.

Brian slipping the ring onto his right middle finger, and walked outside.

At Woody's, Michael didn't seem to notice Brian's new jewelry. He was too busy rambling alternately about his and Justin's lame comic book, and his and Ben's lame foster hustler. Brian put it out of his mind, instead choosing to mock the ugly fags as they walked into the bar, and rate all the ones he'd fucked on a scale of one to ten.

Ben was out with some of his professor friends, so the two of them were left to their own devices, which turned into a drinking game. The rule was that every time you saw a guy in the bar, and you could remember the size of his cock but not his first name, you had to take a shot. After a few rounds of this, the rules changed so that Brian had to take a shot every time he called Michael pathetic, and Michael had to take a shot every time he told Brian to shut the fuck up.

Brian had completely forgotten about the ring until he came back from the bar, handed Michael another drink, and Michael suddenly screamed.

"What?" Brian said as he sat back down. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Michael pointed at Brian's hand. "You have a ring on!"

Brian held up his right hand and looked at it curiously. "Oh yeah."

Michael's mouth dropped open. "You realize I'm going to have to mock you about this until you die."

Brian scowled. "It's not like that, jackass. It's like...like that movie with the gay midgets."

Michael frowned. "Zack O'Toole on the Yellow Brick Road?"

"Not porn," Brian said. "The two midgets were traveling, and they kept hugging at a volcano or some shit. It was in the regular theaters."

"There was porn in the regular theaters?"

"It is not a ring!" Brian yelled. "It's all part of my evil plan, which I don't completely remember right now, so shut up."

Michael gestured to the drink in front of Brian. "Take a shot. You have to take a shot every time you're evil."

Brian pointed right back at him. "You have to take a shot every time you're stupid."

"Let me see it," Michael said, holding out his hand.

Brian took the ring off and handed it over. "But be careful with it," he said. "Its power cannot be contained by mere mortals."

Michael examined the ring, read the inscription, and chuckled. "Oh my god, you are so married."

"I'm not married," Brian argued. "I can fuck whoever I want. As a matter of fact, I'm going to the baths soon."

Michael looked at his wrist. "Yeah, I should get home, because I can't read the time on my watch right now, which means it's time to go."

"You're not wearing a watch," Brian pointed out. "Now give me my ring back. I'm going to get my dick sucked at Sosiega as soon as Justin sees me, but I think need the ring for that."

Michael handed the ring back to him. "You have the weirdest relationship ever."

"No, you do," Brian said. "Because now that you're in a relationship, you can't go to the baths anymore. You're pathetic."

"I can go to the baths," Michael said. "I just can't fuck anyone there. But I don't want to fuck anyone there, because I get all the dick I need at home." He stuck out his tongue.

"Then you'll come to the baths with me," Brian said. He grabbed Michael's hand and pulled him outside without waiting for him to argue.

"This is gonna be cool," Brian said as they walked down the street. "Like when we were kids, remember?"

Michael laughed. "Junior year, right? When you brought those porn magazines into school, and we hid them in our math books. And Mrs. Knapp, the librarian, was like, 'Wow! You boys just love calculus!'"

"And you didn't believe that people could really be fisted." Brian raised his voice in a teenage-Michael impression. "'The pictures are fake! It's special effects, like in Star Wars.'"

"So you proved it could be done." They stopped at a metal door and Michael nodded to it reverently. "Right here, at the Liberty Baths."

Brian put his arm around Michael. "Mikey's introduction to fisting. Good times."

Michael giggled into Brian's shoulder. "That poor guy. He was all moaning and gasping and you were all, 'Tell my friend if this is cool or not.'"

"We should do it again," Brian suggested. "I'll fist some guy and you watch. It'll be funny."

Michael covered his face with his hands, but quickly gave in, reaching for the doorknob. "Never tell Ben."

"We won't remember a damn thing tomorrow anyway," Brian assured him, and they walked inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Brian woke up with a pounding headache, a kink in his back, and a sore wrist. It took him a moment to recognize Michael's living room. He sat up, his head spinning, and saw Michael sitting at the table, looking equally miserable.

"What happened?" Brian asked weakly.

Michael took a sip of the water in front of him and winced. "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure I ate sandpaper."

Hunter emerged from the kitchen with a sandwich and smirked at both of them. "Alcohol is bad, yo. And you're setting a terrible example for me."

"Yeah, the next thing you know, you'll be selling your ass on the streets," Brian said with a sneer as he walked into the bathroom.

When he was done pissing and dry heaving, Brian sat at the table with Michael and moaned into a cup of coffee. Then he noticed some odd stains on his shirt, and leaned down to sniff at himself.

"This is lube," he said. "There's lube all over my shirt, and some on my pants. What the fuck?"

Michael's eyes widened. "The baths." He looked towards Hunter's bedroom to make the door was closed. "We went to the baths, and you fisted some guy. Jesus Christ, you can never tell Ben."

"Oh yeah," Brian said. "That was hot." He took a sip of his coffee and tried to remember more. "There was something else though. Something I was supposed to do."

Michael shrugged. "Were you supposed to meet up with Justin?"

"Maybe," Brian said. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and called his place.

"Hey," Justin said when he answered. "Are you at Michael's?"

"Yeah. Were we supposed to do something last night?"

"Nah," Justin said. "I ended up working late and just crashed here. But I got your message, so I'll just meet you there at ten tonight."

"Meet me...where?" Brian asked.

"Wow, how drunk were you last night? You left me this weird message saying we had to go to Sosiega as soon as possible. I called over there to make a reservation, but they said you already called. The reservation's for ten. "

"Oh," Brian said. "Right, there was a...thing."

"So I'll just see you later," Justin said.

"Later," Brian replied. He hung up and turned to Michael, his face pale. "Mikey, do you remember anything about a ring?"

Michael's face brightened with recognition, and he laughed. "Yeah, you were wearing a ring, and arguing that you weren't married, and I kept teasing you about it, and while you were fisting that guy you told me the whole story about how Justin wouldn't blow you at Sosiega, but now he'd be so grateful he'd probably suck your cock in the middle of a church if you asked and -"

Brian held up both of his hands in front of Michael's face. Michael looked confused for a moment, then noticed the lack of any jewelry on Brian's fingers. Brian could see the wheels turning in Michael's head as he retraced their drunken steps, and then Michael's eyes widened.

"Oh my god, Brian, you lost your ring in that guy's ass!"

"I lost my ring in that guy's ass," Brian repeated, not sure if he should laugh or vomit.

"Oh my god," Michael said, standing. "Well, we have to find it, right? I mean, Justin'll be completely heartbroken if he finds out you lost it. And if he finds out how you lost it, he'll flip out. He'll start drawing nothing but pictures of sad clowns, and probably regress into his post traumatic stress disorder and end up institutionalized."

"But most importantly," Brian added. "I won't get my dick sucked tonight at Sosiega."

"We have to find it," Michael said. "Come on."

"I can't go out like this." Brian gestured down to the many lube stains on his clothing.

Michael was already putting on his jacket. "I'll go to the diner and see if there's any gossip about you. The washing machine's in the basement."

"Call my cell if you find out anything. I'll meet you at the diner as soon as I can."

Michael nodded and hurried out the door.

Brian changed into some of Michael's sweats, found some detergent under the kitchen sink, and went down into the building laundry room. He stood in front of the washing machine and contemplated it for a moment.

This should be easy, Brian thought. He'd never technically washed his own clothes before, but how hard could it be? Stupid people do laundry all the time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Michael walked into the diner and approached his mother at the counter.

"Hi sweetie!" she said with a big smile. "What are you up to today?"

"Um...not much," Michael said. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Sure."

Michael leaned over the counter and whispered, "Have you heard any gossip around here lately about Brian?"

"You mean of the 'Brian's a huge slut' variety or the 'Brian's a huge asshole' variety?"

"Anything about what Brian did last night."

Debbie frowned, worried. "Why, is he in some sort of trouble? Because I just saw Justin and -"

"You can't tell Justin," Michael interrupted. "And nothing's wrong with Brian. I just need to know if anyone was gossiping about who he fucked last night."

Debbie sighed and put her hand on her hip. "Sweetheart, you really need to get over your Brian obsession."

"I don't have a Brian obsession!"

"You're in a relationship," Debbie continued. "You have to let go of these past issues and move forward with your life. And while you're at it, stop being jealous over Justin."

"What?"

"You're becoming an adult now, Michael, and it's time you started acting like one." Debbie pointed at him sternly. "So you stop worrying about who Brian's fucking and concentrate on your own life."

"I am concentrating," Michael argued. "I love Ben, and we're great together; I wouldn't give that up for anything. Brian and I are friends. And Justin and I are friends too; we hang out for like four hours every week working on the comic, and we watch anime together for like five hours. I'm not jealous of anyone, or obsessing over anyone. I just need to know -" He sputtered, sighed, and lowered his voice. "Brian and I are investigating a...something. It's very important and top secret so just tell me if you heard who he fucked last night."

Debbie just smiled at him sadly. "No, I haven't heard. And baby, I think you need to take some time off from reading all those comics."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I'll take that into consideration, thanks."

As Debbie walked off to take someone's order, Michael's cell phone rang. When he answered, all Brian said was, "I'm having a bit of an emergency."

~~~~~~~~~~

When Michael found Brian, he was sitting on top of the dryer, soaking wet. Next to him, the washing machine was overflowing with soap bubbles, and most of the basement floor was wet.

"Jesus!" Michael yelled. "How much detergent did you put in there?"

Brian pointed at the machine accusingly. "That fucking thing is defective."

"We don't have time for this," Michael argued. "Go upstairs and borrow some clothes; we need to go."

Michael told Brian that the diner gossip mill turned out to be a bust, so they decided to go back to the baths. By the time they got there it was only four o'clock, but there were still a few men walking around in towels, and they all gave Brian a wink or smile as they passed.

They walked into the first small room on the left, where the leather bear who ran the place sat smoking a cigarette and watching television.

"Hey, Brian," the man said.

"Hey," Brian responded. "Can you help us out with something?"

He grinned and let his eyes rake over Michael's body. "Threesome?"

"Ew," Michael said. "Look, we need some information. Did you see us here last night?"

"More importantly," Brian added. "Did you see the guy I was fisting?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, I was busy the whole night with two twinks from Philadelphia. Didn't see a thing."

"Fuck," Brian groaned.

"Maybe if we go back to where it happened, it'll jog your memory," Michael said. "I think it was the room across the hall."

They moved into the opposite room and looked around. "Yeah," Brian said. "He was laying down here."

Michael nodded. "I remember a blue light. And...moaning."

Brian's eyes lit up. "I remember!"

"His name?" Michael asked excitedly.

"What? No, of course not. But he had brown hair."

"Great, that narrows it down," Michael said. He looked down at the bench where it had taken place. "Wait...I think he had a tattoo." He paused and closed his eyes. "It was on his back. A letter R...and an H. And some sort of diamond design around it."

"RH," Brian said. "Maybe it stands for Really Hard."

"We could go to tattoo parlors," Michael suggested. "Maybe someone would remember him."

"There are probably ten places just around Liberty Avenue. And what are we going to say? Just ask if they've tattooed the letters R and H on anyone?"

"We need a picture of it," Michael said. "To show around. Maybe we could get someone to do a drawing?"

Brian raised his eyebrows. "There's only one person I know of who could do a good drawing based on a description, and currently we're avoiding him."

"Brian," Michael said, annoyed.

A naked man walking past the doorway temporarily distracted Brian. "Uh-huh?"

"The mother of your child."

"Yeah?"

"What does she do for a living?"

The naked man disappeared around the corner, and Brian turned back to Michael. "I don't know. Some lesbian shit. Who gives a fuck?"

Michael sighed. "Come on."

~~~~~~~~~~

The art gallery was busy when they arrived. Some sort of show was going on, and a bunch of incredibly thin women on the arms of old, overweight men were milling around pictures of what Brian thought looked like something Gus might vomit. They found Lindsay in the center of a circle of people, explaining one of the vomit-pieces to them.

"Lindz!" Michael said in a loud whisper. "Can we steal you for a minute?"

Lindsay gave an apologetic smile to the group and stepped over to the side with them.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"

"We need you to draw something," Michael explained. "It's a letter R and a letter H, and behind it is a diamond, only it's kinda like two diamonds, and it's mostly red but a little yellow. Do you have any paper?"

"What is this about?" she asked Brian.

"It's a very long and complicated story," Brian said. "Involving sexual practices a fine, upstanding dyke such as yourself would rather not hear about. But at the central point of the story is your tender blond protégé, whose fragile artistic heart will be broken if I don't find this RH guy. Also, I might not get laid tonight."

"So if you could just find a pen, and like, a napkin or something," Michael said, looking around for any errant pieces of paper.

Brian gestured to the canvas behind her. "Or just draw on top of one of these ugly pieces of shit."

Lindsay grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into the hallway, with Michael following along behind them.

"Brian," she said firmly. "I'm working here. I don't have time to play games with you. Is Justin all right?"

"He's fine," Michael said.

"He's dying," Brian said. "Only your art can save him now."

Michael smacked Brian on the arm. Brian immediately smacked him back. Michael responded with a flurry of slaps to Brian's chest, and Brian tried to defend himself by poking Michael in the ribs.

Lindsay stepped between them and ended the fight with a glare. "Get the fuck out of my gallery," she said. "Or I'll have you both castrated by the metal sculptor."

Back out on the street, Michael rubbed his arm and tried to come up with a better idea. "I bet the police could help."

Brian snorted. "I'd like to report a theft. My ring is being held hostage by someone's colon."

"Cops know about tattoos. They're always finding bodies and identifying them by tattoos. They probably have like, a book of them."

"And why would the cops help us?" Brian asked.

"We could ask that guy Horvath," Michael said. "He'll help."

"Yeah, he fucked your mom, so it's time he gave something back to the community."

Michael punched Brian in the arm.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Detective Horvath," Michael said to the cop at the front desk of the police precinct. "My name's Michael Novotny. He knows me."

Brian scanned the room as they were waiting, and noticed a few eyes staring back at him. He turned back to the cop at the front desk, who was also examining him carefully.

"Are you Brian Kinney?" the cop asked.

"Why, did I fuck you?" Brian said.

"Brian!" Michael grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over into a corner.

"I suspect these people hate me."

"Ya think?" Michael said. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"It was your idea." Brian looked at his watch. "Fuck; it's almost six." He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "So one night you want to get laid, and then suddenly you're pissing off an entire city's police department by writing propaganda about them, and then you're running all over town looking for some goddam piece of jewelry like a fourteen year-old girl. It's pathetic." He put his hands to his head and groaned. "All I wanted was to pick up some underage boy on a street corner and fuck him in the ass! How did it get so fucking complicated?"

"Brian," Michael whispered. Brian opened his eyes to see several police officers looking at him.

The cop at the front desk broke the silence by calling, "Mr. Novotny?" He pointed to a small room off to the side of the lobby. "Have a seat in there. Detective Horvath will be right with you."

They went into the room and closed the door behind them. The room was bare except for a few chairs and a long, metal table.

"Looks like an interrogation room," Michael said as he sat down.

Brian banged his hands on the table in front of Michael. "Fess up, Novotny. We all know the truth."

"Huh? What truth?"

Brian crossed his arms and paced to the opposite end of the table and back. "Save the innocent act for the jury, scumbag. You're gonna tell me all you know."

"Well, I know that Superman could beat up Spiderman, that The Joker could beat up The Wolfman, and that Buffy could beat up Batman." He held up his arms in mock surrender. "Other than that, I know nothing."

Brian leaned down and glared at Michael. "Did you or did you not, in the ninth grade, copy your entire Science final exam from me?"

Michael gasped. "I so did not! You copied from me!"

"Accusing an officer?" Brian said, wide-eyed. "That's not going to go over well when you're in the holding cell, pretty boy."

"I want to see my lawyer!" Michael shouted.

"My cock is your lawyer now, bitch!"

Michael stood up. "Yeah, then my lawyer has crabs!"

Brian pushed him gently. "I do not!"

"You did that one time," Michael said, laughing.

"I never had crabs," Brian argued. "And if you ever tell the story about me not having crabs to anyone -"

They were interrupted when the door opened, and Stockwell walked into the room.

"Jim," Brian said. "Good to see you again." He sat down on the table and smiled widely. "How's the wife?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Stockwell said, his voice a low growl.

"Um...there's this thing," Michael said, stepping forward. "A tattoo. It's an R and an H in front of a diamond, but it's more like two diamonds, and it's red and yellow, but mostly red, and -"

"You know that kid I fuck who made those cute little drawings of you?" Brian interrupted. "You see, he bought me this stupid fucking present."

"It's a ring," Michael said. "And we're trying to find the ring. But first we need to find out about this tattoo. Because, um..."

"It's a funny story, actually," Brian said. "You see, last night I had my entire hand inside some guy's ass -"

"Do I need to point out that I'm armed?" Stockwell said.

"And I'm right up in there," Brian continued, gesturing with his fist to illustrate.

"We should probably go," Michael said. "There are, uh, other avenues of investigation we can explore before we turn this over to the police."

"As you can imagine, it's a pretty tight fit," Brian said. "So it's no wonder that, when I finally withdrew, I left a little something behind." He smiled. "You know how these things happen."

Michael grabbed Brian's arm and pulled him towards the door. "We're gonna go."

"You take care now!" Brian called out as he exited.

They decided they might as well try some of the tattoo parlors in town, and at the third one, they got lucky.

"It's a band," the tattoo artist said as she looked at the sketch Michael had made on the countertop with a pencil eraser. "My ex-boyfriend used to go see them a lot. They're a U2 cover band called Rattle & Hum."

"So the guy with the tattoo is probably in the band," Michael said.

"Do you know where we can find them?" Brian asked the woman.

"They usually play at the West Street Warehouse," she told them.

"Great, thank you so much," Michael said. He turned to Brian. "Let's go."

Brian shook his head. "No."

"What?" Michael was halfway to the door already. "Come on; we still have plenty of time."

"The West Street is a breeder club," Brian explained.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Stop being a queen and just fucking come on."

Brian remained in place. "I can't be seen there. I have a reputation."

"We're on a mission, Brian. Like Rage and Zephyr. We have to be brave, and walk head-on into enemy territory."

Brian still didn't move.

"And I'm sure your performance later tonight at Sosiega will overshadow any sightings of you in a straight bar," Michael added.

Brian considered this. "Okay, let's go."

The West Street was a large, open warehouse space with a dirty floor and unfinished walls. There were hordes of college-age men and women holding bottles of light beer and shouting over the loud rock music. Brian made an expression of disgust and walked up to the crowded bar.

They had to elbow their way through some butch guys in t-shirts in order to get to the bartender, who ignored them for a full five minutes. A girl with her huge breasts falling out of her tiny tank top said hello to Brian, but he dismissed her with a casual, "Fuck off."

When the bartender finally came up to them, Brian threw a twenty on the dingy bar and asked for "two bottles of something that's not crap".

"And do you know if Rattle & Hum is playing tonight?" Michael asked.

"In about an hour," the bartender said.

They grabbed their beers and worked their way through the crowd again. There was a guy on the low stage moving around amplifiers and cords, and Brian waved him over.

"Are you in Rattle & Hum?" Michael asked, as Brian simultaneously said, "Did I violate you last night?"

"Um...they're in the back room," the guy said, pointing to a hallway behind the stage.

They walked around the stage and down a narrow hallway, which led to a small room. The door was ajar, so Michael peered in to see four guys sitting on a big, worn couch and drinking beer.

"Do any of them look like the guy you fisted?" Michael whispered.

Brian shrugged. "He had brown hair."

"They all have brown hair," Michael observed.

"Just go in," Brian said. "Whoever falls to the ground in spontaneous orgasm and calls me god is the guy."

Michael walked in, with Brian close behind him. The four young men looked up, but none of them seemed to recognize Brian.

"Hi," Michael said.

Brian held up his right hand. "Does this look familiar to any of you?"

There was a long silence, and then one of the men spoke up. "Do we like, know you?"

"Fuck," Michael muttered.

Brian made a fist and waved it around. "Take it, take it. Does this ring a bell with anyone?" The room remained silent. "Fuck."

"We're looking for someone," Michael said. "He had a tattoo on his back of your band's logo. And he had, uh, brown hair."

"Oh, that's Edge," the first guy said.

"That shit," another one of them added. "We threw him out because he was always too high to play."

"Edge," Michael said. "What's his last name?"

The third guy shrugged. "His real name's not even Edge. We just called him that because he was the guitarist."

"I think his name was Bob," the fourth guy said. "Or maybe Kevin."

Brian sighed. "So you have no idea where can find EdgeBobKevin, do you?"

"Sorry," the first guy said. "We don't talk to him anymore."

"Fuck," Michael repeated.

"So where do you guys know Edge from?" the second guy asked.

"It's a long story," Michael said.

"I fisted him at the baths," Brian said.

"Oh," the second guy said. "The Liberty Baths or the ones in Wilkinsburg?"

Brian and Michael exchanged a puzzled look. Then Brian smiled.

"Mikey, why don't you go get us some more beer?"

~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe you had an orgy," Michael said. He hurried ahead of Brian, pushing his way through the crowd. "We were investigating, we were on a mission, and you stopped to have an orgy."

"Am I supposed to say no to four horny closeted queers?" Brian shouted after him. He stopped and spread his arms. "I was their salvation!"

Brian caught up to Michael outside the club's front door and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry I screwed up your mission, okay? But we're never gonna find this guy. It's already nine, and we don't even know his name. It's fucking hopeless."

"I know. I was just really getting into it." Michael allowed himself a small smile. "You fucked an entire U2 cover band. That's gotta be some sort of record."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "They put the 'hummer' into Rattle & Hum." He nodded towards the road. "Let's go."

A young woman who'd been walking past them suddenly stopped. "Hey. Did you just say you know the band?"

"Intimately," Brian said.

"You know their new guitarist?" she asked. "I hung out at his party last weekend; it was awesome."

"Go for the drummer," Brian said as they continued walking. "He gives great head."

~~~~~~~~~~

They walked back to Liberty Avenue in silence. Michael kicked at loose pieces of sidewalk, and Brian smoked one cigarette after another. They stopped just before the entrance to Babylon. Brian leaned against the brick wall and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Michael stared down the street, looking for familiar faces in the sea of men.

"I'm never going to get married," Brian said.

Michael turned. "Huh?"

"I'm never going to get married," he repeated. "I'm never going to buy a house, or get my Master's Degree. I'm never going to write a novel or star in a film. I'll probably never get another job where I'm powerful and feared." Brian flicked the cigarette into the street. "And I honestly don't give a fuck. Fuck marriage and houses and all that shit. I don't want these things. Give me bars and clubs, cock and ass, a few good friends, and a painless death before I go gray. I don't want much."

He turned his head to the side, and the glowing light of the Babylon sign made his face radiate a soft blue. "I never wanted much, but I wanted this. I wanted to have someone blow me under the table at Sosiega while the waiter took my order."

Michael put his hand on Brian's shoulder and just nodded sadly. Then he looked up at the pulsing neon sign. "It's not too late."

Brian shook his head. "It's nine thirty. There's no way -"

"Just follow me," Michael said.

It was too early for Babylon to be in full swing, but it was still crowded, and Michael led Brian through the sea of bodies to the stairs that led to the catwalk. "Go up there," Michael instructed. "And wait for my signal." He took off before Brian had a chance to ask what the signal was.

Brian walked up the metal steps and made his way to the center of the catwalk. He looked down at the men dancing to the pounding bass of the music. Hundreds of men, all his for the taking. But it felt oddly empty. He could fuck anyone in the world, any way he wanted, anywhere he wanted. But the one thing he'd had his heart set on had been denied him. For the first time, Brian would have to accept disappointment, and the thought made him feel tired, old.

And then the music stopped.

The sudden silence jarred everyone, and the crowd looked around, murmuring, trying to figure out what had happened. Brian glanced down to the sound booth on the far wall and saw Michael in there, waving his arms wildly.

"Hey!" Brian shouted. Most of the people near him turned at the noise, but the crowd continued to hum with conversation. Brian stepped up onto the railing, cupped his hands over his mouth, and screamed, "Hey!"

An uncharacteristic hush fell over the club, a complete silence the likes of which Babylon had never seen before. But one thing was the same as usual - all eyes were on Brian Kinney.

"Is there anyone here who I fisted?" Brian yelled.

Among the expanse below him, several hands went up.

"Recently," Brian added.

The hands dropped down, except for one: a tall, shirtless man with brown hair who had been dancing on the main stage.

"You!" Brian yelled. "Stay right there!" He rushed down the stairs and through the crowd. The music started back up again, and Michael appeared at his side just as he reached the man.

Brian grabbed the guy and turned him halfway around. It was dark, but the letters R and H on his back were clear.

"It's him!" Michael shouted excitedly.

"This is gonna sound a bit strange," Brian said. "But did you find anything inside your ass?"

The man reached into his pocket. "Do you mean this?" The gold of the ring reflected the club lights as they swept over the dance floor.

"That's it!" Brian snatched the ring out of his hand. Then he frowned, and tossed it to Michael. "Sterilize it!"

Michael blanched and tossed the ring back. "Yesterday you had your hand up his ass. You sterilize it!"

Brian spotted a half-full drink on the edge of the stage, and dropped the ring into it. "The alcohol will do it. Come on."

They broke into a run, moving through the throng of bodies and out the front door. They dashed outside, bypassing the people on the sidewalk by running along the edge of the street. Brian held the glass out in front of him, with his other hand covering it, until they got to the entrance of Sosiega.

Brian looked at his watch - ten o'clock exactly. Sosiega's trendy, late-night dinner and cocktail hour was in full swing. He and Michael looked inside the window. Every table was packed, except for the one where Justin sat.

"We made it," Brian said.

Michael reached into the cup and fished out the ring. He wiped it off on his shirtsleeve and handed it to Brian.

"Good luck," Michael said.

Brian closed his hand around the ring, and then looked back to Michael. "Thanks for helping me fulfill my last unrequited sexual fantasy by tracking down the guy with my ring in his ass."

Michael smiled. "Any time."

Brian took Michael's face in his hands, kissed him, and then slipped the ring on his right middle finger as he walked into the restaurant.

Justin already had two glasses of water with lemon at the table, and his napkin in his lap. "You look like shit," he said. "Rough day?"

"You have no idea," Brian said as he sat down. The waiter came over immediately, and they ordered drinks.

As Brian picked up the menu, Justin caught a glimpse of his hand, and he paled.

"I think I'll have the seafood paella," Brian said. "What are you having?"

"Um...a heart attack?" Justin's mouth opened and closed a few times before the words came out. "You're wearing it."

Brian put down his menu and looked across the table innocently. "Excuse me?"

"I thought it'd be gone by now," Justin said. "The toilet made a weird noise earlier today, so I figured you'd flushed it, but..." His face broke into a wide smile. "Oh my god, you're wearing it."

Brian frowned. "Something's wrong with my toilet?"

"I can't believe it," Justin whispered. "I can't believe you kept it."

Brian reached across the table and took Justin's hand. "Yeah, well, I don’t have many expensive things anymore, what with the horrible debt and everything. And it looks hot on me, as most things do." He reached up to touch Justin's cheek. "And I hope that me doing this, wearing this, is enough to show you how much I genuinely, completely..." He stroked the side of Justin's face, tracing his impossibly wide smile. "...want you to blow me underneath this table."

When the waiter arrived to take their orders, Brian's head was leaned back, his mouth open, and his eyes half-closed. He was breathing heavily, completely oblivious to the stares of the other patrons and the look of horror on the waiter's face.

"I'll have the seafood paella," Brian said through his panting. "And the guy under the table sucking my cock will have the cocido madrileño."

"Um...anything else, sir?"

Brian let out a deep moan. "Yeah..." he said. "What...ooooh...what’s your soup of the day?"