Title: Mechanical Michelangelo Ch 1-10
Author: Mohawk
Rating: Adults Only
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk belong to Russel T Davies, Cowlip, etc, I don't own anything.
Feedback: Is adored
Spoilers: Slight season 1
Summary: What if Brian didn't find Justin when he ran away to New York in season 1? How would Justin cope on his own, in a strange city? Could his art be his only salvation? The title was inspired by Sarah Hall's The Electric Michelangelo

Chapter 1

The skin was smooth beneath his fingertips, the constant buzz of the needle, music to his ears as he followed the design from his mind’s eye through his fingertips. “You OK down there John?” He asked as he dipped the nib into black ink and placed it next to a pert butt cheek.

“I’m good, man,” John said as he carried on flicking through an old magazine.

Justin bit absently at his lip, the design slowly emerging until the image of a demon trapped inside fleshy cheek was outlined. He sat back and rolled his shoulders, massaging the kinks from his strained muscles. “Your hours up mate, want me to book you in next week, same time?”

John pulled up his trousers and looked over his shoulder, nodding his bald, tattooed head. “Sure thing, Jus,” He sauntered over to the counter and leaned over as Justin pencilled him into the book. “I’ll take another pot of tattoo goo.”

Justin took the pot off the shelf and rang it up on the till, handing it over to John who slipped it into one of the many pockets on his pants. “You out tonight?”

Justin shook his head, blond, silken strands falling in front of his eyes. “No can do, off to visit the ‘rents back in the Pitts.” His tone was light, but his mood was anything but. Tension filled his stomach as he locked the door behind John and walked into the back room where his boss sat smoking a joint and working on an entire back piece for another customer.

Justin didn’t even try to interrupt him as he worked, just stepped around him to gather his coat and bag, as slowly as he could, trying to delay the inevitable. The walk to his apartment was a short one, too short, and the hot water in the shower didn’t last long enough.

He didn’t know how he felt about returning to the Pitts. No, that’s a lie, if the dead weight in his stomach was anything to go by he was dreading it, not looking forward to it, or any of the memories it would bring with it.

It was silly to feel so worried about returning to a place that he’d called home for the first seventeen years of his life, but he was. He’d left everyone on such bad terms...

He bent his head forward, wrapping his hair in a towel and tried to forget just who and what had brought him to New York in the first place.

His backpack was already packed, and all he needed to do was dress and get on the coach to hell. Why had he agreed to go back? He could have insisted his mother and Molly visit him here and she would have caved, just like she’d caved for the last three years.

He slipped into a pair of worn black jeans and rooted through his t-shirts for a long sleeved shirt, he didn’t want to offend his mother after all.

Dressed, he took a deep, shaky breath and knocked on his flatmate’s door. “Cam? You still OK to give me a ride to the bus station?” The door opened to a sleep tousled man, deep green eyes blinking at Justin until they managed to focus.

“Ride! Yeah...hold on, need keys. Where’d I put my keys?” He went back into his room and Justin bit back a laugh.

“In your pants?”

Cameron looked back at him, “But where are my pants?”

“I don’t wanna know where in the hell your pants have been. I’ll wait in the living room.” Maybe Cam wouldn’t be able to find them and he’d miss the bus.

***

Unfortunately Justin didn’t miss the bus. He watched the world fly by in a dreary haze of grey. The closer he got to Pittsborough the darker the sky got. Justin ignored the voice of reason in his head that told him it was late evening and of course the sky would be getting dark.

No, he was returning home, there, he’d said it, *home*, for the first time in three years, and God had thrown down the welcome mat.

Pulling out his sketchpad he concentrated on drawing battling demons getting burned by the flames of hell. This certainly wasn’t the type of drawings he’d pictured himself creating three years ago. He’d had high aspirations of attending PIFA, becoming a famous artist and seeing his art hung in galleries around the world. Things hadn’t turned out remotely like that.

There was a certain amount of satisfaction seeing someone with your artwork embedded into their skin though.

So what if demons, movie stars and boobs weren’t his first choice of drawing, skin wasn’t his first choice of canvas either and he adored working with it, drawing on it and marking it for life. Knowing that something he’d created would be living, if only for a while.

He should be happy with what he’d accomplished. He was a damned fine artist and an even better tattooist, no need for feeling ashamed of not finishing high school of not going to college like he’d planned.

Chapter 2

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as his mom hugged him almost as tight as the hugs Debbie used to give. He’d been a shitty son, he only hoped Molly caused less grief. “I’ve missed you sweetheart.” She said, tightening her arms yet again.

“I missed you too, mom.” And he had, he’d forgotten how safe he felt in his mothers arms. Sometimes he wished he could go back in time, back to when he was sweet sixteen and safely in the closet. “Where’s Molly?”

Jennifer eventually let Justin go, though she still clung to one arm. “Molly is at home cooking a welcome home dinner.” She sounded proud.

“What? The Mollusc can cook?”

“She’s certainly moved on from peanut butter sandwiches.”

Justin felt a pang of remorse, he’d missed out on a vital part of his sister’s childhood, seeing them a couple of times a year just wasn’t enough. “Will dad be around?” He asked casually.

She squeezed his hand, “He’s away on business this week. He couldn’t get out of it...”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to make excuses. Besides, I'd rather it be just the three of us.”

“So, what’s Mol cooking? She progressed to toast yet?”

Jennifer laughed, sounding younger than her years and more carefree than Justin had seen her in ages. “It’s so good to have you back, Justin, even if it is just for a week.”



****

As soon as he entered the condo his mother and sister now called home, Molly threw herself at him, before dragging him to the kitchen to show off her lemon chicken masterpiece. “See Jus? I followed the recipe myself, mom only helped a little. Will you pick me up from school tomorrow? Tamara doesn’t believe I have a big brother who lives in New York.”

Justin sat at the table and smiled, letting her questions and idle chatter pass over his head. It was good to be back, he’d definitely missed his family, even if he hadn’t missed the crap surrounding it.

Molly put the dinner in front of him and sat opposite, knife and fork in hand, her eyes wide as she watched him take the first bite. He widened his eyes back at her, then closed them in over exaggerated ecstasy. “Wow Mol, you’re almost as good as me!”

“Hah, better you mean?” She smirked proudly at him and began to eat her own dinner. Justin glanced at his mom, noticing how quiet she was, and smiled, knowing she’d missed seeing interaction between brother and sister, almost as much as he missed interacting.



It took immense bribery and the promise of takeout after school to get Molly to eventually go to bed and leave the adults alone. Justin knew the conversation was coming, it was way passed overdue.

He curled up in the arm chair, pushing his sock covered feet down the side of the cushion, watching idly as his mom straightened magazines that didn’t need straightening.

“We never really talked about it did we?” She said as she sat down opposite him. “You had your new life in New York and I didn’t want to pry and risk losing you again.”

“And you think we should have this conversation now?”

“We need things out in the open don’t you think? I’m not scared you’ll flee New York now, you have a job, even if I don’t approve.” She lent forward in her chair, her blue eyes, so like Justin’s glistening. “Why didn’t you come home Justin?”

She said it as though it was the only thing to do, Justin clenched his jaw, trying not to bite out an angry reply. “Home? What home? The only home I had split when I revealed I was gay and my own mother dumped me on my lover because she couldn’t deal.” This is why he’d put the conversation off, he didn’t want to tell his mother *that*. He’d felt angry about it for so long, and he knew that telling her would hurt her more than anything else.

“Justin...It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I didn’t know what to do. Your actions didn’t just affect you, they affected all of us. My whole world came crashing down around me, Justin, I didn’t know what to do.”

Justin ran his hand through his hair, pulling until he felt the sharp pain tingle along his scalp, he needed to feel something, to stop him lashing out at her even more. “I don’t want to argue with you. Maybe we should leave the past in the past.”

“Leave it in the past now I know you blame me?” She stood suddenly and paced back and forth, needing to do something. She couldn’t just sit there and talk to her son calmly about this. “Brian,” she blurted out, realising she’d said the one name she hadn’t wanted to mention to Justin at all. “He took advantage of you.”

“I was infatuated with him. He didn’t take advantage of me.”

Justin felt his stomach roll over as his mom mentioned Brian’s name. Just one mention, the sound of the syllables caressing the air, bought back a flood of emotion he’d buried a long time ago. “And even if he did take advantage of me, It wasn’t his job to give me a home. That was yours.” This conversation wasn’t going well. He was going to lose her again. Lose his mother when he’d worked so hard to get her back, to make her proud. He stood, pins and needles in his ankle making him stumble slightly.

Jennifer reached out automatically to steady him and Justin placed his hand on top of hers. “This conversation is meant to be clearing the air. I don’t want to set us back. I love you...”

“I love you too, Justin. I know I made mistakes-”

“We both did.” He let his mother hold him and it was a proper hug, not of desperation or superficial happiness. This was the kind of hug love flowed from and Justin let himself melt into it

Chapter 3

Justin woke to the insistent ringing of his cell phone. He flung his arm out, letting his fingers search the bedside table, without opening his eyes. He eventually found it and flipped it open. “Yeah?” He mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Did I wake you, Jus?” An amused voice asked.

“Bren?” Justin opened his eyes slowly and pulled his phone away from his ear, looking at the caller display. Seeing Bren’s name flash at him he put it back to his ear. “Why you calling so early?”

“You left without saying goodbye last night, so I forgot to tell you about the tattoo convention.”

Justin had a sinking feeling about this. “What convention?”

“The one in the Pitts. Surely I mentioned it?”

His boss knew damned well he hadn’t mentioned it, he’d probably kept quiet on purpose. “What convention?” Justin repeated.

“It’s only a small one. One day long. I phoned Liberty Tattoos and told them you’d be in town. They were so excited that they asked if you’d join in the Art Fusion. I told them you’d be happy to.”

Justin groaned inwardly. “This is meant to be a family holiday.”

“It’s one day and it’ll be good for business. Come on Jus, you’re finally getting recognition as a tattooist. This is a great opportunity. Tomorrow ten am start.”

“Alright, I’ll do it, just stop going on and let me go back to sleep. I’ll speak to you later.” Justin switched off the phone, there was just no use arguing with the man, he got his way in the end. And it wasn’t such a bad conversation to lose. He just hoped his mom didn’t mind.

Awake now, Justin got out of bed and pulled on some sweats, padding barefoot to the kitchen. He started the coffee automatically and pulled out a box of his sister’s overly sugary cereal.

“Justin, I didn’t think you’d be up yet, I was going to make you a decent breakfast.” His mom said as she eyed his bowl.

“I’m good,” he said between mouthfuls, “Mol get off to school alright?”

“She tried to persuade me she should have the week off with you, but I think I got through to her that it wouldn’t happen. Anyway, is there anything you want to do today?”

“Do you have anything in mind? I’m all yours.”

“I’m glad you said that, I thought we’d go to the art gallery, like old times.”

Justin chased the last dregs of his breakfast onto his spoon, “Sounds great. I have to go to a tattoo convention tomorrow, so I won’t be round too much. Hope you don’t mind.” He stood and swilled his bowl, not wanting to see her face.

“No more tattoos Justin! Promise me, you’ve disfigured yourself enough.”

It was then Justin realised he’d forgotten to pull on a t-shirt to cover most of the *offensive* marks. He rolled his eyes at Jennifer and kissed her cheek. “I’ll most likely be doing the tattooing. Bren got me roped into joining the Art Fusion too.”

“Art Fusion?”

Justin shrugged as he poured himself a cup of strong coffee. “Something tattooists’ started up to show that we’re artists and not skin mutilators.”

“You’re definitely an artist sweetie, If only you’d stick to canvas.”

“Unfortunately canvas didn’t pay the bills.”

Jennifer’s smile dropped slightly, before she pulled herself together and smiled brightly, in some ways her conversation with Justin last night had told her everything and nothing. She knew he was angry at her for dumping him on Brian, she knew he was successful now, but the year he ran away was still a complete blank up until the point he got in contact with her.
In some ways she didn’t know what he’d done in that year. She was a bad mother, she should want to know, but she didn’t want the reality to out weigh her fears.

“I could come with you tomorrow. See my son in action?”

Justin winced inwardly. “I don’t think it’s your scene, mom, big butch tattooed guys. I won’t really have time to talk to you. I have a feeling I’ll be too busy either tattooing or taking part in the AF.”

“Well, you should take the car, so I know you get home safely. We could take Mol to see a movie when you get back, maybe?”

“That’d be great.” Anything, so she wouldn’t come along. Having his old life and his new life mix gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure he liked the lines blurring this much.



***

Justin tried not to wrinkle his nose up as he walked through the doors of Liberty Tattoos. Off-the-wall tattoo designs littered tables and were tacked onto the walls. Down the left hand side of the room four booths had been set up and Justin was surprised to see his name above one of them.

Just how long had Bren been planning this?

“Sorry, you have to leave.” A flustered looking man ran towards him and tried to usher him towards the door. “We don’t open to the public until 10 am, how did you get in anyway?”

“I’m not public,” Justin said pulling his arm away and sticking out his hand, “I’m Justin Taylor,” he nodded his head towards the banner, “Mechanical Michelangelo.” The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked Justin up and down.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just, I mean, you, I wasn’t expecting you to look-”

“So young?”

“Well...You do have a good reputation for one so young.”

Justin laughed and shook his head. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

“No, no, we’re almost finished setting up. You should meet Butch, Liberty’s owner and top tattooist,” he swivelled around, “Butch? Butch! Come here, Justin’s arrived.”

An overweight man with green oriental tattoos, manoeuvred his way around the flustered people and grabbed hold of Justin’s hand. “Glad you made it, buddy.” He was definitely old school, Justin decided, looking at his tattoos. The detail was incredibly good, but Justin couldn’t help turn his nose up at the clashing colours. It was the artist in him.

“We’ve got four top tattooists' taking part in the Art Fusion.” Bruce guided Justin to the opposite side of the wall, where four large canvases stood. “You’ll all start one, and change after half an hour. We’ll mingle with the guests first, sorry this is all a bit of a rush, but I couldn’t get hold of you to give you the plan.”

I just bet, Justin thought. It was a good job Brendan McKay wasn’t there because he was seriously thinking of throttling his boss right now.

Chapter 4

Justin piled his blond hair high on top of his head, out of the way of his eyes, in readiness for his first tattoo job. He went over his equipment, making sure everything was in order, then sat on the space age stool.

“Justin’s come all the way from New York to join us today. He was an apprentice of Bren McKay.” Murmurs passed through the crowd as they recognised the name of one of the all time great tattooist's’. Bruce grinned like a proud father before continuing. “Of course, Justin made quite a name for himself in the world of underground tattooing before Bren dragged him from the gutter.” He turned and winked at Justin, showing him he was only joking. “So, who wants to be tattooed by Justin Taylor?” A rush of people pushed forward, one scrambling into the booth and plonking himself on the stool, giving the others a smug look.

Justin smiled at the man, giving him the once over and noticing the type of tattoos already covering his arms. “Any ideas of what you want?” Justin asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’m stoked I actually managed to get you. I mean, I would have been pleased if one of the other guys tattooed me, but you’re part of the newer generation.” He pulled out a crumpled photo of Brandon Lee playing the part as Eric Draven. Justin was pleasantly surprised, he was expecting to see something along the lines of ‘I heart Mom’.

“Hey, nice picture.” Justin took it out of his hands and stared at it, calculating how he could transfer it to skin. “Where do you want it?”

“On my back, between my shoulder blades.”

“You know that this will probably take more than one session, to get all this detail right?” The man looked disappointed. “If Bruce agrees, I don’t mind coming in over the next week and carrying it on.”

“You’d do that? Man, that would be great!”
“Can I make a few suggestions though? Turn it into an original piece of artwork no one else will have?” He nodded enthusiastically and Justin carried on. “Instead of just a face shot do a full portrait shot. His face is interesting, the make up and scar compelling, but you want something a little different. He’d fit between your shoulder blades nicely.” Justin sketched as he talked, his fingers moving ahead of his mind as he thought back to the times he’d watched The Crow. “He played guitar in a band didn’t he? We could add that. And if I make it a little more stylistic, it would mirror the comic book as well as the film. See?”

The sketch was rough in Justin’s eyes, but his first customer seemed entranced by it. “Wow, I don’t believe you just drew that.” Eric Draven stood, with his head tipped back, wearing nothing but leather pants and a guitar strap over his chest. Rain crashed off his torso and showed off the bullet holes in his chest.

Justin’s fingers itched to get started, the way they do when he was truly excited about something. He just had to draw it out, he could practically see already how it would look on skin.

“Let’s get started then. Alex by the way.” He said as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

“Great to meet you Alex.” Justin swivelled Alex’s chair until his back was facing him and was relieved to see an utterly smooth back with no hair at all. Shaving the customer was a definite downside of the job. At his own studio he got the client to shave at home. He was a tattooist after all, not a beautician.

Justin sketched a light outline on Alex’s back, he excelled at free form tattooing, but if his free form didn’t fit in with what the customer had in mind he was fucked. It was a poor reflection on what the tattoo would look like when it was finished, but it would give him a guideline and Alex an idea of what was to come.

Justin leaned over and picked up a couple of hand mirrors, “Here.” He handed one to Alex and angled the other one to show the outline. “Is that OK for you? In the right place?”

“Man, that looks great, get to it!” Justin pulled the trolley with his tattoo gun and inks closer to him.

The gun felt familiar in his hand, as if the shape was made to fit his palm. The vibrations tingled up his wrist as he touched the tip to skin.

People crowded as close as they could get, but Justin blanked them out. He blanked Alex out until the young man was nothing but a living canvas, something on which he could create art.

He seemed to know exactly when the pain would get too much, and stopped, it was like he was in tune with his canvas and knew exactly how to manipulate it to get the best picture he could possibly get.

The hour went by quickly, Eric Draven appeared in out line on reddened skin, each tiny pinprick building up until the figure of the comic book antihero, his arms out, head tipped back towards rain, guitar hanging to his side, was brought to life.

After finishing the outline Justin handed Alex a sheet of paper with after care instructions on, not that he really needed it, but he had to cover his bases. “That’s it for today, the whole outline is done, and a little of the shading, but it definitely needs more work. Here’s my card and give me a call to get it finished. Get one of the guys to put a bandage on it when you‘re done looking.”

Alex stood and walked to the full-length mirror on the wall. “Wow, man.” He craned his neck to get a better look at it. A surge of people crowded round him to get a better look and Justin slipped out as Alex took in all the attention.

He went back to his booth and cleaned down his gun, and put the inks back. “You know. I wasn’t sure it was you at first. Justin Taylor from New York. There are hundreds of them, believe me, I’ve looked.”

Justin froze and felt his heart jump into his mouth, his hands shook as he put the inks on the tray and turned around. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this. He wasn’t prepared at all.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to compose himself for when he turned around. His face was as schooled as it was ever going to be. Trying to act as casual as he could he threaded a thumb through the loop of his jeans and leaned against the back wall. “How are you Michael?”

Michael snorted and shook his head. Justin watched a hundred emotions run riot behind his eyes. He hadn’t changed much in three years. Emotions showed on his face like words in a book, the complete opposite to the man he called best friend.

“How am I? Jesus Justin...I’m so mad I could spit. You ran off, with Brian‘s credit card, you never called, we went out of our mind with worry.”

Justin gave a slow half smile, “Mikey, I didn’t know you cared,” he drawled.

“Don’t confuse this with caring,” he crossed his arms, “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

Justin raised an eyebrow, then played along and looked down to his own torso, covered by a thin black tank top covered in zips, each one slightly open, giving a peak of coloured the skin beneath.

“Not the same little twink any more, huh?”

“You’ll always be the twink, no matter how you mutilate yourself.”

Justin rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the stools. Michael took that as an invitation to sit on the other one. When Michael kept silent Justin realised he was waiting for an explanation. An explanation Justin refused to give him. “Didn’t think this kind of thing would be your kind of scene.” Justin said, absently watching the tattooed crowd of misfits.

“Well, I didn’t think it’d be your scene either. Besides, I own the comic book shop next door.”

Justin heard the pride in his voice, he was impressed Mikey had managed to get out of the Big Q. “You’ve done well.”

“Yeah...you too.” He didn’t sound convinced.

They drifted into an uncomfortable silence, the questions staying unsaid.

“Justin, there you are, it’s time for the AF, you need to get to your canvas.”

“AF?” Mikey asked as Bruce pulled Justin away.

“Art Fusion,” Justin called over his shoulder as he went to stand with the other three tattoo artists.

Chapter 5

Justin saw Mikey standing in the throng, his pale, untattooed body standing out more than his very serious expression. He should be thinking about what he was going to paint up there, not about a family he almost had.

“This is our chance,” Bruce started, making Justin jump a little. He blinked and tried to pay attention, “to show everyone who looks down on us--particularly those in the art world, that we are artists, that no one can beat us when it comes to free form. We don’t need to sign our work for it to be recognised, we work together.” The crowd cheered and Justin felt himself warming to Bruce a little more. Maybe he was being a bit of a snob. “You’re all going to watch something truly amazing take place here.”

“We’ll all work on a canvas for thirty minutes before swapping and swapping again, working on each different piece. Uniting our work. Working together. OK guys, lets get started.”

Justin stared at his canvas before picking up a paint brush and dipping it in oil paint. He painted from deep within, that place he’d locked away when he’d ran to New York and realised he really was on his own.

That place that caged his self hate, the rage and the loneliness. It was a place he didn’t go to often, but seeing Michael somehow turned the key in the lock and he couldn’t help but start to draw the self portrait that had been bubbling to the surface for years.

Harsh brushstrokes crashed together on the canvas, melding together in a mass of blacks and greys. Anyone who was watching would think he was painting the kind of thing he was known for. A monster emerging from the page, curled in on itself, as if it too, hated what it was. Twisted fingers covered a grotesque face, bloodshot eyes peeking out from between them.

The bell sounded too fast and Justin moved on to the next canvas, the smile he gave the other tattoo artist making his face ache. He looked at the dragon, bright green scales and yellow claws.

Justin dipped his brush into an array of brightly coloured paints until he came up with a dark sludge colour. He painted the background swallowing the dragon. The darkness had more than just ears. It was made up of hundreds of creatures, each fighting each other to get to something live, something real.

It was if a black cloud had followed Michael and settled over Justin’s head, he couldn’t seem to get passed it, his paintbrush was loaded with paint befitting his mood and he went with it, using hard, deft strokes, changing the oriental painting to something dark and disturbing.

He thought he’d be worried about ruining another artist’s work, but he barely even noticed. He manipulated the bright dragon until it was fighting off the darkness. He was half way through painting a black claw ripping off scales when the bell went for a second time and he had to move on.

They carried on for hours, swapping boards again and again, until Justin barely recognised the one he started. When Bruce had them stop Justin was back to his original painting, he saw himself suffocating below the strange swirls of colour, peeking out from behind life, letting it cover him up until no one could see the monster he really was.

“You boys back at your original canvas?” Bruce asked and watched them all nod. He turned back to their visitors, a large proud smile on his face. “Now, the paintings all need names, and it’s only right that the *artists*,” he emphasised the use of artists and it didn’t go unnoticed, “get to name them. Justin?” He turned around and it took Justin a while to come out of his black mood and be that laid back, carefree tattooist people knew him for.

He stepped back and viewed the canvas again, saw the mingling of different styles, how they complemented each other, how they hid him from the real world.

“Hiding Behind Life,” Justin said, his eyes finding Michael’s automatically. Mikey was frowning and Justin took a certain amount of comfort from that. He didn’t want Mikey to be happy, or to have no feelings about his return. He wanted him to be as confused as he was, and he wanted to show him that he hadn’t had an easy ride.

“Great choice. And there’s going to be a surprise for our talented artists. Something I’ve kept quiet until now. The GLC have asked to put our work in their next show. We’ll show ‘em all how it’s done!”

***

After talking to the enthusiasts and making contacts with other tattoo artists, Justin escaped outside for a cigarette, enjoying the moment to be alone. He’s lost Mikey amongst the crowd, there were other people with much more drive to meet him and he went with the flow.

He inhaled the nicotine, feeling slightly better than he had all day. This trip home wasn’t turning out to be what he expected. Flicking the nub end into the road with a flick of the wrist, he watched the slight glow get swallowed up by the damp weather and he intended to go back inside, he really did, but he found himself standing next door, looking at a huge window display depicting Spiderman and Daredevil.

So this was Mikey’s new domain. It fitted, Justin could picture him standing behind the counter telling a crowd of kids about the newest issue of whatever the craze was now.

“Here you are.” Justin didn’t reply as he looked at the window. “So what do you think?” Michael stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, almost touching.

“I’m happy for you.”

“So...What are you going to do now?”

Justin turned slowly and looked at Mikey, “Do? I’m going to carry on working on Eric Draven, I’m going to visit with my mom and sister, and then I'm going to go home.”

“Home,” Mikey said, as if he’d never heard the word before and was having trouble getting his tongue around it. “So, you class New York as your home now.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t worry Mikey, I’m not going to go all stalker-guy on your best friend. I’ll be gone again soon. ”

Mikey snorted and ran a hand through his dark, cropped hair. “Typical, you’re just going to take off again. You could at least have the decency to go and see Ma, and Lindsey and Mel, they were sick with worry when you disappeared.”

“So, you want me to go say sorry to Deb, Lindz and Mel for making them worry. You don’t want me to say sorry to Brian then?” Mikey went to say something, then closed his mouth. Justin smirked. “I thought not. You want me to go speak to everyone, but who really matters. Why is that? Do you want to be the hero, the one to drag poor Justin by the ear to tell them sorry, so they’ll be thankful to you? Are you afraid that if I meet Brian we’ll end up at the beginning again?”

“The beginning?”

“Me in his bed. Come now Mikey, you can‘t have it both ways. If I‘m too say sorry to the gang, you’ve got to be pretty sure I’ll at least bump into your best friend.”

“Well, I, I think you owe everyone an apology, including Brian, you stole his credit card after all.”

Justin nodded in agreement and smiled coolly. “Yeah, I did, *his* credit card.”

Chapter 6

It was two days later before Justin made it to Liberty Diner. He wanted to see Deb again, but he would do it on his own terms, not on Michael’s. Deb had probably heard he was back in town by now, if Mikey was anything like his mother, that is.

His eyes strayed to the table the old gang used to occupy, but all he saw were strangers. He let out a sigh of relief and sat on a barstool and leaned his elbows on the tabletop.

He watched Deb for a little while, her loud appearance and even louder mouth warming his heart. “Can I get some service over here?” Justin said with a smile as she whirled around with a scowl on her face.

“Hold yer horses.” She walked up to him and it took her a while to recognise who he was. “Sunshine!” She practically leaned over the table to give him a bone-crunching hug. When she finally let him go she slapped him on the side of the head. “Three years, Sunshine and not even a phone call.”

Justin’s smile drooped slightly. “I asked mom to tell you I was alright.”

“Yeah you did, a year after you disappeared, you little shit.” She ignored the dings of the bell as she looked him over. “Fucking, Christ, Sunshine, what happened to the twink we all knew and loved?”

None of his tattoos were on display, a worn leather jacket covered his arms and matching tight fingerless gloves covered his palms. So it must be the hair and the twinkling of silver studs climbing his ears. “I’m all growed up,” he tried to joke.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far. Growing your hair, and if what Mikey says is true, all the tattoos in the world, won’t make you all growed up.”

“Deb, food!” She turned around and glared at the chef.

“Can’t you see I’m serving a fucking customer here?”

“What’ll it be, Sunshine?”

“Burger, fries and a coke.”

“Coming right up.” She ruffled his hair and went to place his order.

The food came out quickly, but Justin had trouble getting it down, not even his mother had the ability to make him feel so small. Only Deb could make him realise how foolish he’d been back then.

Leaving wasn’t the best way to deal with things, and he’d known that as soon as he’d arrived in a strange city with nothing more than a stolen credit card. It seems so clear to him now, he should have swallowed his pride and come home, tail between his legs, but back then, in his seventeen year old mind, he’d felt utterly abandoned by the people who were meant to love him the most.

So what if he made a big deal about leaving because of Brian and what happened at the loft, it was more a cry to his parents than anything. He wanted to be their kid again, to have no responsibility and he wanted to be with Brian. The best of both worlds.

Somehow in his jumbled up brain running away was the answer to everything. It would make them all stand and take notice. Only it didn’t happen that way. He shuddered, the food he’d consumed threatening to make a reappearance.

He wouldn’t think of that night, he’d let too many old memories rise as it was, but he wouldn’t think about that *particular* night. Not in the light of day anyway. It haunted his nightmares enough as it was.

Unable to eat anymore he pushed his plate away, just as Debbie rushed passed with an armful of empty plates. She came to a halt when she saw the contents of his plate. “Holy shit, kid, you gotta eat more than that.”

Justin shook his head, “Sorry Deb, I’m full up.” She snorted and gave him a strange look, before balancing his plate on top of the pile in her arms. “Dinner, my place, Sunday. You know the time.” She walked off without giving him a chance to say protest.

Shit, this was not going as planned, he’d come to the diner in hopes that he’d get out of everything else. He wasn’t going to be in town long enough to visit with everyone.

“Deb,” he called as she hurried by, notepad in hand. “Look, I can’t make dinner, I really have to spend some time with my mom and Mol...”

“Then bring them with you. I expect you to be there, don’t be late.” And with that he was dismissed.

Fuck.

***

The dance floor was a sea of sweating limbs, each moving in time to the beat of the music. There was an array of different people there, each unique in their own way, creating a patchwork blanket of flesh.

He took a gulp of lukewarm beer, never taking his eyes off the mass of dancing men. To everyone who knew him it looked like any other, ordinary night, with him leaning over the balcony scanning for tricks. If anyone bothered to look close enough they would notice his eyes focused on one particular point below him.

Blond hair tangled around shoulders that used to be as pale as cream, used to be...his skin looked grey in the darkness, not even the colourful lights could detract from the almost sinister look the ink gave him.

He took another gulp of beer and looked away, only for a second, and when he looked back, the blond was gone, the crowd swallowing the small space he’d previously taken.

Anger rolled in his stomach like thunder and he banged down his bottle and pushed himself away from the railing, down the stairs, all the time ignoring the calls of his name.

The cool air was a shock after the hot, sticky air of the club, he didn’t like it, he was sobering up already. He stumbled slightly, in the direction of his car, stopping to light a cigarette and inhale deeply.

When he pulled the cigarette away from his lips he saw him, sweat dripping hair, an armless t-shirt that did nothing to hold the bitter night off.

***

Justin pushed Alex into a taxi, with a chuckle, his new friend could not take his beer, for shit. He watched the taxi disappear around the corner and turned back towards Babylon, unsure whether he wanted to go back inside or not.

He wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet, and the temptation of more alcohol and getting his dick sucked had him walking back to the entrance. He almost crossed the road, but he saw something vaguely familiar out of the corner of his eye, and he stopped short, taking another look.

Illuminated by the hazy amber glow of the street lamp stood a tall brunette. Justin used the three years he’d spent in New York wisely, he schooled his features and walked towards him.

His heart was beating fast and his stomach tightened upon seeing him, he pushed his emotions down until they were buried deep in the soles of his boots. Outwardly calm he approached his ex-lover, in much the manner he had approached Justin the first night they met.

This was the night he’d been avoiding for so long, yet it was the night he’d been waiting for since the fateful time at the loft.

He leaned against the streetlamp, his bare shoulder touching the leather of the other man’s jacket. With bravado he didn’t feel, he reached up and took the cigarette from Brian’s mouth and took a long drag before handing it back. Brian took it silently and finished it off, stamping the nub end under his boot.

“Well, this seems oddly familiar,” Justin drawled.

“Yeah, if we lived in the twilight zone.”

There it was. The first conversation he’d had with Brian in close to three years. And the world hadn’t stopped spinning. In fact, Justin was almost sure the world had sped up, his heart jumped into his mouth and he swallowed repeatedly.

There were so many things he should say, explain, but he couldn’t think of a single one. The conversations he’d planned for this very event all seemed so lame. After all, it had happened so long ago now that Brian probably didn’t care one way or the other..

“So, how you doin’?” Brian asked, and although he didn’t look at Justin, he took it as a good sign.

“Not so bad, how about you?”

“Fabulous.” They fell into silence, Justin wrecking his mind for all his WASP conversation skills, annoyed that his upbringing was failing him now, when he needed it the most. “How very English of us, soon we’ll be talking about the weather.” Brian mocked.

Justin laughed slightly, this was not how he expected his first conversation with Brian to be like. He’d expected... well, more theatrics.

“Yo, Brian!” Someone called, it made them both jump and higher their heads, looking for the culprit.

A young kid sauntered up to Brian, his jaw length hair whipping into his eyes, making him squint slightly.

“Bri...” the kid started something, then realised Brian wasn’t alone and looked Justin up and down, a smirk on his face. “Fuck off, I saw him first.”

Justin bit his lip, and tried his hardest not to laugh, but it bubbled over anyway. “Jeez. Brian, if there was a first come first serve policy, I would have tagged you years ago.”

“What the fuck does he mean by that?” The kid placed his hands on his hips angrily, his denim jeans riding low on his hips.

“Very funny,” Brian looked at Justin for the first time and Justin felt his breath hitch. Fuck, surely the man should have aged, or started to go grey by now

Justin watched the pair with interest, saw Brian’s very asexual behaviour towards him.

“Do your aunties know you’re out, Hunter?” Brian took hold of Hunter’s jacket and steered him in the direction of his car. “Let’s get you home.” Justin could imagine Brian use the same tone with Gus in another fifteen years. “See you at the family dinner.” He called to Justin.

“What the fuck? You invited a twink to Deb’s?” Hunter asked whilst struggling against Brian’s hold on him.

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Arms covered by a sedate, black, v-neck t-shirt, and palms hidden beneath soft leather, fingerless gloves, meant Justin was finally ready to face the music--on the outside anyway.

There was already going to be too many eyes on him as it was. People that wanted an explanation on why he’d ran away. He could give them that at least, what he wasn’t willing to tell them was what he’d actually done when he arrived in New York.

The outside of Debbie’s house was still the same, he knocked on the door and saw Vic pull the net curtain aside to see who it was before opening. Before he could say anything Deb came barrelling past him, “Sunshine, you’re late.” She scolded, pulling him into her arms.

“I’m five minutes early,” Justin said with a smile over her shoulder to Vic.

“Well if we’re gonna get fucking pedantic over it, you’re three, fucking, years late!” Justin let that one slide, there was nothing he could really say.

“It’s good to see you, kid,” Vic said, patting him on the back.

“You too.”

Debbie pulled him into the living room and pushed him through the door, the first thing he saw was Gus, sitting on the floor, toys scattered around him, and Brian actually sitting amongst the mess, crashing a toy car against Gus’.

Justin felt awkward as he stepped further into the living room. The conversation had stopped mid-sentence and the only noise was that of crashing toy cars.

“Oh great, Brian’s trick came,” Hunter said bitterly, sliding further down into the well-worn chair. Justin ignored him though, and looked around at the people who he’d run away from years before.

Linz sat behind Gus, Melanie at her side, a glass of wine half way to her mouth.

Emmett gave a small shriek and covered his mouth with a hand, the other clutching Ted’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Hey guys,” Justin said to the crowded room.

“Sunshine,” Brian said with false enthusiasm, making Justin wonder if the guy he’d spoken to on Liberty Avenue was really Brian at all.

“Brian.” Justin said calmly, trying not to show any of the emotions he felt racing through his veins.

“Fuck.” Hunter said, sitting up straight in his chair, as if he had found out something important. “I know who that is. It’s the kid you’ve all been talking about, the one that ran away.”

Justin chuckled at being called a kid by someone obviously younger than himself and stepped past everyone towards him. “Now you’ve stopped pissing up Brian’s leg maybe we could introduce ourselves.” He held out his hand “Justin.”

“Hunter.” He took hold of Justin’s hand reluctantly.

Lindsey, realising she was staring, got up, stepping over a pile of toys before reaching him. “It’s good to see you, Justin. I‘m glad you‘re OK.” She pulled him into her arms, which were filled with a lot more tension than Debbie’s had been, but Justin returned the hug anyway.

“You too, Linz, all of you.”

With Lindsey breaking the ice, the others came over to hug him, the unasked question hanging in the air.

Lindsey felt a slight tug on her skirt and looked down at her son. “Mommy, he play cars?” Gus asked, looking from one to the other.

Lindsey chuckled and leaned down, picking him up. “Gus, this is Justin.”

Gus looked at Justin shyly, a car clutched in one palm. “You like cars?”

Justin nodded seriously. “I love cars.” Gus grinned happily at him and handed Justin a car, before struggling out of his mother’s arms and onto the floor.

Justin looked at the car in his hand and at the little boy he’d helped name. He then looked at Brian, who just raised his eyebrow and went back to racing cars around the patterns in the carpet.

Taking a deep breath he sat down opposite Brian and started to join in silently, feeling the tension in his arm as Brian crashed his car against Justin’s, making the little boy laugh. He was the only one who was.

“I hear you’re a tattoo artist now?” Melanie said, sitting back down on the sofa, pulling Lindsey with her.

“Not that you can tell today. Not proud of your art Sunshine?” Brian said, his lips lingering on Sunshine, making Justin uncomfortable. He was beginning to hate the nickname Debbie had given him.

Justin looked up briefly, “I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Yeah well, maybe you should have thought about that three years ago,” Michael said as he burst through the door. “Sorry we’re late Ma, I had to stop by the shop,” he called out to Debbie in the kitchen as he made himself comfortable on the sofa.

A tall muscular figure followed shortly behind, looking utterly at home. His eyes fixed on Justin quickly and he smiled. “You must be Justin, nice to meet you, I’m Ben, Michael’s partner.”

Justin wanted to offer his commiserations, but settled for shaking Ben’s hand instead.

“Now you’re all here, get your asses into the kitchen!” Debbie shouted from the kitchen.

Justin got up off the floor and watched from the corner of his eye as Brian picked his son up and placed him in Lindsey’s arms.

Unsure where he should sit, Justin took his time walking into the kitchen, and gave Emmett a smile of relief as he sidled up next to him and took his arm.

“Don‘t you think a tattoo would suit me? One on the butt cheek, what do you think Teddy?” He called over his shoulder.

Teddy didn’t look too thrilled with the idea, and mumbled a reply that seemed to make Emmett happy.

Everyone was quiet as the food was passed around and then Justin felt the eyes back on him. He forced the pasta into his mouth and pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“How did you get into tattooing, Justin?” Mel asked, “I didn’t think that was your ultimate goal.”

He shrugged, “I got interested in it, and met a guy who agreed to teach me.” He skimmed the surface of his introduction into tattoos so much so it was barely the truth.

“Yeah, fuck a guy with a few tattoos and they get kind of addictive,” Brian said with a smirk.

“I think we should forget the small talk and you should tell us exactly what you were thinking when you stole Brian’s credit card.” Michael speared his pasta on the end of his fork, all the time glaring at Justin.

“If it was your credit card, you’d have the right to ask me about it, but as it wasn’t, you don’t.”

“It is my business, we went looking for you--”

“Michael,” Brian warned.

“And all we found was a twink in a hotel room using Brian’s card.”

The world seemed to crash around Justin’s head, blood rushed to his head and his hands started to shake. He hadn’t known that. If only...Brian would have found him...and brought him home. He shook his head, hoping the roaring sound would disappear.

“I lost the card, didn’t know where it ended up.” It was a lie and they all knew it, Justin didn’t care, he wasn’t telling them the truth.

“I’m sure Justin forgot all about us and my card after finding himself a hot hole to fuck for the night.”

Sometimes, Justin hated Brian almost as much as he had loved him. He glared over at the older man, he wasn’t some kid anymore, he could stand up to himself, he was Brian’s equal, or as equal as anyone could be with Brian.

“You always were a shit in front of your friends. Why is that?”

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Over the next two days Justin immersed himself in family. If he concentrated on his mom and Molly he wouldn’t have so much time to think. It was a good theory anyway. He wanted so desperately to be numb right now, but his mind was not cooperating. He replayed numerous events, each with a different outcome, the darkness of his room making each one as believable as the next. He pictured Brian finding him in that hotel room, of the older man dragging him home, of going to school and finishing top of his class, even going on to PIFA. They were meaningless thoughts, but he just couldn’t stop them from coming.

His mom hadn’t asked how dinner went, one look at his tightly drawn face made her keep quiet. She hadn’t knocked on his door once yet, so that probably meant she had the whole horrifying story off Deb already.

He shouldn’t care about what happened, they’d stopped been friends a long time ago. He had other friends now, strangers he’d met at a low time in his life, who had pulled him out of the spiralling abyss.

The darkness became cloyingly thick around him, reminding him of the nights he’d never had a roof over his head. His palms started to tingle and he pulled his gloves off, rubbing his palms against his thighs, trying to relieve them.

His heart started to beat painfully fast and Justin fumbled for his phone, flipping it open and pressing in a number without looking. He waited impatiently for the other person to pick up.

“Porn Rats, how may I service you?”

“Talk to me Cam.”

“What’s wrong, Jus?” Cameron asked worriedly. “Have you done something stupid?”

Justin snorted down the phone. “The rule was to call you before I did something stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was, just like old times. I’m glad you did. What’s got you so riled up?”

“Fucking Pittsburgh. I just had a showdown with Brian and his family.” Justin admitted. “It didn’t go well...I feel, shit, you know.” Justin bit his lip and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to say the actual words. Cameron knew exactly what he was talking about, he’d been there after all.

“I know, man. Just, take a deep breath and don’t let them get to you.”

“I can’t wait to come home.” Cameron stayed quiet a moment too long, making Justin suspicious. “What the fuck has Bren been up to?”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Cam said in a pseudo innocent voice.

“And that is what’s bothering me.” Justin drawled, wondering what the hell his boss was up to now. “Gotta go, see you.” He hung up on Cam without waiting for an answer and phoned Brendan, knowing he’d still be at the studio.

“What the fuck have you done?” Justin asked in greeting.

“Now, now Justin, I’ve been as pure as the driven snow. Have you been talking to Cam?”

“I’m going to be home in a few days, just tell me what you’ve done so I can prepare.”

“Well...” Bren drew it out. “I thought you could stay a little, represent Mechanical Michelangelo at the GLC.”

“No, oh so, no. I went to the convention, I took part in the Art Fusion and now all I wanna do is come home.” Sink myself into work and forget I ever knew Brian.

“Justin, this could put us on the map.”

“An art show in the Pitts? I doubt it.” Only someone from New York could seriously think that.

“All sorts of tattooists are going to see the Art Fusion. Stay and mingle. Just two more days, Justin. Then you can come home and you’ll be booked solid for three months.”

“I hope by booked solid you’re taking into account my days off.” Justin grumbled, lying back down on the bed.

“Of course. Thanks Justin, this will be great.” Justin ended the call and sighed, he could never resist Bren when he got all excited about the studio. It looked like he was staying here a little longer. He just hoped he could avoid Brian and friends.

Justin dropped his phone onto the pillow next to him and drifted off to sleep, not even realising that the panic he’d felt earlier had disappeared.


***

It looked like Justin wasn’t the only tattoo artist roped into attending the GLC gallery. He chatted briefly to the guys he’d met at the Art Fusion, making wonderful contacts for Bren and then mingled.

He couldn’t help but think back to his first show. His art work had changed drastically, the only similarities from both shows was the feeling in the bit of his stomach.

Feelings like he would never be good enough. His art had always brought him and his mother closer together, little did he realise, that from his first show it would start pushing them apart.

He looked over at her, the calm collected woman that had birthed him. She held onto Molly’s hand, and spoke to someone, smiling pleasantly and nodding at the appropriate moment. Justin saw underneath it all though, he saw something else, something not quite disgust, but not quite acceptance either.

He didn’t notice Lindsey until she was standing in front of him. “Hey, Justin,” She said nervously.

“Lindsey,” he replied politely, nodding and stepping past her, she touched his arm, stopping him.

“Justin...I just want to apologise for the other night.”

“You don’t need to do that, Linz.”

“I do, I just, I didn’t know what to say. But I know what to say now. I don’t want us to lose contact. I want to be able to bring my family to New York and look up an old friend. Got it?”

Justin looked into her eyes and saw she was sincere. He gave her a half smile and placed his hand over hers. “That’d be nice Lindsey. We’ll swap numbers.”

“Good, now, how about you show me your piece.” She linked her arms with his and started to walk into the middle of the gallery, where the four canvases were mounted back to back.

“None of them are mine, but I did paint a little on each.” They were quiet as they studied the paintings. Justin had forgotten how good it was to go to a gallery with someone else who appreciates art like he did.

“These are fantastic Justin. The different uses of technique are stunning.”

“That’s what you get when more than one person works on a canvas.”

“Tell me about that. I don’t really understand what Art Infusion is. Bruce tried to explain, but I admit I zoned out.”

“It’s just a way of uniting tattoo artists, so we can show more conventional artists that we’re more than just the canvas we work on.”

“You’re definitely more, so much more, Justin. I won’t ask you the question everyone is dying to ask you, because it’s none of my business and I want to move forward, Just don’t disappear on me again.”

“I won’t Linz.”

“And maybe I can shed some light on the all and powerful Kinney. He is sorry for what he did back then, he was really worried about you.”

“And he told you this?”

Lindsey chuckled and shook her head. “Brian doesn’t talk about anything emotional, you just have to read between the lines.”

Justin wished he’d remembered that, maybe if he had, he’d have had the guts to ring Brian when he needed him.

Go on to Chapters 11-20