Memories {A compilation of Britin short stories}

Story 25: Protectiveness

"All that guy did was touch my ass. You didn't have to punch him. It's not like it's the first time it happened." Justin was sitting on one of the diner tables, wrapping a gauze around Brian's cut knuckles.

"Yeah," Brian grumbled. "And there's a difference between just touching and fucking fondling. I would have thought you'd know the difference." He refused to look at Justin, staring at his injured hand. "If you ask me, the guy fucking deserved it."

Justin finished wrapping the gauze and closed the first ad kit. "I've never seen you get so protective." Justin tried to repress a smile.

Brian huffed. "I wasn't being 'protective,'" he said, the last word coming out as a mumble. He sat back in the booth, flexing his fingers, hissing in pain. "Ow!Fuck!"

"Stop." Justin lightly grabbed Brian's wrist. "You just cut your knuckles on a guy's face. The smart thing would be to not move them."

"I'm not some fucking invalid. I punched an asshole in the face. I'm fine." He pulled his wrist out of Justin's grip, attempting to flex his hand once more.

Justin watched as Brian winced, trying to be stubborn as usual. "Why won't you admit you were being protective? I see you when you see guys pinch me ass in here. You always look like you want to punch them in the face and today you did."

Brian glared at Justin, a clear way of saying he could never admit to such a thing. Instead, he opted for nonchalance in his usual manner—a shrug of the shoulders, an eyebrow perfectly arched. "Yeah. And?"

"You're cute when you're protective." Justin smile up at Brian if for no other reason than the fact that he knew it annoyed him.

"Don't be such a twat," Brian grumbled. He flexed his fingers again, inspecting the gauze wrapped around his knuckles. "By the way... Thanks."

"You're welcome." He got up from the table and put the first aid kit away.

Brian's eyes followed Justin as the younger man put the first aid kit back in its place. "What about you?" he asked after a moment. "You doing okay?"

Justin looked over at Brian. "I'm fine. I have to deal with guys grabbing my ass everyday."

Brian bit the inside of his cheek, holding back any comment that would make him sound the least bit protective or jealous that other men were making a play at Justin. The first signs of the Little Green-Eyed Monster—as Deb would call it, much to Brian's chagrin—were already making their appearance and Brian hated the feeling. Still, he nodded his head slowly, letting Justin know that he'd heard him, but held back from reacting in any way.

Justin took off his apron. Deb had closed up after the punching incident. She had wanted to stay and scold Brian, but Justin had told her to go and he would lock up.

Justin smirked a little. "I think that's the only reason half of the middle aged fags come into this place. Deb says when I'm not here they always ask about the 'little blond twink'." Even though Justin was smiling, it was fake. He didn't like being groped in public by old men, but business at the diner had been great in the last few months and it was making Debbie happy and that was enough for Justin to deal with the old pervs.

"Well, it certainly isn't for the food," Brian snorted, somewhat thankful that Deb wasn't around to thump him on the back of the head. "Even still," he continued, flexing his fingers again, "you shouldn't have to deal with that shit."

Justin grabbed the diner keys from the counter and came back around to Brian. He motioned his head indicating they could leave.

"I know."