A Star is (Almost) Born by Suz Disclaimer - CowLip/Showtime own them, I don't, pout pout. Brian/Justin! Rated R for language and sexual situations. This was written for prompt .033 of [info]au100, Too Much. You can see my Big Damn Table of Brian Justin AUs here. Everything up to the end of season four happened, so possible spoilers. Season five didn't. Future fic. Feedback would be faaaaabulous. *** When Brian got home, Justin greeted him with a blowjob. The event wasn't all that unusual and neither was the smug grin on Justin's face afterwards; the nervous, almost pleading expression a few seconds later was. Brian groaned mentally. There was no way in hell he was going to like this. "What do you want?" Pulling himself up from where he'd been sprawled across Brian's legs, Justin shifted to the side to sit comfortably on the bed. He had fake innocence down perfectly. "What do you mean, what do I-?" "*Justin*," "How do you feel about doing a comic convention?" he blurted out, because when Justin decided on a course of action the word 'tact' might as well not exist. Snorting at the idea, Brian struggled to his feet - ignoring the fact that his legs still felt like jelly, damn twink - and picked up his discarded pants. "I've been to enough of those things for *four* fucking lifetimes." He'd gone to several with Mikey during their formative years, and last year Justin had even convinced him to come along to one where there was a Rage panel, although Brian had actually spent the weekend at everywhere *but* the convention, and they'd ended up having some pretty spectacular hotel sex. Hmm...maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. "I don't mean as moral support," Justin continued as Brian hung up his pants, "I've been asked to do another convention, and...well, they want you to go, too. As a guest. To be on the panel," he added, as if Brian hadn't clued in by now. Brian turned around, disbelieving, pants swinging back and forth on the hanger in the closet. "Why the fuck would they want me?" "You're the inspiration for *everything*," Justin told him, clambering over to Brian's side of the bed and standing up. "Without you there wouldn't even be a Rage." "Bullshit," Brian argued, because it was. "I seem to remember you and Mikey coming up with the idea to make the comic all by yourselves." He smirked. "True, you couldn't proceed until you decided to base Rage on my physical perfection..." Shooting forward, Justin grabbed his sides, tickling. "Asshole!" "Fucking stop that," Brian ordered as he grabbed for Justin's hands, and he was *not* laughing because tickling was fucking irritating. "Come on," Justin argued, arms wrapped around Brian now as he looked up. "Everyone knows we based the character on you - I've said it in enough interviews. They wanna meet you, the 'real' Rage." He lowered his eyelashes, flirting. "Just think of all the guys that'll be there, drooling all over you..." "Guys do that already," Brian said, reaching up to tug on Justin's right ear. "And generally they're not geeks who couldn't get laid if they paid for it." "You get paid for it!" Justin quickly declared, obviously inspired. "Like I need the money," Brian pointed out, and he doubted it'd be a big pay-out anyway. "I'll suck you off?" Justin tried. "Let you fuck me? Fuck the shit out of you?" "Remind me again what's in it for me?" Justin smacked his thigh, before his expression turned deliberately thoughtful. "You couldn't be...no, that's not it." Oh yeah, Brian *really* wasn't gonna like this. He sighed. "What?" "Well," Justin was obviously pretending to think about something, "you're not...scared, are you? Worried that you won't live up to other people's expectations? That you won't be good enou-" Jesus, the kid should know better. He was acting like an amateur. "You really think reverse psychology is going to work on me?" Grinning brightly, Justin shook his head. "I'll tell everyone on Liberty Avenue about the bottle of hair dye I found hidden in the bathroom." Brian's eyes widened. "You little *shit*!" *** Rage had been a success. It hadn't broken box office records or won any Academy Awards, but it'd made a healthy profit and certainly made an impact on the gay movie industry. Justin and Michael had been interviewed dozens of times, mostly for gay publications or movie magazines and Brian had even been contacted a few times - especially after he turned up at the premiere. He'd always turned them down. He had no interest in talking about himself. Yet somehow, here he was, about to appear at a comic convention as a *guest*. Jesus Christ. The two of them had been picked up at the airport by the still worryingly enthusiastic Kathy-Anne Something Something. She'd been Justin's 'assistant' at the last convention he'd attended, and was apparently serving the same function now. Still, it was easy enough tuning out her rattling on about the recent updates in her life, and Brian ended up making out with Justin all the way to the hotel. Inside the hotel they were quickly escorted up to their room, and Brian couldn't help but notice the guy in a dark suit who'd joined them in the lobby. "And who the fuck are you?" Brian asked, after scanning the room and and deciding that it wasn't that bad (actually, it was pretty damn nice. They must have decided to change hotels after the last one). "Security, Mr Kinney," the man replied blankly. "Oh, that's just Chad," Kathy-Anne said as she bustled in from somewhere. "Unfortunately, sometimes security's necessary at an event like this. That said, we usually don't have security for individuals because of the sheer number of guests, unless they're particularly famous or it's their first time-" "I do not need a fucking security guard," Brian insisted. The idea that he couldn't look after himself was laughable, and not a little insulting. "Oooooh-kay," Kathy-Anne said perkily, "well in that case, may I make one small suggestion?" She didn't wait for his permission. "Try and cut down on the cursing, okay? There'll be a lot of small kids here this weekend." Brian stared in disbelief. "You do realise Rage is about two guys fucking." "Brian," Justin laughed, finally interrupting and looking too damn amused by the whole thing. "Um, Kathy-Anne? How long until we have to be somewhere?" Huffing out a breath, she nonetheless looked relieved to be talking to someone other than Brian. "Well, as you know the main event starts tomorrow, but we do need to get some publicity pictures done tonight, and a meeting with Tom, and-" "Okay," Justin held up a hand, smiling a little too much, "just come and get us when we're needed. We'll be ready. Right now I think we just need a little space." For once Brian was actually glad that Justin had taken charge, and in a matter of minutes it was just the two of them alone in the room. Still, that didn't stop Brian from glowering. "I cannot believe you fucking talked me into this." Picking up his bag, Justin placed it on the bed and began unzipping. "I didn't talk you into this. Clairol #5 did." Clearly, Brian couldn't ignore a comment like that and, judging by the smile Justin was doing a bad job of concealing as he went through his bag, he knew it too. Practically squealing when Brian picked him up and threw him onto the bed, Justin didn't waste any time. He pulled Brian down on top of him, laughing as his right hand made quick work of the buttons on Brian's jeans. God, Brian loved industrious men. "Feeling tense, huh?" Justin grinned, his hand worming its way beneath denim. "Something's definitely hard," Brian remarked, closing his eyes and rocking against Justin's hand. "You know I'm *always* happy to help you relieve stress," Justin breathed into Brian's ear, making him shudder. "Especially when-" Someone knocked on the door. Kathy-Anne. "Guys? We're ready for you now!" Brian's cock wilted like a helium balloon that'd run out of gas. *** The next morning they were woken up at some God-awful hour - for the weekend, anyway - and herded out for breakfast. Not long after that they were in a car that was taking them to the convention centre. It was about five minutes away by car, and Kathy-Anne took the time to go over their itinerary *again*. Brian'd discovered last night that she was actually around to assist *both* of them. He'd expressed his dissatisfaction at not getting his very own assistant - preferably a hot guy with a great ass - before Justin had explained the two-for-one deal. "We're mostly doing things together anyway, right? Plus I've done this before, Brian, and I'm really low maintenance. She doesn't need to look after me. You, on the other hand..." Brian had fixed Justin with his best steely glare. "If *anyone* thinks you're low maintenance, Sunshine, they should try living with you for five years." Justin had just grinned. They'd also met up with the organiser, Tom, last night. They were already acquainted with him although Brian only had a vague memory of the guy, and this was his first time meeting Tom as a 'guest'. To Brian's surprise, the entire thing involved more work by everyone involved than he'd realised. Justin's hand squeezing his leg brought Brian back to the present, and he turned his head to see Justin nodding towards the building. "We're here." The convention centre looked much the same as any other convention centre. Big, sprawling, and not particularly attractive. Brian saw a few people lining up outside as they were driven round to what was apparently the guest entrance, where they were quickly hustled into the building. Inside, at least, was better designed that the outside and they were lead into a hall filled with tables placed strategically around the room. This was obviously where the autographs were going to be happening. Kathy-Anne located t...
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