Thanks to my wonderful Beta, Inconspicuousbunny. Don't forget to check out her fics! :-)

Brian hadn't been sick in a long time. He had always enjoyed perfect health, except for a few times when he was a child, so the sudden bout of flu was unexpected and really unwelcome, as well as annoying as hell.

Of course, Justin was going out of his way to please him and take care of him, which was annoying as hell too, if not downright tormenting. What was worse, the little twat wouldn't leave, no matter what Brian did or said to make him go away.

But the most upsetting thing wasn't the flu or Justin's relentless attention; it was the fact that Brian couldn't find it in himself to really despise the attention. He thought he was becoming a fucking lesbian, which made him even more miserable.

But that night… That night had been different. Justin had done something that had blown him away. Something that had touched him like nothing before and had left him feeling bittersweet, mellow and tired of fighting that piece of blond ass he had as a partner.

Something that had made him think that, maybe, things weren't as he had always thought they were. Maybe, he could let him take care of him from time to time…

Justin prepared the warm milk with cocoa and honey feeling uneasy and uncertain. His own mother had made him a mug of this concoction whenever he had had a sore throat when he was still living in his parents' house. It had always made him feel better, so, without really thinking about it, he had bought the cocoa and the honey to try and make Brian feel the same. But, as he was preparing the drink, he had started to think that Brian would probably throw the mug at him in a rage. He wasn't the kind of person to be comforted with motherly stuff. It was too lesbionic for him.

'Well… I can at least try' he thought, picking up the mug and tiptoeing to the bedroom.

Now that Brian was sick, he was even more difficult, snarky and rough. Justin felt mentally and physically drained from the constant verbal beating Brian was flinging at him just because he wanted to be there for his partner. He didn't want to back out. He wanted Brian to deal with the fact that he was there, and he was there to stay, no matter what.

"What's that?" Brian asked sharply when he saw him coming. His voice was hoarse, his words drawled. Talking led him immediately to another coughing fit, and Justin waited patiently until it passed to answer his question.

"Warm milk with cocoa and honey," Justin announced as soon as Brian recovered, trying to keep a confident appearance even though he was expecting another tiring queen out from Brian. "Try it. You'll feel better".

The blond saw Brian's face then, and he stopped in his tracks. The older man had a thoughtful and nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he had been transported far away by Justin's words.

Absent-mindedly, Brian grabbed the offering mug and took a small sip. Justin couldn't believe it had been that easy, so he just stood there, waiting for the outburst that was surely coming.

Only, it never came.

In the end, Justin made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, staring puzzled at the too still Brian, who was quietly taking small sips of warm milk. Eventually, Justin felt himself dozing off. He really was tired. But as he was stepping into oblivion, Brian's voice dragged him back to reality.

"You know…" Brian started. "Not a lot of people remember things from back when they were two years old. But I do."

Justin shifted a little so that he could look at Brian more closely. He knew the monotone, impersonal voice Brian was using just then. It was the voice he used when he was talking about himself, about his past. The blond didn't know what had triggered one of Brian's snippets from his past, but he knew he had to stay silent if he wanted to hear it. So he waited.

"I guess I remember this because it was the last time my mother took care of me when I was sick" Brian said. "I had a sore throat, so she made me a glass of warm milk with cocoa and honey. Exactly like this one."

So it had been the now empty mug of warm milk that had brought the flashback. Justin wasn't surprised. It always happened with the most mundane things.

"Next time I was sick, my mother spent the day passed out from alcohol poisoning on the kitchen floor. And when she woke up, she never came to check on me. She just left me there by myself, day and night. I was five."

'Jesus…' Justin thought, horrified.

"Next morning, Claire came to my bedroom to wake me up. She was just eight, but she knew enough to know that I was delirious. I was burning up, and I couldn't breathe properly. Our mother was in Church, and God knows where our father was. So, little Claire just helped me up, dragged me downstairs and made me sit on her bike saddle. She pushed the bike for about a mile until we reached the nearest hospital."

Justin was holding his breath, listening intently. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The scene that was unwrapping in front of him was so grotesque, so horrifying, that he felt his heart constrict from the power of it. He couldn't see himself at eight years old pushing little Molly for a mile on his bike to get her to a hospital. He just couldn't. His parents would have never neglected them like that.

"I had to be admitted as a matter of urgency, with pneumonia. I almost didn't make it, I was so sick. But, somehow, I managed. I spent two weeks there, mainly alone. My mother came by everyday for a couple of hours, but that was it. She preferred being in Church and drinking herself to oblivion. I remember I was so fucking scared… I was five, and alone in a terrifying hospital surrounded by strangers in white coats sticking needles into my arms."

Justin shivered. He couldn't imagine what it would have felt like being in Brian's position. He kept thinking about Gus, who was only two years younger than Brian had been when he was alone in that hospital. It was downright cruel, and it made Justin feel sick.

"Jack picked me up when the doctors discharged me, to take me home. He didn't say anything to me while we were in the car, but as soon as we got home, he took out his belt to 'teach his Sonnyboy not to seek out medical care when we didn't have health insurance'. I learnt alright. And all the time while he was 'teaching' me, I kept hearing my mother praying drunkenly in the kitchen. And I kept remembering how that last glass of warm milk had tasted."

Justin was afraid of moving. He knew he couldn't touch Brian right then, unless he wanted him to withdraw himself emotionally and start making sarcastic and spiteful remarks. It was counterproductive, and he had learnt it the hard way. He knew he had to wait until Brian sought him out, but it was fucking difficult. He wanted to hold Brian close, kiss him senseless and heal all the wounds his family had inflicted on him during his childhood. He wanted to surround him with a shield so that he could never be hurt again. He wanted to resurrect Jack Kinney so that he could kill him again as slowly and painfully as possible. He wanted to find Joan Kinney so that he could shake her and tell her what a bad mother she was, and how she was the one that was going to end up in Hell for all the damage she and her husband had inflicted on their own child.

"I was too young to understand it then, but I wasn't really remembering how that glass of milk had tasted" Brian added, still with the same impersonal voice. "I was remembering how it felt to be loved, to be taken care of. I was remembering how it felt to have a mother who gave a shit about me. And, above all, I was mourning the loss of it all."

Justin furtively wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. Of course, he had heard all that had been left unsaid. He now knew why Brian was so adamant that he didn't need anyone to help him take care of himself. He understood where Brian's 'I don't need anyone' bullshit came from. He understood why he had lost faith in the concepts of family and love. If his own parents, the people who supposedly had to love him and take care of him unconditionally, had let him down like that, he could understand why Brian didn't want to let anyone into his heart again. And he could understand why Brian was always fighting him so hard, pushing him away relentlessly.

"I didn't remember what a mother should be like until I met Mikey and Deb. And…" A beat. "And I never understood what a real father should be like until I took Gus in my arms for the first time," Justin bit back a gasp at such an out of character statement, and his eyes watered again. "And, God, I was terrified I was going to become my father. I still am."

"You are NOT like your father," Justin blurted out, and then he shut up again, teeth digging into his lower lip. He hoped he hadn't fucked up by interrupting. He just hadn't been able to help himself. He hated when Brian thought he was any less than a great father to Gus.

But, this time, the interruption worked fine for Justin. Because Brian finally looked up at him, even though his expression was carefully guarded. And his eyes, whose hazel color were so dark that they looked almost black, were troubled and held a huge amount of masked fear. Justin understood where the fear came from. It was in the Brian Kinney manual. It was the fact was that Brian had just made himself vulnerable in Justin's eyes, and now Justin had power over him. More power to hurt him, if he wanted to.

But he wasn't going to hurt him. Of course not.

So, Justin just returned Brian's look trying to look reassuring and understanding. And, when Brian stretched out his left arm in a silent invitation, Justin slid across the bed until his head was leaning against Brian's shoulder and kissed his partner's neck lovingly. Brian nuzzled his nose over Justin's forehead and cheek until his mouth was over Justin's ear.

"Thanks for the milk" he whispered. And there was an unmistakable grateful nuance in the way he said it that wasn't even concealed, which was uncharacteristic for Brian. "It wasn't half bad."

Justin snuggled even closer to his partner's body, fighting back tears but smiling nonetheless. He knew Brian wasn't thanking him just for the milk. He was thanking him for the gesture that had made him feel loved.

Maybe, just maybe, Brian had understood that having the power of hurting someone and actually using that power were different things and didn't need to be related.

Maybe what Justin did everyday was enough to heal him.

Maybe.