Pairing: Brian and AJ
Words: bewildering; painless; bulge; pinky


He didn't do it all the time.  It would have been too obvious if he
had, and if there was one thing Brian was not, it was stupid.  He
knew what he was doing, and getting caught was no part of his plan. 
Besides, he didn't need it all the time.

And the times he did need it varied, too.  Sometimes, things would
be stressful, and Leigh Anne would be demanding time and Kevin
would be pushing at him and AJ acting out and Nick every inch the
whiny kid he could be and the fans a trial, and he wouldn't need it
at all.  Could handle it, even though times like that weren't fun.

And other times, everything would be great.  It'd be a pleasure to
be on stage, he'd be hanging out with Howie and Nick and utterly
happy to be himself and where he was and doing what he was doing --
and he'd need it.  Desperately.

Brian didn't really understand the need, but he knew how to handle
it.

He was good now at slipping the leash, finding a way around their
security and getting away from their fans.  The first was the
easiest -- he stuck close to AJ, waited for him to distract
everyone, which inevitably happened, because AJ simply couldn't
avoid causing a scene, and while AJ was starting a fight or
attempting to have sex with someone in public or doing any of the
other things that AJ did, Brian would give their bodyguards the 'aw
shucks, of course I'll be good' smile and they'd gratefully leave
him on his own while they cleared up AJ's mess.  And if Brian
wasn't there when they returned, why, there'd already be a message
left with their chief of security back at the hotel or the busses
letting them know that Brian was in transit, safely on his way
back.

There were benefits to having a reputation as the good one, and
Brian knew how to value his image.

Tonight, they were out at a club.  Brian went out even when he
didn't need to; it was important to establish a pattern of behavior
and not go only when he had to.  He couldn't afford to look guilty.

AJ was unusually jumpy tonight.  Brian wasn't in the mood for
anything elaborate.  Elaborate was lower risk.  He could take
precautions, make it less likely that anyone would connect it to
him.  Elaborate was fun, in its own way.  The planning was almost
as satisfying as the act itself.  And he could prepare.  Make it
painless.

But spur of the moment was good, too.  Tony came over to him.  "Mr.
Littrell," he began apologetically.  They were always apologetic
with him.  He was the nice one, the easy one, even more so than
Howie, who was really a lot like AJ, just more quiet about his
misdeeds.

"It's all right, Tony.  I understand."  He smiled.

Tony nodded, relieved, and disappeared into the crowd.  Brian
waited a little, to make sure he didn't come immediately back with
AJ in tow, then got up.

He never chose women.  It was always men.  He liked them dark. 
Tall and looming, or small and lithe.  It made things slightly more
challenging, because it was always women who flocked to them, but
there were men, too.  Enough.

The single ones.  Who came alone, or were maybe working the crowd. 
Brian didn't care which.  Professionals didn't bother him.  They
were usually just scared, desperate kids under their outward layer
of toughness.  He knew all about that, saw it every day with AJ.

There was a certain challenge, too, with men, a certain danger. 
They could try to hurt him, try to do to him what he was doing to
them.  Usually, they didn't even try.  The experience was just too
bewildering, and he'd be watching their eyes bulge with
understanding garnered too late to do any good.

Most of the time.

Sometimes things went differently.  Sometimes they understood all
too well or they wanted the same thing he did.  But he worked out
regularly, lifted weights, ran and danced.  He was strong, and his
cardiovascular fitness could make an aerobics instructor cry.  He
also made a point to train frequently with their security team,
getting help with dirty tactics to use to make an opponent give up,
let go, submit.  They thought it was to keep him safe, and although
they didn't like to think they could fail at their jobs to the
extent that it would ever be necessary for him to know any of it,
no one had ever questioned Brian beyond a cursory, "Are you sure
you want to do this, Mr. Littrell?"

He was sure.  The worst injury he'd ever taken was a broken pinky,
and he'd waited until he got back to his hotel room, then claimed
he'd done it leaping for his cell phone.  He'd waited for a call to
use the excuse; the cell had rang first and he'd sat there during
it with the broken finger until Leigh Anne was done talking.  He'd
been prepared to wait until his morning wake-up call if necessary. 
It was important that no one know, more important than the pain,
which was something he lived with nearly every day anyway in one
form or another.

Then there were moments like this.

It was risky picking up someone at the same club they'd gone to. 
But then it was risky doing anything at all with his face being
instantly recognizable to a large segment of the population.  He'd
found that he was more recognizable in a city Backstreet was
playing, less recognizable if he did this when they weren't
touring.  Risk was a part of this, though, and he expected every
time to get caught, but he never had.  He wondered sometimes if
security knew, if they were cleaning up behind him, but he thought
not.  This wasn't like AJ and the heroin, or Howie and the pretty
blonde boys he liked to push to their knees.  Nothing like that.

And he'd already spotted the one he wanted, a thin man in a
sleeveless black t-shirt, with dark hair and dark eyes, and
trembling hands.  A junkie, maybe.  AJ's hands trembled like
sometimes, the morning after or the night before he went out. 
Never while he was out, but then, Brian didn't spend any time with
AJ when they went out.  He let AJ do his own thing, provide the
unwitting distraction.

The junkie went into the bathroom, and Brian, sans security,
followed him, half a step behind.

He was leaning against the side of one of the stalls in the empty
bathroom, fumbling with something in his pocket, and Brian smiled
at him.

The guy looked down, away, because it went against the rules to
make eye contact in the restroom.  You did your business and you
got out.

Brian knew the rules.  He just chose to ignore them.  He unzipped,
used the urinal, and when he turned around again, the bathroom was
still empty of people other than them, and the junkie had a
hypodermic.

When it came right down to it, Brian was an opportunist.  He used
what the situation provided.  So far, something had always
presented itself.

And a hypodermic was as simple as it got.  He smiled at the junkie
and took a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet.  "You mind if
I...?" he waved his hand at the needle.

The guy's eyes followed the hundred.  "No, dude."

"Cool."  Brian stepped in and traded the bill for the needle and
the drugs, and then gestured at the stall.  "You mind if I...?"

"Uh..."

Brian moved.  The guy followed him.  Didn't want his equipment to
get out of sight.  Typical reaction.

He'd already fixed.  He still had the band of rubber around his
upper arm.  His reaction time was slow.  It was easy for Brian to
insert the hypo into his arm, and let the bubble of air into his
vein.

A bubble of air.  Pure, simple oxygen.  Cleanest kill in the world,
a nearly instant heart attack, and maybe the guy would have
overdosed anyway.  Certainly no one would be looking for
complicated explanations as to why the guy had died.

"What'd you do that for?" the junkie asked.  Brian wiped the hypo
off and put it in the guy's hand, even as the junkie slumped over
onto him.  Brian lowered him down onto the toilet, head leaning
against the wall, and repeated the process with the drugs, making
sure to get the hundred dollar bill back.  Not because he cared
about the money but because he didn't want to raise questions in
anyone's mind as to what the guy was doing with it.

He walked out of the bathroom whistling and used his cell phone to
call a cab.  Unfortunate tragedy, it would be reported as.  It
might not even make it up to the status of tragedy, because, after
all, the guy was a drug user.

No, Brian decided, it would be reported as a moral lesson, because
this was Cincinnati, and they were more likely to editorialize even
a meaningless death like this one.

It was good, and it was done, and it was clean.  Brian called from
the cab to let Vince know he was on his way safely back to the
hotel.  Tony hadn't checked in yet with AJ; Brian hoped wherever he
was, he was away from the club.  It would be inconvenient for AJ to
be present when the body was discovered.  Not particularly
problematic -- Tony had been watching him like a hawk, after all. 
But inconvenient.

He thought about calling Leigh Anne, but decided to wait until he
was back at the hotel and tucked in for the night.  There would be
autographs to sign at the hotel, and he hated to disappoint their
fans.

He was the nice one after all, and Brian had good reasons to want
to retain that image.