This is the eighth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Dance On My Heart. This is a complete about-face from the previous sequel. This story is filled with angst and near-violence. Blame Jerry. He woke them up, and all hell broke loose. ;)

Rated R for language, not sex.

Warnings: m/m, angst, AU, near-violence. No real spoilers for the movie.

~Silk

*****

Parisian Demands

By Silk

Brian was the first to stir. He flexed his fingers, which were deeply entwined in Curt's hair, and yawned expansively, his breath tickling the back of Curt's neck. Suddenly he caught sight of Jerry standing over them. His nose wrinkled as the scent of Jerry's ever-present cigar reached him.

"Jerry..."

"Brian..." Jerry acknowledged, acting as though he was waiting for something.

Curt woke up and rubbed his eyes. Jerry cut him off in mid-yawn just as Curt stretched with feline grace to scratch his abdomen. "Nice of you to join us."

"Are we having a *meeting*?" I must have missed the memo."

"You signed a contract. You're available whenever I say you are," Jerry declared.

"Could this at least wait till I get some breakfast, man?"

"*Breakfast* is in the morning. It is now *afternoon*."

"Lunch, then."

"Where is it written that I have to provide you with *meals*?" Jerry asked sarcastically, his entire demeanor implying that Curt was there on sufferance.

Jerry saw a tremendous opportunity to be explored here, but he wanted the players to realize their roles. As far as he was concerned, Curt was a potential liability who *could* be turned to Jerry's advantage. But if it didn't work out that way, the only one who would be devastated would be *Brian* when Jerry cut Curt loose.

"Wow, that's quite a welcome, man," Curt returned, his blue-gray eyes glittering.

"Listen, you little prick, you're here to make music, keep Brian entertained, and stay out of the way. If there's *any* one of those things you feel you can't do, just speak up."

"Jerry!" Brian cried. He wasn't going to stand for anyone talking to Curt like that. "You can't talk to him like-"

"I'm not dealing with your little rent boy's hurt feelings, Brian. It doesn't work that way. Now get your ass out of bed. You were due in make-up an hour ago. You have a photo shoot today, and I will *not* cancel it because you don't like the way I talked to your *boyfriend*."

Brian glanced helplessly at Curt, ashamed that Curt was being exposed to this side of the business so early. But Curt smiled. "Always stoking the starmaker machinery, eh, Jerry?"

"I'm impressed that you've actually heard of Joni Mitchell, Curt. But I expect you to be dressed and ready to perform with Brian."

"*Perform*? What am I, a trained *dog*?"

"Very nearly, my dear. And I'm not inclined to pay for your Methadone unless you try harder to please me." Jerry grinned, but it was more of a feral grimace.

"You shit."

"Keep him in line, Brian. I *mean* it. Rent boys can be replaced."

"I'm not his fucking rent boy, you asshole! I'm a musician!"

"Is that why you think you're here?" Jerry laughed.

It was on the tip of his tongue to yell, hell, scream, "I quit!", but he knew what he'd promised Brian. He'd endure *worse* to be with Brian. And now he knew he would *have to*.

*****

"Curt..." Brian touched the top of Curt's shoulder, only to have the older man shrug it off.

"Sorry, man. We seem to be on a schedule, and I don't want to piss off the boss by being even later."

"Curt-" Brian hated seeing Curt withdraw from him. He understood...but he hated it just the same.

"It's not like he made it sound," Brian tried to explain.

"Really." Curt pulled a clean T-shirt over his head and proceeded to ignore his lover. However, seconds later, he was suddenly so angry, he shook his finger in Brian's face. "You could have fucking *warned* me!"

"And told you what, Curt? You knew that people were going to find out that we were lovers!"

"Yeah, I did, Bri. And guess what? *I* wasn't hiding how I felt. I didn't care who knew!"

"Then why are you so fucking mad?" Brian shouted.

All at once Curt was nose to nose with Brian, staring at him with eyes the color of cold hard steel. "He made it sound like the only reason I was here was cause *you* asked for me. Like I was a fucking *present* or a...a *reward* cause Brian was a *good* boy this week. Is that what I am to you, Brian? Did you ask Uncle Jerry to buy you Curt Wild for your fucking collection?"

The slap took both of them by surprise. Brian's hand stung where it had connected with Curt's skin, and a bright red palm print was already evident on the side of Curt's face. "You...bastard," Brian choked out.

There was no visible sign of reaction from Curt save for the moisture that sprang unbidden to his eyes. But inside he was trembling. "I wonder how much make-up it'll take to cover that up," he said huskily.

"Go ahead, Curt! Cover it up! Cover it *all* up!" Brian screamed, swiping furiously at his eyes. His face crumpling, Brian drew back to hit Curt in earnest, but Curt dodged the blow and grabbed Brian by the wrist. Brian struggled feebly inside Curt's hold and swore brokenly.

Curt strained to maintain his grip on Brian, but the sight of him so wounded was too much to bear. With a tremendous effort, he managed to wrap his arms around Brian, and bit by bit, Brian grew still. Painfully still. His body remained rigid, as if he were afraid to *touch* Curt, and that hurt.

"Hey," Curt joked weakly, "if it'll make you feel any better, I'll *let* you hit me."

Brian held out for as long as he could, but this was *Curt*. The only man he would ever consider giving all this up for. "Curt..." he murmured, burying his face against his lover's chest.

"Aw, babe," Curt said softly, hoping desperately that he wasn't scaring Brian away. "I'm such a jerk."

Brian sniffled and said, "Yes, you are."

"Hey, you're not supposed to agree with me."

Brian raised his head to look intently into Curt's eyes. "Jerry's going to kill both of us. I don't suppose you actually *care* about that."

"Can't say that I do, babe." Truth to tell, Curt was so incredibly relieved that Brian wasn't running in the opposite direction that he *really* didn't care about anything else.

"I won't let him cut you off the drugs, Curt. Even if I have to pay for them myself."

"I'm not worried about that, Bri."

"You should be."

"The only thing that matters to me right now...is *you*. As long as I have you, I can do anything, man."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yeah."

Brian bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry I slapped you, Curt."

"I'm not. I didn't know what *I* thought mattered to you, Brian. Now I know better."

"I love you, Curt. I wish you could believe that."

"I'm trying, babe. I swear."

Curt released Brian, and the two of them finished dressing in utter silence, apparently lost in their own thoughts. "You look wonderful," Curt said when Brian was done. He was clothed completely in white, his skin and his hair pale accompaniment to his outfit.

It was so different from the colorful things Brian usually wore that Curt didn't know exactly what to make of it.

For his part, Curt was dressed totally in black. It was as if they were mirror images of one another. For a moment, Curt wondered if it was some kind of an omen, but he quickly dismissed it as superstition.

Suddenly Brian grabbed Curt by the belt buckle and pulled him roughly towards him. Curt felt as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, waiting for the wind to blow him in one direction or another. Brian stared at him, his light blue eyes hungrily eating up the sight of him. Curt wanted to kiss him, but he was afraid of fucking things up again.

As though he were reading Curt's mind, Brian smiled faintly and kissed him. "The only way either one of us could fuck things up for good...would be for one of us to *leave*."

Curt felt a chill blow over him and shivered. "That'll never happen," Curt vowed.

Brian took Curt's hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of his hand and sighed. "Ready to meet Jerry's demands?"

"Why do I feel like I'm being ransomed?" Curt quipped.

"I'll handle Jerry. He doesn't really want to piss me off. It just seems that way."

"Is this his way of getting a better show out of you, babe?"

"Something like that."

"I feel like I've run away and joined the circus."

"That's it exactly."

"Who's the ringmaster?"

"Why, I am, of course."

"I don't think Jerry agrees with you, babe."

"Then I'll just have to remind him."

"*Now* you're scaring me, Bri."

Brian stuck out his tongue at Curt, and Curt swept the younger man off his feet and into a dip. As he gently brought him back to his feet, Curt kissed him. "Mmm...I think I rubbed off all your lipstick."

Brian chuckled. "I'm going to have to find a way to punish you for that."

"I look forward to it."

"Always the bad boy," Brian chided.

"Your very own."

End