This is the forty-second story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Loving the Alien.

This is the longest story I've written in this series so far. It went on and on and on. I think it was largely because Jerry was finally getting his comeuppance, and it felt *so* cathartic, I had trouble stopping. :evil :lol

There is sex in this one, too. Graphic sex. So be warned. (Or enjoy, depending on your particular point-of-view. ;) )

Warnings: m/m, AU, humor, threats, but no actual violence, bad language in heaps and heaps. No spoilers for the movie.

My thanks to Mali, for her unending patience and hand-holding throughout this part. I'm a scaredy-cat when it comes to confrontation, so I needed constant pushing to get through this. Once I did though, I really started to get into it. Hence, the ten pages. :lol

~Silk

*****

Music is Lethal

By Silk


"Curt, maybe this isn't such a good idea," Brian began.

Curt pretended that he didn't hear his lover and continued to dial Jack's phone number. When the call went through, he growled, "Jack? Oh, Arthur. Hi. It's me. What do you mean, me who? You're a pretty funny guy this early in the morning."

Brian shivered with the cold. He pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around his naked body. That was better. It was bloody cold in the flat. He knew Curt had a somewhat lackadaisical approach to finance at best, and it occurred to him that Curt might have forgotten to pay the utilities.

"I'm going to get dressed," he whispered to Curt.

Curt wagged a warning finger at his lover, as if to say, Don't you dare leave my sight. "Yeah, I'm listening, Jack."

By the time Curt got off the phone, Brian was in the shower. He could hear water running. That gave him an idea. Stealthily creeping into the bathroom, Curt could see that Brian had his face right under the spray. Silently divesting himself of his black leather pants, he slipped into the shower behind Brian.

When Curt's arms closed around Brian's chest, Brian gave a yelp of surprise before relaxing against the older man. "Are you trying to scare me to death?"

"Nah..." Curt fastened his lips to a spot on Brian's nape and sucked hard enough to raise a bruise. When he was done, he licked the side of Brian's neck, provoking a fit of the giggles from his lover. "I'm trying to get clean, Curt."

"Why?" Curt pressed his half-hard cock into the cleft of Brian's ass and groaned. "Don't you want to get down and dirty with me anymore? It's much...more...fun."

"That's...nice," Brian said breathlessly, thrusting back against Curt. It felt good to be here, in Curt's arms, in Curt's flat, in Curt's life. He didn't need anything else.

Well, maybe one thing.

"Fuck me. Hard. I want to feel you inside me...even when you're gone."

Curt grabbed the shampoo and smeared it all over himself, his cock twitching appreciatively. He slid easily into Brian, joining them with a single thrust that he felt to the back of his teeth. "Oh, God, baby, you're so hot."

Brian braced himself against the wall, the ceramic tile feeling smooth and slick under his hands. Curt pulled him tight against him, angling his thrusts so that he hit his lover's prostate each and every time. Brian was gasping for breath when he felt Curt shudder.

Curt came, flooding his snug channel with warm, sticky fluid that spilled down the inside of his thighs. Still hard and throbbing within Brian, Curt fingered his lover's balls, feeling them draw up in anticipation of the explosion to come.

"Come for me, babe. That's it, that's it. Come for me," Curt chanted in his ear.

"Curtttt..." Brian moaned. Suddenly he was *there*. Coming all over Curt's hand. Curt released him, only to daub come-spattered fingers all over Brian's flat abdomen.

"Jesus, Brian," Curt panted. "I hope you're still holding onto the wall cause I'm about to fall down," Curt said shakily.

Brian twisted away from him, only to turn and face him with a cheeky grin. "That's what you get for interrupting my shower. You're such a bad boy."

"Only on the outside, Bri."

"Mmm, yeah...on the inside...where no one gets to be but me...you're pretty fucking perfect."

"It's not easy being me," Curt said with a straight face. "But someone's gotta do it."

"You're an arrogant bastard, but I love you," Brian declared, his blue eyes sparkling with good humor.

*****

"We've got an appointment with Jack and his lawyer in an hour, babe," Curt said, hurrying to dry his hair into some semblance of order. "I had him put a rush on it on account of us going on tour."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing complicated, babe. You're just going to sign over your controlling interest in Bijou Music to Jack. He'll take care of the rest."

"I won't miss the money," Brian sighed. "And God knows, I never had much power. Jerry had it all."

"You just wait till Jack gets hold of the reins, Bri. Jerry's going to be singing a different tune out of the other side of his mouth."

*****

"I'm glad you trust me enough to do this, Brian," Jack said softly.

They could speak freely in front of Jack's lawyer. Maurice White had forgotten more secrets than anyone else alive knew.

"It feels like the right thing to do, Jack."

"When I take over, the first thing I'm going to do, besides firing Jerry and Shannon, of course...is take you on as Tommy Stone."

"Jack-"

"You've still got something to say musically, Brian. Curt and I still believe in you. And much to my astonishment, so does Arthur."

"Oh, well, if Arthur thinks so..." Brian quipped, tongue in cheek, his brilliant blue eyes dancing merrily.

"Perhaps it's not as obvious to you as it is to me, but Arthur is a fairly astute judge of character."

"I know," Brian said softly. "He picked *you*, didn't he?"

*****

When the papers were prepared, Jack signed his name with a flourish and vowed, "Jerry Devine will never know what hit him."

A grim look marred his usual beauty, lending him a feral grace that was at odds with his entire personality. "I want you to know, Brian, I'm not just doing this for *you*. I'm doing it for *Curt*, too. Jerry presumed too much when he went to war on *Curt*."

Not surprisingly, Jack's allegiance lay first and foremost with Curt. But that didn't bother Brian. He was glad that Curt had such a staunch ally. It wasn't that Curt was *defenseless*. Far from it. But on some level, Curt didn't believe that he was *worth* defending.

Though Jerry was hardly the only one responsible for reinforcing Curt's negative self-image, he *was* the primary force behind Curt's eventual split with Brian. And for *that*, Brian would never forgive Jerry. That Curt was already damaged goods was not in question. But Jerry took unfair advantage of both of them, and then, when it was finally over, he had the nerve to rub their noses in it.

Killing would be too good for him. Brian wanted Jerry to *live* and *suffer*.

The way he had when he lost Curt.

The way Curt had when he lost Brian.

"What goes around, comes around," Brian murmured.

*****

It was murder on Brian's nerves to stay home while Curt, Jack, and Arthur sallied forth to do battle with Jerry. They reminded him of The Three Musketeers. All for one, and one for all.

But a medieval grudge match had nothing on them. They were armed to the teeth with weapons Jerry would understand. Legal remedies to the problems Jerry had caused. The chief one being *Jerry* himself. Not to mention Shannon.

"Please don't mention Shannon," Brian muttered to himself. He found that he could live with the wicked things Jerry had done, all in the name of ambition and avarice, but Shannon's treachery was borne out of something else, something *personal*. That made it very hard to forget.

But hopefully, after today, it would be over. It would finally be over.

*****

"Look at it this way, Jack. After this, going on tour is gonna be a fucking breeze, man." Curt took one last drag on his cigarette and pitched it away as they strode towards the building that once housed the empire of Maxwell Demon.

Jack stopped dead outside the door and faced Curt. "You don't have to go inside, Curt. I know what this must be like for you. Being *here*. Of all places."

Curt shook his head vehemently, his long blond hair whipping around his face like the clinging fingers of a jealous lover. "I have to, Jack. He *can't* be here. So *I* have to be. That's the way it is between us."

Jack smiled faintly. "I don't know if I should applaud your insight...or the way you two love each other. It's damned inspiring either way."

Curt rolled his eyes and grinned. "Jesus, Jack, give a guy some warning when you're gonna say something like that. I'm nobody's fucking role model."

Arthur, who up till now had been perfectly content to lurk on the sidelines, leaped into the conversation with both feet. "Yeah, you are. I'd be happy to be *half* the man you've turned into."

Curt smiled and playfully ruffled Arthur's dark brown hair. "I think Jack likes you just the way you are, kid."

As they stood there in the harsh light of day, Curt's smile abruptly faded. "I don't want either one of you to be surprised. You might hear some stuff that'll make you angry. Hell, it'd make *me* angry if someone else was saying it. But-"

"It's part of what we have to do," Jack finished for him. "To protect him. And you."

"Yeah," Curt agreed, wondering why now, of all times, he felt choked up.

*****

Jerry was in his office. He wasn't waiting for them. He couldn't have been. He didn't know they were coming.

But the moment he saw them, he expected trouble.

That was the problem with getting what you paid for...someone somewhere was always willing to give it to you.

"Gentlemen," Jerry boomed heartily. "And Curt," he couldn't help but add sotto voce. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Jack glided forward and laid copies of the legal papers on Jerry's desk. Jerry frowned, then stared at the papers as if they were on fire. "What's this?"

"A message. From the late and unlamented Brian Slade," Jack said smoothly.

Jerry's blue eyes flickered with something akin to anxiety. It was as close to a real emotion as Curt had ever seen. "He's *dead*?"

Curt laughed darkly. "Don't we all wish?"

"Not dead. Not yet," Jack finessed. "But no longer with us. Not even in spirit, I'm afraid." Jack looked appropriately sad.

Arthur patted Jack's arm affectionately and looked mournfully in Jerry's direction. "He's moved on. No one knows where. But he left everything to Jack."

"Everything?" Jerry cried out, his razor-sharp mind quickly calculating what this could mean to him and his inheritance of the million-dollar business that was Bijou Music.

"*Everything*," Jack echoed, allowing himself a triumphant smile on Brian's behalf. "Brian gave me his controlling interest in Bijou. You know what that means, don't you, Jerry?"

Jerry grew pale and started to sweat. "You...own...Bijou?"

"For all intents and purposes, yes. But more than that, Jerry...I own *you*. Don't I?"

Jerry began to back away from Jack, a trace of what appeared to be real fear in his eyes. "No..."

"I'm afraid so," Jack said, sounding curiously unapologetic.

Arthur grinned at his lover, then turned his gleaming dark eyes on Jerry. "That makes you Jack's bitch!" he chortled gleefully.

Jack's lips twitched in what could have been laughter, if he had only permitted it. "No, my angel, I have much better taste."

Curt never dreamed that Jerry's comeuppance would feel so completely satisfying. It was almost as if things had finally been righted in the world.

Jerry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glaring at Jack. "How do I know any of this is true?"

"You can read, can't you? At least, I always assumed you could," Jack said. He tapped an impatient finger on the papers that lay undisturbed on Jerry's desk.

"What's *he* doing here?" Jerry demanded, sliding a hostile glance at Curt. "What does *he* have to do with all this?"

Curt wished he had a cigarette. Right now. "Me? I just came along for the ride, man. What *you* did to me is nothing compared to what that snarky little *bastard* did to me. But if you ask me, and I know you fucking didn't, Jerry, this is one of the nicest things that Brian fucking Slade ever did for me."

Jack didn't even blink at the genuine antagonism in Curt's voice. His obvious hatred of Jerry Devine was coloring everything he said, and Curt had warned them about what he might say.

"You don't care what happens to Brian anymore? Am I really expected to believe that, Curt?"

"Fuck you, man. I've been fucked over by better men than you, you prick. You're just a cocksucker in a cheap suit, man. No better than me. No matter how *swell* you think you are."

Jack did lift an eyebrow at that particular unrehearsed diatribe. "Curt, Curt, God gave us language so that we could speak using *all* the words at our disposal, not simply a chosen *few*."

Jerry began to smile. Jack put a stop to that right away. "However," he said, staring down Jerry until the older man clearly felt the weight of that intimidating glare, "there are times when a good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon curse word is really the *only* word that will do."

Fixing Jerry with a steely look, Jack continued. "You have 24 hours to pack up your things, you sad little fuck. If you are not gone within that time, I will *not* politely call for Security, like your little fuck-buddy Shannon did to *Curt*. I will personally kick your ass from here to kingdom come. Do we understand each other?"

"You can't *fire* me."

"I don't have to. I can make your life miserable until you beg me to let you go. It's your choice." Jack turned to his lover and petted his hair lovingly. "Would you like to run a record company, sweetness?"

"Neat!" Arthur cried out enthusiastically.

"You can't give my job away!"

"Who says? I may not be able to fire you outright, but when I get through with you, you pathetic little motherfucker, you're going to wish I did."

"I still have shares in Bijou-"

"Good for you. But that doesn't give you free rein here anymore. You are no longer Brian Slade's manager. Therefore, there is no longer any reason for you to be here. Shares or no shares. You don't work here anymore. I suggest you find a new line of work."

"I think he'd make a good prison guard meself," Arthur chimed in cheerfully.

"Did I fucking ask you? And who the bloody fuck are you anyway?"

"I'm Arthur," Arthur said, as if that explained everything.

Jerry didn't look particularly impressed. Turning his attentions back to Jack, Jerry said, "Well, I'm not fucking going. You can make all the threats you like. But I'm staying right here."

"Here, meaning Bijou?" Jack inquired in a deceptively soft voice.

"Yeah."

"Suit yourself. I personally don't think you'll enjoy being Arthur's go-for, but maybe the experience will be good for you."

"He's going to work for *me*?" Arthur looked aghast at the thought.

"Hmm...that would be cruel and unusual punishment," Jack said thoughtfully. Jerry grinned, thinking he'd won a concession of some sort.

Jack let him think that. For all of two seconds. "I couldn't subject Arthur to that, Jerry. Sorry. I'm afraid you just don't have what it takes to be a good flunky."

Curt barely suppressed a smile. It was strangely cathartic putting Jerry in his proper place, even if it did mean revisiting bitter memories that he thought he had finally put behind him.

"And what are *you* smiling at, Curt? I should've *killed* you when I had the chance!" Jerry blurted out, rage obliterating what was left of his common sense.

Curt's blue-gray eyes frosted over, his expression glacial. "I made a lot of promises to a lot of people that I wouldn't fucking hurt you, man," he said coldly. "But I'm warning you. Don't fucking push me."

"You haven't been *dangerous* since Brian Slade cut you up and left the pieces for the fucking vultures."

Curt lunged at Jerry, but Arthur and Jack each grabbed an arm and held him back. "He's not worth it, Curt," Arthur stunned Curt by whispering into his ear. "It might feel good right now, but you'd lose something more important. I think you know what I mean."

The tension drained out of Curt's body almost instantly. Brian. He meant *Brian*. If he fixed Jerry's wagon for good...he would never see Brian again. Curt forced himself to relax, earning his release from both captors.

"Nah, you're right, man," Curt said, eyeing Jerry carefully. "I'm a fucking pussycat. You don't need to be scared of *me*." But there was a glittering hardness in Curt's eyes that belied his casual demeanor. It was a warning, and it was unmistakable.

Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. "And now, if you'll excuse us, Jerry, you're taking up space. In *Arthur's* office."

"Are you telling me to get out?"

"Oh, that's right, I did say you had 24 hours, but you know what? I *lied*. I have no intention of letting you walk out of here with God knows what. It doesn't belong to you anymore, Jerry."

With a quick glance at Curt, which was more meaningful than it was long, Jack added, "Get over it."

End