“Not a chance,” Michael said.

“He’s fucking some playmate with big tits,” Justin said matter-of-factly, grinning at the incredulous look Brian sent his way. “What? I can’t read US? People do leave them on the counter, you know.”

“But what if he is,” Ted said. “Would you fuck him?”

“No,” Brian said immediately.

Justin snorted.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “He’s always going on and on about his dick size. He’s clearly overcompensating. If you have to talk it up that much--”

“Oh riiiight, Mr. It’s Nine Inch Night at Babylon So I Get In Free,” Michael laughed.

“Actually, we measured once--” Justin began.

“He’s four inches, tops.” Brian interrupted, leaning back in his chair and looking bored. “I don’t drop my pants for anything less than seven.”

“Okay.” Ted drained his lemonade -- he was suddenly parched, and he didn’t want to consider how much that may or may not have to do with imagining Justin and seven inches -- and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Who would you fuck?”

“Oooh, fantasy fucks,” Emmett squealed, clapping his hands. “I love this topic. Okay... oooh, I know. Cary Grant.”

“Isn’t he, like, dead?” Justin asked.

“Oh, he’s dead,” Ben replied.

“Gross,” Justin muttered into his beer.

“Now Sunshine, don’t judge,” Brian scolded with a smirk. “Maybe Emmett is into... maggots.”

Emmett rolled his eyes. “I was assuming it was the ‘who would you fuck living or dead straight or gay’ game. And Cary Grant was so dreamy. That cleft in his chin? I just want to lick it.”

“And while I try to suppress that mental image,” Brian said, shuddering elaborately, “Michael?”

“Hmmm. Oh. Um... don’t laugh.”

“Mocking is half the fun,” Justin pointed out.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Okay. Well. Sylvester Stallone.” He cringed in anticipation of the hoots of derision, and wasn’t disappointed. He waved his arms, laughing. “I’m talking about young Stallone,” he corrected himself.

“Aaaah.” Ted laughed. “Sly, the early years.”

“Rambo,” Brian said.

“Rocky,” Emmett put in.

“YO, ADRIAN!” the entire table bellowed while Justin looked on in amusement. He didn’t even want to think about how old those movies were.

“I think that’s a perfectly understandable and legitimate fantasy figure,” Ben said, slinging an arm comfortably around Michael’s shoulder while Michael beamed. “Your attraction to larger than life characters, plus the exaggerated male physique of--”

“Blah blah blah,” Brian interrupted. “We haven’t heard your answer, Professor.”

“Uh... No.”

“I bet I know,” Michael laughed.

“Come on, spill the beans,” Emmett urged.

“We won’t laugh,” Ted promised. “Much.”

“Admitting that you visualize some other guy’s lips around your cock while you’re playing with yourself doesn’t negate your monogamous, pseudo-hetero, boring-as-shit relationship with Mikey, nor does it--”

“I think you’ve made your point, Brian,” Justin said softly.

“Right,” Brian nodded.

With all eyes on him, Ben sighed. “All right. Uh... Tobey Maguire.”

“I KNEW IT!” Michael stabbed a finger at Ben’s chest, laughing. “I knew you didn’t agree to see Spiderman NINE TIMES just because I thought the special effects were cool!”

“So you’re both superhero lovers,” Emmett said. “That’s so...”

“Creepy?” Brian asked.

“It’s sweet,” Emmett admonished.

“Okay Ted, you’re next,” Justin said.

“Oh, well, I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, it’s not like I’d even get a chance with a celebrity. I’m just me, boring Ted Schmidt from Pittsburgh, and--”

“Spill it, Theodore.”

Ted took a deep breath. “Norbert Butz.”

Justin laughed. “Somebody actually acts under the name BUTZ?”

“Gotta be a porn star,” Brian mumbled.

“Oh!” Emmett exclaimed. “Is he the star of King Dong? Strange, I don’t really remember what he looked like...”

“He’s not a porn star!” Ted sighed in frustration. “You remember when I went to New York for that conference on Capital Budgets and NPV Analysis?”

“No,” Michael said.

“Not in the slightest,” Brian said.

“Anyway,” Ted continued, “when I was there I went to see this play. Wicked. It’s a musical based on--”

“We haven’t all been living under a rock, Theodore.”

“Norbert Butz played the lead. Fiyero. Very hot.” Ted nodded emphatically. “Though the guy playing Boq was pretty cute, too...”

“You have got to be the only person in the world who picks an unknown stage actor as your ultimate fantasy,” Justin said.

“It’s not like we’ve heard from you, Mr. Critical Pants,” Ted huffed.

Justin shrugged. “Connor James.”

“That was quick,” Ben grinned.

“Connor James is the number one action star in America,” Michael said confidently. “I’ve seen Thunder Fire six times.”

“Yeah well, he can’t act worth shit, but that ass?” Justin smirked around his straw. “The things I could do to that ass.”

“I like a man who knows what he wants,” Brian grinned. “Or who he wants.”

“And who do you want, Brian?” Emmett asked playfully.

“Brad Pitt?” Michael suggested.

“Russell Crowe?” Ted put in.

Brian slid languidly out of his seat, pulling Justin up with one hand while slinging his jacket on with the other. He was halfway to the door before the others were out of their seats. “Come on, boys,” he called, “we’re going to be late for the Asstacular Extravaganza at Babylon.”

“You’re no fun,” Michael moaned from somewhere behind them.

Brian smiled and slung an arm around Justin’s shoulder. “Connor James, huh?”

“He’s the number one action star in America, you know,” Justin said, trying hard to keep a straight face and failing miserably. He laughed and draped an arm easily around Brian‘s waist. “Like I’d have a chance in hell with Connor James!”

“You never know, Sunshine,” Brian drawled.

“Shut. Up.” Justin slapped at Brian’s chest. “Anyway, I guess my chances are just as good as yours with... Johnny Depp.” He laughed gleefully when Brian couldn’t hide his look of shock. “Oh please, you think I don’t notice that your copy of Pirates of the Caribbean is practically worn out?”

Brian leaned down to nip at Justin’s ear. “Aargh matey.”

“You want to skip the Asstacular?” Justin said, just a tiny bit breathless. “I think I can find a bandanna...”

“I can... pretend I’m blowing things up,” Brian suggested.

“Deal,” Justin breathed.