Restraint is Useless Here

Anna's eyelids fluttered open once the scent of strong coffee filled her nose. Untangling herself from the sheets, she realized she was wearing only a t-shirt—and no underwear.

Panic-filled thoughts rattled her brain as she tried to piece together the night prior. Surely she wasn't drunk enough to sleep with anyone after the 3am Pedialyte and leftovers binge.

Right? She would've remembered having sex. But what if she did? What if she had sex with Brian? No, the idea of forgetting sex with Brian seemed impossible. But what if she wanted to forget it? What if it was bad? God, what if it was bad and it wasn't with Brian?

What if it was Johnny?

Glancing at the hook on her bedroom door, she saw her bikini hanging neatly and heaved a sigh of relief. The top drawer to her dresser was open and she remembered having no clean underwear, so she just crawled into bed bottomless.

Relieved, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the clock: 10:37am.

She had to do laundry today, then had to go get more than a duffle bag full of clothes from her apartment sooner than later.

Her circadian rhythm had become completely erratic since moving in with Matt and Val. That, and her inability to sleep longer than about 90 minute cycles.

The panic attacks hadn't entirely subsided, but she could fall asleep with ease now—thanks to Brian and his knack for acoustic lullabies—but Anna couldn't rely on him when she awoke a mere hour-and-a-half later, so she'd begun cheating a bit with an antihistamine to lull herself back into unconsciousness.

Not at all sustainable, but she was desperate. How long could a person go with such broken, fitful sleep patterns? Is this what new mothers go through?

During her last semester of nursing school, she'd learned about a rare but legitimate condition called Fatal Insomnia. Mostly, it was familial, triggered by a genetic mutation. But the disorder could also strike without any rhyme or reason.

The patient neurologically loses all ability to sleep and, ultimately, descends into dementia and dies from it.

And the fact that this is the conclusion I've reached within 120 seconds of waking up confirms nursing was a stupid idea for a profession, Anna thought. She knew too much.

Suddenly, a sweet and spicy aroma mingled with the coffee scent and drew Anna up to her feet, confusing her further.

Somebody was making breakfast and it wasn't her.

She opened her dresser in search of bottoms—she was down to the nitty gritty on clean clothing, period—then felt the blood drain from her face as she pulled out a pair of pajama pants with colorful little stethoscopes on them. Jack had bought them for her as a congratulatory gift when she'd received her nursing acceptance letter. Val must've grabbed them when she'd collected Anna's things right after she'd moved in.

Fisting them hard, she tossed them in the garbage can across the room with more force than necessary, knocking the whole thing over.

Even weeks removed from Jack, whether it be from nightmares or needing to calm her racing heart if someone approached her from behind or showing up in her fucking pajama drawer, he still haunted her.

And she wondered if that would ever go away.

The idea of Jack triggered a memory from the night prior, though: she had agreed to learn jiu jitsu. And Brian would be the one teaching her. Which both excited and terrified her.

Throwing on a pair of shorts, she padded into the kitchen to find Jimmy sipping coffee in the great room—and Brian standing over the oven, tasking himself with frosting cinnamon rolls he'd just pulled out of the oven.

“Morning, sunshine," Jimmy exclaimed brightly, raising his mug to her. A copy of Revolver rested on his lap. "Happy day off!" Legs crossed, her friend bounced his foot like a anxious student waiting for the bell to ring—the terry cloth slipper balancing precariously on his foot not so unlike the kind Anna's grandma would wear. He gestured toward Brian proudly.

"Happy day off, indeed," she replied, her voice still rough with sleep.

Brian turned to greet her, butter knife and frosting tin in hand. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually." Well for me. Amused, she said to Brian, "You baked."

"I did," Brian confirmed with a quirk of his mouth. "Or... Pillsbury did. But I baked away the salmonella potential. Either way, I thought you deserved a break."

Jimmy cleared his throat.

“Okay, Jimmy thought you deserved a break, too," Brian relented with an eye roll. "Anyway, the rest of us are used to eating shit food, but you'll have to lower your standards some. But after that stunt you pulled with Johnny last night, you deserve the Pillsbury."

He shot her a wink before turning his attention back to the rolls. As he frosted the roll in his hand, Brian's hair flopped over his eyes. Anna wanted more than anything to push it back.

It was reaching teenage heartthrob length.
And he baked so she didn't have to.
And her face was hot but not from her sunburn.
And watching him frost those cinnamon buns with an oven mitt slung over his shoulder did nothing to distract her from the fact that he was beautiful and, goddamnit, she liked him.

A little dazed, she shook her head with a disbelieving smile and said, "No, Pillsbury is great, actually. Thank you."

"The real challenge, however," he continued, "is determining the appropriate frosting-to-bun ratio."

She laughed. "Is that the real challenge?"

“The entire experience is dependent on frosting content," Brian lectured, brandishing the butter knife for emphasis. Frosting dripped from it onto his finger. He licked it. "It's a precarious balance that, once mastered, can really amplify the secret ingredient of the roll."

"Oh, really?" Anna asked, crossing her arms. "And what is the secret ingredient?"

“The... uh... " Brian picked up the discarded cardboard tube, which unraveled like an orange peel, and squinted sideways at the torn wrapping. "The 'xanthan gum.' Makes the flavor... pop." He looked at her for approval, but they both burst into laughter.

"Man." Jimmy glanced at them from over the magazine. "You're really on some bullshit today, Gates."

"So, obviously I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about." Brian tossed the tube into the garbage. "I've invaded your kitchen, I know. It's probably making you itch. Really, I just wanted you to have a break. You know, not feel like you have to constantly be slaving over a hot stove for our sake." He grinned, offering the knife to her. "Would you prefer to take back the control?"

Anna shook her head, meandering over to the coffee pot. "I think you've got this. I trust your frosting-to-bun ratio."

I trust you, she thought, remembering what she told him last night. Alcohol notwithstanding, she found she still meant it.

Valary breezed into the kitchen just as Anna sat down on the couch next to Jimmy, who shot to his feet like he'd been yanked by puppeteer.

"Val," he ground out. "ValValVal."

Val gave him a look that said for fuck's sake Jimmy I just woke up and beelined for the coffee. Anna knew that wasn't true, though, because she already had her contacts in and Val never put her contacts in until she'd had a chance to cycle through her entire morning skin care regimen. Not a single line marred her porcelain face, even makeup-free.

“VDB." Jimmy rounded the island and hopped up onto the counter next to the coffee pot where Val was pouring her cup. "Valary."

“I haven't made the call yet, Jim," she sighed, exasperated. "I will today."

"Today this morning," he suggested.

"Today this morning after at least two cups of coffee," she corrected. "We haven't been to the cabin in nearly two years. It has to be cleaned and I'll have to schedule water and electricity to be reconnected. And there's no way in hell I'm driving all the way to Big Bear before it's been thoroughly inspected for rodents and fumigated, if need be."

"Fine," Jimmy muttered. "But this hot-ass, beach-ass, stucco-motherfucking-house ass California scene is really fucking with my creativity." He slumped over to Anna on the couch, plopping down next to her.

"Isn't Big Bear in California?" Anna whispered. She'd never ventured far outside the Los Angeles metro area.

"Yeah, 'bout two hours east." Jimmy laid his head on her shoulder, fingering a few strands of her hair and trying to braid them. "But it feels like a whole other world there. It's quieter, so my brain is louder. It's easier to find all the music notes floating around in my mind palace and arrange them like so." He mimicked plucking items out of the air and placing them aligned. "Or maybe I've just done mushrooms there too many times. One of those things."

After filling two travel mugs with black coffee, Val wandered over to Brian, glancing warily at the tray of cinnamon rolls. "This is new."

“It's Pillsbury," Brian muttered, deadpan. "All I did was put them in the oven for 15 minutes."

"Oh, thank God," she plucked two from the pan and turned to leave. "Matt and I are headed to the Jeep dealership. I have no idea when the last time he's had those brake pads changed and I don't think it's supposed to screech like it does. Also, we'll probably head to World Market because I'm tired of looking at these curtains."

"We just got those curtains before tour!" Matt called from the other room. "We haven't had a chance to look at them!"

"People change!" Val shot back. She pointed a bun at Anna. "We still on for girl's night?"

Anna raised her coffee mug in reply. "With bells on, VDB."

"You've been hanging out with Jimmy too much," Val said with a smirk, then disappeared out the door.

Just then, Brian's phone rang and he called out, "Hey, my contractor's calling. Anna, can you listen for the oven?"

Moments after Brian disappeared down the hall, Matt stumbled into the living room with backward cap and aviators on—and Anna was pretty certain his basketball shorts were on backwards. He looked at Anna and Jimmy questioningly and they both pointed straight at the door.

Matt's shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh. "She never fucking slows down."

"Crack that domestic whip now, Shads," Jimmy cackled. "This is the rest of your life, buddy!" After Matt reluctantly followed—and Jimmy had given up on braiding and instead tied two strands of Anna's hair in shoelace form—Jimmy dropped his voice low. "He's got a ring, you know."

"He does?!" Anna's hands flew to her mouth, knocking Jimmy's mug with her elbow. "Shit, I'm sorry!"

"He does," confirmed Jimmy, lifting his mug to stabilize it. "He said it was five carats or five stalks of celery or whatever the fuck vegetable they use to measure diamonds. You're the chef, so you'd know more than I do. And it's fruit-shaped, to make it even more fucking confusing." Jimmy shrugged as Anna laughed.

5 carats. Pear-shaped. Exactly, perfectly Valary.

He went on, "And I don't know for sure but I'm pretty positive he's planning a proposal at Big Bear, which annihilates my shot at putting a dent in this next album, but I guess I can forgive my best friend's engagement." He held up a finger. "Just the first engagement, though."

"Jimmy," Anna gushed, hands still over her mouth. "Holy shit. This is incredible. Does anyone else know?" She heard Brian's muffled voice from down the hall in his bedroom, so she cast a glance to make sure he wasn't approaching.

"Just me," Jimmy replied. "And Matt, obviously. And now you, so you have to promise me you'll keep your lips zipped."

Anna zipped her lips with a thumb and forefinger.

Jimmy grinned at her then, a genuine grin completely devoid of its usual mischief. "You know, Annie," he began. "I'm really not sure how we all got along in life without you around. Sorta feels like you've always been here." He palmed her knee, squeezing it. His enormous hand covered half of her thigh in the process. "I'm pretty sure Matt's actually writing your white chocolate raspberry muffins into a song. Val loves you, obviously. Hell, even Johnny loves you and he only loves girls he fucks for the six seconds it takes him to blow his load—and yeah, I've timed it." Anna's lip curled at his roundabout compliment.

Jimmy shook his head, continuing, "And I'll be damned if I've ever seen Gates get as amped about anything as he does about every goddamn meal you serve. He's fucking obsessed."

Anna felt her cheeks heat at his mention of Brian and smiled down at her hands. "It's just a hobby. I'm happy to do it."

"It's witchcraft is what it is," Jimmy leaned his head back, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest, mussing her hair. "Witchcraft from some sort of angel with a spatula." He dropped his voice low and soft, resting his chin on her head. "You're one of ours now, Annie. I mean that. You're family now. And I don't know where life's about to take the band or about to take you, but I hope you know that you always have a home with us."

Anna bit the inside of her cheek at Jimmy's detour toward sentimentality. She wasn't typically the crying type, but throwing out family and home during the most uncertain time of her life didn't exactly keep her tear ducts dry.

After a few steadying breaths, she hugged him back, unable to keep her voice from cracking ever so slightly. "You're killing me here, Jimmy," she whispered.

"That's okay," he whispered back. "Just as long as you know." Jimmy pressed a kiss to the top of her head—the brother she always wanted—and the oven timer dinged.

-——————

After a most uncomfortable shower, Anna finally got the chance to examine her sun damage. Her face had already begun to veer toward burnt sienna, but her shoulders and back still blazed like hellfire when the water hit them. Did letting the water hit only half your body still count as a shower?

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror in only a towel, she had applied aloe to her arms, chest and stomach, providing that paradoxical scorching chill that only sunburns and fevers could bring. Unfortunately, the most sunburnt part was the least accessible.

Anna wrapped the towel around her body and, tying her hair up and out of the way, squirted the aloe straight onto her upper back. Except it was physically impossible to contort her arms in order to reach it. Lower and lower it dripped until it reached the hem of the towel, soaking in. "Fucking hell," she breathed.

And of course Val was out all day and Jimmy had left for home after breakfast. So blisters were inevitable.

A knock on her door made her jump. "Anna?" It was Brian.

"Just a sec." Anna grasped at her towel even though the door was locked. After confirming she was sufficiently covered, she opened it a crack. "Hey."

Brian's eyes widened as they scanned her body. "Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn't... I was..." He cleared his throat as he diverted his eyes down the hallway, rubbing at his neck. "My contractor called and I was going to meet him for lunch to discuss the reno progress. I, uh... just wanted to know if you needed anything from... anywhere."

Anna smiled. "No, thank you. I think Matt loaded us up on food for the week yesterday."

Brian nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. "Sounds good. And... you'll be okay?"

By yourself, she finished for him. Fortunately, Matt and Val had a top notch security system installed. But the fact that Brian still asked...

"I'll be okay," she confirmed.

"And you don't need anything else?"

She shook her head. "I'm good."

Brian stood there for another moment, eyes to the ground and then deliberately darted straight up to her face. He gave her a tight-lipped grin before turning to leave. All their bravado from the night prior dissipated in the light of day and the glaring spotlight of sobriety.

And yet.

"Brian?" She called to him. He turned around. She held up the bottle of aloe and jiggled it. "I feel so ridiculous but... Val's not home. And I can't really reach..." She laughed nervously, motioning to her back. "And I swear to God I'm gonna blister if I can't..." Words failed her in light of the fact that they were very, very alone in the house. "Would you mind?"

His eyes widened once it clicked. "Oh. Oh. Fuck. Okay, yeah, no problem. I don't mind."

He stepped into the bathroom with her and he took the bottle from her. She turned around, facing the mirror and lowering the back of the towel to give him easier access.

“Jesus." He hissed an intake of breath. "I didn't realize how bad it was yesterday." He hit the bottle against his hand a few times before squirting aloe onto his palm. "Do you burn like this often?"

Anna had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning the moment his palm touched her shoulder. Brian's long fingers gently massaged the cool aloe into her skin, slowly working circles around her shoulder blade, then smoothed up to her neck, then just below her ear. He was inches, mere inches from her and his hands were on her naked skin and they were alone and she wore no underwear. His delicious fragrance of cedar and lime and a hint of cigarette smoke filled her lungs and oh God, she was so wet.

And she had gone far too long without answering him. "No," she replied hoarsely, like she hadn't spoken in hours. "But I also haven't been out in the sun much. You know, school and work constantly, before... everything."

Anna saw his reflection nod quietly as he concentrated on her skin. After several heartbeats, he asked, "How are you?"

"Better, I think," she replied, fisting the knot in her towel. "I still think about it. If I'm being honest, I think about him everyday." Her gaze dropped to the floor as she remembered the pajama pants and how they still took up space in her room. Emptying the trash would be the first thing on her list today. "I think about how I should've known." Brian's fingers curled and stretched against her skin when she said this. "But then I think about what I can do now to make sure that never happens again. With anyone." Anna looked up to find Brian's reflection watching her, dark and intent. The corner of her mouth curved up. "And I suppose that's where you come in."

"That's where I come in," he affirmed. His fingers, gentle but calloused, worked their way down each of Anna's arms, not missing a square inch of skin. She had already covered her arms, but was selfish enough to keep that to herself. He was quiet then, for several moments.

"So... I hope you don't think I'm a whore," he said, completely taking her by surprise.

Anna cast him a sidelong glance over her shoulder. "I never said you were."

"No, I know," Brian replied. "I just meant the shit Val said last night. About Albuquerque." He squirted more aloe onto his hand, the bottle making an unappealing sound. They both chuckled at the levity of the moment. But as she looked at their reflections in the mirror, she saw him frown down at her. "I dabbled in some drugs a couple years back. Did some deplorable shit. We all did, really, but that doesn't make it any better. It got old really fast."

He looked up and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"Long story short, I've done some stupid shit and made some questionable decisions since joining the band. Really fucking stupid decisions." Brian's eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head, letting it fall back. "God, I'm not making this better."

He was flustered.
She felt for him, but at the same time it was ridiculously cute.

"Look," he continued, jaw set. "Since we're going to be training—like, in really close proximity—I want you to know I'm clean. I've been dumb, but I've never been irresponsible. I'm clean. And it's been months since I've been with anyone." He shrugged then. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

“Clean," she echoed. "You mean like... medically?"

Brian's expression grew cloudy, like he confused himself. "Yeah," he said in a far off tone. Anna swore she saw him turn pink before he lowered his gaze to her shoulders. "I don't even know why I'm saying all this."

Anna gave him a small grin. "Hand-to-hand combat is the number one transmission method of disease. Will the lessons be as effective if we wear hazmat suits? Should you even be touching me right now?"

"You know what I mean, you brat." He palmed his face, a breathy laugh sweeping across her aloe-slick shoulder and making her skin erupt with goosebumps. Her chest warmed at that smile on his face; the one she couldn't see, but heard. Brian went on, "I know we're not going to be close like... like that kind of close. I just... fuck, I don't know." His expression turned serious—conflicted, almost. "I don't want you to think I'm some mindless, drugged out walking disease who can't keep it in his pants. I'm human, so I've fucked up before. And yeah, I took advantage of having the world on a silver platter for awhile. But I'm not like that now." Brian chuckled, his tone dropped low and mocking himself. "I'm not like other rockstars."

"No, of course not." It was Anna's turn to laugh. "But you don't need to explain yourself." And he truly didn't. She wasn't naive enough to think he hadn't banged his way through every tour, not that it mattered now anyway. Still, the Brian that stood behind her now was a far cry from the cocky, swaggering man rocking spikes and eyeliner from the night they met. "I don't need a history and physical from you. I'm not your nurse. I'm your student, remember?"

"You are."

“And I'm your roommate."

"You are that, as well."

"And I'm really looking forward to learning all the sick Anderson Silva shit."

"The 'sick Anderson Silva shit,' she says." Brian threw his head back in full, genuine laughter. "Man, I don't know whether to laugh at how ridiculous that sounds or to be impressed that you brought up Anderson Silva."

"I'm full of surprises," she shrugged. Diamond Bar had broadcast the paid UFC fights from time to time and the crowds were always huge on those nights, so she'd heard over and over again that Silva had an extensive background in jiu jitsu. Patrons got particularly fired up about Anderson Silva.

“Anderson Silva isn't just jiu jitsu, though," Brian said. "He's also trained Taekwondo and Muay Thai, so his techniques you see on TV are more aggressive. Jiu jitsu is more focused on... not fighting. Or fighting as little as possible. So you're not gonna go around dropping motherfuckers, contrary to what Jimmy was advertising."

"Aggression isn't really my forte, so that works perfectly."

Excitement bubbled in her. Brian had obviously had formal training; she didn't know how she hadn't guessed before. Though she had been lying on the ground with blood blurring her vision, so observing his technique wasn't high on her priority list that night. Regardless of whatever friendship or flirtation they had, the prospect of not only learning to capably defend herself but also spending one-on-one time with him was one she'd jump at. Sure, he joked about not being like other rockstars, but she believed him.

He responded with silence, but after a moment his lips grew into a lazy, comfortable smile.

"What?" Anna asked, not able to keep from smiling herself.

"This goddamn sunburn," he said, tracing a finger along her shoulder blades. "It's fucking awful. But... I don't know. It makes your eyes look extra blue."

Just then, she felt him hook a finger in the towel, tugging it down just an inch or so. Brian's voice was throaty as he said, "So, your lower back looks pretty bad, too. Did you want me to....?"

“Oh," Anna exhaled, not at all expecting his question. In truth, she could absolutely reach the majority of her lower back.

And yet.

Anna swallowed hard, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
Brian's eyes were molten obsidian as he waited for her reply. She nodded slowly, invoking as much nonchalance as possible, then loosened her hold on the towel to give him some more slack.

Brian knelt down behind her and she clenched her stomach muscles, closing her eyes and bracing herself. Not daring to breathe, to blink, to move an inch.

Two large hands splayed across the small of her back, fingertips reaching either side of her waist and long enough to curl around her hips. Brian's thumbs ascended, tracing parallel on either side of her spine.

Up and up and up, in circular motions, effectively freezing time and completely disorienting her until she felt his fingers mere inches from the lower curve of her breast. The muscles in her arms strained as she gripped the granite of the sink, palms slick with sweat.

And when she thought her rib cage would explode from the thrashing of her heart, she felt him near her skin and he blew a cool breath along her spine.

Her core tightened and she shuddered a breath, barely containing herself.

Brian must've felt her stiffen because, voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "Is this okay?"

Head spinning with dizziness and lust, Anna wasn't entirely sure what he was asking permission for.

"This is okay," she croaked out.

And then she wasn't entirely sure what she just gave permission to.
But it didn't matter.
She wanted all of it.

Fuck me, she wanted to say, the words near dripping off her tongue the same way she dripped down her leg.

Brian's reflection rose behind her, his expression feverish and his hands ghosting down her sides until his fingers pressed light pressure into her hips. His thumbs traced lazy circles around the small dips in her lower back, round and round and round.

She watched him stare at her body. Eyes raking over her hair, her shoulders, her back. Expression nothing short of reverent, he waged war behind those eyes.

He wanted her, she knew right then. God, he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

“Brian," she rasped, lips parting as she let her head fall back against him.

His eyes snapped to hers, ignited.
Ablaze.

And then a shrill ringing sliced through the moment.

"Fuck!" he breathed, jumping away from Anna, nearly bumping into the door. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "It's my dad. He's meeting us for lunch." Running his fingers through his hair, he didn't look at her. "He's probably there already."

"Of course," Anna nodded quickly, pulling up her towel and tightening it around her. She felt like someone had yanked her out of her power source. "You should go. I've gotta go, too. This..." she gestured to her hair, intending to say she needed to dry it. Instead, she trailed off. "I'll see you later, okay?"

The first thing she did upon closing the door to her room was wipe away the liquid between her thighs.

She really needed clean underwear.

————

There was no way Brian could leave yet.

The moment Anna's blow dryer sounded from the other room, Brian locked the door to the bathroom and yanked down his pants, loosing himself. There was no other fucking remedy.

Mere seconds after he wrapped his fingers around his straining cock and began pumping, he came so hard, so fiercely that his free hand shot to the towel rack to steady himself.

A nail clattered to the ground at his feet.

As the waves of relief coursed through his body, subsiding with each spasm, Brian rested his forehead against the wall, cursing himself. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

He'd almost had her. The heat in her eyes, the way those full lips parted for him when he'd caressed those incredible dimples on the small of her back, right above her ass. He'd almost fucked her and then fucked himself in the process.

And lost the trust of one of his best friends in the world.

It couldn't happen again. It wouldn't.

On the bathroom counter, his cell phone vibrated its way into the sink. Brian picked up the nail and the hand towel from the floor, wiping himself off with a resolute sigh.

He wouldn't. Let it. Happen. Again.

The first order of business was explaining to his father and contractor why he was late.

The second was googling how to reinstall a towel rack.

Notes