Britin

Rainy Day Blues

2009-11-08T23:53:57Z

Title: Rainy Day Blues
Timeline: Post-513
Author's Notes: Written for the Weather/Vacation Challenge at qaf_challenges. Be sure to check out the other fics and please drop the writers a comment!
A big thank you to my wonderful beta xie_xie_xie!

*

I stare out the window, the view obscured by raindrops on the glass. It’s wet out there. And freezing. I frown.

I need to focus. I need coffee.

I go to make a pot only to discover I’m out. Fuck. And I don’t think I can face going out right now. The weather’s been awful all week, and shows no sign of clearing up.

Sighing, I turn back to the sketches on the table. In one, Storm Rider, a villain with the power to harness the elements, looms tall. Fierce storm clouds are gathered behind him, as arm raised high, he prepares to throw a lightning bolt at the twink cowering on the ground.

In another, Rage and JT are separated on opposite sides of Gayopolis by a huge flood. Rage’s fists are clenched at the anguished look on JT’s face. To be continued… trails from a wave.

I can’t seem to focus on anything lately. Not my painting, not these panels that Michael wanted a week ago. Not even the half-eaten bowl of cereal from breakfast that long since turned into a congealed mess.

I can’t keep putting Michael off; he’s starting to get a little pissed at my non-answers.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the fog, and get up to rinse out the bowl. I think about gathering up some laundry but the idea flits out of my head again almost immediately.

It’s not until the sharp trilling of the phone jerks me out of my stupor that I realize I’ve been standing at the sink staring at the cereal bowl for five minutes.

I pick up, sighing once more. “Hello.”

“Well that was fucking cheerful. Why the doom and gloom, Sunshine?”

“Oh hey, Brian. I’m okay, just a bit stuck.”

“Mistake your KY for superglue again?”

“Ha ha,” I deadpan. “No, stuck for ideas. My painting is going nowhere, and neither are these Rage panels.”

“Don’t you and Michael usually figure out what the plot is before you get to the drawing stage?”

“Usually, yeah. But we’re having a disagreement about where the story should go.”

“O-kay,” he says cautiously. He tries to stay out of Rage, not wanting to have to choose sides between his best friend and his boyfriend.

“Michael wants to do a two-parter and end this issue with a cliffhanger but I think we should wrap it up in a single issue.”

“Why?”

Because the thought of it makes my stomach hurt. “I’m not actually sure. It’s just. I just…” I trail off, sighing again.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“What?” I whisper back.

“It sounds like a good idea to me. Cliffhangers leave people wanting more, you know that. Give your readers a little suspense; give them something worth waiting for.”

“I guess.” I smile. “Plus, reunion sex is good; it’ll be hotter than ever when the super couple is finally reunited.”

“That is true. Speaking of which, my super cock and I are coming up this weekend.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Seeya Friday night.”

“Later.”

*

“So, how’s everything going?” Brian asks, playing with my hair.

He got here about an hour ago. We had a quick fuck against the door to say hello, followed by round two in bed.

I circle his nipple with my finger. “Great. Everything’s great.”

“Over your writer’s block, or artist’s block or whatever the fuck it’s called?”

“Yeah, I was suddenly hit by a flash of inspiration earlier this week.”

“Oh really?” he says knowingly.

I roll my eyes and put on a falsetto. “Oh yes Brian. The mere thought of you visiting chased away my blues and gave me the strength to carry on.” I bat my eyelashes at him, and he laughs.

I laugh too, and can’t resist leaning in for a kiss. After all, it's kind of true.

*

Saturday morning I drag myself out from underneath Brian and put the coffee on. Outside, a single shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds.

Fic Post.

2009-10-09T07:44:33Z

Just cross-posting some fic type things. These were all originally posted at qaf_prompts, so you may have seen them already, in which case just ignore kthx.

Prompt: Red

* * *

Justin’s dreams are vivid.

Swirling neon lights reflected on rain-slick sidewalks.

A drop of sweat slowly sliding down Brian’s arm as he hovers thrusting above Justin.

Silver glitter shining in the air at Babylon.

Sometimes it’s the cold feel of the gun in his hand. Sometimes it’s fear so strong he can feel his heart pounding out of his chest. That one usually startles him awake.

And sometimes, it’s knowing that mixing three parts Alzarin Crimson with two parts Phthalo Red Rose and one part Magenta will give him the perfect shade of red he’s been looking for all week.

Title: Synergy
Timeline: A moment from 511
Prompt: Artist!Justin

* * *

I snark about what a dump the place is, of course. But the truth is, it suits him. He looks confident, selecting brushes, mixing colours, deftly applying paint to canvas.

He looks at home here, even if it does look more like a workspace than a home. But he’s an artist after all. It’s not just what he does, it’s who he is.

There are printouts of his work tacked all over the walls; a pair of shoes flung over a ladder. There’s not much more on the bench posing as a kitchen than three bottles of wine and a jar of peanut butter.

I’d walk out the door right now and leave him to all this if I thought that’s what he really wanted. But I know it’s not, because it’s not all I want either.

He’s more than just an artist, and I’m more than just brilliant ad campaigns and a nine-inch cock. And together, we’re fucking great.

So I take a deep breath, pull him to me and prepare to ask the most important question I’ve ever asked.

“Brian, you’re gonna get paint all over yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I smile.

* * *

1. Angst.

Brian paced outside the hospital, smoking nervously.

2. AU

The blond pouring lattes was hot. Justin, his nametag read.

3. Crack!fic

“Aaaahhhh!”

“What the fuck’s wrong?”

“My water broke!”

4. Crossover

Brian was determined to fuck the guy wearing armour. Arthur.

5. First time

On Brian’s first visit, they never leave the hotel.

6. Fluff

Justin rolled over in his sleep, and Brian followed him.

7. Humour

“Which one of you smartasses put my profile on husbandmaterial.com?”

8. Hurt/Comfort

Brian vomited again. Justin waited, and then wiped his forehead.

9. Smut

His mouth is full of my cock, lips stretched obscenely.

10. UST

He licks his lips again and ties off my bracelet.

Title: Fucking
Prompt: Moving

* * *

Fingers grip the sheets.

Thighs flex.

The lights play over his body.

I thrust harder from behind and his arms give out. I yank him back up, fingers twisting through the longer strands at the back of his head. My lips find his neck and I taste him there.

I pull back and watch as a drop of sweat begins to slide slowly down his spine. It rests a moment in the curve of his back, and then descends as my hips begin to snap faster.

I love how he moves against me.

A final thrust and then I still

Title: Home
Timeline: Season 1
Prompt: Debbie
Author’s Notes. Just a tiny Justin POV thing. For dottie_jane. It's not much, but I hope you like it!

* * *

At first, living with Debbie and Vic was… interesting.

Her small house, with its eye-searing wallpaper and alarming collection of tchotckes, was like a slap in the face after the neutral tones and tasteful furniture of his own home. Not that it was his home anymore, his father saw to that.

And while he missed swimming in his pool, he loved sitting at Deb's kitchen table, sharing meals and hearing tales from Vic’s outrageous past in New York.

When he missed his mom, Deb was there to pinch his cheeks (all four of them) and call him Sunshine and assemble the world’s largest sandwich.

And when he watched the easy way Deb and Vic would cuddle on the couch while watching old movies, he vowed to be a better brother and call Molly more often.

Living with Debbie and Vic was great.

Asylum Roundup.

2009-06-08T23:13:09Z

I'd just like to gather up all my newest asylums here for anyone who hasn't yet joined but may want to.

Posting is open to all members at all of these asylums!

I'd love to see you all post lots of new goodies to enjoy.

qaf_prompts

qaf_commentary

qaf_recs

say_cheese

Thanks!

A Drabble!

2009-04-25T01:35:24Z

I posted a drabble for the red prompt at qaf_prompts the other day in a bid to inspire some fic (please go write some!!!) and then I wrote another drabble.

I guess I had forgotten how much I enjoyed drabbling. As you know, I haven't written any fic in a long time. A "friend" of mine trashed my writing and it made me lose confidence and well, it's not like I ever thought it was great in the first place anyway, so I stopped. But you know what, I LIKE drabbling, so fuck her, and maybe I can ease back in.

This drabble is for me, but maybe you'll enjoy it too.

*

Justin loves his life. He loves New York. He loves working on his art - all night if he wants. He loves going to clubs and dancing, and fucking - if he wants. He loves being the mysterious guy from Pittsburgh with the ridiculously hot boyfriend who comes to fuck the shit out of him every couple months. He loves visiting home, seeing his Mom and Debbie, Daphne, having Cosmos with Emmett, fucking on Brian’s desk and flustering Ted. He loves working on Rage with Michael. And one day, he knows he’ll have Brian every day again. He loves that too.

*

Justin’s dreams are vivid.

Swirling neon lights reflected on rain-slick sidewalks.

A drop of sweat slowly sliding down Brian’s arm as he hovers thrusting above Justin.

Silver glitter shining in the air at Babylon.

Sometimes it’s the cold feel of the gun in his hand. Sometimes it’s fear so strong he can feel his heart pounding out of his chest. That one usually startles him awake.

And sometimes, it’s knowing that mixing three parts Alzarin Crimson with two parts Phthalo Red Rose and one part Magenta will give him the perfect shade of red he’s been looking for all week.

Season 3 Drabbles.

2008-06-12T00:03:58Z

Heh. I just wrote this and was about to post when the challenge closed. But Brian won anyway, so yay.

*

He’s wearing his tightest jeans. And that shirt you told him he looks hot in. Once.

“The ubiquitous Justin Taylor.”

He hasn’t been to Babylon in months.

“I love this song! You like this song?”

Could he be more painfully obvious?

“It fills the void.”

”I haven’t danced in forever.”

Yes. Yes he could.

“Knock yourself out.”

“No rush.” The patented Justin Taylor slow blink. “I’ve got all night.”

It’s like he’s 17 and stalking you again. Pathetic.

But you still feel your dick twitch.

Cursing yourself, and the birth of Justin Taylor, you beat a hasty retreat.

For now.

***

He lifts the sweater over his head, ruffling hair that’s grown a little long over the collar.

The pants come off next, and his round ass comes into view.

Your dick grows harder and you follow him onto the bed, losing your own pants on the way.

He looks at you, waiting for something but you’re not sure what.

And when he tries to kiss you, you know he can’t have that.

Instead, you run a hand up and down the pale back that’s not as smooth. You touch the blond hair that’s not as soft, and you say goodbye.

***

“Concerned Citizens for the Truth. Who the fuck are they?” Justin asked, but he knew it was Brian’s doing.

They went back out to the bar and Justin offered to buy Emmett a Cosmo. He looked really down, but when Justin turned back a few minutes later he was dancing up a storm.

Justin smiled at Brian, who looked like he was trying to duck Em’s flying limbs, and he smirked and came over.

“Emmett looks happier,” Justin said. Brian shrugged, but Justin knew it was his doing.

Brian kissed him then, and could feel Justin’s smile against his lips.

***

“And the new mayor of Pittsburgh is… Marvin Deekins.”

Your head drops down to your hands, relief courses through your veins and you let out a huge sigh. You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for days.

You turn around, searching, and then he’s kissing you and in your arms and all you can do is bury your face in his warm neck and hold him tight.

All around you people are laughing, cheering, slapping you on the back.

It’s finally over. And all you want to do is celebrate with Justin.

And maybe a big bottle of champagne.

Push/Pull.

2008-06-07T03:05:38Z

Title: Push/Pull
Timeline: 117 gapfiller
Author's Notes: Written for the latest challenge at BJ Action. It was supposed to be porny, but we all know I don't do porn very well. However, 117 is such a great Brian episode, and the prompt spoke to me and demanded to be written! It also demanded I use second person POV for the first time ever. I'm happy with how it turned out, and I don't say that about my own fics too often. Or ever, LOL. Many thanks to xie_xie_xie for the beta!

*

“Not as long as I have you to protect me.”

Justin rubs his cold nose against your neck. You wrap your arm a little tighter around his shoulders. He's fucking fearless, you think.

He's a fucking idiot, you think.

You can't protect him. You don't even want to. You didn't ask for a fucking twink to insinuate himself so tightly into every aspect of your life, your friends, your son, talking himself into your bed night after night. But he did and now you can't get rid of him.

Justin shivers a little against your side.

“Cold?”

He nods. “Let's go back inside.”

You know Mikey's in there, turning those goddamned puppy dog eyes on Deb. Well you're not ready to forgive the little fucker just yet. You shake your head and grab Justin's hand, dragging him around to the side of the house.

You push him against the wall and shove your tongue in his mouth.

He pulls away with a gasp. “Brian! The Senator's inside!”

You slide your hand down the front of his pants, cupping his dick. You can feel it turn from half hard to fully erect in seconds. You smirk, knowing he no longer gives a shit who's inside.

He grabs you then, pulling you in close against his body, kissing you back. You love how he presses himself against you, how he wraps his arms around you, wraps his legs around you when you fuck him. He's always so eager. It makes you hard.

You press him to the wall again and lower his pants, freeing his cock. It's hard and curved up against the pale skin of his belly. You can never resist touching that soft skin, and you run a fingertip across it, watching goosebumps break out on his flesh

“Brian! It's freezing,” he says, but you ignore him and sink to your knees, taking his cock inside your mouth in one smooth movement.

He gasps again, in pleasure this time, and you feel his hands rest on the top of your head. You wrap an arm around his ass, bringing his body even closer, and start sucking him off quickly. His fingers weave paths through your hair and his hips thrust in time with the in and out movement of your mouth.

You know he won't last long, he never does when he's in your mouth, so you do the things he likes. You pull your mouth back and circle the head of his dick with your tongue a few times, jerking his shaft, milking him of pre-come. You swallow him back down to his balls and squeeze his hip to let him know he can take control. He does, gripping your hair tightly and fucking your face. In seconds, he's coming down your throat, hot spurts of his distinctive tasting come.

You swallow it down and when he slumps, spent, you lick his dick a few times, cleaning him up and tucking him back in his pants.

You stand and then he's smiling at you and draping himself in your arms, his tongue swiping around inside your mouth to taste himself.

You pull back and he sighs, smiling goofily. You rub your nose against his and then let him go.

“Wait, where are you going? Aren't you coming back in?” he asks, looking confused.

You shake your head.

You leave him standing next to Debbie's house and head to the jeep.

Whatever it Takes

2008-05-24T01:39:54Z

Title: Whatever it Takes
Timeline: 513 gapfiller
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Written for the Challenge in Two Parts at qaf_challenges. Many thanks to my beta xie_xie_xie! Inspired by this gorgeous graphic by pretty_words224
I've cross-posted to LJ, sorry for the spamming!

*

“Brian?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean earlier? About us not seeing each other ever again? You can't really think that?”

He lifts his face from where it's been buried against my neck for the past ten minutes. He looks sad.

“Whatever it takes, Justin. Like you said, we don't need the rings or vows. We don't need the wedding.”

“It wouldn't have been so terrible though, right?”

“Well, I did look exceptionally dashing in my tux; shame no one got to see it.” A beat later. “You looked all right, too.”

I laugh. “Shut up. I looked beautiful, or so I was told.”

“It seems there is one thing I do need. For you to be happy.”

He touches my smile with his fingertip.

“Brian.” I pull his hand from my mouth, hold it tight.

“What?”

“I have loved you since I was seventeen years old. I never stopped loving you, not even when we were apart, and I'm not going to stop loving you, so you had better come and visit me. A lot. That's what I need to make me happy. You got that?”

He looks relieved, but tries to hide it. “Bossy bottom,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against my cheek before settling back down against me.

I run my hand along the long expanse of his back. Memorizing the feel of his smooth skin, knowing I'll have to do without it, for a little while at least.

Brian dozes off and I glance at the clock. I'd better get moving. I lift Brian's arm and slide out from under him. He doesn't wake up.

I find my clothes scattered on the living room floor and pull them on. Our rings sit on the coffee table.

My laptop is packed away but I take it out and open my graphics program and a few folders.

It's not my greatest artistic achievement, but in a few minutes I've made a pretty nice wedding invitation.

I print it out, fold it in half, and on the inside I write, "Anytime. Anywhere."

I leave it by the bed, kiss Brian's cheek, pick up my bags and head out.

Worth It

2008-05-24T01:38:34Z

Title: Worth It
Timeline: Post-507 AU. The bombing at Babylon never happened.
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Written for the Challenge in Two Parts at qaf_challenges. A HUGE thank you to my beta xie_xie_xie! I've been trying to write a reunion fic where Brian goes after Justin without the bombing as the impetus for a LONG time, and Xie helped me find a way to do that that I felt was IC for Brian. The gorgeous graphic by testdog65 inspired me to finally finish this fic.
I've cross-posted to LJ, sorry for the spamming!

*

It's been three months since I got back from Mardi Gras in Sydney, and Justin moved to New York.

He's doing well. I know because Debbie updates me constantly. I don't ask her to but she seems completely unable to accept that it's over between us. Like she really thought we were going be together forever. News alert: he not only packed up his little bag and left me, he left the fucking state.

So as she fills my coffee cup she fills me in on the latest tidbits of news. He's found an apartment. He's found studio space. He's working part time at a diner.

“He's a got a spot in a show,” Debbie says one day, as she set down my fries.

I merely raise an eyebrow.

“Our own little Picasso, that one. You talked to him lately?”

“No.”

“You should. You're still fucking friends aren't you? You should congratulate him on the show.”

“Check, please.”

She scowls at me and tears off the check.

*

Some unexpected business comes up in New York.

I stare at the phone for a full ten minutes before I pick it up and dial.

*

The cab pulls up outside a seedy looking building, hell, they all look seedy in this neighborhood. Justin is sitting on the curb but he jumps up when I step out of the car.

His hair is long again, and my fingers itch to touch it. I shove my hands in my pockets.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself.”

“I'm really glad you came! Thanks for calling me.”

“Well, I had business here, so...” I shrug.

“Come on up, I'll show you my pieces for the show.”

Justin leads me to a large, open space that I know he shares with five other artists.

“This place is a dump,” I remark, glancing around the crowded room.

Justin shrugs. “It's affordable. And at least it's big enough to hold my canvases. My apartment's way too small.”

He leads me over to the far side of the room, where a huge canvas is leaning against the wall.

Like all his paintings, it's complex and interesting and just fucking beautiful.

“What do you think?” he asks after a minute.

I glance at him. “Wow.”

“Really?” He's pleased.

“Modesty doesn't become you, Justin. You know it's amazing. Exquisite, even.” He smiles at me and I swallow down the regret I feel clawing its way up my throat.

He shows me some smaller pieces and they're all just as amazing. I'm proud of him. But I don't say it.

*

I offer to take him somewhere fancy for dinner, but he insists he wants to treat me. He takes us to a tiny hole-in-the wall, claiming it has the best Mexican he's ever eaten.

The décor is modest but the food is delicious. While we eat I fill him in on all things Pittsburgh. Gus – growing like a weed, Kinnetik – making money hand over fist, accompanied by a lascivious hand gesture to make him roll his eyes and laugh, Mel and Lindsay – on-again after their latest round of off-again.

“So,” I say, after the dishes have been cleared. “You're doing well here.”

Justin nods. “Yeah, pretty well. I've been really lucky, some people work here for years and don't get a spot in a show. I mean, it's not a solo show or anything, but it's a good start. Lindsay really paved the way for me.”

I nod.

“I wake up in the morning and the first thing I think of is what piece to work on today. I'm inspired, you know?”

I nod again and think about the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning. It's sitting right in front of me.

The waiter reappears and Justin orders dessert. I decline, but I notice how attentive he's being toward Justin. He's been like that all night.

“I think the waiter likes you,” I say after he leaves, admiring the stretch of his pants across his ass.

Justin follows my eye. “Hugo? Yeah, he's been trying to get back in my pants for months now.”

“You've had him?”

“I told you, the best Mexican I've ever eaten,” he says with a smirk.

I have to laugh. “And you don't want back in his pants?”

His face scrunches up. “Nah. Repeats get too complicated.”

*

He stands with me outside the restaurant waiting for my cab to arrive.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Of course. It was really good to see you again.”

The cab arrives and I open the door.

“Good luck with your show, not that you need it.”

He smiles, “Thanks Brian. Have a safe flight,” he says, and leans in to kiss my cheek.

I catch a whiff of his familiar shampoo but he pulls back and the scent is gone almost immediately.

*

I spend the whole cab ride thinking about what he said in the restaurant. Repeats get too complicated, what the fuck?

The whole reason he left me was for some faux-hetero suburban fantasy. He wanted the white picket fence and the husband and the 2 point 5 kids. But instead, he's fucking around. He's working in a diner. He's living in a crappy apartment in New York fucking City. He's being Justin. My Justin.

But he's not mine anymore and that pisses me off.

“Turn around,” I tell the driver.

*

I bang on his door, mentally thanking Debbie for slipping his address under my toast three months ago.

“Brian? Shouldn't you be at the airport?”

“Shouldn't you be surfing husband material dot com?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What the fuck are you talking about!” I shout. He takes a step back.

I take a deep breath. “What the fuck are you doing Justin? Why aren't you out dating, looking for a faithful hubby? Isn't that why you left?”

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.

“Sit down,” he tells me.

I sit on his second, possibly third, fourth or fifth-hand sofa, and he drops down next to me.

He's silent for a moment, pulling at a loose thread on his pants. Finally, he meets my eyes.

“Being here, and focusing on my art - and myself - I've remembered how important freedom is to me. Freedom of expression, as a person and an artist. I learned that from you.”

He puts a hand on my arm. “I'd forgotten what was really important to me. I don't want a husband and a baby, Brian.” He shakes his head. “Not anytime soon anyway, and maybe not ever. But I do want a partner who can at least talk to me about those things. And you weren't budging an inch. You didn't give me a choice. I couldn't stay there the way things were.”

I shrug but there's nothing to say. When he's right, he's right.

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I've really missed you, ” I tell him, because he deserves to hear it. And because it's true.

“I've missed you, too,” he says, and closes the distance between us.

Desire courses though me, stronger than I've felt in months, like a hot wave rising from my groin and my chest. His lips meet mine, just as hungry, and I finally get to sink my fingers into his silky hair. I can't help the groan that escapes my mouth. Justin pulls back from the kiss.

“Wait. I have more to say.”

I groan, nip at his lips. “Kiss now, talk later.”

“No, wait, let's resolve this.”

“Resolve what?” I mumble from where my lips are nuzzling behind his ear.

“Us.”

I pull back. “Is there still an us?”

“Do you want there to be?”

I stare at him, his cheeks are flushed, his hair is all mussed up and I know I'd give just about anything to have him back.

I nod. “Yes.”

He clutches my hands. “Me too. And I don't want you to change completely, Brian. I mean it. You wouldn't be the person I fell in love with if you did. I just want you to keep an open mind. To talk to me about the important stuff.”

I bite my lip and look into those earnest blue eyes.

I think of Brandon lying naked on my bed, offering himself up to me, and I remember thinking I hadn't wanted to fuck anyone less in my entire life.

Then I think of Justin lying naked in my bed. His pale, soft skin. I've fucked him a thousand times and it's never gotten old. Just his smell, his flirty blink, can make me hard in seconds.

I have to admit, even if only to myself, that I'm getting older, and the thrill of trawling for fresh meat three times a week is wearing off. Justin's always been the best part of my day anyway.

“We're not who we were five years ago Justin. I've already changed. So have you. I'm willing to keep an open mind. And I'm still not sure about the husband thing, but I could probably be persuaded on the house.”

A hue smile breaks out on his face. “Really?”

I shrug. “I have always wanted a home gym, and you should have studio space. You deserve studio space.”

He grins.

“But I'm in Pittsburgh and you're here.”

“I won't be here forever, Brian. I don't even want to be here that long, truthfully.”

“You're at the center of the art world. You want to leave?”

His nose wrinkles in that way I'd never admit to finding completely adorable.

“It's not really the center of the art world. I mean, yes there are amazing museums and galleries here and some great artists – this guy I share the studio space with does these incredible ink drawings, you should see them. But I'd never planned to stay here forever. This place is fucking crazy expensive. And besides, my family's in Pittsburgh. My heart's in Pittsburgh.” He puts his hand against my chest.

“And I don't want to limit my options. I want to have shows on the West coast too, and Chicago. All over the country. Overseas, too. I know I don't have to be based in New York to be a success in the art world.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Now... now you fuck the shit out of me. And then I'll fuck the shit out of you. Tomorrow, you'll fly home, but you'll come back and visit me again soon. And I'll come there, too. We can make this work. New York is really not that far from Pittsburgh. And when I'm ready, I'll come home. For good.”

I lean my forehead against his. “I can't wait,” I say, rubbing our noses together.

“Me either,” he whispers.

“I....”

“What?” he smiles, stroking the nape of my neck. He's so fucking beautiful.

“I love you.”

His eyes widen and then he's pressing his lips to mine again and again. It was worth it, I think.

Two Drabbles.

2008-04-12T02:54:37Z

*

Brian is a hedonist. He craves pleasure above all else. He's spent years seeking it out.

Asses are there for him to use, mouths there to be fucked.

Until he meets Justin, and then Brian discovers a whole new world of pleasure.

The pleasure in watching innocent eyes widen at the initial pain of entry, then squeeze closed as bliss takes over.

Washing Justin's back, just an excuse to touch his silky skin.

Having his mouth filled with Justin's thick cock. Burying his tongue in Justin's ass..

Seeing his toes curl, making him come.

Worshiping Justin is Brian's greatest pleasure.

* * *

Brian lies awake, head propped up, watching the streetlight play over the pale skin of Justin's back. He runs a fingertip lightly across Justin's shoulders. The skin smoother than anything he's ever touched. He listens to Justin's quiet sighs - he's content.

He buries his nose in the back of Justin's neck, breathing in the smell as familiar to him as his own. The smell he craves, the smell he misses.

He watches Justin sleep, and feels a pang in his chest. Knowing that tomorrow he'll board a plane and return home alone. He watches Justin sleep and he makes plans.

*

ETA: Hmm, you know what, I think the second drabble may have been subconsciously influenced by the end of Jude's wonderful fic, Geography for Beginners, so credit where it's due. You should all go read her fic, tis far superior.

The Accident.

2008-04-08T02:27:32Z

Why oh why can't I write anything except stupid crack?

Title: The Accident
Timeline: Post-513
Author's Notes: For my darling xie_xie_xie who is sick at the moment. She wanted H/C but this came out instead. Thanks for proofing it between bouts of lung-hacking, Xie!

*

Eventually, Brian and Justin got around to taking that snowboarding trip to Vermont.

They had snowball fights, at Justin's insistence they made snow angels, they drank hot toddies by the fireplace, they even soaked in the Jacuzzi together. They were ridiculously romantic and they loved every minute of it.

Until the accident.

No one ever found out what really happened; not even Michael could get the truth out of Brian. But when they were eventually found behind the chair lift tower, half-naked, bruised, and battered, they'd given new meaning to the term “extreme sport.”

Any lingering upset Justin had harbored at missing out on the Liberty Ride disappeared when he was treated to a re-enactment of Brian breaking his collarbone – and a few ribs for good measure – and with the cursing streak that followed, Justin felt like he'd been there after all.

Of course, his leg was broken, so it was fair to say he'd had a few choice words as well. Just ask the shocked chair lift operator who found them.

“You're quite the fucking pair, aren't you?” said Debbie, hands on hips staring at them laid up in bed. “I knew all your fucking in public places was going to get the better of you one day. Serves you both right."

Debbie had a unique brand of sympathy.

Justin turned wounded puppy dog eyes on her. “Debbie, we're in pain here. My leg really hurts. And what if it had been my arm? What if I'd never been able to draw the same way again? Haven't I been through enough already?”

Brian marveled at Justin's quivering lip.

“Aww baby, of course you have.” Brian used to wonder how Justin got away with so much when he lived with Debbie. Most of it at Brian's instigation, of course. Now he knew.

Debbie sat next to Justin on the bed, clutching him to her ample bosom. “I'm sorry, baby, you know I'd never want to see you hurt.” She finally released him and he sank back gratefully against the pillows. “Not even you, asshole,” she slapped Brian on the cheek. “But don't think I don't know this was your fault.”

“Why, Debbie, I'm shocked. Why exactly would you suggest this is my fault? You weren't even there,” Brian said in just the right tone to guarantee getting a rise out of Debbie.

She gave him the evil eye. “I know enough to know,” she said.

As Brian and Justin pondered another of Debbie's ambiguous pearl of wisdom, she busied herself straightening up the paraphernalia on the bedside table. “You getting a lot of drawing done while you're stuck in bed, baby?” she asked, stacking Justin's sketchbooks into a neat pile.

“Sure am, Deb,” he said.

“The lad's been using that hand night and day,” Brian said with a grin. Debbie scowled.

“Debbie,” Justin said, bringing her attention back to him. “I'm kinda hungry. Would you mind bringing the food you brought in here, please?” He gave her an angelic smile.

“Of course, Sunshine, I'll be right back.”

As Debbie left the room, Brian leaned over and whispered to Justin. “I see now why I never stood a chance against you.”

Justin grinned in return. “You fucking love it,” he said, then smacked a kiss against Brian's lips.

“How bout we re-enact some of those scenes you drew?” Brian asked, nodding his head toward the sketchbooks.

“I think we'd better wait until Debbie leaves for that. We don't want to give her a heart attack.”

Brian snorted. “Please. She'd probably pull up a fucking chair and watch. You know, you'd have one hell of a show if you ever decided to put your current work on display. Tales of a wounded artist. Frida Kahlo can eat her fucking heart out.”

“I've never exhibited porn before, Brian. And I'm not sure I want to start now.”

“I'm ashamed to call you my partner,” Brian said sadly.

Justin just grinned. Then poked him in the ribs. He'd been getting a lot of perverse pleasure out of doing that lately.

“Motherfucker!" Brian shouted. Justin laughed evilly.

“What's going on in here?” Debbie demanded, carrying a tray of sandwiches into the bedroom.

“Nothing, Deb, Brian just made a wrong move and hurt his ribs.”

Brian glowered at Justin.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Debbie's mothering instincts had returned. “You want a pain pill before I go?”

Brian nodded sadly, looking for all the world like the wounded 14-year-old kid she'd looked after all those years before.

Justin had learned from the master, after all.

*

“What's today's schedule?” Brian asked later as they lay together after lunch.

“Emmett's bringing magazines around four, Michael's delivering ice cream and weed around five and Ben will be here for sponge baths after that. I'm surprised Michael hasn't figured out we don't actually need Ben for the sponge baths yet. I mean, I have two good hands.”

Brian shrugged. “I'm not about to tell him, are you?”

“Hell no,” Justin said. “Bath time's the best time of day. I'd say Ben enjoyed it, too.”

Brian leered at Justin. “What do you say we practice our mobility exercises until then.”

“Mmmm, why not. Let's see if we can come up with something new to draw for my collection,” Justin said.

And then they did.

111 Gapfiller.

2008-03-30T01:28:41Z

xie_xie_xie hosted an impromptu dirty!feet!Justin!challenge for meta and fic, and donated $150 to the Pittsburgh AIDS Taskforce in the process.

This is my contribution. No need to comment if you already did so. I just wanted it posted here as well.

Originally posted here. Unchanged, but for a couple extra words. Thank you Xie!

*

After Deb and Vic and the others left the party, Brian started drinking. A lot.

I tried to talk to him but he blew me off. Soon after, he cut the music, declared the party over and told everyone to fuck off.

As the last of the stragglers filed out he glared at me. “You going too?” he asked me again.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

I walked up and kissed him.

He was stiff at first. But then he opened his mouth and let my tongue inside. I ran my hands up his back, under his jacket and pulled it off. I could feel the tension practically vibrating through his body. I unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip to the floor.

His tongue was probing my mouth now, his hands clutching at my face and hair. He was kissing me hard, so hard I almost choked. I wrenched my mouth from his with a gasp.

He stared at me a moment, then brushed my bruised lips with his thumb and sighed. “Go to bed, Justin.”

“Are you coming with me?”

He smiled a sad smile and shook his head.

“Brian...”

“Just go,” he said and gave me a little shove.

I went up the steps to the bedroom and toed off my shoes, throwing myself down on the bed. He'd come around eventually.

*

When I woke up a while later the loft was darker but I was still alone in bed.

I walked down the steps. “Brian?” I couldn't see him anywhere.

“Brian?” I called out a little louder. Shit, He'd gone out.

Then I noticed the door was ajar. I stuck my head out and saw light coming from the storage room at the end of the hallway.

Brian was sitting on the floor next to an open cardboard box labeled “school shit”.

“Brian?” I called softly. He turned around, frowned. “What are you doing up?”

I shrugged. “Looking for you.”

“Go back to bed.” I ignored him and sat down next to him on the dusty floor. He had what looked like a high school yearbook in his lap, with some photos of himself and Michael stuck between the pages.

I recognized one of the shots, it was the same one tacked up in my bedroom. Brian wearing a gray T-shirt with his arm around Michael. And there were a few others; Michael with a tragic haircut holding up some comic book, Brian and Michael sitting at Deb's kitchen table with a birthday cake in front of Brian, Brian in an awful flowered shirt and leather jacket, Brian looking happy and handsome in a graduation robe, a beaming Michael by his side.

“You really love him huh?”

He didn't say anything.

“Why'd you do it?.”

“He left with the Doc, right?” I nod.

“Well that was the plan.” He held up an almost empty bottle of Beam and toasted himself. “Three cheers to me.” He took a swig.

I put a hand on his bare arm.

“Come to bed,” I said, rubbing his chilled flesh. “It's cold in here.”

“You go,” he said. “I'll be there in a bit.” He turned back to the book in his lap and I knew I'd been dismissed.

I kissed his temple and then went back to bed, hoping he'd join me soon but not really expecting it.

Birthday Fic.

2008-03-29T16:50:57Z

It is my beloved xie_xie_xie's birthday today! Happy Birthday, darling!

I hope you have a wonderful day today, and I wish only good things for you in the year ahead. I wanted to do something special for you, but instead I wrote fic. ;)

I hope you enjoy this bit of silliness, and I wish you a great day!

*

On the morning of Justin's 23rd birthday he woke up in a narrow bed, in a cold room, in the middle of a bleak New York winter.

For the first time in a long time he wished he were somewhere else.

He wished he were home, in a warm bed, and being awoken by the gentle suction of Brian's mouth on his cock, instead of the not-so-gentle screeching of garbage trucks downstairs.

Justin usually loved New York.

He was working a lot, painting like a fiend. He was learning a lot and making contacts. He was happy, most days.

Today however, Justin fucking hated New York.

In desperate need of coffee he headed out into the cold and tripped over Bob, the homeless guy who could usually be found slumped in the alley next to the building, but who today, on this special day, had decided to slump in front of it instead.

If looks could kill, Bob would laid out flat next to Justin on the path by now.

The only thought that comforted Justin as he walked down the street with scraped knees, a bleeding finger and an uncomfortably located wet patch, was the strong, hot cup of coffee he was going to be enjoying in about. Five. More. Minutes.

As the aroma of freshly ground beans filled his nostrils and he mentally slapped the teenager who'd once teased Brian about caffeine reliance, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and instead came out with two condoms and an empty pack of gum.

A moment later he watched as the bored looking girl with the nose ring poured his coffee down the sink. As he whimpered quietly he could clearly picture his wallet sitting on the kitchen table where he'd left it. After double checking condoms could not be considered legal tender, he realized he was fucked.

He pondered the irony on the walk back home, and let his mind wander back to his last birthday.

Instead of New York drizzle he saw Hollywood sunshine. He'd been happy then too. Working, making contacts, but missing Brian. He remembered sharing an awkward birthday phone call with Brian. A year later and nothing had changed. He was still away from his lover. Except, with shittier weather.

Deciding the best course of action was to just go back to bed and hide until the day was over, he unlocked his front door and discovered Brian sprawled indecently on his sofa. Two cups of coffee and what looked suspiciously like a triple chocolate fudge cake on the coffee table in front of him.

“Jesus, about time. Where the fuck have you been? I was about to invite Bob up here to keep me company.”

Justin stood stunned. Brian hadn't said anything about visiting. Hadn't said anything about his birthday.

Brian was looking at Justin as though he had two heads. And not the good kind.

“Are you even awake?” he asked finally.

Justin shook himself out of his stupor. “Not really,” he said, before taking a running jump onto the couch and landing on Brian with an “Oof!”.

“Hi,” he grinned, rubbing his groin against the familiar body.

“Is your dick wet?” Brian asked.

“Yes. It's Bob's fault.”

“The party started without me huh?”

Ignoring him, Justin grinned again. “It's my birthday today.”

“Really?” Brian cocked his head to the side. Justin nodded.

“I had no idea. I was just passing by and I thought I'd see if you had any plans.”

“You just passed by my favorite bakery and managed to pick up my favorite cake too. How strange.”

“Did I? What a coincidence.”

“Indeed,” Justin said, keeping an admirably straight face.

“So, do you have any plans or not?”

“Actually, I do.”

Brian raised his left eyebrow.

“I planned to spend the whole day in bed.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But you can probably tag along. If you want.”

“Hmmm.” Brian pretended to think about it. He was still pretending to think about it as Justin pulled him off the sofa and dragged him, quite willingly, to his bedroom.

“Wait,” he stopped. Ordered Brian back to the sofa. “Bring the coffee.”

Justin loved New York.

Counting Calories.

2008-03-26T08:00:30Z

Title: Counting Calories
Timeline: Post-308
Warnings: Stupid, stupid crack.
Author's Notes: Based on a plot bunny by ohfreckle at qaf_bunnies. Justin refuses to give Brian any more blowjobs, because he's afraid his ass will get fat from the additional calories. I hope you like it, my dear!
Equal parts thanks and apologies to my beta xie_xie_xie.

I have been working on a fic for a long time. This isn't it.

*

Brian's arm stretched out across the sheets, searching for Justin to take care of his morning hard-on, but he was nowhere to be found.

He wandered naked into the bathroom to take a piss, scratching at his chest, and found Justin standing naked with his back to the mirror, staring hard at his reflection and wiggling his ass back and forth.

As enticing as that was, it was also kind of unusual. “What the fuck are you doing?” He lifted the lid and started to piss.

“Does my ass look bigger?” He wiggled again.

“Bigger than what? Mine, yes. A two-door compact, no.”

“Brian!” Justin slapped Brian hard on the arm as he washed his hands.

“Ow. Watch it. Why don't you stop staring at your ass and come eat mine instead? Or better yet, my cock.”

“I can't,” Justin said with a sad shake of his head.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I've been blowing you too much, Brian. My ass is getting fat from all the calories!”

Brian's eyes widened in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, Brian. Really. But I can't blow you any more,” he said. And walked out of the bathroom.

Brian stood open-mouthed. A rare phenomenon lately.

Brian found Justin in the bedroom, getting dressed. “You're leaving?”

Justin nodded. “I think it's best. I mean, I can't blow you, not for a few weeks at least, not until my ass gets back to its regular size. And, well, being around your cock and not being able to suck it – I don't think I can handle the temptation.”

“Justin,” Brian said, voice soothing, like when he talked to Gus. He approached Justin slowly, hands up in a non-threatening pose. “Justin, don't be silly. You can't get fat from semen. There are hardly any calories in a load.”

“How do you know?”

Brian shrugged. “I googled it once.”

“But Brian, that's one load. You and I both know I take a lot more than one load every day.”

Brian looked proud. “That is true.”

Justin frowned. “No. My mind's made up. No more blowjobs.”

Justin swung his bag over his shoulder, ready to leave. Brian looked like a boy whose puppy just died.

“I'm sorry. I'll see you in a few weeks.” Justin headed for the door.

“Wait!" Brian took off after him. He grabbed Justin by the arms and halted his progress.

“I'll make you a deal. For every blowjob you give me, I'll give you two.”

Justin's brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“Double or nothing.”

“How's that supposed to fix my fat ass?”

“Your ass isn't fat! And this way I'll prove that come doesn't make you fat. You know I wouldn't eat anything I thought would make me fat, right?”

Justin cocked his head to the side. “Well, okay, I guess we can give it a trial run.”

Brian let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“Okay. Okay, good,” he said, and proceeded to pull Justin's clothes off while dragging him back to the bedroom.

“Well, you better go first,” Justin said with a sweet little smile.

As Brian got to work Justin mentally patted himself on the back. Withholding sex has worked for centuries, he thought. After that, all he thought was “Mmmmm.”

Already Married.

2007-12-21T01:29:09Z

Title: Already Married
Timeline: Post-513
Author's Notes: This was written for xie_xie_xie and inspired by THIS post in qaf_music. I wrote THIS fic earlier, in response to her request, but I wanted to challenge myself to write a believable fic where B/J dance in front of others. I hope it worked. Thank you to Xie for a thorough and excellent beta!

* * *

Brian teased Michael mercilessly for weeks about having a double wedding with his mother. And yeah, it was pretty funny, but even I was sick of it by the time he cracked the same lame joke about cutting the apron strings for the fiftieth time.

“You gonna share the wedding night honors too, Mikey?” he cackled at the happy couple as they got up for the bridal waltz.

To his credit, Michael just rolled his eyes. “Shut up already, we've all heard it before,” he says, as I nod my head vigorously.

“You know it makes Ma happy, and Ben and I don't mind going along with it. We've been married for years already as far as we're concerned. Making it legal is no big deal to us. Now, my husband and I are going to dance.” And off they went. I had to hand it to him, Michael played that one well.

Brian's pouting. Michael and Ben dance past our table and give us a wave, I wave back and smile. Brian grumbles.

“Oh, knock it off already,” I say. “You're not fooling anyone. Especially since we all know there's no way those four could afford all this.” I gesture at the elaborate decorations, the beautiful flower arrangements on each table, Debbie's gorgeous gown. Even Carl cleans up pretty good in an Armani tux. “It's got the hand of the master written all over it.”

“Yeah you'll have the hand of the master written all over your ass later,” he says.

“Can't wait.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

He huffs out a laugh. “All these years and you're still a little twat.”

“Come on,” I stand, hold my hand out.

“What the fuck?” He actually looks confused. All these years and he's still a little twat.

“Dance with me,” I say.

“Dance. Slow dance, at a breeder wedding?” Funny how fast Brian went back to his disdain of weddings after we decided to call ours off.

“Like your lame jokes, that excuse has gotten old, Mr. Kinney. Weddings aren't just for breeders anymore, look around.”

I point out all the couples, mostly same-sex. Ben and Michael, smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world in that disgusting coupley way they have. Thank god Brian and I don't look like that.

Mel and Lindsay are out there, too. So is Gus, twirling Jenny Rebecca around. Brian's face softens a little when he sees that. They are incredibly cute. I don't know how Brian managed to get an Armani tux for a ten year old.

I squat down next to his chair. “I think the queers outnumber the breeders here, Brian.” Then I lean in close to his ear. “And besides, we've been married for years already, as far as I'm concerned.”

He just shakes his head, and kisses me. I grin and stand up again, holding out my hand. He takes it and I lead him out to dance.

“It really is a beautiful wedding Brian. You did good,” I tell him, taking everything in as we move around the floor with all the other couples.

Debbie and Carl brush past us, and Deb winks at me when Brian's not looking.

“Of course! Who knows wedding shit better than a bunch of fags,” he says, dipping me backwards. I grin.

“You know, our wedding would have kicked ass over this wedding,” he says.

I snort. “I think maybe you'd have had a heart attack if we'd actually gone through with ours.”

He looks me in the eye. “It's not true, you know. I would have married you, but I don't think it's what you wanted.” His grip on my back tightens a little.

I shake my head, looking away, “Brian...”

He squeezes my arm, bringing my attention back to him. “No, its true, Justin. I mean, I know you wanted to, but it wasn't right. Not at the time, and things worked out much better in the end, right?” I feel the touch of his hand on my shoulder as leads me around a turn.

“You're right. But..” I trail off, not really sure how to express what I'm feeling. How much his proposal meant to me back then, and all the times I thought of it over the years that followed. It was... amazing. “Were you ready?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But things worked out pretty well anyway, right?” We smile at each other for a moment.

“You know…” He pulls me closer as we dance, whispers in my ear. “If you want to have a wedding, I wouldn't particularly mind it.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek, one hand on my waist, the other still holding my hand.

“Really?” He nods. I look around again, imagining a wedding like this one. Lavish. Gorgeous. Celebrating surrounded by our family and friends. Then I think about our house, our joint bank accounts, our lives, which are already linked in every way, and I shake my head.

“Nah, we don't need rings or vows to prove we love each other.” He rolls his eyes. I slap his arm. “Shut up! It's true, maybe I've said it once or twice over the years...” He snorts.

“We don't need them Justin, but maybe I want them.” I feel him close against me, his fingers stroking the hair at my nape.

I'm surprised. “You do?”

“I still have them, remember, be a shame not to wear them. Don't you want to?”

“I guess,” I shrug. “I just thought they were something you did for me, because you thought that's what I wanted. And I know you were scared, the bombing...”

“I never do anything I don't want to do, you know that,” he says, cupping the back of my head. I nod.

“Okay. So tonight, we wear our rings, and we don't get married.”

“Sounds good to me.” We lean our foreheads together for a moment and then he lifts me up and as we spin around, he kisses me, right there in front of everybody.

'Neath the Pale Moonlight

2007-12-12T08:05:46Z

Title: 'Neath the Pale Moonlight
Timeline: Late season 3
Author's Notes: This was written for xie_xie_xie and inspired by THIS post in qaf_music.
Thanks for your beta skills, Xie. I hope it's what you were after!

* * *

The loft is lit only by candles and the moon shining in through the big windows.

It's quiet in here, no sounds of television, or music, just of us. It's actually pretty romantic.

Of course, there's a blackout and the power's out in the whole street, so it's not like on-purpose romantic, but still.

The only thing wrong is...

“I'm bored.” I nudge Brian's leg with my foot.

He nudges back “What do you want me to do about it?”

We have a half-hearted game of footsies, but I'm feeling too lethargic to put much effort in.

“Entertain me.”

He leers. “Did a pretty good job of that already.”

“I know. I don't want to fuck again.”

He looks stricken. “Not right now, later,” I amend. “I'm going crazy just sitting here.”

“We can play another game of Scrabble.”

“No thanks.”. Pissed that Brian beat me three times already. He laughs, reading my mind. Asshole.

“Come on, let's dance.” I jump up.

He shoots me a look. “There's no power. There's no music, remember.”

“We'll use your iPod. Come on, I'm sick of sitting. Please?”

He mutters under his breath but ambles off to find his iPod. I love it when Brian doesn't bother arguing with me and just admits that I can make him do anything I want.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks from behind me.

“Jesus! Brian, don't sneak up on me. Fuck.”

“I already offered but you wanted to dance. Remember?”

I put a bud in my ear and Brian takes the other one. We have to stand really close to make this work, but that works for me. I put it on shuffle mode, pocket it and wrap my arms around Brian.

A club song starts and we start to move. Brian's really not much of a dancer. He does his thing, which is basically humping me as music plays, and I do mine – try to hold on for the ride.

We dance to a few songs, a strange mix of techno, 80s rock and jazz, but it doesn't really matter what's playing, Brian can't follow a rhythm anyway. We keep up our swaying/rocking/humping dance hybrid. It feels good, being in his arms like this. Every so often he brings his hand up and touches my hair, sort of petting it. It feels nice.

I sigh. I'm not really thinking about anything, just letting my mind wander while I enjoy the feeling of Brian's arms, his solid chest, and so it takes me a second to notice that he's stopped moving, that he's tensed up.

“Brian?” I look up at him. His face is kind of frozen. “What's wrong?”

He meets my eyes. Swallows visibly. “This song...” he trails off. I suddenly realize what's playing in my ear. It's that song, from the prom.

Shit, I didn't recognize it for a second. I haven't heard it in a long time. I wonder why he's got it on his iPod, how often he listens to it. What he thinks about when he does. I sort of shiver, remembering how messed up Brian was back then. I mean, I was a fucking mess, and I was too busy trying to get myself better to worry too much about Brian, but I know it wasn't easy for him either. Just thinking about that scarf I found around his neck makes me shiver again.

I run my hands up and down his back. Trying to rub the stiffness out of his frame. “Come on,” I whisper. “Keep dancing.”

We start to sway again as the voice in my ear voice warbles on about love and moonlight and dancing. It's actually a really pretty song. I sniff, memories I'd long since suppressed coming back up. I wish I could remember that dance. It's seems almost impossible in hindsight, that Brian would show up at my prom after all. That we'd dance together, in front of everyone. I feel ripped off, for the millionth time, thinking about all that Hobbs took from me.

I sigh again. Thinking. “Fuck all Brian knows about romance.” Yeah, right.

I squeeze him tight, thankful that we’re back together.

He smiles at me, a sort of sad smile, and we keep dancing. I realize he's actually keeping pretty good rhythm. He spins us around and dips me a little. I laugh, delighted. He smiles again. A happy one this time. We must have been something on that dance floor after all, I think, but that doesn't matter right now.

Not right now, tight in Brian's arms as we sway together in the loft and the music plays on.

Your Lover, the Artist.

2007-11-23T02:54:35Z

Drabble. Post 513. That is all.

* * *

You used to get turned on by tall, muscled bodies, by overpowering men as big as yourself, bigger even.

Then it was blue eyes, bright smiles, running your fingers through blond silk.

Now, now it's the smell of turpentine, it's flecks of blue and grey under fingernails.

It's the sighs he makes when you massage his shoulders, his hand, working out the ache after long hours of painting.

It's coming inside his ass, letting it drip back down over your balls, your cock, still inside him. Always still inside him.

It's his laugh at the squelching sounds.

It's your lover.

Deep Into the Night.

2007-08-29T09:28:48Z

Title: Deep Into the Night
Timeline: Late season 4
Author's Notes: Written for the Sex at Kinnetik challenge at bj_action. A big thank you to my beta xie_xie_xie. Cross-posted, sorry for the spamming

* * *

I walk by empty desks. The office is dark, quiet; the staff left hours ago. A single lamp illuminates Brian's desk.

“Hey.”

He looks up in surprise. “Hey. What are you doing here? It's late.”

“I know it is. You should be at home. Deb told me she saw you late last night, and here you are again.”

“Yeah, well, Deb worries too much. I've missed a lot of work. I need to catch up.”

I put a paper bag down on the desk. “You eat yet?” Brian shakes his head. “I bought you a sandwich and some soup.”

“Thanks.” Brian stops working and leans back in his chair. He groans, feeling the stiffness of a long day's work as he rotates his shoulders.

I walk around behind him and start rubbing his neck and shoulders. His muscles are tense, but soon I feel him relax.

“Feel good?” I ask.

“Mmmm.”

I'll take that as a yes. After a couple of minutes he reaches back and stops the massage, sliding my hands down his chest and bringing my face down next to his. He kisses me on the cheek and murmurs a thank you.

I tuck my face in next to his, hugging him from behind, relishing the feel of him in my arms. Trying not to think about how this could have been over. Trying not to think about cancer and radiation and vomiting and sickness. Feeling grateful that he's alive, solid in my arms.

I turn his face to mine and kiss him on the mouth. Softly at first, but quickly becoming urgent. It always does with us. I can't imagine a day when there's no heat between us. It's part of us, part of how we work.

This angle's awkward, so I move around in front of Brian, resting my hands on his shoulders and straddling his lap on this big, leather chair. I kiss him again. Our groins are pressed together, and Brian's hands are on my ass, squeezing it, thrusting me against him, trying to find a good angle for our rutting.

I pull away from his mouth with a gasp, resting my forehead against his. I need to get my dick out of these pants. Now.

I undo my zipper, and then Brian's hand swats mine out of the way and pulls my dick out, stroking it lightly, spreading the pre-come down my shaft.

I undo Brian's pants and reach in for his cock, pulling it out, too, and matching his strokes.

I remember the last time I sat on Brian's lap. My hair was a lot shorter and I was a lot angrier. I was still on a high from kicking ass with the posse. Pressing down hard, riding Brian's dick, bruising our lips with rough kisses. The chair skidding across the loft floor.

God, what a fucked-up time. Brian worrying about me, not even trying to hide it – Daphne too. I was so full of anger and hate, it was eating me up inside.

Then I think about the cancer eating Brian up inside. But he beat it. We both did. Fought our demons and put them to rest. For now, at least. But they're still there, lurking.

His, mine, and one that we share. That one binds us together forever.

I don't want to think about that now, just want to focus on this. The feel of Brian's hand on my cock, and my hand on his. The taste of his mouth. The smell of the sweat on his neck. I lean in and lick at it, wanting to absorb him.

I think about pulling off my pants and taking Brian's cock inside me, rocking furiously on this chair until I come.

Or about bending over the desk as he rims me until I'm begging for him to fuck me. And then he does. Hard and fast, like he did late one night in another office.

But this, right now, feels too good to stop. This quiet intimacy we're sharing, this breath we're sharing. Our foreheads still pressed together, our hands still stroking in perfect rhythm, getting faster and faster until I feel my toes curling, feel my orgasm building. Feel it moving through my body like a wave of heat until it finally pours out of my cock and into Brian's hand. Feel his, a minute later, as his body tenses and his hot come spills onto my fingers.

We're quiet for a moment, catching our breath. I think about Brian and I fucking here when the building was still a bathhouse.

The first time we ever fucked in public. I wasn't even embarrassed, I felt more empowered than I ever had in my life. Seeing the lust on the faces around us as they watched Brian and I fucking. Watched me sucking his beautiful dick. Able to get off just on the feel and taste of it in my mouth. Watched them watching the two of us. No-one else invited to join in. I still get off thinking about that night.

I think about all the guys I've had sex with - there've been a few. The crazy positions and locations, the threesomes and foursomes. I think about all of it, and none of it as good as a mutual hand-job with Brian. I wonder if he ever thinks about that, too.

“Got any napkins in that bag?” Brian asks. I have to laugh. Always the romantic.

“Yeah I do,” I say, and we get ourselves cleaned up. We're both hungry now, and we split the sandwich, then get ready to leave.

“We finally christened the new office,” Brian notes.

“We sure did. This room at least,” I say with a cheeky smile.

He laughs. “Come on,” he says, swinging an arm over my shoulder and turning off the light, “let's go home, heat up this soup.”

Betcha.

2007-08-17T01:37:05Z

Title: Betcha
Timeline: Late season 1
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my brilliant beta, xie_xie_xie, for not only providing invaluable help, but for coming up with the plot bunny too. Written for the Icon Challenge With a Twist at qaf_challenges
Inspired By Icon:

***

I'm sharing fries with Daphne at the diner when Brian and Michael walk in. They sit at the counter and Brian's shirt rides up a little at the back, exposing a sliver of smooth, tanned flesh. I can't look away.

"You're not getting any of that," Daphne says, and throws a fry at my head. "Eat that instead."

"Bet I can," I say with a smile, and pop the fry into my mouth.

Daphne looks at me skeptically.

"I'm the exception to his rules, Daph."

"Prove it," she says.

I shrug. "Give me a week."

She grins.

***

Sunday.

I stroll into Woody's knowing Brian and the guys wouldn't be anywhere else at 4 on a Sunday afternoon. They're playing pool. Well, Brian's playing pool and Ted's throwing his money at Brian.

I slide up to Brian, pressing in close.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Hey Boy Wonder,” says Michael. I nod at him, but I've got other things on my mind today. I turn back to Brian.

“Guess what I got today?” I ask.

He raises one eyebrow, the signal for 'tell me'.

I lift my shirt, revealing a new nipple ring.

His eyes hone in on it, but he shrugs, feigning disinterest. Bullshit. He fucking loves this thing.

“Yeah, I thought it was time for a change.” I let my fingertips play over my nipple, and it hardens. I see Brian swallow.

I lower my voice just a touch. “It hurt a little when I slipped it out and put the new one in. I had to poke around for a while until I found the hole. But it feels really good now.” I grasp the barbell and tug it a little. I gasp.

“Really good,” I whisper, tugging on it again.

Brian pulls down my shirt, grabs me by the arm and drags me off to the bathroom.

Day 1 – check.

Monday.

“Sunshine, table three needs busing!” Deb calls out from the kitchen. The dinner rush is finally over and my shift ends soon. Thank god.

“Got it, Deb,” I call back as I head over. Out of the corner of my eye I see Brian walk in. Perfect.

He must have come straight from work. He's wearing a red shirt and matching tie. Fuck, he looks hot in red. I see him sit at the counter and put in an order, then cast an appraising eye over the diner patrons.

I'm wearing a pair of my tightest jeans and I know by now he's spotted me and is staring at my ass. So maybe I scrub at the tabletop a little harder than I need to, and maybe I bend over a little further than I need to, but a horny boy's gotta do what a horny boy's gotta do.

Finally, when I can't drag it out any more, I straighten up and head toward the counter. “Oh, hey Brian,” I say.

“Justin,” he acknowledges. “Finished spit-polishing the table?” I flush, then shrug. “You know how I like to give my very best service,” I say with a grin.

“Yeah, I've got something you can service,” he says. “Let's go.”

“Wait, I'm starving, I want to get some food and I have to tell Deb...”

“I got you a burger and fries,” he says.

“You did?” I grin. “I want lemon bars too.”

“There's lemon bars in there, now hurry the fuck up,” he says, throwing a paper bag at me.

“Have him back by midnight,” Deb tells Brian. She hands me my coat. “School tomorrow, Sunshine.” She points a long red fingernail at me. “And don't you forget it.”

I nod and smile and shove a handful of fries in my mouth as Brian drags me out to the jeep.

Day 2 – check.

Tuesday.

Debbie and Vic have decided to go have a few drinks at Woody's tonight. Vic's celebrating a run of good health and Deb just wanted an excuse to wear this new shirt she made. It's sheer leopard print fabric and she has a red bra on underneath.

Sometimes I hate living with Deb.

They invite me along with them.

Sometimes I love living with Deb.

We arrive and before I can even ask for a beer, Debbie orders me a Coke. I grimace, but one scary look from her shuts me up. I'm scoping out the bar when I hear Debbie whooping next to me. She's waving at someone in the corner. Someone turns out to be Michael, who's trying to pretend he hasn't seen her. Brian laughs and shoves him in our direction.

“Hey baby!” Deb says when he arrives, smacking a kiss on his cheek and a hand on his butt.

“Ma-a,” I hear him start in as he wipes away at the lipstick mark on his face. I use the opportunity to slip away.

As I approach Brian I see that some shirtless twink has sidled up to him. I frown. Brian doesn't exactly seem to be fending him off.

Brian doesn't do love, or boyfriends, so I guess he doesn't do jealousy either, right?

I'd figured out Brian's rules were bullshit by the second night.

So just as this tattooed, hulking, muscled uber-top in a wifebeater I've been flirting with is buying me a second beer Brian intervenes, pulling me past a red-faced Deb and into the bathroom.

Day 3 – check.

Wednesday.

I'm babysitting at Mel and Lindsay's tonight. It was a last-minute thing – they had some meeting pop up somewhere. They told me where but I wasn't really paying attention Something lesbianish, I think.

Gus is asleep upstairs and I'm sitting on the sofa trying to figure out how to hook up with Brian tonight - without chasing after him.

The doorbell rings.

“Brian! What are you doing here?” I ask with a smile. I really couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried.

“I came to see Gus. What are you doing here? Stalking me again?” He pushes past me and comes inside.

“He's asleep,” I tell him. “I'm babysitting,”

“No shit,” he deadpans.

I stop smiling.

He stares at me for a second and then heads upstairs, taking them two at a time.

He comes down a few minutes later and throws himself down next to me on the sofa.

I stare at him.

“You can blow me while I'm here. If you want,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

I sniff. “Why don't you blow me for me a change?” Sometimes, Brian really is as easy I think he is

“I will if you will.”

Bingo.

“Mm'kay,” I say and wiggle my eyebrows. Brian pounces on me. We kiss and laugh and work my pants down together.

Brian rucks up my shirt and trails kisses down my chest, thumbs my nipples. Tugs on the barbell through my right tit. I arch up off the sofa, impatient already. Brian makes me so hard so fast I forget where or even who I am half the time.

I push his head down toward my cock and groan loudly as his tongue makes first contact. He shushes me and then goes back to licking long stripes along my cock, nosing around my balls, licking lightly.

Finally, when I'm whimpering and clutching the sofa cushions so tightly my knuckles are white, when I can't beg anymore, Brian swallows my cock down to the root.

And that's when Mel and Lindsay walk in.

It takes me a while to realize. Once the white noise in my head dims down, once I realize Brian's stopped sucking, once Mel's squawks of “Jesus Brian, not on our fucking sofa!” have registered.

And by then, Lindsay's left the room and Brian's waving Mel away too. She protests but scampers away as soon as she realizes that yes, Brian is going to go back to sucking my cock whether she's watching or not.

Day 4 – check.

Thursday.

Thursday nights are family dinner night's at Deb and Vic's. The whole gang gathers at least once a month under threat of death from Debbie.

The house smells like marinara sauce and garlic bread and I'm feeling content, with my tummy full, surrounded by the sounds of talking and laughing.

As fucked up as things are with my dad right now, maybe they won't be that way forever. Maybe he'll come around, but for now, this makeshift family I've found myself in is really nice. And Brian's sitting next to me, looking amazing, making snide comments about Emmett's stories, Ted's shirt.

I sigh happily.

Then I feel Brian's hand creep into my lap. I jump a little in my chair, but no-one seems to notice; they're all engrossed in one of Vic's tales about his days in New York.

Brian's rubbing his hand across my crotch and my dick's already hard. Then I feel him start to slide my zipper down.

He wouldn't. Not right here at the table. Would he?

The answer is apparently yes, because I feel his hand slip inside my pants and cup my dick.

I gasp, and everyone turns to face me. “You okay, baby?” Debbie asks.

“I'm fine Debbie,” I say through gritted teeth. Brian's still cupping my dick through my underwear and rubbing his fingers along my balls. I know there's no way in hell I can keep quiet any longer so I stand, napkin discreetly covering my crotch and excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

I'm not even all the way up the stairs when Brian announces he's going out for a smoke. I pause for a second, expecting to hear the door open, but instead I hear him coming up the stairs behind me.

“Wha..” I start to ask before he clamps a hand down over my mouth and presses his hard cock against my back, wrapping his other arm around my waist and walking us both up the stairs.

He heads for my bedroom, but the bed squeaks and the last thing I want is for everyone down there to hear us fucking. Not that most of them haven't already at one time or another, but certainly not all at once, and I don't really want to be the after-dinner entertainment.

I lead him into the bathroom instead, and when we're in and the door's closed, I grab him by the back of the neck and slam my mouth onto his. His hands are back in my pants, his left cupping my balls and his right jerking me off. I pull away from his mouth with a gasp. He tastes like red wine.

“You asshole, did you have to do that at the table?” I ask.

“Like you give a shit about modesty, Sunshine,” he smirks.

I frown but then he tugs just the way I like it and I gasp again.

“Oh fuck, get me off please,” I ask.

“Such a polite boy,” he says.

“I'm close Brian. Please.”

“Well, you're gonna have to wait a bit longer,” he says and proceeds to pull my pants down all the way.

He tells me to step out of them and then bends me over the sink. He sits on the closed toilet lid and spreads my cheeks and before I know it, his tongue is lapping at my hole.

“Fuck!” I can't keep quiet when he rims me. He's too fucking good at it and it drives me crazy. I really don't want everyone to hear me moaning but it feels way too good to ask him to stop.

He's opening me up with his tongue and a finger, and then two fingers and finally I feel him squirt lube up my ass. “Oh thank God,” I manage to get out. He never goes anywhere without his fucking lube.

I turn around and watch as he puts a condom on. He stands, but I push him back down, in the mood for something else.

“I wanna ride you,” I tell him.

“By all means,” he holds his cock up, “climb aboard.” He's such a dick sometimes.

I straddle him, taking him inside me inch-by-inch until I'm sitting in his lap, my ass full of his cock. He gets so deep when he fucks me this way. I love it. Love taking him in, setting the pace, controlling the fuck, feeling so fucking full. I moan and kiss him again. His mouth tastes a little less like wine and a little more like my ass and the thought of that makes me moan again.

We're sucking on each other's tongues and I'm working my ass up and down Brian's cock, squeezing my muscles the way he taught me. Brian's jerking me off again and I know I'm not gonna last too long, and I don't. I cry out, coming all over his hand. My muscles tighten and I clamp down on his cock, which sets off his orgasm.

I slump against his chest, feeling completely boneless, and trying to catch my breath.

A moment later he signals for me to lift up and his dick slides out of my ass. I feel that twinge as always.

After we clean up and walk back into the kitchen, we're greeted by a round of applause.

“Fuck,” I say again and hide my face in Brian's shirt. He actually looks pretty pleased with himself.

I guess the bathroom wasn't any quieter than the bedroom after all.

Oh well, day 5 – check.

Friday.

I'm working again and we're crazy busy. Every fag in the Pitts must have stopped in for dinner tonight before heading off to dance and fuck away their week's troubles.

Deb's been yelling instructions at me for hours, I've had my ass pinched by three different guys – who didn't leave big tips, assholes – and I've got six orders backed up on the kitchen window.

Mikey walks in, followed by Brian, who’s wearing tight black leather pants and a sleeveless black shirt. Fuck. He looks amazing. I stop and stare at him.

“Sunshine!” Debbie screeches, snapping me out of my Brian-induced stupor. Brian sees me practically drooling and laughs at me. Asshole. “Hustle that bubble butt,” Deb tells me, practically throwing three plates at me. “Table six, go!”

I deliver six their meals and then take orders for two more tables. Finally, I head for Brian and Michael. “You guys ready to order?”

“We were ready five minutes ago, Boy Wonder.” Michael. Always the charmer.

“In case you hadn't noticed, we're a little busy, Michael,” I snap.

“Is that any way to talk to the customers?” he smarms.

I narrow my eyes at him, ready to let fly, when Brian interrupts.

“Two specials,” he orders. I spin around and head off to put in their orders. When I turn around, Brian's right behind me. “Fuck, Brian. You scared the shit out of me” He starts pulling me toward the bathroom.

“I don't have time for this,” I protest. Debbie's got her back to us but won't for long. If she sees me going off with Brian in the middle of the dinner rush she'll have my balls.

By now, we're in the bathroom, miraculously empty, and Brian's pushing me into one of the stalls.

“Seriously Brian, I don't have time for .... fuck, “ he's kissing that spot behind my ear that drives me crazy. “Stop it,” I moan. He does. “Oh fuck, don't stop!” He smirks.

Two bathroom fucks in two days. Guess he kinda liked it.

“Want me to ride you again?” I ask. He snorts.

“Like I can even sit in these pants,” he says, barely managing to push them down enough to get his cock out. He's not wearing any underwear. I really want to suck his cock. So I do.

I drop down onto my knees, not caring that the floor isn't exactly the cleanest place in the world. Not that it's any worse than the stall's at Woody's, and I'm definitely accustomed to being on my knees in there. Brian is, too, but I don't think that's public knowledge.

I figure I'll get him off quickly and then jerk off. Debbie's probably noticed I'm missing by now and I don't really want to face her wrath, but Brian has other ideas. He pushes me away from his dick and hauls me up, slamming me up against the stall door. He kisses me then spins me around, pushing me against the door. He grabs my hands, bringing them together at the top of the door and I hold on.

A minute later, he's inside me. I push back, using the door as leverage. Brian is slamming into me fast and hard. Neither of us last long. I come with Brian's hand on my dick and his mouth behind my ear.

By the time Brian's disposed of the condom and zipped up, I'm still leaning against the door, completely wiped out. My ass will be feeling this one for a while. I smile.

“Thought you were in a hurry, Sunshine,” Brian mocks.

“Mmm, I am,” I say, still not moving.

He huffs, and then pulls up my pants, tucking me in and kissing me again before he opens the door and sends me out with a smack on the ass.

Debbie shoots me a death stare when she sees me coming out with Brian following behind, but at that moment, I couldn’t care less. About the customers waiting, about the bet, about anything except Brian.

Nothing is better than being with him. Nothing else matters.

Day 6 – check.

Saturday.

It's Saturday night and everyone's at Babylon. The dance floor is packed with horny queers, glitter is falling from above, the drinks are flowing and there's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be.

Brian's been to the backroom already once tonight. I'm shameless enough to admit I snuck in and watched him get blown by some blond guy. But I don't care, I'm pretty sure I can get Brian to take me in there as well, and then my seven-day challenge will be a success.

I never don't want Brian to fuck me, but tonight, if not for that bet, I'd almost be happy if he didn't.

Almost.

I'm dancing in the middle of this mass of shirtless, gorgeous men. The lights are flashing the prettiest colors and I'm so fucking proud to be here and queer.

And the tab of E that Emmett slipped me earlier probably has something to do with it, too.

I've been dancing for hours now. I know Brian's been keeping an eye on me because I saw him handing Emmett a bottle of water earlier. A minute later Emmett handed it to me and said, “From His Highness, but you're not supposed to know that!” and winked at me before he took off with some guy with a shaved head and a killer six-pack.

I feel so fucking happy right at this moment. I'm bopping up and down and staring up at the lights. I can feel myself grinning like an idiot and I feel so incredibly alive. This is who I am. And if my dad, and Hobbs and the bullies can't accept it, that's too bad. I know, right at this moment, that I wouldn't want to change, even if I could.

“What are you smiling at?” Brian shouts in my ear.

I spin around to face him. He's so beautiful. I love him so much. I know it in this instant as sure as I know my own name. I'll always love him, and I wouldn't want to change that, either.

I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight for a second.

I pull back. “Nothing. I'm just happy,” I shout, and keep dancing. Brian's arms tighten around my waist and we move together for a while as the glitter rains down. Our foreheads are pressed together. I close my eyes and lose myself in the beat, and then I feel Brian's lips on mine, and we kiss and kiss, right there in the middle of Babylon and I think nothing could be better than this.

“Let's go home,” Brian says.

I was wrong.

We go back to the loft and Brian makes me drink more water. I feel all sweaty and gross and I know there must be glitter stuck to my chest and in my hair.

“I wanna take a shower,” I tell Brian, and a minute later, he follows me into the bathroom and we take our clothes off. I'm still feeling the effects of the ecstasy and bouncing on my heels a little. Brian just rolls his eyes at me and pulls me into the shower with him.

I love showering with Brian. It always reminds me of that first morning I spent here. The way Brian ran the soap all over me, and then fucked me amid the steam and hot water. The burn in my ass that I've come to know. Come to love.

I sigh happily, standing under the spray with a goofy smile on my face. Brian rolls his eyes again and then starts running the bar of soap across my chest. I close my eyes and enjoy his touch. He shampoos my hair for me and I think I've pretty much died and gone to heaven.

I wonder if anyone else's definition of heaven is Brian Kinney's shower.

After we dry off, we head back into the bedroom. I throw myself down onto the bed and laugh as I bounce a little on the mattress.

I throw my arms and legs out wide, taking up almost the whole bed. If there were snow, I'd be making a snow angel. An angel in Brian's bed. The thought makes me giggle.

Brian quirks an eyebrow. “You only took one tab of E, right?” he asks.

I nod. “Yep. I'm just high on life!” I say, as I move my legs back and forth across Brian's soft sheets. I watch Brian watching me, naked, spread out on his bed. Watch his eyes rake over my body.

I start touching myself. Loving how his eyes follow my hand's movements. I was so embarrassed the first time he told me to touch myself while he watched. Not anymore. It turns him on, and I love turning him on.

I start stroking my cock, licking my palm first to help the way.

My feet are planted flat on the bed an Brian's eyes are focused on the area between my legs. He crawls onto the bed and heads straight for my dick, batting my hand away and replacing it with his own.

My toes curl and I let out a sigh. Then Brian replaces his hand with his mouth, working it up and down my dick, licking at my balls, then taking them into his mouth. I groan, wanting more. He pushes my legs back toward my chest and then brings my ass up towards his face. I groan again, anticipating the first touch of his tongue to my hole.

He rims me for a long time, so long I'm trembling and moaning all sorts of stupid, nonsense words. I don't even know what I'm saying, but I hope it involves begging him to hurry up. Eventually, Brian puts my legs over his shoulders, pushes inside me, fucks me in smooth, deep strokes, and when I come, I see colors so bright they rival those at Babylon.

* * *

I must have passed out, because the next thing I know it's dark in the bedroom and I hear Brian shuffling around the loft, turning off lights and setting the alarm.

He comes back into the bedroom and crawls in behind me. I'm half-asleep already and then I feel his nose in the back of my hair, breathing me in before pulling the duvet up over us both and settling in.

I smile before I fall asleep.

Day 7 – check.

Marriage, a Drabble.

2007-08-11T12:57:51Z

Title: Marriage
Timeline: Post-513

* * *

Brian always said he'd never do love. Never do marriage. His parents saw to that. His father with his fists, his mother with her words.

It was all bullshit anyway, a farce. Something for straights and dykes. Something to pass the time but never something real. You're the only one that's real. You're the only one you've got. It was his mantra for years.

And yet, Brian loves Justin fiercely. And he knows Justin will be the only one he'll ever love. And he'll love him forever. This is real, he thinks.

They're kind of married after all, he thinks.

Soon.

2007-08-09T16:41:20Z

My second fic! Much much love and thanks as always goes to xie_xie_xie, vamphile and happier_bunny for their help and support.

Title: Soon.
Timeline: Post-513
Feedback: Is loved.
There's a companion piece called Tomorrow, here.

There are times I really, really love New York. Times when the air is alive and crackling with energy, when I can feel inspiration seeping into my bones just from walking around.

Times that remind me of Hollywood, and how much I loved feeling creative all day, every day. The excitement of knowing I was doing something important. Something that came from within me. Times when I could think, see Hobbs, you didn't get me, I'm still here and fuck you very much.

Times I just painted all day, hours and hours and seeing what emerged made me feel good. Proud.

Times when I felt like a big fat fucking success, just like Brian always said.

But there are times when I'm lying here in bed, alone, late at night, when my mind just won't slow down enough to get to sleep. Times I really hate New York.

It's times like this that remind me that no matter how much I love the city, what I love more than anything else isn't here with me.

I think back to a thousand nights spent in Brian's bed, hell, even a few that Brian spent in my bed at Debbie's house.

I think of Brian asleep, his face softer than it ever is when he's awake. Think of the slight wheeze from his deviated septum, think of him lying warm and heavy across my back. The best sleep I ever had.

Think of my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Think of fingers playing in my hair for hours

Think of all the times we've whispered in the dark, late at night. Our faces close together. How his fingers would seek mine out, and that it meant more to me than if he held my hand walking down the street would.

Think about waking up from a nightmare. Night after night. How patient Brian was. How he never got upset that I'd woken him up for the tenth, eleventh, twelfth night in a row. How he'd whisper nonsense words that lulled me back to sleep. How his arms around me made me feel so safe.

Think about the first few nights after I'd left Ethan. How I felt like I'd finally woken up. Felt like I wasn't in some fog anymore. Felt like smiling again. Realized that getting what you want from the wrong person can't possibly compete with getting it from the right person.

Think about when he was sick, and the promises I whispered. That I wouldn't leave him, and that he was going to get better so just shut the fuck up with his bullshit.

Think about after he proposed and how he was no longer afraid to whisper things to me too.

About how scared he was when he I didn't answer my cell. How when he was looking for me in Babylon all he could see was my blood on a white scarf.

That he loves me.

How I whispered that I loved our house. That I couldn't wait for it to be ours. And that he knew without me telling him what I was trying to say. That I hadn't really had a home since I was seventeen. That I love that he knew what I wanted. What I needed. Think about the stability he offered me. That I'd been craving. That I was glad he finally thought I can, instead of I won't.

I think about our house now. Empty. Dark. Think about the loft. Remember the good times we had there. And the bad ones. Think about Debbie's house and how I always felt warm there, and loved.

Think about my crappy apartment, and the only times I feel at home here are when Brian's visiting. When he's curled around me in this bed, when he's making coffee in my tiny kitchen, when he's squeezed onto my small sofa, the sofa that's really too small for someone as tall as Brian, but how he never lets me sit anywhere else, how he snags my arm when I walk past and tugs me down to sit with him.

Think about Brian in my studio, and how when he looks at my paintings I can see everything I need to in his face. How good he thinks they are, and how that means more to me than praise from any art critic. How proud of myself I am that I'm making money, making my own way in the world, but how making Brian proud of me is the best thing of all.

I think about the fact that I've achieved everything I set out to do when I left for New York. That it would be really nice to live with Brian in that big house. Swim in the pool. Think about Gus visiting us there and how much fun he'd have, and know that Brian would be really glad about that.

Think about family dinners at Deb's. Think about the diner, and growing up there. Think about seeing my mom more often, and Daphne. Think about working on Rage with Michael.

I think about how well Kinnetik's doing. I think about Brian at 29 telling me he wanted to move to New York. Wanted to play with the big boys. I think about Kinnetik expanding.

Something is going to give. I know it. And whatever happens, it's going to happen soon. Fuck sleeping alone.