Brian/Justin Ficlets

[jule1122]

fandom_aid is one of the best things I have ever come across on LJ. bigboobedcanuck and queenofthorns did an absolutely amazing job. I was so excited to read all the wonderful fics, and I had two fabulous videos made for me. Needless to say I donated to a few charities. I also got a bit caught up in the whole thing and wrote four fics. I feel a little bad about contributing because I don't think I was the type of writer they were looking for, but as I said I got got up in the moment. Regardless, I am posting my contributions. These first two stories go together so I am putting them in the same post.

Title: And Who Do You Think I Am
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Justin’s been in L.A. for a few years when he gets a surprise visitor. Justin’s POV
Warnings: A little angsty
Spoilers: None
Beta: The fabulous Philflam
Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. QAF and it’s characters belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No money is being made from this story.
Credit: Title is taken from the gorgeous Barenaked Ladies song "Am I The Only One?"
Author's Note: This story is continued in “Slipping Below The Water-Line.”


The first thing Justin noticed when he entered the apartment was the beeping of his answering machine. He ignored it. Justin knew it was Debbie, everyone else called his cell phone, and he didn’t want to listen to one of her lectures right now. The sound haunted him as he grabbed a beer from his fridge. He should probably get a less annoying machine, but in all the time he lived here the damn thing had never made a sound until a few weeks ago when Debbie started calling. Turning the music up loud enough to drown out the beeping, Justin stretched out on the couch. He had a few hours to kill before leaving for some party Brett wanted him to attend. He hoped there would be some decent pot there. Justin didn’t trust anyone out here enough to do heavy drugs, but he could use a good buzz.

He must have drifted off because the sudden lack of music woke him up. Startled by the silence, Justin open his eyes and was shocked to see Brian looking down at him. The sheer improbability of it convinced him he was still dreaming. Brian had no reason to be in Justin’s apartment. Justin couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to Brian let alone seen him. Brian lived in Pittsburgh, and Justin lived in L.A. Once it became clear neither one of those things was likely to change, there had been no point in attempting to carry on a relationship. Even now, Justin couldn’t say exactly when or how it happened. There was no screaming match or touching goodbye scene. They’d simply stopped being a part of each other’s lives. It was all very adult and civilized and completely unlike them.

While Justin contemplated the startling accuracy of dream Brian, his dream Brians never looked quite right or Brian was represented by another person altogether, Brian had moved closer. “You really should listen to your messages Sunshine. Debbie hates to be ignored.”

Justin didn’t answer instead he just continued to stare. He could still hear the machine beeping so how did Brian know the message was from Debbie?

Brian tapped his foot as if waiting for an answer. The he waved his hand in front of Justin’s face and snapped his fingers a few times. “Isn’t a bit early for you to be quite this wasted?”

Justin pushed the hand away. Now he knew this wasn’t a dream. He’d never been able to capture Brian’s smug sarcasm this well. “I’m not fucking wasted; I just didn’t think you were real. How the hell did you get in here?”

“Still have a key,” Brian let it dangle from his index finger. “You should be more careful with these things. You never know who might wander in.”

“You’re the only one who has one, and I didn’t expect you to start using it. You never did before.”

“Surprise, surprise, today’s your lucky day. Now get up; we have things to do.” Brian headed toward Justin’s bedroom before turning back, “And turn off that fucking machine before I shove it up your ass.”

Justin deleted the message without listening to it and followed Brian. He wasn’t surprised to find Brian sprawled out across his bed feet hanging off the edge tapping against each other restlessly. “If you’re here for sex, forget it.”

“Justin, I did not travel across the fucking country for a blow job. That’s what Babylon is for. Although if you pack quickly, we might have time.” Brian somehow managed to smile and leer at the same time.

“Look, I have to leave in twenty minutes. Don’t be here when I get back.” Justin kept his voice flat. He didn’t want Brian to know how tempted he was to lay down with him. He couldn’t get sucked back into Brian only to be left alone again.

“And where would you be headed? To another one of those oh so important events Brett needs you at? Another chance for him to keep his name circulating by trotting out the little gay boy who could? Sorry Sunshine, I’m afraid you’ll be unavailable. Now stop wasting time and start packing. Just get what you need, and I’ll have the rest shipped.”

Justin decided to ignore Brian’s taunts about Brett. Defending him would only amuse Brian, and Justin wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t need to pack anything.”

“It is always easier to travel light. You should still have some shit at the loft, and you can always pick up anything else you need. Let’s go.” Brian sprang quickly from the bed.

“Obviously the years of recreational drug use have finally caught up with you, and you’re either missing parts of your memory or you’re delusional. So to review, we’re not together anymore Brian. And I’m not going anywhere with you.” Justin briefly considered calling Michael and telling him Brian had apparently snapped and forgotten the last few years. But Michael was too far away to be of any real help, and most likely this was all some twisted game Brian had dreamed up for his own amusement.

Brian just snorted, “Lucky for you I’m years away from dementia. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you are going home. Back to glorious Pittsburgh and the illustrious life you left behind. Tonight.”

“The fuck I am. Even if I wanted to go back, and I don’t, I have a job. A fucking job, Brian. I can’t just take off.”

“You have a job, Justin, that you can do from anywhere. They have these wonderful inventions called the internet and video conferencing. That’s how I keep clients around the world satisfied,” Brian raised his eyebrow suggestively, “without ever leaving my office. And if Brett really keeps you around for your talent, he’ll adjust.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Justin asked quietly. That was low even for Brian.

“You know what I think of your art so don’t get all defensive. But I know what’s going on out here. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You should have remembered that Mikey can’t keep a secret to save his life. I know that Brett parades you around as the poster child for brave blond boys everywhere in hopes it will distract people from the crap job he’s done on his last two movies.”

“It’s business, Brian. I’m playing the game just like you taught me. What’s it matter why they hire us as long as they do? As long as at the end of the day, I’m more successful than any of them. Isn’t that what you always told me?” Justin wanted to turn this around on Brian. If he could piss Brian off enough, he might leave. Then Justin wouldn’t have to deal with this.

Brian shook his head, “Trading in on what happened is not part of the fucking game Sunshine.”

No, no, no, no, no, the word kept echoing in Justin’s head. He wouldn’t talk about that, not with Brian. “I’m not going back to Pittsburgh.”

“Fine, go to New York, Miami, London, or Paris. Hell go to fucking Moscow for all I care,” Brian threw his hands up in the air. “But you are not staying here. I didn’t let you run around with a fucking gun because you didn’t want to let it define you just to have you turn around and chat about it over cocktail weenies.”

“Fuck you Brian. You let me? Is that how you think it worked? I wasn’t your God damn puppet. You can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to jump back in line.” Justin knew he was shouting, and he struggled to calm himself down. He’d worked too hard to get control of his life, to make his own decisions and mistakes. Brian wasn’t going to take that away from him with some fucked up revisionist history. “Get out Brian. I don’t want you here.”

“You want me out of here? Fine. There are a couple of ways we can do this. The easy way is for you to pack your shit and come with me now. You can hate me and bitch the whole way back. I don’t give a fuck. Or I can come with you tonight and show you exactly why you need to leave. Would you like that, Justin? I could answer all the questions you can’t. You can tell them why, and of course, there’s always the heartwarming story of your recovery. But there’s so much you don’t remember. I’ve told you before I remember all of it. I can tell them what they really want to know. I can tell them how the bat echoed when it finally hit the ground, but you, you seemed to fall silently. I can tell them what your hair looked like surrounded by all that blood. I can tell them what you screamed in every nightmare you didn’t wake up from. Would you like me to do that, Justin? How many scripts is that worth?”

Justin shivered when Brian’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes. He hated the edge he heard in Brian’s voice, he always had. Justin knew when Brian dropped his voice like that it usually meant he was hurt and lashing out. But he couldn’t concern himself with Brian’s pain. He took a deep breath and willed himself not to be sick. He needed to forget the hint of cruelty he heard when Brian spoke. Justin wondered briefly if that’s what Brian’s father sounded like, but he pushed that thought from his mind. He needed to stop this. They never talked about the bashing for Brian’s sake as much as his own. He couldn’t listen to this, not from Brian.

“Stop, Brian, please stop,” he hated the way his voice shook. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that. Open your eyes Justin.” Brian had maneuvered them so they were facing the mirror above Justin’s dresser. He was standing behind Justin and leaned over his shoulder so their faces were next to each other, their eyes level. Justin could see the anger and pain in Brian’s eyes. He refused to look at his own. Brian’s voice had softened now. This was the voice Justin heard in his dreams. The one that let him know Brian cared; the one he has had to listen to even when he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hear it now. “I know you think you are showing them how strong you are, how you survived. But they can’t see that.”

Justin turned away no longer wanting to look at Brian. Brian’s hand on his jaw forced him back, pressing their faces together. He wanted to close his eyes again, but he didn’t. When Brian spoke this time, his voice was barely above a whisper. “All they see when they look at you is a victim.”

Justin did break away then turning his back on Brian. He wouldn’t listen to this anymore. He knew he should say something, do something to make Brian see he was wrong, to make him stop. But he couldn’t.

“You have an hour Justin. Then I’m leaving. You either come with me or you don’t. But understand, this is the only chance you get. I won’t do this again. Not even for you. If I leave here alone, you won’t ever see me again. I don’t care if you arrive in Pittsburgh fifteen minutes after me, as far as I’ll be concerned, you never existed. You will cease to exist the minute I walk out that door. We won’t run into each other; our friends won’t casually mention what’s going on in my life to you. We will have never been. Do you understand? One hour, Justin.”

He listened to Brian walk away, could tell by the sound of his footsteps he was in the kitchen. Only then did Justin let himself breathe. He sat down heavily on his bed burying his face in his hands. That was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. Brian was trying to scare him. He knew that. They never said it out loud, but they both knew Brian was Justin’s safety net. No matter what happened or how long he’d been gone, Justin could always go to Brian if he needed him. And now Brian was taking that away. What he didn’t know was that Justin let go of that a long time ago. Brian couldn’t scare him by making him think about what life would be like without even the possibility of Brian. Justin already understood that perfectly.

Title: Slipping Below The Water-Line
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How did Brian end up in L.A. and what is Justin’s decision? Brian’s POV
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Beta: The fabulous Philflam
Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. QAF and it’s characters belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No money is being made from this story.
Credit: Title is taken from the wonderful Morrissey song "I’m Not Sorry.”
Author's Note: This story is a continuation of “And Who Do You Think I Am.” You will need to read that one first


Brian sat at the table and tried to pretend his hands weren’t shaking as he lit a cigarette. He hoped to God his little power play had worked because he meant what he said. If Justin didn’t come back with him today, it was over. He wouldn’t stand by and watch Justin sell his soul piece by piece not even from the other side of the country. But he’d played it all wrong. He’d let too much show especially at the end. He’d sounded more desperate than commanding. Brian hoped Justin hadn’t noticed.

He shouldn’t even be here. It was all Debbie’s fault or maybe Michael’s. Once he and Justin had stopped being whatever the hell they were, it was understood that if Justin needed something or had a problem he could come to Brian. It would always be that way. But Justin had to come to Brian; he wouldn’t come to Justin. Yet, here he was.

It was definitely Michael’s fault. After all he was the one who needed a gay superhero, and nobody would be here if it wasn’t for Rage. When Justin finished his work on Rage, Brett offered him another job. By the time it was clear that while not a flop, Rage wasn’t a franchise material, Justin was too enmeshed in L.A. to leave. He and Justin embarked on completely separate lives connected only by Michael who visited Justin occasionally to work on Rage the comic book. It was his last visit that prompted Brian’s own trip.

Last month he’d met Michael for breakfast his first morning back from L.A. After Debbie half smothered him to death and swore he’d lost ten pounds in the week he’d been gone, she started on Michael.

“Hunter’s still pretty upset you wouldn’t take him with you. He would have enjoyed it.”

“He had school, Ma. We’ve been over this.”

“You should let him go out for Spring Break. He could stay with Sunshine meet some cute girls or guys whatever he’s after that week,” Debbie laughed.

“No way, he’d get in too much trouble.”

“Let the boy have some fun. Justin will take care of him. You worry too much.”

Brian had almost choked on his coffee at the idea of Debbie thinking Michael was overprotective. If she had her way, she would be stopping by every night to tuck Michael in. But something in Michael’s voice made him think this conversation was not a good idea so he decided to distract Debbie. “Hey Mikey, did you bring those pictures for your Mom?” Justin always sent Debbie picture of celebrities he’d met, and Michael would do the same while he was there.

Michael threw him a grateful look while pulling out a pack of photos. “Look at this one Ma. Can you believe how short he is in person?”

Brian only half listened as they gushed over the pictures. He noticed when there was a sudden silence followed by Debbie’s “What the fuck is this?”

From the look on Michael’s face, Brian expected to see a picture of him in the middle of an orgy. “Jesus Mikey didn’t you remember to take the sex pictures out?” But when he looked down all he saw was a picture of Justin.

“How long as this been going on and why didn’t you tell me?”

He saw Michael shift nervously. “It’s just a picture of Justin at a party. He’s not doing drugs or anything.”

“He’s too thin. Look at this,” Debbie was flapping the picture in front of Michael’s face.

“He lives in California, Deb. Thin is always in.”

Debbie turned to him one finger dangerously close to his eye. “You stay the fuck out of this unless you’re planning on getting off your ass and doing something about it.”

Brian held out his hands in surrender and left while he still could. But with Debbie being Debbie, it didn’t end there. For the next few weeks, every time he saw her she took the damn picture out. She didn’t say anything just slapped on the table next to his coffee cup. Finally he’d had it. “What do you want me to do with this?” he asked shoving it back at her.

“I want you to fucking look at it and see what I see. I want you to look at him and see how lost he is.”

Brian was silent for a while. So far he’d managed to avoid really looking at the picture, but once he did he knew what Debbie was saying. And he knew looking at the picture was a huge mistake. “And so what if I do? Justin’s a big boy now. If he needs help, he knows where to get it. I think we’re past ‘You fucked him so he’s your responsibility.’ Don’t you.”

“Maybe, but we’re not past you’re fucking in love with him so he’s still your responsibility. And don’t even try to deny it. You might as well have taken out a fucking billboard the way you looked at the kid. So how about you do some of the fucking work this time and make sure he knows where he can go.”

Knowing arguing was useless, he’d handed the picture back to her and asked for his check.

Before he left, Debbie stopped him and slipped the picture in his coat pocket. “Keep this one. I have a copy.” Brian had meant to yell at her, but ended up kissing her on the cheek instead.

After a day spent staring at the picture, just like Debbie hoped, Brian ended up at Michael’s store. “Explain this to me Mikey. What does it mean?” he’d asked sliding the picture across the counter.

“It’s not what you think. He’s not doing drugs or drinking too much. And he’s not suicidal or anything. It’s just there’s a lot of pressure on him right now.” Michael fidgeted with some comic books and looked away as he spoke.

“Pressure? What the fuck does that mean?”

Michael sighed folding the edges of the picture back and forth in his fingers. “It’s just Rage wasn’t a big hit, you know. But Brett knows how to play the game, how to still come out of it looking good. He kind of made a big deal out of Justin’s story. About how he came back from the whole hand thing and drew his own bashing. Gay sex might not be big in Hollywood, but they love stories about ‘the price of coming out’ I think is how Brett put it. So he takes Justin with him when he makes the rounds, and Justin’s the one they all want to talk to. They ask him about the bashing all the time. I think it wears on him.”

Brian had stared at Michael unable to think of a single thing to say. He finally turned around and walked out. He’d headed straight for Woody’s and gotten very, very drunk. Brian wasn’t surprised when Michael eventually showed up to take him home. He didn’t say anything about Justin, but Brian couldn’t get his words out of his head. The price of coming out wasn’t something any of them needed to be reminded of, especially Justin. Two weeks later, he’d been on a plane.

Brian was on his fifth cigarette when Justin walked in carrying a large duffle bag. “I’m ready. Let’s go,” was all he said.

Brian tried to ignore the relief that coursed through him when he realized he wouldn’t have to kidnap Justin after all. No matter what he told Justin or himself, there had been no way he was walking out of there alone. “So what is your final destination?” he asked casually. At Justin’s raised eyebrow he continued, “In case I need to get you another ticket.”

“I’m staying in Pittsburgh.”

“For me?” Brian asked just to see what reaction he would get.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, asshole. I’m going for me,” Justin laughed. “And I do have other family in Pittsburgh in case that’s something else that slipped your drug addled mind.”

As soon as he heard Justin laugh and saw him really smile, Brian knew things were going to work out. “That’s true; there’s your mom, Debbie, Daphne.”

“But they’re not here. You are. What does that mean, you think?”

“I had the most frequent flyer miles,” Brian kept his tone deliberately flip. But when Justin didn’t bite, he gave him the best answer he could. “Maybe I had the most at stake.”

“Maybe.” Justin shifted and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “Why is my stuff still at the loft?”

Fuck, Brian should have known Justin would catch that. He shrugged and concentrated on opening and closing the lighter he still held. “It wasn’t in the way. Sort of seemed like it belonged there.”

“Is it that easy Brian? Is that what you’re offering?” Justin sounded a little unsure, but after a moment he continued. “Do I still belong there?”

He hoped Justin wouldn’t actually ask the question. Things like that used to be understood, but considering how much time had passed, he imagined it was impossible to avoid. Brian made sure to look at Justin when he answered. “You do if you want to. Look Justin, the geography changed that was all, at least for me. If it’s different for you, well, there’s no strings attached to coming back with me. Just like I always told you, it’s your call where you want to be.” Brian imagined there was a very small part of him somewhere that still meant that. He couldn’t find that part of himself, but it still sounded good.

“There’s only one place I’ve ever really wanted to be. I just got a little sidetracked. I guess it was your turn to remind me.”

“Debbie would be proud. Let’s go before we miss our flight.” Brian couldn’t help smiling now that he knew he’d done the right thing. “You took too God damn long packing. Now we can’t fuck.”

“We have at least twenty minutes in the car. I still give great head in case you were wondering. If we have time, the bathroom stalls at LAX are pretty big. If not, I understand first class flight attendants are very discreet. Between fully reclining seats and decent bathrooms, we should have plenty of opportunities.” Justin ticked each option off on his fingers and smirked at Brian.

Brian nodded and tried to keep from smiling even more. “That all sounds good, but how do you know we’re flying first class?”

Justin laughed, “There is no way you would subject yourself to the indignities of coach even for me. You might be exposed to crying babies, strangers falling asleep and drooling on you, or worst of all hideously mismatched luggage.”

“Still a smart ass I see.” Brian couldn’t resist a quick swat on his butt. “We do have a few minutes before we need to go so come here.” Brian brushed Justin’s hair back and framed his face with his hands before leaning down to kiss him. In that moment, he would swear they’d never been apart. Their mouths still fit, Justin still tasted the same, Brian still got hard as soon as Justin pulled his head down and pressed them closer together. He knew, coach seating aside, the indignities he had yet to suffer were worth it. He’d put up with Debbie’s crowing and the boys teasing him about going after Justin just to have this.

“Fuck it, we’ll get another flight,” Justin said when he finally tore his mouth from Brian’s.

“Fucking brilliant idea. I knew there was a reason I wanted you back.” They were both laughing as they struggled to kiss, strip, and walk back to the bedroom at the same time. Once they made it, Brian pulled Justin onto the bed. “Now, I believe you were saying something about giving great head.”

Two days, three messages from Debbie, and countless ones from Brett later, they finally boarded a plane for Pittsburgh.

Comments

[jule1122.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Nothing makes me happier than readers saying my characterization is accurate. All my recent stories are here, and everything I've written can be found here
Moonshadow Tribe (http://www.mags-nificent.com/MSW/MSW.htm).

Just as a warning the stories I wrote between Season 2 and 3 are not betaed. Let me know what you think. I really appreciate your interest. jule