In Search of What Comes Easy - Part 33
Title: In Search of What Comes Easy
Fandom: Harry Potter/QAF crossover
Part: 33 of ??
Rating: Over all NC-17. This chapter is R
Pairings/Characters: Brian/Draco, Harry, Draco, Harry/Draco
Timeline: Post Deathly Hallows for HP. Pre 101 and beginning to overlap with S1 cannon for QAF.
Warnings: This story begins and ends with Brian/Draco - they are the OTP in this fic, but I hope you will appreciate the relationship between Harry and Draco too. M/M sex. Some violence.
Summary: Brian knows that Draco is a wizard. He knows about his shady past. But strangest of all, Brian also knows that he wants Draco in his life. But sometimes wanting something isn't enough.
And in case you hadn't guessed, I own NOTHING related to QAF or HP. I write for fun because Brian and Draco are hot together. :)
A/N: Here is to hoping I didn't just write myself into a corner!! Hehehe...oh and beware another very evil cliffie. :)
~~Part 33~~
After three years living in America, Draco celebrates his first Thanksgiving.
He spends the decadently gluttonous holiday in McRae, Georgia at Jeb's parent's farm eating free-range turkey and vegetables that were grown just down the road.
Ruby comes too. Nervously meeting the potential, future in-laws. She leaves her combat boots and silver-studded mini-tees in Manhattan. Trading them for a pair of jeans (not a rip in sight) and a black cable knit sweater. She still looks amazingly hot.
Harry is there as well, equally unfamiliar with American traditions and acting as Draco's fellow "Red Coat". They sleep that night in parallel twin beds in a small room tucked up under the attic. The beds lined with warm, hand-made quilts. Little Muggle oil paintings of the country side framed on the wall. The wide Georgia moon spilling its light onto the floor.
Harry slips into Draco's bed once the house has gone quiet with sleep. Kissing and pressing and feeling. They fuck quietly that night, their bellies still full. Draco casts a silencing charm, but even so, they keep their moans breathless. Private and close. Not willing to test the limits of the spell on the thin, creaking walls of this old house and potentially mortify Jeb's parents.
It's only the fourth time they have had sex, so the spell of newness, the one that has nothing to do with their magic, has not begun to fade. They aren't a couple. They aren't even fuck buddies. They don't talk about it really. And for that Draco is eternally grateful because he wouldn't really know what to say.
Harry is a natural lover, intuitive and caring. But for all his God given ability in bed, his fucks lack any real fire, any intrigue, any danger. Draco knows that edge is within him. It will just take experience and time. And a more engaged lover.
It's not that he doesn't enjoy being with Harry, because he really does. If the timing had been different, he would have had very little hesitation being Harry's boyfriend. Imagine the drama that would ensue! He would roll him over and showing him what it can really be like to be buggered by a man. Just like Brian had done for him. But as it is, he is still completely fucked in the head over the other brunet.
Three weeks have passed and not a minute goes by when Draco doesn't think of him. Doesn't open his phone, his thumb hovering over the speed dial and wonder what Brian's reaction would be on the other end of the line. He still cries at night sometimes when he wakes up, his bed empty when it should be full. And so Draco can't rouse much passion when it comes to Harry. A true regret. They sleep together because it is easy and it is feels good. A part of him wishes he could give Harry the "more" that Draco knows he truly wants. But he simply cannot.
The next morning is the first, and only, time they wake up next to one another. Draco feels slightly uneasy as Harry slips from his arms and towards the shower, a lingering, lazy eyed smile on his lips. And Draco wonders just how long this arrangement can continue before people get hurt.
Brian, on the other hand, spends his Thanksgiving where he has spent nearly every holiday since high school. With Debbie Novotney and her motley crew of adopted sons. Even though he arrives late, he knows he would be remiss not to come. After all, he is the founding member of that club.
There are simply too many people crammed into Debbie's cluttered house for the holiday. But that is the way Debbie likes it so there isn't a damn thing Brian can do about it. The windows fog up with the steam from Vic's cooking and small rooms ring with the sound of voices and Frank Sinatra. The carefree, holiday spirit that surrounds him only helps to accentuate Brian's quietly brooding mood and that which is not there. Or rather, who is not there.
Brian eats little, but drinks much. Polishing off nearly an entire bottle of red wine by himself before dinner is even served. He tries to ignore the looks Lindsay and Emmett share, looking from him to each other and back to him with sad, pitying eyes.
Michael should be the one getting their looks after all, Brian thinks, sneering at Emmett when he catches one of those compassionate stares. Dr. Dave had dumped Mikey about a week previous when he wouldn't agree to move in with him. But Michael can't seem to care about the end of his relationship. One that had ended with highly suspicious timing, coming only days after the end of Brian's. Michael swears up and down that he had his own reasons to do it. "It's too soon. I'm too young. He comes from a completely different place." And Brian hopes to God Michael is telling the truth because he can't deal with his own pain and Michael's hopeful eagerness all at one.
In the intervening weeks, Brian has moved into his new office. The archetypal corner office with big windows, his own private bath and mahogany desk. But even as the champagne is popped at the company party, Brian can't help but feel like he celebrating a silver medal instead of gold. Like all of this, his whole fucking life, is second best.
The constant phone calls from Gwen and Reid don't help. Fuck Liberty Air Brian, we don't care if they come with you or not and There has gotta be something we can do to persuade you to join us. He had deleted all their messages. They weren't calls from the person he really wanted to hear from anyway.
Brian spends as little time as possible at the loft. Staying at Babylon until the lights come on. Or working long hours at Ryder until the cleaning crew shows up and he feels too uncomfortable to stay. He has always loved his home. Always been so proud of it. A symbol of his success. His status. His lifestyle. But now he hates it. Every corner stirs a memory of Draco, each one more bitter tasting than the last.
But on Thanksgiving, with his office closed and Babylon nearly empty, he is forced to be home.
His eyes fall on the one thing in the apartment he hates the most. The damned fireplace. That gleaming beautiful mantle is the most painful reminder of their connection. Proof of how much trust had been between them. How much they had learned to blend their worlds, the magical and the muggle, into one easy life. Less than a year ago Brian had been blissfully unaware of magic, and would have called anyone crazy who claimed its truth. But now he has a magical fireplace in his living room. A magical object that remains obstinately quiet even when he wishes it would flare back to life, baring its miraculous gifts back to him.
So in his drunkenness on the night of Thanksgiving, Brian throws a bit of that powder into the hearth, sticking his head into the grate as he had seen Draco do before and calls his former lover's name. For a moment he thinks it actually might work, the haunting green flames flare up, playing around his chest and jaw with gentle, tickling touches. But then, as if recognizing his lack of magic, they send him a reprimanding shock. A jolt small enough not to hurt but surprising enough to set him on his backside. He stares dumly as the fire gutters before finally going out. As if even the flames are reminding him that he and Draco are not meant to be.
The first snow falls on Manhattan the next week. Coating the streets and roof tops as Draco sleeps fitfully in his bed. He awakes to a city, pure and white, a smile tugging at his lips and at his heart. Giving him just a bit of hope. But by then end of the day, the snow begins to melt. Flooding the streets, turning to slush and all is dismal and gray once more.
The same storm that covers New York, falls on Pittsburg as well. And Brian watches the inches accumulate from a familiar window, yet another place wrought with history. Each individual flake falls like a regret. Each gust of wind penetrates his bleeding heart. He presses his forehead to the glass and for the first time, lets himself cry. Missing, so much, that part of himself which Draco still owns.
Draco thought he could hate Brian. Brian thought he could forget Draco. But they are both so desperately wrong. And so, they suffer. Alone and needlessly. Both too proud and too certain in the finality of things to make amends. It would only take one of them being brave enough to try. Or a not so subtle nudge from an old friend.
The day after the snow storm, Michael knocks on Brian's door shortly after he had arrived home from work. The look on Michael's face is so ridiculously perky, his arms laden with every form of junk food imaginable, that Brian can't help but give him a smile. Brittle and weary as it may be.
One crappy Captain Astro DVD and a million calories later, he and Michael are sprawled on the floor, Brian's head resting on Michael's thigh as Michael gently threads his fingers through Brian's hair. For the first time in a month, Brian feels good.
In fact the whole evening has felt good. Being with Michael again, they way they used to when they were kids. The way they had before Draco had come into the picture. Lazy, feckless boys with nothing to worry about but trying to decide which movie Tom Cruise was hotter in, Cocktail or A Few Good Men. They had lived the evening in a haze of nostalgia. Comforting and simple. But the problem with nostalgia is that it is fleeting. The moment passes and the present is upon you once more.
"Can you even remember the last time we did this?"
Brian's eyes flutter open, not realizing he had even shut them under Michael's attentive petting. "No. My birthday maybe?"
Michael grins. "God, I got so stoned that night."
"Light weight." Brian teases. "Either way, it has been way too long." He sits, riffling through one of the Cheeto's bags, but realizing it's contents are currently occuping the lump in his stomach, Brian lays back down with a stuffed groan. Putting his head on Michael's shoulder this time and throwing an arm across his chest. "But here we are…the Brian and Mikey show once more."
He gives Michael as soft, lazy smile which Michael graciously returns.
"So what is this? Our come back episode?"
"Yep. The same show you've always loved now at a new time!" Brian falls into laughter and Michael snickers at Brian's half-hearted attempt at a TV announcer's voice. After the laughter dissipates, they settle back into a contemplative silence.
Michael starts trailing his fingers across Brian's back and his eyes drop closed again. "It's ok you know." He says, his voice cracking slightly. "To miss him. To miss Draco."
Brian lifts his head to look at him disparagingly, saying "I know who you're talking about, thank you," before nestling back against Michael's chest, picking at some pills on the front of Michael's sweater.
"You're human, Brian. I know you don't always want people to realize this about you, but I know you are. I know you. And this is what happens to people when you're with someone for so long." Michael continues in supportive tones. "It's ok to hurt."
"I don't."
"Bull shit. I've never seen you so broken up about anything in your life."
Brian sits hastily, gathering together the empty pizza boxes. This is the one topic he refuses to discuss. Not tonight. Not ever. He pushes himself up off the floor telling Michael just that.
"Why?" Michael asks, sitting to watch Brian walk into the kitchen.
"Because."
"Because why? Because it's sill too hard to talk about it?"
Brian closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and resting his palms flat against the counter. "Damn it, Michael," he croaks.
When he opens his eyes, Michael is next to him, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around. "I'm right aren't I?" Brian bites his lip, avoiding Michael's eye. "Brian, listen to me. Are you listening?"
"Don't steal my line."
"Oh good you are listening." Michael leans against the counter top, catching Brian's eye. "You are so pathetic."
"That's the second one you've stolen in as many sentences. You really need to come up with your own material."
"Will you fucking be serious for one second? I'm trying to help you!"
"There is nothing to help!" Brian flares, dropping his hands against the side of thighs. "It's over, Michael. Finished. Do you understand that? He's better off and I'm… here. Alright? I thought you of all people would be happy about that."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind." He mutters.
"If you mean I'm happy that you didn't move to New York? Of course I am. But if you're insinuating that I'm happy that you broke up with Draco then you are dead wrong. You're fucking miserable without him." Brian opens his mouth to disagree, but Michael keeps going, cutting him off. "You miss him. And you hate yourself for not going to New York. Admit it."
He holds his friends gaze. The look as good as an answer.
"There's nothing I can do about it now." Brian says, full of resignation.
"Of course there is!"
"What? Show up on his door step and tell him that I made a mistake? That I wish I could change my mind? That I would if that meant he would take me back? That I love him?!"
The frantic words seem to echo, ringing clear in the large room. It does not sound as strange out loud as Brian had feared they might. No lightning bolt comes from the sky to strike him where he stands. And he doesn't feel his cock and balls suddenly curl up inside his body, completing his transformation to lesbian.
Instead Brian watches as Michael's expression moves from shocked to amazed in slow increments before it finally settles on a dumbstruck smile. "That…would probably be a good place to start."
He walks to the couch, wrapping his scarf around his neck and grabbing his coat. "Well come on then. Get your keys."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian says, exasperated.
"We're going to New York."
"No, we aren't. It's already 8 o'clock and incase you haven't noticed there is a shit load of snow on the ground."
"No excuses, Brian. No regrets."
"That's three now, Mikey." Brian admonishes, holding up the correct number of fingers with one hand and rubbing his forehead with the other.
"You can fix this." Michael says urgently, grasping onto Brian's arm, his normally chocolate brown eyes glowing with something more firey. "The Brian Kinney I know, the Brian Kinney I love, takes what he wants from the world. Gets what he wants. You still want him, I know you do. Let's go get him."
Brian rolls his lips against his teeth, feeling the gentle pinch of pain as his teeth compress the flesh together. Remarking how miniscule that pain feels as compared to what he feels inside. What he has felt since Draco left. But it isn't that simple, is it? Would Draco even agree to see him? Could it really be as simple as Michael makes it sound? Only one way to find out...
But before Brian can voice his begrudging but determined answer, a flash of green light and a soft whooshing sound pulls his attention towards the fireplace. His heart stutters. Hope welling large in his chest. His mind not even giving a moment's thought to the fact that he isn't alone.
His long legs carry him over to the fire place, unbidden, just in time to see not Draco, but Harry emerge. Deathly pale, his hands and shirt covered with a sickening amount of blood.
Fandom: Harry Potter/QAF crossover
Part: 33 of ??
Rating: Over all NC-17. This chapter is R
Pairings/Characters: Brian/Draco, Harry, Draco, Harry/Draco
Timeline: Post Deathly Hallows for HP. Pre 101 and beginning to overlap with S1 cannon for QAF.
Warnings: This story begins and ends with Brian/Draco - they are the OTP in this fic, but I hope you will appreciate the relationship between Harry and Draco too. M/M sex. Some violence.
Summary: Brian knows that Draco is a wizard. He knows about his shady past. But strangest of all, Brian also knows that he wants Draco in his life. But sometimes wanting something isn't enough.
And in case you hadn't guessed, I own NOTHING related to QAF or HP. I write for fun because Brian and Draco are hot together. :)
A/N: Here is to hoping I didn't just write myself into a corner!! Hehehe...oh and beware another very evil cliffie. :)
~~Part 33~~
After three years living in America, Draco celebrates his first Thanksgiving.
He spends the decadently gluttonous holiday in McRae, Georgia at Jeb's parent's farm eating free-range turkey and vegetables that were grown just down the road.
Ruby comes too. Nervously meeting the potential, future in-laws. She leaves her combat boots and silver-studded mini-tees in Manhattan. Trading them for a pair of jeans (not a rip in sight) and a black cable knit sweater. She still looks amazingly hot.
Harry is there as well, equally unfamiliar with American traditions and acting as Draco's fellow "Red Coat". They sleep that night in parallel twin beds in a small room tucked up under the attic. The beds lined with warm, hand-made quilts. Little Muggle oil paintings of the country side framed on the wall. The wide Georgia moon spilling its light onto the floor.
Harry slips into Draco's bed once the house has gone quiet with sleep. Kissing and pressing and feeling. They fuck quietly that night, their bellies still full. Draco casts a silencing charm, but even so, they keep their moans breathless. Private and close. Not willing to test the limits of the spell on the thin, creaking walls of this old house and potentially mortify Jeb's parents.
It's only the fourth time they have had sex, so the spell of newness, the one that has nothing to do with their magic, has not begun to fade. They aren't a couple. They aren't even fuck buddies. They don't talk about it really. And for that Draco is eternally grateful because he wouldn't really know what to say.
Harry is a natural lover, intuitive and caring. But for all his God given ability in bed, his fucks lack any real fire, any intrigue, any danger. Draco knows that edge is within him. It will just take experience and time. And a more engaged lover.
It's not that he doesn't enjoy being with Harry, because he really does. If the timing had been different, he would have had very little hesitation being Harry's boyfriend. Imagine the drama that would ensue! He would roll him over and showing him what it can really be like to be buggered by a man. Just like Brian had done for him. But as it is, he is still completely fucked in the head over the other brunet.
Three weeks have passed and not a minute goes by when Draco doesn't think of him. Doesn't open his phone, his thumb hovering over the speed dial and wonder what Brian's reaction would be on the other end of the line. He still cries at night sometimes when he wakes up, his bed empty when it should be full. And so Draco can't rouse much passion when it comes to Harry. A true regret. They sleep together because it is easy and it is feels good. A part of him wishes he could give Harry the "more" that Draco knows he truly wants. But he simply cannot.
The next morning is the first, and only, time they wake up next to one another. Draco feels slightly uneasy as Harry slips from his arms and towards the shower, a lingering, lazy eyed smile on his lips. And Draco wonders just how long this arrangement can continue before people get hurt.
Brian, on the other hand, spends his Thanksgiving where he has spent nearly every holiday since high school. With Debbie Novotney and her motley crew of adopted sons. Even though he arrives late, he knows he would be remiss not to come. After all, he is the founding member of that club.
There are simply too many people crammed into Debbie's cluttered house for the holiday. But that is the way Debbie likes it so there isn't a damn thing Brian can do about it. The windows fog up with the steam from Vic's cooking and small rooms ring with the sound of voices and Frank Sinatra. The carefree, holiday spirit that surrounds him only helps to accentuate Brian's quietly brooding mood and that which is not there. Or rather, who is not there.
Brian eats little, but drinks much. Polishing off nearly an entire bottle of red wine by himself before dinner is even served. He tries to ignore the looks Lindsay and Emmett share, looking from him to each other and back to him with sad, pitying eyes.
Michael should be the one getting their looks after all, Brian thinks, sneering at Emmett when he catches one of those compassionate stares. Dr. Dave had dumped Mikey about a week previous when he wouldn't agree to move in with him. But Michael can't seem to care about the end of his relationship. One that had ended with highly suspicious timing, coming only days after the end of Brian's. Michael swears up and down that he had his own reasons to do it. "It's too soon. I'm too young. He comes from a completely different place." And Brian hopes to God Michael is telling the truth because he can't deal with his own pain and Michael's hopeful eagerness all at one.
In the intervening weeks, Brian has moved into his new office. The archetypal corner office with big windows, his own private bath and mahogany desk. But even as the champagne is popped at the company party, Brian can't help but feel like he celebrating a silver medal instead of gold. Like all of this, his whole fucking life, is second best.
The constant phone calls from Gwen and Reid don't help. Fuck Liberty Air Brian, we don't care if they come with you or not and There has gotta be something we can do to persuade you to join us. He had deleted all their messages. They weren't calls from the person he really wanted to hear from anyway.
Brian spends as little time as possible at the loft. Staying at Babylon until the lights come on. Or working long hours at Ryder until the cleaning crew shows up and he feels too uncomfortable to stay. He has always loved his home. Always been so proud of it. A symbol of his success. His status. His lifestyle. But now he hates it. Every corner stirs a memory of Draco, each one more bitter tasting than the last.
But on Thanksgiving, with his office closed and Babylon nearly empty, he is forced to be home.
His eyes fall on the one thing in the apartment he hates the most. The damned fireplace. That gleaming beautiful mantle is the most painful reminder of their connection. Proof of how much trust had been between them. How much they had learned to blend their worlds, the magical and the muggle, into one easy life. Less than a year ago Brian had been blissfully unaware of magic, and would have called anyone crazy who claimed its truth. But now he has a magical fireplace in his living room. A magical object that remains obstinately quiet even when he wishes it would flare back to life, baring its miraculous gifts back to him.
So in his drunkenness on the night of Thanksgiving, Brian throws a bit of that powder into the hearth, sticking his head into the grate as he had seen Draco do before and calls his former lover's name. For a moment he thinks it actually might work, the haunting green flames flare up, playing around his chest and jaw with gentle, tickling touches. But then, as if recognizing his lack of magic, they send him a reprimanding shock. A jolt small enough not to hurt but surprising enough to set him on his backside. He stares dumly as the fire gutters before finally going out. As if even the flames are reminding him that he and Draco are not meant to be.
The first snow falls on Manhattan the next week. Coating the streets and roof tops as Draco sleeps fitfully in his bed. He awakes to a city, pure and white, a smile tugging at his lips and at his heart. Giving him just a bit of hope. But by then end of the day, the snow begins to melt. Flooding the streets, turning to slush and all is dismal and gray once more.
The same storm that covers New York, falls on Pittsburg as well. And Brian watches the inches accumulate from a familiar window, yet another place wrought with history. Each individual flake falls like a regret. Each gust of wind penetrates his bleeding heart. He presses his forehead to the glass and for the first time, lets himself cry. Missing, so much, that part of himself which Draco still owns.
Draco thought he could hate Brian. Brian thought he could forget Draco. But they are both so desperately wrong. And so, they suffer. Alone and needlessly. Both too proud and too certain in the finality of things to make amends. It would only take one of them being brave enough to try. Or a not so subtle nudge from an old friend.
The day after the snow storm, Michael knocks on Brian's door shortly after he had arrived home from work. The look on Michael's face is so ridiculously perky, his arms laden with every form of junk food imaginable, that Brian can't help but give him a smile. Brittle and weary as it may be.
One crappy Captain Astro DVD and a million calories later, he and Michael are sprawled on the floor, Brian's head resting on Michael's thigh as Michael gently threads his fingers through Brian's hair. For the first time in a month, Brian feels good.
In fact the whole evening has felt good. Being with Michael again, they way they used to when they were kids. The way they had before Draco had come into the picture. Lazy, feckless boys with nothing to worry about but trying to decide which movie Tom Cruise was hotter in, Cocktail or A Few Good Men. They had lived the evening in a haze of nostalgia. Comforting and simple. But the problem with nostalgia is that it is fleeting. The moment passes and the present is upon you once more.
"Can you even remember the last time we did this?"
Brian's eyes flutter open, not realizing he had even shut them under Michael's attentive petting. "No. My birthday maybe?"
Michael grins. "God, I got so stoned that night."
"Light weight." Brian teases. "Either way, it has been way too long." He sits, riffling through one of the Cheeto's bags, but realizing it's contents are currently occuping the lump in his stomach, Brian lays back down with a stuffed groan. Putting his head on Michael's shoulder this time and throwing an arm across his chest. "But here we are…the Brian and Mikey show once more."
He gives Michael as soft, lazy smile which Michael graciously returns.
"So what is this? Our come back episode?"
"Yep. The same show you've always loved now at a new time!" Brian falls into laughter and Michael snickers at Brian's half-hearted attempt at a TV announcer's voice. After the laughter dissipates, they settle back into a contemplative silence.
Michael starts trailing his fingers across Brian's back and his eyes drop closed again. "It's ok you know." He says, his voice cracking slightly. "To miss him. To miss Draco."
Brian lifts his head to look at him disparagingly, saying "I know who you're talking about, thank you," before nestling back against Michael's chest, picking at some pills on the front of Michael's sweater.
"You're human, Brian. I know you don't always want people to realize this about you, but I know you are. I know you. And this is what happens to people when you're with someone for so long." Michael continues in supportive tones. "It's ok to hurt."
"I don't."
"Bull shit. I've never seen you so broken up about anything in your life."
Brian sits hastily, gathering together the empty pizza boxes. This is the one topic he refuses to discuss. Not tonight. Not ever. He pushes himself up off the floor telling Michael just that.
"Why?" Michael asks, sitting to watch Brian walk into the kitchen.
"Because."
"Because why? Because it's sill too hard to talk about it?"
Brian closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and resting his palms flat against the counter. "Damn it, Michael," he croaks.
When he opens his eyes, Michael is next to him, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around. "I'm right aren't I?" Brian bites his lip, avoiding Michael's eye. "Brian, listen to me. Are you listening?"
"Don't steal my line."
"Oh good you are listening." Michael leans against the counter top, catching Brian's eye. "You are so pathetic."
"That's the second one you've stolen in as many sentences. You really need to come up with your own material."
"Will you fucking be serious for one second? I'm trying to help you!"
"There is nothing to help!" Brian flares, dropping his hands against the side of thighs. "It's over, Michael. Finished. Do you understand that? He's better off and I'm… here. Alright? I thought you of all people would be happy about that."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind." He mutters.
"If you mean I'm happy that you didn't move to New York? Of course I am. But if you're insinuating that I'm happy that you broke up with Draco then you are dead wrong. You're fucking miserable without him." Brian opens his mouth to disagree, but Michael keeps going, cutting him off. "You miss him. And you hate yourself for not going to New York. Admit it."
He holds his friends gaze. The look as good as an answer.
"There's nothing I can do about it now." Brian says, full of resignation.
"Of course there is!"
"What? Show up on his door step and tell him that I made a mistake? That I wish I could change my mind? That I would if that meant he would take me back? That I love him?!"
The frantic words seem to echo, ringing clear in the large room. It does not sound as strange out loud as Brian had feared they might. No lightning bolt comes from the sky to strike him where he stands. And he doesn't feel his cock and balls suddenly curl up inside his body, completing his transformation to lesbian.
Instead Brian watches as Michael's expression moves from shocked to amazed in slow increments before it finally settles on a dumbstruck smile. "That…would probably be a good place to start."
He walks to the couch, wrapping his scarf around his neck and grabbing his coat. "Well come on then. Get your keys."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian says, exasperated.
"We're going to New York."
"No, we aren't. It's already 8 o'clock and incase you haven't noticed there is a shit load of snow on the ground."
"No excuses, Brian. No regrets."
"That's three now, Mikey." Brian admonishes, holding up the correct number of fingers with one hand and rubbing his forehead with the other.
"You can fix this." Michael says urgently, grasping onto Brian's arm, his normally chocolate brown eyes glowing with something more firey. "The Brian Kinney I know, the Brian Kinney I love, takes what he wants from the world. Gets what he wants. You still want him, I know you do. Let's go get him."
Brian rolls his lips against his teeth, feeling the gentle pinch of pain as his teeth compress the flesh together. Remarking how miniscule that pain feels as compared to what he feels inside. What he has felt since Draco left. But it isn't that simple, is it? Would Draco even agree to see him? Could it really be as simple as Michael makes it sound? Only one way to find out...
But before Brian can voice his begrudging but determined answer, a flash of green light and a soft whooshing sound pulls his attention towards the fireplace. His heart stutters. Hope welling large in his chest. His mind not even giving a moment's thought to the fact that he isn't alone.
His long legs carry him over to the fire place, unbidden, just in time to see not Draco, but Harry emerge. Deathly pale, his hands and shirt covered with a sickening amount of blood.