Readiness Is Near (3/?)

Jul 21, 2013 20:44

Title: Readiness Is Near (3/?)
Author: blushemphasises/tinydancer
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: AU of late S4
Rating: Mature
Warning: None
Words: 2,333 (7,400 total)
Summary: Brian doesn’t usually try new things. He doesn’t think life has much more to offer him anyway.  He’s done it all and anything he hasn’t tried is surely a path to his demise. Even a certain blond barista can’t change this, no matter how much he might complicate things.
Previous Chapters: One | Two
A/N: On AO3

Brian has always had a certain appreciation for art, especially if it’s good. In his books if something is aesthetically pleasing or in any way desirable, it simply deserves to be appreciated. Sticking to this notion is what generally guides Brian through his pursuit for an utterly hedonistic lifestyle - he rarely leaves a beautiful man unfucked.

Brian enjoys aesthetically pleasing things, so it’s understandable why he enjoys Justin. Justin with his golden hair and curiously bright eyes - not to mention that perfect twink physique - he is admittedly beautiful.

And right now, Brian thinks that Justin might be fucking gorgeous with his lips pink and full as he wraps them around Brian’s cock and as they glisten with spit and pre-come in the almost darkness of the loft.

Afterwards, when Brian comes with a shout that catches in his throat, those same lips stretch into a little self-satisfied smile and its like Brian has no choice but to kiss the little fucker, if only to get rid of the annoying smirk.

*

In the morning, after a quick and satisfying fuck in the shower, Brian had offered Justin a lift to work. It’s weird because at the time, Brian hadn’t felt like the offer was anything out of the ordinary. He had only been half-listening as Justin rambled on about the café while washing Brian’s back. Brian had offered the lift without thinking about it twice, and could feel Justin’s answering smile against his own shoulders.

“Thanks, but I’m not working today.” Justin had replied. “I have an early class.”

And Brian, with his eyes closed and shoulders relaxed, had shrugged.

“Alright, I’ll drive you there, then.” The idea hadn’t seemed anything out the ordinary at the time. Hell, it seemed almost like an obvious choice of action. But Justin had paused, the soap bar stopping still on Brian’s back, and then he had smiled with a simple, “Thanks.”

Brian hadn’t thought much of the pause when they were in the shower, but now, as he’s driving through the morning traffic with Justin in the passenger seat, Brian’s wondering what the fuck he’s even doing.

Since when did he drive his tricks anywhere but a destination to fuck?

It’s most likely that Brian had caught Justin off-guard in the shower, probably because Justin hadn’t expected the offer from him - hell, maybe he expected very, very little from Brian and anything more came as a huge surprise.

Brian doesn’t know exactly how to feel about that thought. Well, he supposes he should feel relieved that Justin doesn’t really expect anything from him, but at the same time something about that bothers him, though he can’t exactly figure what.

Justin must have caught on to Brian’s mood, because he’s quiet during most of the ride - to which Brian is grateful for. They share an almost silence, with Justin at times pointing out directions to a shortcut, and a constant low-volume hum of the radio in the background.

When they arrive at PIFA, Brian wonders if Justin’s going try and kiss him goodbye. It’s a foreign, unsettling thought and Brian knows that this is where he’ll draw the line if it comes to it. But instead of kiss, Justin smiles - wide and bright and - fuck, it’s like fucking sunshine the way it lightens up the entire mood in the car, breaking the tension.

“Thanks for the ride, Brian.”

Brian finds himself almost smiling back. “Yeah,” he says, and doesn’t watch Justin disappear into the crowd through his side-view mirror.

*

Brian’s talking to Michael during one of their routine phone calls when Mikey suddenly decides to bring up last night’s little incident.

“So, you left Woody’s pretty early last night…” he starts, and Brian grimaces. He had thought that maybe Mikey of all people had finally learnt to leave well enough alone. Well, apparently not.

“Mikey, it makes me so glad to hear that you still consider past 8 pm as early. And to think I almost gave up on you.”

“Ha ha, hilarious,” Mikey replies with his usual tone of sarcasm-bordering-on-snark. “So, spending some quiet time with your partner at home equals to committing treason in the eyes of Brian Kinney, what else is new?... Besides we’re talking about you, not me,“ he pauses. “So, what happened last night? You know, with that guy?”

Gee, he sure got to the point. Brian considers bullshitting about the amount of work he has to do and then hanging up the phone as abruptly as possible, but Mikey goes on speaking before he can get a word in. “I’ve never seen you just…get up and stop a fight like that. Did you know him or something?”

Okay, so Brian knows how the whole thing must’ve looked. It was just a regular night at Woody’s like any other until Brian had decided to be Justin’s fucking knight in shining armour. He still doesn’t know what possessed him to get up and drop everything like that - and even after that fiasco, he had taken Justin home. Fuck, maybe it was a bout of insanity, or something like it.  If he can’t explain it to himself, there’s no way in hell Mikey’s gonna hear about it.

“He works at a café near Kinnetik,” Brian answers after a moment’s pause, his tone nonchalant.

“Oh,” Mikey replies, and it’s obvious he’s itching to ask something more about it, but fortunately he drops it. “As long as he’s not someone you work with… Remember Kip Thomas? Don’t want you going through stress like that again…Y’know, especially while you’re recovering.”

At this, Brian frowns. This is exactly the reason he’s beginning to dread phone calls from Michael.

“Mikey, I don’t need you or anyone else taking care of me.” Michael has other things to worry about, after all - like his own comic book store, and Ben and hell, even that kid Hunter.

“Yeah, so you’ve said a million times,” Mikey replies and Brian can almost hear him rolling his eyes over the phone, though his tone is easy, if not a little exasperated. “Anyway, don’t forget tomorrow night’s dinner at Ma’s. She told me that if you miss it again she’ll have your balls.”

Brian lets out a short laugh. “Seems like the Docs beat her to it.”

Mikey pauses. “Er, I guess she should come up with something new.” His tone is half-apologising, half-awkward and Brian almost regrets saying anything at all. Almost.

“Anyway, I’ve got some customers coming in,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Brian replies, relieved to finally hang up.

Fuck, things have changed.

There was a time when Brian would actually look forward to Mikey’s little phone calls, but these days all Michael wants to talk about is how’re you feeling, Brian? and you’re in recovery, take it easy Brian. It’s not like Brian doesn’t appreciate Michael’s calls, it just all so fucking frustrating. He knows Michael’s taking special care to call him more frequently ever since The Big Reveal.

It wasn’t easy telling Michael that he had fucking testicular cancer. Hell, it wasn’t easy telling anybody, but Mikey especially. Brian had planned to avoid telling anyone all together but after a long day at work and in a moment vulnerability, he had told Deb. After that, it didn’t take long for Debbie to corner Brian and convince him that he owed it to Michael and to himself. “You need someone,” she had said. “It’s your own goddamn fault that you don’t have a lover or partner to take care of you when you need it most but until then, my son’s the next best thing.”

It’s not that Brian exactly agreed with her, he doesn’t need any goddamn caretaking. He had managed to handle those fucking radiation treatments all by his little self and that pretty much undermines any argument to the contrary. Maybe those days were some of the longest Brian’s ever had - sometimes they even blur in his memories as a haze of endless vomiting and persistent darkness - all balled up into complete and utter shittiness. But Brian had managed it. Survived it, even.

Your own goddamn fault, Debbie had said.

Well, what does it matter anyway? He’s still fucking here, isn’t he?

*

Friday morning, Justin is working at the café. He grins at Brian when he sees him standing in line

“Hey, I’ve got something for you,” he says instead of the usual flirty hello. He hands Brian a folded piece of paper along with Brian’s change, smiling all the while. “Take it as a thanks for the other night, since I didn’t end up buying you that drink.”

Brian raises his eyebrows, “I distinctly remember someone saying they could’ve handled it without me.”

“It’s a token of my gratitude, you have to accept it.” Justin’s tone is teasing.

Brian considers this, and then quirks his lips, leaning closer. He lowers his voice for both added effect and so that no one else can eavesdrop. “Well, maybe you can show me your gratitude next time I have you on all fours with your ass in the air, begging me to shove my cock in you. Or my tongue,” Brian’s lips stretch into a smirk. “Whichever you prefer, really.”

It’s almost funny the way Justin’s eyes darken instantaneously, and Brian revels in it. The blond takes a moment to pause, swallowing, but then he laughs. “Until then, you can jerk off to my gift. I’m sure you’ll appreciate it.”

Jerk off? Hm, now that piques Brian’s interest.

“Just don’t open it in front of any kids - or any homophobic colleagues for that matter.”

Not that Brian would go out of his way to employ homophobic assholes in the first place, though it’s the thought that counts. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Justin nods. “See you later?”

It’s strange; Justin could have meant it as a casual ‘later’ but it didn’t exactly sound that way. In fact, it sounded more like a question - like he was confirming whether or not they were still up for meeting later.

Brian puts the folded piece of paper in his pocket and drops Justin an offhand “later” while he’s already heading for the door.

*

Unsurprisingly, the paper turns out to be a sketch.

But it’s not just any sketch, it’s of Brian, his head thrown back with an expression of pure unadulterated pleasure. And then there’s Justin, with his eyes half-closed and his lips around Brian’s cock, glistening as they did the other night, after he had brought Justin home from Woody’s. In fact, Brian’s fairly sure that it's a picture of the other night, judging from the semi-darkness of their surroundings.

He doesn’t know what to think, but Brian’s first reaction is his cock hardening at both the memory of that night and the picture in front of him.

His second reaction is acknowledging that, shit, the kid’s talented.

*

The sun is on the edge of setting when Brian decides to call it an early day. He’s feeling a little more fatigued than usual and he knows by now that it’s pointless to fight against it. So he ignores the concerned and knowing looks from both Theodore and Cynthia and gets the fuck out of the office.

It’s usually a short walk to his car, but Brian’s feeling like shit and it gets worse when he bumps into a guy on the way there. Or more like the guy bumped into Brian.

Before Brian can get rightfully pissed off, the guy starts talking all at once. “Look, I’m sorry for the other night,” he says, his tone controlled. “But it’s not like I’m being unreasonable, I just need to talk to him.”

Okay, what the fuck?

Brian, still feeling like complete and utter shit, takes a moment to finally recognise the guy. He had only looked vaguely familiar at first, but now Brian is sure that it’s the guy from the other night at Woody’s, the one arguing with Justin. What was it, Colin, or maybe Cody?

Before Brian can ask the presumptuous shit what the fuck he’s talking about, the guy keeps going. “I’m only…fuck, will you tell Justin to call me? Is it so fucking hard to pick up the phone?” The anger that seeps into this guy’s expression is fucking disturbing.

“If Justin doesn’t want to see you that’s his business, not mine - but I suggest you take the fucking hint.” Brian glares at him. “Now get the fuck out of my face.”

He tries to move past the guy, but Cody or Conner, or whatever the fuck - fucking blocks his way. Jesus, how did this kid track Brian down, anyway?

“Justin knows we need him, we had a fucking deal,” the guy says and Brian glares harder, this time pushing past him more forcefully.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Brian’s tone is demanding but really, he still feels like shit.

Apparently Cody finally realises that he’ll get nothing out of Brian, so the kid just turns around leaves, thank fucking god.

After the guy’s gone, Brian takes a breath and heads for his car, wondering what the hell Justin had gotten himself into.

He thinks of Justin, his flirty hellos in the morning and that wide, bright-sunshine smile of his - and Brian feels sick. No, he feels fucking worried for him - and isn’t that a thought.

Fuck, this is just what he needs - to worry over some guy who has a talent for making decent coffee, sketching porn and smiling too big. And also for managing to smell faintly of paint every fucking time Brian sees him - which seems to happen more and more frequently lately, fuck.

Brian thinks of the sketch, folded neatly inside his desk drawer back in Kinnetik. He had considered shrugging off the little sketch as nothing and throwing it in the trash. But in the end, he had decided to keep it in the drawer.

Well, he has an appreciation for good art, after all.

series: readiness is near, pairing: brian/justin, fan fiction, fandom: queer as folk

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