Semantics
Title: Semantics
Fandom: Queer as Folk
'Ship: B/J. Duh.
Timeline: Post-513 future fic (ftw!)
Status: FINISHED LITTLE FICLET. :D
Inspired by the song Situations by New Found Glory
Summary: The rest could wait; this was home.
"Obviously we're too destructive,
Fill your taste with romantics.
It's in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of situations.
Kiss me, I want you to hold me."
-----------------------------------
"I want to feel the sand beneath my feet,
Breathe the breath of your fresh air.
Feel the silence of this room,
Lay in your bed when you're not there."
A fucking explosion. He was used to his loft looking like it had the site of nuclear warfare. Now that it was clean, organized, orderly, it just felt wrong.
What the fuck had Justin done to him? He'd never been like this before. This was why he never let anyone in. He'd never wanted to give anyone that power, the power to make him feel things. To do things he wouldn't do, like ask some fucking twink to marry him. Or attempt a long distance relationship.
Speaking of twinks and relationships, it'd been a while since they'd talked. Plus, he was horny. He smirked and walked towards the phone. He dialed the familiar number and waited for the other side to pick up. "Sunshine? Hey you too... Yeah, yeah, you too... Yes, twat, I miss you... I'm not saying that.... no.... Justin... Listen, what are you wearing?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Telling secrets under water,
Getting Valentine flowers,
I'll wait by this mailbox for you or your letter."
He'd never admit it to anyone, at least out loud, but he was worried. About Justin. When Justin'd first gone to New York, he managed to stalk Brian from a distance, harassing him with phone calls and emails and dirty text messages at inopportune moments. And leaving not so subtle hints about how Brian should visit him.
But since his last visit, Justin had changed. His various messages had almost an air of defeat to them, and they'd gotten less frequent. He didn't seem so... sunny these days, at least not to Brian.
The fact that it was such a one-eighty since before his visit was troublesome, and the fact that Brian knew that Justin and his entire family (considering the number of times Jennifer had shoved Prozac at him...) had a history of depression had him on alert. The last thing Justin needed was to fall into a depressive episode when he trying so hard to make it big in New York. Hell, the last thing he needed was Justin to get depressed. He liked his boy fiery.
He made up his mind, and called Cynthia to book him a flight to New York. This was one conversation they'd be having face-to-face. Sometimes you have to sacrifice everything for what you believe in, but there were certain things that Brian had realized he could never sacrifice, and Justin was one of them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"I wanna see the sunset over me,
Catch up with an old friend,
See a girl I used to let do cartwheels up and down my heart."
When Justin opened the door to his apartment, Brian was taken aback for a moment. He had bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted, he was... rumpled. Crumpled. "Just fine my ass," was the first thing he said, pushing his way into the apartment. He heard Justin sigh, and he prepared himself for a fight.
In retrospect, he should have known that leaving Justin on his own like this would result in the current situation. As much as everyone liked to brush it over, he was definitely still dealing with the effects of the bashing.
And this was one of them. Fucking maudlin twink. Taking a deep breath, he began. “Justin, whatever happened to all your ‘sharing is caring’ talks, huh? You expect me to spill my guts to you all the time, but you can’t even open your mouth and tell me when you’re feeling shitty? I thought that’s what ‘partners’ do, isn’t it? They talk?”
“Brian...”
“-Justin. If I’m talking, then so are you. It goes both ways. When we’re together, then we tell either other when something shitty happens, okay?” He saw Justin’s face twist, and waited for tirade that was assuredly coming.
"But Brian... we're not together anymore. We can't be. You know that, and I know that! We can't be kept together by telephones anymore. It just doesn't work."
Well, that was new. "I never knew you were a pessimist, Sunshine."
"Brian..." Justin turned around, not wanting to look at Brian anymore. It was too fucking hard.
"No, Justin. Listen to me. Just because you've decided that this can't work, that we can't work, doesn't mean it's true. Not unless you really want it to be. What happened to you Justin? You used to all gung-ho about this relationship crap, god, you never let me have a moment's peace. But now? Nothing. What happened to your goddamn "fighting spirit" that everyone's always going on about? What happened to JT?"
Justin spun around. "Life, Brian. Life happened. And it's shitty, but it's just the way things are, okay? I can't do this anymore. It's too hard. Call me a quitter. Call me weak, or pathetic, or whatever, but I just can't handle... this anymore."
"Bullshit."
"It's not bullshit! This is my life, Brian, and I'll goddamn decide how to live it. You're the one who wanted me to come here so badly, so now fucking deal with it."
"That isn't how it works, Justin! You come into my life, fucking push yourself into my life, make me feel things and do things that I never would have done before, and then you think that you get to quit just because it gets a little difficult? Bull. Shit. This is life, Justin. And it sucks sometimes, but you get past it." Sighing, Brian began walking towards Justin. He looked skittish, ready to run, but Brian needed him to hear this. To hear him. Justin drooped as he got closer, the fight leaving him, and Brian saw how fucking tired he looked.
This ended now.
Putting his hands on Justin's shoulders, he started talking again. "I think some alien has switched our brains, Sunshine. Suddenly I'm the one who's fighting to keep us together? I'm the one who wants to talk?" But talking was still fucking difficult, so he looked over Justin's head as he talked. He felt Justin lean against him and knew the artist was drained. Well, so was he. "But I know that half, no, probably all of the problem is that I didn't do this sooner, and... I'm sorry." Justin twitched weakly against him, and Brian knew he was fighting a laugh.
Twat.
"But Justin, I am fighting now. And I'm gonna win. I think you know that. I always win." Justin snorted, and Brian wrapped his arms around him. "You know that I don't say things I don't mean, so when I say that... that I love you, I mean it. I really fucking mean it." He felt Justin slowly wrap his arms around him, and knew that he was getting somewhere. He put his mouth on Justin's ear. "I love you, Justin. I love you."
"That is so cheating!" Justin yelled, pulling away, but Brian saw that he was smiling. "You know what those words do to me." Brian smirked. "Yeah, I was counting on it."
Justin's smile dimmed, though, and he sighed again, looking away.
Shit.
"But seriously, Brian, how's this going to work? I already told you, I can't do this anymore. It's tearing me apart. I... I hate this." He studied the floor. "Yeah, me too..." Brian agreed.
His resolve hardened. "Justin, I want you. You want me. So we're together."
"But-"
"No ‘buts'. We're together. We love each other. We have sex. We're together."
"BUT, we live in different states. We never have time for each other. We suck at talking on the phone. Phone sex doesn't count."
"We'll work on all that."
"But-" Brian walked over to him again, silencing him with a hand on his mouth. "Semantics, Sunshine, it's all semantics."
And he kissed him. The rest could wait; this was home.
----------------------------------
"Obviously we're too destructive,
Fill your taste with romantics.
It's in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of situations.
Kiss me, I want you to hold me.
It‘s in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of the situation."
THE END.
Fandom: Queer as Folk
'Ship: B/J. Duh.
Timeline: Post-513 future fic (ftw!)
Status: FINISHED LITTLE FICLET. :D
Inspired by the song Situations by New Found Glory
Summary: The rest could wait; this was home.
"Obviously we're too destructive,
Fill your taste with romantics.
It's in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of situations.
Kiss me, I want you to hold me."
-----------------------------------
"I want to feel the sand beneath my feet,
Breathe the breath of your fresh air.
Feel the silence of this room,
Lay in your bed when you're not there."
A fucking explosion. He was used to his loft looking like it had the site of nuclear warfare. Now that it was clean, organized, orderly, it just felt wrong.
What the fuck had Justin done to him? He'd never been like this before. This was why he never let anyone in. He'd never wanted to give anyone that power, the power to make him feel things. To do things he wouldn't do, like ask some fucking twink to marry him. Or attempt a long distance relationship.
Speaking of twinks and relationships, it'd been a while since they'd talked. Plus, he was horny. He smirked and walked towards the phone. He dialed the familiar number and waited for the other side to pick up. "Sunshine? Hey you too... Yeah, yeah, you too... Yes, twat, I miss you... I'm not saying that.... no.... Justin... Listen, what are you wearing?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Telling secrets under water,
Getting Valentine flowers,
I'll wait by this mailbox for you or your letter."
He'd never admit it to anyone, at least out loud, but he was worried. About Justin. When Justin'd first gone to New York, he managed to stalk Brian from a distance, harassing him with phone calls and emails and dirty text messages at inopportune moments. And leaving not so subtle hints about how Brian should visit him.
But since his last visit, Justin had changed. His various messages had almost an air of defeat to them, and they'd gotten less frequent. He didn't seem so... sunny these days, at least not to Brian.
The fact that it was such a one-eighty since before his visit was troublesome, and the fact that Brian knew that Justin and his entire family (considering the number of times Jennifer had shoved Prozac at him...) had a history of depression had him on alert. The last thing Justin needed was to fall into a depressive episode when he trying so hard to make it big in New York. Hell, the last thing he needed was Justin to get depressed. He liked his boy fiery.
He made up his mind, and called Cynthia to book him a flight to New York. This was one conversation they'd be having face-to-face. Sometimes you have to sacrifice everything for what you believe in, but there were certain things that Brian had realized he could never sacrifice, and Justin was one of them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"I wanna see the sunset over me,
Catch up with an old friend,
See a girl I used to let do cartwheels up and down my heart."
When Justin opened the door to his apartment, Brian was taken aback for a moment. He had bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted, he was... rumpled. Crumpled. "Just fine my ass," was the first thing he said, pushing his way into the apartment. He heard Justin sigh, and he prepared himself for a fight.
In retrospect, he should have known that leaving Justin on his own like this would result in the current situation. As much as everyone liked to brush it over, he was definitely still dealing with the effects of the bashing.
And this was one of them. Fucking maudlin twink. Taking a deep breath, he began. “Justin, whatever happened to all your ‘sharing is caring’ talks, huh? You expect me to spill my guts to you all the time, but you can’t even open your mouth and tell me when you’re feeling shitty? I thought that’s what ‘partners’ do, isn’t it? They talk?”
“Brian...”
“-Justin. If I’m talking, then so are you. It goes both ways. When we’re together, then we tell either other when something shitty happens, okay?” He saw Justin’s face twist, and waited for tirade that was assuredly coming.
"But Brian... we're not together anymore. We can't be. You know that, and I know that! We can't be kept together by telephones anymore. It just doesn't work."
Well, that was new. "I never knew you were a pessimist, Sunshine."
"Brian..." Justin turned around, not wanting to look at Brian anymore. It was too fucking hard.
"No, Justin. Listen to me. Just because you've decided that this can't work, that we can't work, doesn't mean it's true. Not unless you really want it to be. What happened to you Justin? You used to all gung-ho about this relationship crap, god, you never let me have a moment's peace. But now? Nothing. What happened to your goddamn "fighting spirit" that everyone's always going on about? What happened to JT?"
Justin spun around. "Life, Brian. Life happened. And it's shitty, but it's just the way things are, okay? I can't do this anymore. It's too hard. Call me a quitter. Call me weak, or pathetic, or whatever, but I just can't handle... this anymore."
"Bullshit."
"It's not bullshit! This is my life, Brian, and I'll goddamn decide how to live it. You're the one who wanted me to come here so badly, so now fucking deal with it."
"That isn't how it works, Justin! You come into my life, fucking push yourself into my life, make me feel things and do things that I never would have done before, and then you think that you get to quit just because it gets a little difficult? Bull. Shit. This is life, Justin. And it sucks sometimes, but you get past it." Sighing, Brian began walking towards Justin. He looked skittish, ready to run, but Brian needed him to hear this. To hear him. Justin drooped as he got closer, the fight leaving him, and Brian saw how fucking tired he looked.
This ended now.
Putting his hands on Justin's shoulders, he started talking again. "I think some alien has switched our brains, Sunshine. Suddenly I'm the one who's fighting to keep us together? I'm the one who wants to talk?" But talking was still fucking difficult, so he looked over Justin's head as he talked. He felt Justin lean against him and knew the artist was drained. Well, so was he. "But I know that half, no, probably all of the problem is that I didn't do this sooner, and... I'm sorry." Justin twitched weakly against him, and Brian knew he was fighting a laugh.
Twat.
"But Justin, I am fighting now. And I'm gonna win. I think you know that. I always win." Justin snorted, and Brian wrapped his arms around him. "You know that I don't say things I don't mean, so when I say that... that I love you, I mean it. I really fucking mean it." He felt Justin slowly wrap his arms around him, and knew that he was getting somewhere. He put his mouth on Justin's ear. "I love you, Justin. I love you."
"That is so cheating!" Justin yelled, pulling away, but Brian saw that he was smiling. "You know what those words do to me." Brian smirked. "Yeah, I was counting on it."
Justin's smile dimmed, though, and he sighed again, looking away.
Shit.
"But seriously, Brian, how's this going to work? I already told you, I can't do this anymore. It's tearing me apart. I... I hate this." He studied the floor. "Yeah, me too..." Brian agreed.
His resolve hardened. "Justin, I want you. You want me. So we're together."
"But-"
"No ‘buts'. We're together. We love each other. We have sex. We're together."
"BUT, we live in different states. We never have time for each other. We suck at talking on the phone. Phone sex doesn't count."
"We'll work on all that."
"But-" Brian walked over to him again, silencing him with a hand on his mouth. "Semantics, Sunshine, it's all semantics."
And he kissed him. The rest could wait; this was home.
----------------------------------
"Obviously we're too destructive,
Fill your taste with romantics.
It's in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of situations.
Kiss me, I want you to hold me.
It‘s in your blood to draw attention,
Make the best out of the situation."
THE END.