Inebriated Triplet: High Quality (3/3)
Characters: Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor
Genres: Ficlet, Humor
Warnings: None.
Summary: Brian was drunk in Denshe, Justin was inebriated in Seeing in Colors, what's the next logical step? R for language
Note: This is the new story, and "series finale" ;)
Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Queer as Folk are properties of Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and others. No copyright infringement is intended. Just the plot is mine.
Feedback: Starved.
Inebriated Triplet -series (3/3)
High Quality by FinnFan
They were lying on the floor getting high.
Brian, being the meticulous one of the two, might have argued that they had already gotten there . . . Had he already not had his head befogged and pupils the size of dinner plates. As it was, he just passed the stick to Justin.
"You always have the greatest shit." Inhale. "And the most expensive, no doubt."
"Gotta pay for quality."
Justin went to raise his head, but felt rather good on the floor, so he revoked the effort, and just let the smoke slowly drift out of his mouth. "Pay up."
Brian took the roach back from Justin. "What?" he asked after the question was finally processed in his brain.
"Pay up. You've had my ass for, what, ten gazillion times already, and let me tell you, if there's quality, that's it."
Brian stared at Justin for a full five minutes. "What about my dick?"
"What about your dick?"
"Well, it must be at least the same quality merchandise as your behind . . . if not better."
Justin blinked. "Price gets chipped down for over-use."
"Fucker." Brian stuck out his tongue at Justin which the man in question sluggishly sucked into his mouth, making Brian forget all about the probably-insulting comment of before.
"Truce or compare?" Justin whispered after breaking off the very enjoyable kiss.
"Truce or . . . what? How the fuck do you 'compare'?" Brian went to take another hit from the joint but realized it had dwindled out.
Justin flopped back down on the floor. "We fuck." As if it was obvious.
"And?"
"And, what? We fuck. Thought you'd know how to." The evil grin was kind of on the mellow side.
Brian ignored it. "How the hell are we going to find out who has better quality . . ." Searched for the right word, long fingers playing with the smoked-out joint. "Assets." He turned back to stare at Justin, and finished, "By fucking our brains out?"
Justin blinked back at him. "We screw like crazy, then call it a draw."
Brian, for the life of him, couldn't find any logic in that, but he figured it must be the weed. "Okay." He half rose and threw the spliff lazily somewhere in the direction where the kitchen might have been, and settled back down on the floor.
They lazed on the hardwood couple of feet from the sofa, Brian's fingers in the vicinity of the blond locks of his companion, Justin's hand lying lightly on the t-shirt covered belly of his smoking partner.
"Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't be bothered to get up."
"Me neither."
Then they burst out giggling.
Genres: Ficlet, Humor
Warnings: None.
Summary: Brian was drunk in Denshe, Justin was inebriated in Seeing in Colors, what's the next logical step? R for language
Note: This is the new story, and "series finale" ;)
Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Queer as Folk are properties of Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and others. No copyright infringement is intended. Just the plot is mine.
Feedback: Starved.
Inebriated Triplet -series (3/3)
High Quality by FinnFan
They were lying on the floor getting high.
Brian, being the meticulous one of the two, might have argued that they had already gotten there . . . Had he already not had his head befogged and pupils the size of dinner plates. As it was, he just passed the stick to Justin.
"You always have the greatest shit." Inhale. "And the most expensive, no doubt."
"Gotta pay for quality."
Justin went to raise his head, but felt rather good on the floor, so he revoked the effort, and just let the smoke slowly drift out of his mouth. "Pay up."
Brian took the roach back from Justin. "What?" he asked after the question was finally processed in his brain.
"Pay up. You've had my ass for, what, ten gazillion times already, and let me tell you, if there's quality, that's it."
Brian stared at Justin for a full five minutes. "What about my dick?"
"What about your dick?"
"Well, it must be at least the same quality merchandise as your behind . . . if not better."
Justin blinked. "Price gets chipped down for over-use."
"Fucker." Brian stuck out his tongue at Justin which the man in question sluggishly sucked into his mouth, making Brian forget all about the probably-insulting comment of before.
"Truce or compare?" Justin whispered after breaking off the very enjoyable kiss.
"Truce or . . . what? How the fuck do you 'compare'?" Brian went to take another hit from the joint but realized it had dwindled out.
Justin flopped back down on the floor. "We fuck." As if it was obvious.
"And?"
"And, what? We fuck. Thought you'd know how to." The evil grin was kind of on the mellow side.
Brian ignored it. "How the hell are we going to find out who has better quality . . ." Searched for the right word, long fingers playing with the smoked-out joint. "Assets." He turned back to stare at Justin, and finished, "By fucking our brains out?"
Justin blinked back at him. "We screw like crazy, then call it a draw."
Brian, for the life of him, couldn't find any logic in that, but he figured it must be the weed. "Okay." He half rose and threw the spliff lazily somewhere in the direction where the kitchen might have been, and settled back down on the floor.
They lazed on the hardwood couple of feet from the sofa, Brian's fingers in the vicinity of the blond locks of his companion, Justin's hand lying lightly on the t-shirt covered belly of his smoking partner.
"Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't be bothered to get up."
"Me neither."
Then they burst out giggling.