Sometimes the Day's Just Crappy
Characters: Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor...Original Male Character *snigger*
Genres: Humour, Timeline:Probably S4 (no spoilers though) but could be the end half of S3 as well
Summary: A walk on the street... This is a weird little fic. One of the first I ever wrote that only got written on paper until now. This is sort of an apology for not being able to write more of PnL. Un-betaed, but no major errors, I think... PG.
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, along with the occasional original character.
Feedback: STARVING HERE!
Sometimes the Day’s Just Crappy by FinnFan
It’s a beautiful day. The birds are singing, the dogs barking and sniffing each other’s backside. Fleas are jumping from one mutt to the other and flipping each other off when they get too close to the other’s territory. The little parasites start cursing when they near the flea-collar and quickly abandon ship -uh, dog. One of them lands on the direct path of one designer boot-clad foot.
*Crunch*
“Brian, I heard someone cry out in pain,” a blond man commented to a tall brunet walking beside him and stopped.
“I didn’t hear anything.” He stopped as well and asked skeptically, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Jeeze!” The blond rolled his eyes. “What, you think I’m hearing things now?”
“The brown-haired man grinned. “Well, you were certainly seeing things in the loft.”
A foot started to tap the ground. “I was not! I saw it very clearly. That damn flea was not just a figment of my imagination and you damn well know it.
The grin got wider. “I know nothing, Sunshine. I didn’t see it. Just you. There couldn’t possibly be any fleas in my apartment anyway.” His face got a slightly more serious expression. “How could it have even gotten there?”
“A passing dog might’ve brushed your leg or something. It happens.”
“For your information, I don’t socialize with dogs. I do enough butt sniffing of my own,” the hazel-eyed man smirked.
The blond cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve noticed, but the flea could’ve just jumped on you for you to carry to greener pastures.”
“Well, okay, since you’re so convincing, let’s say you did see it.”
“I did. And I tried to kill it, you know, smack it dead.”
“With what?”
“Your Armani shirt.” The grin was mischievous.
“My WHAT?” The brunet stared shocked at the smaller man.
The blond stared back until he burst out laughing. “Just kidding...OUCH!” He rubbed his butt where the other man had smacked him.
“That was your punishment for making me almost have a heart attack in the middle of the street. That wouldn’t have been very classy, you know. So, did you succeed in killing the little pest?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“Well, good. Then we can sleep soundly in our bed tonight.” The two men started walking away.
A disheveled flea stood up from the ground shocked. “Cousin Andrew. Those sons-of-bitches killed Coz Andrew!” His beady little eyes got smaller. "I'm gonna get you both for that..."
~Fin~
Genres: Humour, Timeline:Probably S4 (no spoilers though) but could be the end half of S3 as well
Summary: A walk on the street... This is a weird little fic. One of the first I ever wrote that only got written on paper until now. This is sort of an apology for not being able to write more of PnL. Un-betaed, but no major errors, I think... PG.
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, along with the occasional original character.
Feedback: STARVING HERE!
Sometimes the Day’s Just Crappy by FinnFan
It’s a beautiful day. The birds are singing, the dogs barking and sniffing each other’s backside. Fleas are jumping from one mutt to the other and flipping each other off when they get too close to the other’s territory. The little parasites start cursing when they near the flea-collar and quickly abandon ship -uh, dog. One of them lands on the direct path of one designer boot-clad foot.
*Crunch*
“Brian, I heard someone cry out in pain,” a blond man commented to a tall brunet walking beside him and stopped.
“I didn’t hear anything.” He stopped as well and asked skeptically, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Jeeze!” The blond rolled his eyes. “What, you think I’m hearing things now?”
“The brown-haired man grinned. “Well, you were certainly seeing things in the loft.”
A foot started to tap the ground. “I was not! I saw it very clearly. That damn flea was not just a figment of my imagination and you damn well know it.
The grin got wider. “I know nothing, Sunshine. I didn’t see it. Just you. There couldn’t possibly be any fleas in my apartment anyway.” His face got a slightly more serious expression. “How could it have even gotten there?”
“A passing dog might’ve brushed your leg or something. It happens.”
“For your information, I don’t socialize with dogs. I do enough butt sniffing of my own,” the hazel-eyed man smirked.
The blond cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve noticed, but the flea could’ve just jumped on you for you to carry to greener pastures.”
“Well, okay, since you’re so convincing, let’s say you did see it.”
“I did. And I tried to kill it, you know, smack it dead.”
“With what?”
“Your Armani shirt.” The grin was mischievous.
“My WHAT?” The brunet stared shocked at the smaller man.
The blond stared back until he burst out laughing. “Just kidding...OUCH!” He rubbed his butt where the other man had smacked him.
“That was your punishment for making me almost have a heart attack in the middle of the street. That wouldn’t have been very classy, you know. So, did you succeed in killing the little pest?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“Well, good. Then we can sleep soundly in our bed tonight.” The two men started walking away.
A disheveled flea stood up from the ground shocked. “Cousin Andrew. Those sons-of-bitches killed Coz Andrew!” His beady little eyes got smaller. "I'm gonna get you both for that..."
~Fin~