2 Fics'
Okay sugar daddies...I'm popping out two fics'. One right now, and one in an hour or so. I'm changing some things around in the fic for qafhappy, so I present to you 'Just Because'.
Name Just Because
Summary Gale once asked him why.
Rating PG-13
POV First. Randy.
Disclaimer They don't belong to me regardless of the shrine in my closet.
Notes Angst. I love feedback.
Crimson drying on crisp walls and the bitter stench of paint permeated through the air as Gale set his coarse brush on its tray on the ground.
"It looks good?" He phrased it as a question, but I knew it was a statement.
"It does," I concur, swinging my arms low around his hips from behind.
Gale grinned faintly, patting my hands. I knew he was distracted by the way his eyes were staring at the walls without actually seeing them, and his head was tilted slightly to the right.
"What is it?" I asked distractedly, thinking it was something minor, like what kind of shampoo to use tomorrow; Gale was very vain in his appearance and the plethora of beauty products in our bathroom were proof of that.
"Hm. Nothing," Gale jerked his head and licked his lips before pulling out of my embrace.
My heart thudded as I realized it was something important. Just from the way he was carrying himself, I knew.
"What's the matter?" I stepped over an unopened box in the middle of the living room to follow Gale into the kitchen. I frowned; I hated things in the middle of the room.
The sound of Gale gulping brought my attention back to focus.
"The living room looks great, doesn't it?" Gale didn't anwer my question, just placed the near empty Dasani bottle back into the refrigerator. I decided to ignore it for now and answer his question.
"Yeah, except for all the damn boxes,"
Gale smiled, brilliant green eyes exhibiting joy at the remembrance of us moving in together.
"Yeah, I know you must be dying,"
I smiled and nodded, turning around to peer at our freshly painted walls.
I waited for Gale to say something, but he just fiddled restlessly with his fingernails.
As I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, Gale spoke.
"Why do you love me?"
I blinked, thinking the fumes had gone to my brain, thus inducing hallucinations, and possibly death if not treated soon enough.
At Gale's expectant yet scared countenance, I knew I wasn't delusional.
"What?" I told myself to remain calm. Although Gale uttered those words to me every day, I had yet to respond with the same. Jesus, I was like Brian Kinney, except not as emotionally stunted. Plus, I'm a little more romantic, but don't be searching for me serenading my love from the rooftops anytime soon. Comparing myself to a fictional character scared me, so I made myself stop. Hell, Brian Kinney isn't even a real person! Even though, I kept repeating to myself Brian Kinney and I were totally different.
"I..." Gale squeezed his hands together.
Without saying anything else, he raised his eyebrows and waited, licking his lips every five seconds.
Christ, I know asking this is hard on him, but does he think this is a walk in the park for me? Out of nowhere he asks me something I've never told anyone, and he expects me to tell him everything my heart feels? Well, okay, maybe not that out of the blue since we bought this house not even a week ago, but that's not the point.
"Why?" Gale's voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Gale flinched at the swell of annoyance in my voice.
"Well, you've never told me that you love me, but I know you do, and I just wanted to know why," As his ramble finished, his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes.
I opened my lips but said nothing.
After my silence went over a couple seconds, he lifted his eyelids and I could see the pain my not answering had given him, although he tried to hide it.
"Gale--"
"No, forget I said anything,"
He stalked out of the kitchen and I found myself following him to the very place he had left.
I watched as he picked up the solitary brush and grip it tightly in his hand, knuckles loosing colour from the blood not flowing.
"Hey," I molded myself against his back, lifting myself up on my toes to make my body fit his exactly.
I kissed the side of his neck, gently nibbling on the hard cartilage of his ear.
Keeping the silence, I squeezed his hands and took the paintbrush from them, dropping it on the empty red stained tray.
Running the fingers of both hands up his stomach, I ceased for a second to curl my index fingers, scratching lightly at his nipples through his shirt.
At Gale's whimper, I gripped his shirt and turned him around, lifting the material from his flesh. I dropped the shirt on a place on the floor I hoped had no paint on it.
He gazed at me, waiting; wondering if I was going to give him what he wanted.
I lead him to the bedroom by his belt loops, and even though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was severely disappointed that I ignored the ostensibly easy question, changing the subject to sex.
Thinking about his sad hazel eyes, I realized Brian Kinney and I weren't so different after all.
~:~
As the years went on, the question was asked less and less, until it stopped altogether.
Sometimes I would catch him opening his mouth and snap it shut, a slightly pained look on his face before stretching a sorrowful smile across his lips.
It's times like those that I want to answer him, tell him to ask me once more, but I never do. If he did, though, ever me again...I know what I would say.
I love you just because.
Name Just Because
Summary Gale once asked him why.
Rating PG-13
POV First. Randy.
Disclaimer They don't belong to me regardless of the shrine in my closet.
Notes Angst. I love feedback.
Crimson drying on crisp walls and the bitter stench of paint permeated through the air as Gale set his coarse brush on its tray on the ground.
"It looks good?" He phrased it as a question, but I knew it was a statement.
"It does," I concur, swinging my arms low around his hips from behind.
Gale grinned faintly, patting my hands. I knew he was distracted by the way his eyes were staring at the walls without actually seeing them, and his head was tilted slightly to the right.
"What is it?" I asked distractedly, thinking it was something minor, like what kind of shampoo to use tomorrow; Gale was very vain in his appearance and the plethora of beauty products in our bathroom were proof of that.
"Hm. Nothing," Gale jerked his head and licked his lips before pulling out of my embrace.
My heart thudded as I realized it was something important. Just from the way he was carrying himself, I knew.
"What's the matter?" I stepped over an unopened box in the middle of the living room to follow Gale into the kitchen. I frowned; I hated things in the middle of the room.
The sound of Gale gulping brought my attention back to focus.
"The living room looks great, doesn't it?" Gale didn't anwer my question, just placed the near empty Dasani bottle back into the refrigerator. I decided to ignore it for now and answer his question.
"Yeah, except for all the damn boxes,"
Gale smiled, brilliant green eyes exhibiting joy at the remembrance of us moving in together.
"Yeah, I know you must be dying,"
I smiled and nodded, turning around to peer at our freshly painted walls.
I waited for Gale to say something, but he just fiddled restlessly with his fingernails.
As I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, Gale spoke.
"Why do you love me?"
I blinked, thinking the fumes had gone to my brain, thus inducing hallucinations, and possibly death if not treated soon enough.
At Gale's expectant yet scared countenance, I knew I wasn't delusional.
"What?" I told myself to remain calm. Although Gale uttered those words to me every day, I had yet to respond with the same. Jesus, I was like Brian Kinney, except not as emotionally stunted. Plus, I'm a little more romantic, but don't be searching for me serenading my love from the rooftops anytime soon. Comparing myself to a fictional character scared me, so I made myself stop. Hell, Brian Kinney isn't even a real person! Even though, I kept repeating to myself Brian Kinney and I were totally different.
"I..." Gale squeezed his hands together.
Without saying anything else, he raised his eyebrows and waited, licking his lips every five seconds.
Christ, I know asking this is hard on him, but does he think this is a walk in the park for me? Out of nowhere he asks me something I've never told anyone, and he expects me to tell him everything my heart feels? Well, okay, maybe not that out of the blue since we bought this house not even a week ago, but that's not the point.
"Why?" Gale's voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Gale flinched at the swell of annoyance in my voice.
"Well, you've never told me that you love me, but I know you do, and I just wanted to know why," As his ramble finished, his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes.
I opened my lips but said nothing.
After my silence went over a couple seconds, he lifted his eyelids and I could see the pain my not answering had given him, although he tried to hide it.
"Gale--"
"No, forget I said anything,"
He stalked out of the kitchen and I found myself following him to the very place he had left.
I watched as he picked up the solitary brush and grip it tightly in his hand, knuckles loosing colour from the blood not flowing.
"Hey," I molded myself against his back, lifting myself up on my toes to make my body fit his exactly.
I kissed the side of his neck, gently nibbling on the hard cartilage of his ear.
Keeping the silence, I squeezed his hands and took the paintbrush from them, dropping it on the empty red stained tray.
Running the fingers of both hands up his stomach, I ceased for a second to curl my index fingers, scratching lightly at his nipples through his shirt.
At Gale's whimper, I gripped his shirt and turned him around, lifting the material from his flesh. I dropped the shirt on a place on the floor I hoped had no paint on it.
He gazed at me, waiting; wondering if I was going to give him what he wanted.
I lead him to the bedroom by his belt loops, and even though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was severely disappointed that I ignored the ostensibly easy question, changing the subject to sex.
Thinking about his sad hazel eyes, I realized Brian Kinney and I weren't so different after all.
~:~
As the years went on, the question was asked less and less, until it stopped altogether.
Sometimes I would catch him opening his mouth and snap it shut, a slightly pained look on his face before stretching a sorrowful smile across his lips.
It's times like those that I want to answer him, tell him to ask me once more, but I never do. If he did, though, ever me again...I know what I would say.
I love you just because.