Treading (2/?)- Queer as Folk- R
TITLE: Treading (2/?)
AUTHOR: trickster_
FANDOM: Queer as Folk US
DISCLAIMER: They are all owned by Cowlip and Showtime and not me.
SUMMARY: You can go home again, but that doesn't mean it's easy.
RATING: Overall, R. This part: R (language, sex)
CATEGORY: Drama, Romance
SPOILERS: Post 513
1 /
"I know that I thought about him every day for five years. And that was the only thing that kept me going." (302)
*****
The first year was the hardest.
Maybe if they had broken up, it would have been easier. If there had been a huge fight, angry words brandished like weapons, maybe Brian could have washed his hands of all of it and gone on with his life. Instead, they had left things open. There was hope that one day, they'd figure things out and that would be it. They'd get back together and it would be like nothing had ever happened.
Things rarely happened that perfectly.
The early days had hurt more than Brian had ever thought they could. He was able to bury himself in work and getting Babylon back off the ground, but there was something slightly... off. It was that same ache that had plagued him after Justin left him for that other guy, or when he'd resigned himself to the fact that Justin wasn't coming back from LA, only it was more. It felt final. No matter what was said, Brian knew how it felt.
Justin called when he got to New York, and it had been a strange and stilted conversation between two people who didn't know how they were supposed to act towards each other anymore, and then...
Maybe it had perpetually been Brian's turn to call, or maybe Justin wanted to give him time before trying again. Either way, time got between them. When Brian would think to call, it felt too late, like he'd missed his chance. Months slipped past before he knew it.
At Christmas, Brian went to Toronto to visit Gus. He almost detoured to New York on his way back home. Almost. He still didn't know what stopped him, just like he didn't know why he didn't go to visit Justin when he was there on business. One day he looked at the calendar and noticed that it had been over a year, and he canceled the rest of his appointments that day. Soon after that, when he did find himself in the city, he tried to visit. Justin had already moved.
The thing about letting someone get under your skin was that they never really left your system. A part of them always thrummed through your veins, reminding you of their presence, or their lack of presence. That was Justin.
Justin was with him whenever Lindsay would mention her art, or when he'd walk into Mikey's store and see the Rage comics on the shelves, or when he would hear that fucking song- yes, that one- on the radio and feel a compulsive need to check up on him and make sure everything was okay.
Eventually, everyone but Debbie and Michael just lost touch with Justin. Not that they ever gave Brian updates on his life. Not that he ever asked for them. Time went on, simple as that. Five years' worth of time. And while time could dull the pain, it didn't actually get rid of it. It just made it bearable.
*****
Fuck Justin. Brian didn't care anymore.
They met on Tuesday. He didn't call that night. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon because he wasn't going to let it disrupt his life. Irritated at everything, especially his so-called friends and their constant Justin chatter, he left early, and alone.
He didn't call on Wednesday. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon, found a really hot guy who wasn't all that bad in bed, but Brian was completely bored and distracted and didn't really get anything out of it.
He didn't call on Thursday. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon, picked up a new stud from the dance floor and pulled him into the backroom. He was halfway through one the world's top five least-interesting blow jobs when his cell phone went off.
Somehow he knew who it was without even having to check. "Hello there."
"What are you up to?" asked Justin, though Brian had to turn up the volume on his phone to hear him.
Brian looked downward. It wasn't that the guy wasn't trying. He just wasn't any good. "Nothing interesting."
"Is he hot?"
"Not anymore."
Justin laughed a little. Brian had missed that, too. "Since I'm not interrupting," Justin said, "I thought I'd let you know that I'm actually going to finish my stuff on time."
"Are you going to come out tomorrow?" Brian asked.
"Can't. Mom's birthday dinner."
So basically, there was no real point to Justin calling. He was just calling. Brian had to smile at that. "Sounds like fun," he said.
Justin paused. "Did you want to go?"
Slightly taken aback, Brian answered, "That might be awkward."
"I figured."
Against every ounce of his better judgment, Brian said, "I didn't say no."
He could practically hear Justin smiling over the phone. He bet he knew the exact expression on his face. "Okay," Justin said.
"This isn't a date," Brian said slowly, just to make sure everyone was aware of this fact.
"I didn't think it was. I'm guessing this isn't the best time to give you details, so I'll call you tomorrow."
"I'll be waiting in anticipation," said Brian, who had the uneasy feeling that this might be completely possible.
"Then I'll talk to you tomorrow. And if he's that boring, you can find better," Justin said, and hung up.
If Brian knew where Jennifer lived now, he would have been hunting Justin down for that very reason.
*****
"It's not a fucking date."
Michael, sprawled face-up on Brian's bed, actually laughed at him. "It's such a fucking date, Brian. You've changed your shirt twice already."
It was only because he didn't know if the dinner was formal or casual. Instead of making perfectly valid excuses for himself, Brian said, "Shut up."
Michael continued smiling, but did shut up. About that, at least. "What do you think the chances are of you two actually getting back together?"
Brian shrugged, moving on from his shirt to selecting the right pair of shoes from his closet. God, this was too pathetic for words. "I'm not looking to get back with Justin. We're just catching up," he said. He didn't believe it himself.
"Can I place my bets now?"
"I hate you some days, Michael."
Michael sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. "I'm glad you're going," he said.
There was no reason for him to be making an event out of this, and Brian wished he could resent him for it. "I don't know shit about him anymore," he protested. "Knowing Justin, he's probably been involved in three different lesbianic artist cults where they make you shave your head and drink arsenic-laced Kool-Aid without me to watch him."
"He hasn't," said Michael. Thanks to Rage, he talked to Justin fairly often. He knew more about him than Brian did now. "And you notice you're trying to get to know him again instead of just fucking him?"
Brian fell silent as the realization hit. "Shit. This is a date."
"It's a date," Michael grinned.
"Stop smiling."
"No."
*****
By the look on her face, Jennifer hadn't been told that Brian would be coming to dinner. Once her eyes had returned to their normal size, she surprised Brian by hugging him tightly. When she released him, she looked back and forth between him and Justin. "That was quick," she half-laughed.
"We're not..." Justin said.
"I'm just here," Brian added.
"Oh." She almost looked disappointed, but brightened. "Who am I kidding, I'm just glad you're here."
Brian told himself that Justin hadn't wanted to be the fifth wheel. Jennifer and Tuck were there together, and once Brian figured out that the pimply-faced kid sitting with Molly was her boyfriend, he decided he had one year to kill himself. No excuses. Justin simply didn't want to be the only single person there, so Brian was there to keep him company. Right. Except Brian knew that was a crock of shit and he was better off not fooling himself. After all, he was here because he wanted to be.
He didn't say much, mostly watched Justin. He looked for differences. There was no possible way he was the same person Brian remembered, but he sounded the same, made the same faces in reaction to everyone else's words. There was something different about him, which Brian might have mistaken for confidence if he didn't know better. Confidence was trusting in yourself to do and say the right things. Justin knew he said and did the right things.
When dinner was painlessly over and the waitress cleared the plates away, Justin surreptitiously leaned over and asked, "This is a date, isn't it?"
"Nice job. What'd you get on your SAT's again?" Brian murmured back.
"Where are my flowers?"
"Don't you owe me money?"
"You mean I haven't paid that off in blow jobs yet?"
That had to be the moment that everyone else at the table stopped talking. Brian had to try very hard not to laugh, and he gave Justin total credit for not looking the least bit embarrassed. "I'm sure I didn't hear anything," Jennifer said.
The only other uncomfortable bit of the night was when everyone else made to leave, and Brian saw Justin look over at him, questioning. It was comforting that they could still read each other nonverbally, though maybe Brian's thought of "You're not fucking leaving yet" showed obviously across his face.
"Uh," said Justin, not moving from his chair. "I think I'm going to stay with Brian for a little while."
There was no way Jennifer hadn't been expecting that. "I was going to tell you not to stay out too late," she said with a shake of her head, and told Brian again how good it was to see him.
Brian almost didn't know what to say when he was finally alone with Justin. He almost didn't want to say anything, like that would ruin it. He'd much rather just look at him. Memorize that face all over again.
Justin spoiled that by saying, "I never heard from you."
Brian shrugged, concentrating again on a cloth napkin left on the table, folding it over and over again. "What should I have said?"
"I don't know. Did you even think about me?"
It was stupid to tell the truth, that he'd thought about Justin every day, even when he knew it was pathetic to do so. He hoped Justin knew what he meant when he said, "Never once."
The corners of Justin's mouth twitched up. "I can't believe I didn't even see you at Christmas," he went on.
"I was usually up there in the Arctic," Brian answered.
"Toronto's not exactly the Arctic," Justin countered. "You were never in New York?"
Brian could have lied. He didn't. "I didn't want to bother you," he said, placing the napkin back onto the table and finally looking up at him.
"You could never bother me," said Justin softly.
When Brian didn't say anything meaningful or romantic or at all, Justin smiled. "You're not too bad at this dating thing. We should have done this more often. Like once."
"You haven't given me time to make you take that back," Brian assured him, glancing around the restaurant. "The bartender's hot."
"Go for it."
He would test Brian. In his younger days, the test would have been passed, or failed, depending on what mood Justin was in. At the moment, though, Brian was really determined not to fuck this up. "But you're a sure thing," he said.
"Really."
"I'm pretty confident."
Brian knew that look, and it said Justin was pretty confident of it, too.
Fuck it. Brian leaned slightly sideways in his chair, and Justin leaned back into him, and then five years magically never happened. With their eyes closed, they were both younger, just out for a night at Babylon, or distracting themselves from everyone else at the diner, or beginning one of those days at home when they never actually made it out of the apartment.
When he finally pulled away the slightest bit, Justin sighed, "My place or yours?"
Brian smiled, bringing his hand to the back of Justin's head, because he'd been looking forward to weaving his fingers through that hair. "You live with your mom."
"So it's an easy answer."
Brian couldn't not smile.
*****
Brian slid the loft door open, letting Justin step inside first. He watched the beginnings of a smile grace Justin's lips as he looked around, probably noticing even in the dark that not much had changed.
There would be time for that sort of reminiscing later. Brian reached around him from behind, and Justin turned his face to kiss him. With prodding, he raised his arms to allow his shirt to be pulled off over his head. Brian tossed it carelessly to the floor, running his fingertips over Justin's chest and stomach, noting that he'd filled out nicely. He didn't let himself be bothered by the fact that he didn't know every single inch of him anymore, because that was what now was for.
Justin let Brian push him up against the nearest pillar, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt while trying to pay more attention to kissing. Not wanting to wait, Brian did the job himself, then let his hands return to refamiliarizing themselves with Justin's body. He barely registered Justin touching him because that would be too much to handle at the moment, though his own body reacted even if his brain was shutting down.
Brian's mouth drifted away from Justin's, to his neck, over his Adam's apple and the hollow of his throat, kissing and licking and sucking his way over exposed skin. He opened his eyes as he dropped to his knees so he could watch Justin's face, using the tip of his tongue to taste his way downward. He undid the button of Justin's pants while he was there, kissing his navel and standing again.
"Tease," Justin accused, already starting to breathe more heavily.
Brian smiled, collecting his lips in another kiss. His hands on Justin's waist, he lazily began pulling him towards the bedroom, careful not to trip on the stairs. Justin's tongue swept the roof of Brian's mouth, and he could barely suppress the shudder at that.
Clothes. Right. Still too many clothes. That was easily taken care of.
"Just a warning," Justin breathed, his hands on Brian's back to keep him close. Not that Brian was going anywhere. "I haven't bottomed in a while."
"I'll go slow," Brian promised.
Justin smiled. "Don't you fucking dare."
Brian had learned long ago that there was a difference between fucking and making love, and he wasn't sure what this was. Both. Neither. Somewhere in between. This was alternating between going slow enough to ensure that he didn't hurt Justin, so he could savor every second of it, and needing to thrust into him like their lives depended on it. This was years of buildup. This, whatever it was, was how they worked.
After Brian rolled off of him, Justin panted, "You gave it up on the first date? You whore," and Brian swore to himself that Justin was never moving anywhere without him again.
Part three
AUTHOR: trickster_
FANDOM: Queer as Folk US
DISCLAIMER: They are all owned by Cowlip and Showtime and not me.
SUMMARY: You can go home again, but that doesn't mean it's easy.
RATING: Overall, R. This part: R (language, sex)
CATEGORY: Drama, Romance
SPOILERS: Post 513
1 /
"I know that I thought about him every day for five years. And that was the only thing that kept me going." (302)
*****
The first year was the hardest.
Maybe if they had broken up, it would have been easier. If there had been a huge fight, angry words brandished like weapons, maybe Brian could have washed his hands of all of it and gone on with his life. Instead, they had left things open. There was hope that one day, they'd figure things out and that would be it. They'd get back together and it would be like nothing had ever happened.
Things rarely happened that perfectly.
The early days had hurt more than Brian had ever thought they could. He was able to bury himself in work and getting Babylon back off the ground, but there was something slightly... off. It was that same ache that had plagued him after Justin left him for that other guy, or when he'd resigned himself to the fact that Justin wasn't coming back from LA, only it was more. It felt final. No matter what was said, Brian knew how it felt.
Justin called when he got to New York, and it had been a strange and stilted conversation between two people who didn't know how they were supposed to act towards each other anymore, and then...
Maybe it had perpetually been Brian's turn to call, or maybe Justin wanted to give him time before trying again. Either way, time got between them. When Brian would think to call, it felt too late, like he'd missed his chance. Months slipped past before he knew it.
At Christmas, Brian went to Toronto to visit Gus. He almost detoured to New York on his way back home. Almost. He still didn't know what stopped him, just like he didn't know why he didn't go to visit Justin when he was there on business. One day he looked at the calendar and noticed that it had been over a year, and he canceled the rest of his appointments that day. Soon after that, when he did find himself in the city, he tried to visit. Justin had already moved.
The thing about letting someone get under your skin was that they never really left your system. A part of them always thrummed through your veins, reminding you of their presence, or their lack of presence. That was Justin.
Justin was with him whenever Lindsay would mention her art, or when he'd walk into Mikey's store and see the Rage comics on the shelves, or when he would hear that fucking song- yes, that one- on the radio and feel a compulsive need to check up on him and make sure everything was okay.
Eventually, everyone but Debbie and Michael just lost touch with Justin. Not that they ever gave Brian updates on his life. Not that he ever asked for them. Time went on, simple as that. Five years' worth of time. And while time could dull the pain, it didn't actually get rid of it. It just made it bearable.
*****
Fuck Justin. Brian didn't care anymore.
They met on Tuesday. He didn't call that night. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon because he wasn't going to let it disrupt his life. Irritated at everything, especially his so-called friends and their constant Justin chatter, he left early, and alone.
He didn't call on Wednesday. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon, found a really hot guy who wasn't all that bad in bed, but Brian was completely bored and distracted and didn't really get anything out of it.
He didn't call on Thursday. When he didn't, Brian went to Babylon, picked up a new stud from the dance floor and pulled him into the backroom. He was halfway through one the world's top five least-interesting blow jobs when his cell phone went off.
Somehow he knew who it was without even having to check. "Hello there."
"What are you up to?" asked Justin, though Brian had to turn up the volume on his phone to hear him.
Brian looked downward. It wasn't that the guy wasn't trying. He just wasn't any good. "Nothing interesting."
"Is he hot?"
"Not anymore."
Justin laughed a little. Brian had missed that, too. "Since I'm not interrupting," Justin said, "I thought I'd let you know that I'm actually going to finish my stuff on time."
"Are you going to come out tomorrow?" Brian asked.
"Can't. Mom's birthday dinner."
So basically, there was no real point to Justin calling. He was just calling. Brian had to smile at that. "Sounds like fun," he said.
Justin paused. "Did you want to go?"
Slightly taken aback, Brian answered, "That might be awkward."
"I figured."
Against every ounce of his better judgment, Brian said, "I didn't say no."
He could practically hear Justin smiling over the phone. He bet he knew the exact expression on his face. "Okay," Justin said.
"This isn't a date," Brian said slowly, just to make sure everyone was aware of this fact.
"I didn't think it was. I'm guessing this isn't the best time to give you details, so I'll call you tomorrow."
"I'll be waiting in anticipation," said Brian, who had the uneasy feeling that this might be completely possible.
"Then I'll talk to you tomorrow. And if he's that boring, you can find better," Justin said, and hung up.
If Brian knew where Jennifer lived now, he would have been hunting Justin down for that very reason.
*****
"It's not a fucking date."
Michael, sprawled face-up on Brian's bed, actually laughed at him. "It's such a fucking date, Brian. You've changed your shirt twice already."
It was only because he didn't know if the dinner was formal or casual. Instead of making perfectly valid excuses for himself, Brian said, "Shut up."
Michael continued smiling, but did shut up. About that, at least. "What do you think the chances are of you two actually getting back together?"
Brian shrugged, moving on from his shirt to selecting the right pair of shoes from his closet. God, this was too pathetic for words. "I'm not looking to get back with Justin. We're just catching up," he said. He didn't believe it himself.
"Can I place my bets now?"
"I hate you some days, Michael."
Michael sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. "I'm glad you're going," he said.
There was no reason for him to be making an event out of this, and Brian wished he could resent him for it. "I don't know shit about him anymore," he protested. "Knowing Justin, he's probably been involved in three different lesbianic artist cults where they make you shave your head and drink arsenic-laced Kool-Aid without me to watch him."
"He hasn't," said Michael. Thanks to Rage, he talked to Justin fairly often. He knew more about him than Brian did now. "And you notice you're trying to get to know him again instead of just fucking him?"
Brian fell silent as the realization hit. "Shit. This is a date."
"It's a date," Michael grinned.
"Stop smiling."
"No."
*****
By the look on her face, Jennifer hadn't been told that Brian would be coming to dinner. Once her eyes had returned to their normal size, she surprised Brian by hugging him tightly. When she released him, she looked back and forth between him and Justin. "That was quick," she half-laughed.
"We're not..." Justin said.
"I'm just here," Brian added.
"Oh." She almost looked disappointed, but brightened. "Who am I kidding, I'm just glad you're here."
Brian told himself that Justin hadn't wanted to be the fifth wheel. Jennifer and Tuck were there together, and once Brian figured out that the pimply-faced kid sitting with Molly was her boyfriend, he decided he had one year to kill himself. No excuses. Justin simply didn't want to be the only single person there, so Brian was there to keep him company. Right. Except Brian knew that was a crock of shit and he was better off not fooling himself. After all, he was here because he wanted to be.
He didn't say much, mostly watched Justin. He looked for differences. There was no possible way he was the same person Brian remembered, but he sounded the same, made the same faces in reaction to everyone else's words. There was something different about him, which Brian might have mistaken for confidence if he didn't know better. Confidence was trusting in yourself to do and say the right things. Justin knew he said and did the right things.
When dinner was painlessly over and the waitress cleared the plates away, Justin surreptitiously leaned over and asked, "This is a date, isn't it?"
"Nice job. What'd you get on your SAT's again?" Brian murmured back.
"Where are my flowers?"
"Don't you owe me money?"
"You mean I haven't paid that off in blow jobs yet?"
That had to be the moment that everyone else at the table stopped talking. Brian had to try very hard not to laugh, and he gave Justin total credit for not looking the least bit embarrassed. "I'm sure I didn't hear anything," Jennifer said.
The only other uncomfortable bit of the night was when everyone else made to leave, and Brian saw Justin look over at him, questioning. It was comforting that they could still read each other nonverbally, though maybe Brian's thought of "You're not fucking leaving yet" showed obviously across his face.
"Uh," said Justin, not moving from his chair. "I think I'm going to stay with Brian for a little while."
There was no way Jennifer hadn't been expecting that. "I was going to tell you not to stay out too late," she said with a shake of her head, and told Brian again how good it was to see him.
Brian almost didn't know what to say when he was finally alone with Justin. He almost didn't want to say anything, like that would ruin it. He'd much rather just look at him. Memorize that face all over again.
Justin spoiled that by saying, "I never heard from you."
Brian shrugged, concentrating again on a cloth napkin left on the table, folding it over and over again. "What should I have said?"
"I don't know. Did you even think about me?"
It was stupid to tell the truth, that he'd thought about Justin every day, even when he knew it was pathetic to do so. He hoped Justin knew what he meant when he said, "Never once."
The corners of Justin's mouth twitched up. "I can't believe I didn't even see you at Christmas," he went on.
"I was usually up there in the Arctic," Brian answered.
"Toronto's not exactly the Arctic," Justin countered. "You were never in New York?"
Brian could have lied. He didn't. "I didn't want to bother you," he said, placing the napkin back onto the table and finally looking up at him.
"You could never bother me," said Justin softly.
When Brian didn't say anything meaningful or romantic or at all, Justin smiled. "You're not too bad at this dating thing. We should have done this more often. Like once."
"You haven't given me time to make you take that back," Brian assured him, glancing around the restaurant. "The bartender's hot."
"Go for it."
He would test Brian. In his younger days, the test would have been passed, or failed, depending on what mood Justin was in. At the moment, though, Brian was really determined not to fuck this up. "But you're a sure thing," he said.
"Really."
"I'm pretty confident."
Brian knew that look, and it said Justin was pretty confident of it, too.
Fuck it. Brian leaned slightly sideways in his chair, and Justin leaned back into him, and then five years magically never happened. With their eyes closed, they were both younger, just out for a night at Babylon, or distracting themselves from everyone else at the diner, or beginning one of those days at home when they never actually made it out of the apartment.
When he finally pulled away the slightest bit, Justin sighed, "My place or yours?"
Brian smiled, bringing his hand to the back of Justin's head, because he'd been looking forward to weaving his fingers through that hair. "You live with your mom."
"So it's an easy answer."
Brian couldn't not smile.
*****
Brian slid the loft door open, letting Justin step inside first. He watched the beginnings of a smile grace Justin's lips as he looked around, probably noticing even in the dark that not much had changed.
There would be time for that sort of reminiscing later. Brian reached around him from behind, and Justin turned his face to kiss him. With prodding, he raised his arms to allow his shirt to be pulled off over his head. Brian tossed it carelessly to the floor, running his fingertips over Justin's chest and stomach, noting that he'd filled out nicely. He didn't let himself be bothered by the fact that he didn't know every single inch of him anymore, because that was what now was for.
Justin let Brian push him up against the nearest pillar, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt while trying to pay more attention to kissing. Not wanting to wait, Brian did the job himself, then let his hands return to refamiliarizing themselves with Justin's body. He barely registered Justin touching him because that would be too much to handle at the moment, though his own body reacted even if his brain was shutting down.
Brian's mouth drifted away from Justin's, to his neck, over his Adam's apple and the hollow of his throat, kissing and licking and sucking his way over exposed skin. He opened his eyes as he dropped to his knees so he could watch Justin's face, using the tip of his tongue to taste his way downward. He undid the button of Justin's pants while he was there, kissing his navel and standing again.
"Tease," Justin accused, already starting to breathe more heavily.
Brian smiled, collecting his lips in another kiss. His hands on Justin's waist, he lazily began pulling him towards the bedroom, careful not to trip on the stairs. Justin's tongue swept the roof of Brian's mouth, and he could barely suppress the shudder at that.
Clothes. Right. Still too many clothes. That was easily taken care of.
"Just a warning," Justin breathed, his hands on Brian's back to keep him close. Not that Brian was going anywhere. "I haven't bottomed in a while."
"I'll go slow," Brian promised.
Justin smiled. "Don't you fucking dare."
Brian had learned long ago that there was a difference between fucking and making love, and he wasn't sure what this was. Both. Neither. Somewhere in between. This was alternating between going slow enough to ensure that he didn't hurt Justin, so he could savor every second of it, and needing to thrust into him like their lives depended on it. This was years of buildup. This, whatever it was, was how they worked.
After Brian rolled off of him, Justin panted, "You gave it up on the first date? You whore," and Brian swore to himself that Justin was never moving anywhere without him again.
Part three