Fanfic: Snowstorm
Title: Snowstorm
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post-513
Summary: Snowpocolypse fic with a twist; basically, what happened around here.
“They say it's supposed to be the storm of the century.”
Brian rolled his eyes, not looking up from his magazine. They were in Justin's New York apartment, Brian having flown over to see his partner for the weekend. Justin was dividing his focus between Brian, who was laying on his St. Vincent de Paul couch, and drawing on his computer.
“I love how they say that it's 'the storm of the century' when we haven't even gotten ten years into it,” Brian grumbled.
“I was thinking,” Justin continued. “That since there're going to be all these flight cancellations, and people driving like maniacs, that you should just delay going back to Pittsburgh. Call Cynthia and tell her that you've been stranded in New York.”
“As if she won't see right through that one.”
Justin finally looked up from his drawing. “Fine. You know, if you don't want to stay-“
“I never said I wouldn't,” Brian said. “I won't make an excuse, though, just because I'd prefer to be here and fuck your brains out.”
~ ~ ~
The two of them decided to walk to the store around the corner to stock up on booze and condoms. Standing in the main aisle, Justin wondered whether it was a mistake. He watched as a lady squeezed past them, cart full of what were obviously emergency supplies-and not the kind that he and Brian were there for.
“Maybe we should just skip this,” he said, looking at his partner.
Brian looked back, seemingly considering the situation. They wouldn't get smashed if they did, but couldn't have a fuck-a-thon, either. Justin had been somewhat negligent with his shopping, and the box of condoms by his bed was nearly empty.
Finally, the older man shook his head, and headed for the beer aisle.
~ ~ ~
A good thing about having a second-hand couch was that Justin didn't give a shit if it got messed up. Which meant that they could spend most of the evening on it, fucking, then eating, then fucking again.
By the time he noticed that it was nearly a white-out outside, it was nearly two in the morning, and both where a little drunk and fucked-out.
The apartment was always cold, and when they finally went to bed they curled up together as much from an instinctual desire to simply stay warm as from the enjoyment of non-cuddling. Justin pressed his freezing toes against Brian's legs in hopes of getting warm. For a moment, Brian recoiled from the shock, but Justin insistently moved closer, and Brian didn't move away again.
It was still a blizzard when they woke up the next morning, seeing only white outside. Brian got his phone out and called Cynthia, telling her that he'd call when he could get a flight back into Pittsburgh.
They decided that it was pointless to bother getting dressed, and spent most of the day wandering around the small apartment naked, enjoying the lack of expectation to do anything specific.
~ ~ ~
As it turned out, only about six inches of snow stuck to the ground, and everything was running as efficiently as ever the next day.
“So much for the storm of the century,” Brian said, picking up his suit bag.
Justin watched him from the bed. It was five in the morning, and he hadn't bothered to get up. Brian was attempting to get back into Pittsburgh early, so that he could get to work at a normal time.
“You sure you don't want me to come with you to the airport?” he asked.
“Don't worry about it,” Brian said. “It's not as if this isn't something I do all the time. Get some more sleep. I'm sure your boss would prefer you to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than worn out because of some misplaced need to escort someone to the airport.”
“Alright.”
They were silent for a moment, then Brian leaned over Justin and kissed him softly.
“See you,” he said.
“Bye.”
Brian stopped at the door and turned around. “I'll call you when I land.” He paused a moment, then said, “I love you.”
Justin stifled his laughter as his partner hurriedly left; it was silly that Brian was still so uncomfortable with those words, but instead of frustrating him the way it used to, Justin just found it endearing.
“Happy snow day,” he said to the empty apartment.
---