Fic: in the middle
Title: in the middle
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 645
Warnings: strong language
Summary: Babylon reopened tonight.
Author's Note: Written for a 30 day writing challenge over on tumblr for the prompt of promise. Takes place just after the end of 5.13 and can be considered a missing moment, I suppose.
The door screeches as you pull it closed in your sorry state. Maybe Mikey's right. Maybe you did overdo it a bit, you realize as you stumble. But how could you not overdo it? Babylon. Reborn tonight with glitter and writhing bodies and that pounding thumpa-thumpa, steady as ever.
Your kingdom shining.
You smile, still high from it, as you drag yourself towards the sofa. Or maybe the cause has more to do with any number of recreational drugs you did tonight. That pretty yellow pill from Anita is going to fuck you over in the morning, but right now you feel like sunshine. Right now everything is alright.
As your fingers struggle with the buttons of your black tank, you notice a red blinking coming from your answering machine. The flashes remind you of the lights at Babylon, and you're easily caught up in the rhythm of it before you can think to press the button.
When you have enough sense to get back on track, you hit it and listen as the answering machine springs to life. As you shrug your shirt off your shoulders, the new message plays. And if you thought you felt like sunshine before, it's nothing compared to this.
"Brian, hey. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the reopening. I know, I know. Sorry's bullshit, but I wanted to be there. For me, not just for you. I promise to make it up to you somehow. Listen, the show tonight was great. Beyond great, actually. Out of all that art-and believe me there were some fucking talented artists showing-I actually sold two pieces! I bet you're not surprised. I bet you're rolling your eyes at me right now. I miss that. I miss a lot of things. Anyway, I'll call you at a respectable hour in the morning since I'm sure you took some shit from Anita tonight. Fill you in on the details then. Night."
You listen to it four more times as you sit in one of your Italia Moda chairs, leaning back with a tumbler of Jim resting on your leg and a cigarette held between your fingers. His voice makes you quiet, lulls you into a state of calmness. The thumpa-thumpa still pulses through you, now set to Justin's natural beat. He would have been unreal tonight, up there with you and under all that sparkle and light. You see it now as you close your eyes-the way he glows, the way he smiles. He's so real to you that you can almost taste the sweat that shimmers on his skin.
The whiskey burns as you swallow the rest of it, and you're more unsteady on your feet now than you were before. You abandon the tumbler on the coffee table-maybe just as a silent gesture to your boy because Christ knows he did that often enough-and head up the stairs with significant difficulty.
You don't so much lie as you do fall on the bed. It feels as if it's consuming you whole-death by one thousand thread count sheets. The only way to go, as far as you're concerned. Well, next to being balls deep in Justin's ass.
You like the sound of that, maybe even hum at all the filthy visions your mind draws up. Your pants tighten, but your hand reaches down for a far different reason for once. You take it out and dial, bringing the phone to your ear as you pop your fly.
"Hello?" he says, barely awake.
"Got your message."
The way he sighs tells you he's smiling a sleepy smile, head still on his pillow and hair an utter disaster.
"How was it?"
You bite back your grin, your mind brilliant with all the memories of one fucking incredible night.
"What can I say? It was only missing one thing."
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 645
Warnings: strong language
Summary: Babylon reopened tonight.
Author's Note: Written for a 30 day writing challenge over on tumblr for the prompt of promise. Takes place just after the end of 5.13 and can be considered a missing moment, I suppose.
The door screeches as you pull it closed in your sorry state. Maybe Mikey's right. Maybe you did overdo it a bit, you realize as you stumble. But how could you not overdo it? Babylon. Reborn tonight with glitter and writhing bodies and that pounding thumpa-thumpa, steady as ever.
Your kingdom shining.
You smile, still high from it, as you drag yourself towards the sofa. Or maybe the cause has more to do with any number of recreational drugs you did tonight. That pretty yellow pill from Anita is going to fuck you over in the morning, but right now you feel like sunshine. Right now everything is alright.
As your fingers struggle with the buttons of your black tank, you notice a red blinking coming from your answering machine. The flashes remind you of the lights at Babylon, and you're easily caught up in the rhythm of it before you can think to press the button.
When you have enough sense to get back on track, you hit it and listen as the answering machine springs to life. As you shrug your shirt off your shoulders, the new message plays. And if you thought you felt like sunshine before, it's nothing compared to this.
"Brian, hey. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the reopening. I know, I know. Sorry's bullshit, but I wanted to be there. For me, not just for you. I promise to make it up to you somehow. Listen, the show tonight was great. Beyond great, actually. Out of all that art-and believe me there were some fucking talented artists showing-I actually sold two pieces! I bet you're not surprised. I bet you're rolling your eyes at me right now. I miss that. I miss a lot of things. Anyway, I'll call you at a respectable hour in the morning since I'm sure you took some shit from Anita tonight. Fill you in on the details then. Night."
You listen to it four more times as you sit in one of your Italia Moda chairs, leaning back with a tumbler of Jim resting on your leg and a cigarette held between your fingers. His voice makes you quiet, lulls you into a state of calmness. The thumpa-thumpa still pulses through you, now set to Justin's natural beat. He would have been unreal tonight, up there with you and under all that sparkle and light. You see it now as you close your eyes-the way he glows, the way he smiles. He's so real to you that you can almost taste the sweat that shimmers on his skin.
The whiskey burns as you swallow the rest of it, and you're more unsteady on your feet now than you were before. You abandon the tumbler on the coffee table-maybe just as a silent gesture to your boy because Christ knows he did that often enough-and head up the stairs with significant difficulty.
You don't so much lie as you do fall on the bed. It feels as if it's consuming you whole-death by one thousand thread count sheets. The only way to go, as far as you're concerned. Well, next to being balls deep in Justin's ass.
You like the sound of that, maybe even hum at all the filthy visions your mind draws up. Your pants tighten, but your hand reaches down for a far different reason for once. You take it out and dial, bringing the phone to your ear as you pop your fly.
"Hello?" he says, barely awake.
"Got your message."
The way he sighs tells you he's smiling a sleepy smile, head still on his pillow and hair an utter disaster.
"How was it?"
You bite back your grin, your mind brilliant with all the memories of one fucking incredible night.
"What can I say? It was only missing one thing."