Fic: Some Things Change [Brian/Justin]
Title: Some Things Change
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: R
Wordcount: 993
Warnings: strong language, mention of sexual situations
Summary: Brian and Justin's NYC weekend with Gus comes to a close.
Author's Note: Written for the 6th annual Brian/Justin cuddle day. Thanks to L for the speedy beta work.
"Who the fuck would have thought caring for a kid could be so much work?" Brian says, taking a pull off his cigarette.
You should probably mention that he shouldn't be smoking in here or else you'll lose your deposit; there's something in your lease about that. You think better of it, though, because your deposit is sort of his deposit, if you get right down to it. And you're pretty sure that Brian won't take too kindly to being told what he can and can't do after the week he's had. You figure he can bitch about losing it later when the time comes.
So instead, you stretch out and yawn, your body stiff from sharing a too-small bed with Brian for the past two days. Satisfied, you curl against him naturally and close your eyes. You're all sticky and reek of sex, but the shower isn't quite up to the hot water standards of the loft. That is, if you could conceivably get up right now, which you're pretty sure you can't. You have to agree with Brian on this one-fulltime parenting, even if it is only for a weekend, can really drain a person.
"Apparently not you." Justin presses a kiss to his shoulder. "At least, not until a few days into it."
"The munchers say he's fucking calm compared to most kids his age. If that's calm-"
"Remember he's out of his usual environment and normal schedule. Not to mention that you brought him to New York City."
"Are you still pissed about that?" Brian asks, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the windowsill.
No, you'd forgiven him shortly after he'd shown up at your doorstep, unannounced, with Gus in tow. You were never really pissed about him being here with Gus in the first place. He just scared the ever loving shit out of you because you couldn't figure out any reason why he'd actually be here, let alone with his son. Naturally, you'd assumed the worst-Mel and Linds in a horrific car accident or something, dead and leaving behind two small children. Thank god it was only a matter of Mel's mother being ill that took them away from the kids for two weeks.
You hum, as if you have to think about it. "You let me top last night, which basically absolves you from any and all sins in a seventy-two hour period."
"I love him."
To anyone else, it might sound as if it came out of nowhere, but you've been expecting that proclamation all weekend. He doesn't say it to you, of course, but to the ceiling, arm across his forehead and sheets tangled around his legs. The tone of his voice-the way you know he's struggling with the frustration every parent must feel when they're dealing with kids over a few trying days-it gets to you.
You're proud of him for all that he's done for Gus this week. You know he doesn't want to be a father, just as you know that there's this tiny part of Brian, somewhere deep inside him, that actually does. You saw it at the zoo today when Brian picked Gus up so that he could have a better view of the bears, when he pointed the bears out to Gus and leaned in close to his son's ear to tell him some facts he glossed from the giant board that Gus couldn't read. You saw it during dinner around your coffee table when Brian was trying to show Gus how to use chopsticks and when he was drying Gus' hair with a towel before bed.
You weren't sure what would happen with you and Brian or Brian and Gus after everyone relocated. He's kept good on his promise to be a part of Gus' life, but he's definitely not used to having Gus on his own for so long. Maybe you shouldn't be so surprised that he flew clear to New York for some help. You're pretty flattered that he'd think of you at all for this, but you've always been a figure in Gus' life and have always been the person to see to Gus' needs between the two of you during visits.
"I know you do."
"He's driving me out of my fucking mind."
You smile easily to yourself, grateful for the protection of the dark. If he saw you smiling, he's likely to kick your ass to the floor for the night, and you haven't exactly figured out what that stain is in the carpet just yet. Not to mention that you sort of like it here, tucked against him. It's not cuddling-Brian Kinney doesn't cuddle, you're told-even though it so totally is cuddling, and, better yet, Brian's the one who started it.
"Lucky for you, then, that he's going home in two days and you'll be back to work."
The thought of it has Brian reaching for his stubbed out, half-smoked cigarette that he'd abandoned only moments ago. You help him light it, demanding a drag for your troubles.
"I'll miss him."
You close your eyes briefly, taking in the smell of cigarette, sex, and Brian. "You always do."
"I'll miss your ass too," he says, turning his head toward you.
"Just my ass?"
"What else is there to miss?"
Now he smiles, all teeth and playfulness, totally unguarded. You remember your first night with Brian, and if he'd said then that he would miss your ass, that would have been enough for you- a compliment you would have remembered until the day you died. Now you know better. Now you know that something like that means so much more than even those closest to Brian may ever know. It's an I-miss-you and an I-love-you all rolled into one, and maybe even topped off with a little I-need-you-home. And home isn't so much a place anymore as it is Brian and a bed.
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: R
Wordcount: 993
Warnings: strong language, mention of sexual situations
Summary: Brian and Justin's NYC weekend with Gus comes to a close.
Author's Note: Written for the 6th annual Brian/Justin cuddle day. Thanks to L for the speedy beta work.
"Who the fuck would have thought caring for a kid could be so much work?" Brian says, taking a pull off his cigarette.
You should probably mention that he shouldn't be smoking in here or else you'll lose your deposit; there's something in your lease about that. You think better of it, though, because your deposit is sort of his deposit, if you get right down to it. And you're pretty sure that Brian won't take too kindly to being told what he can and can't do after the week he's had. You figure he can bitch about losing it later when the time comes.
So instead, you stretch out and yawn, your body stiff from sharing a too-small bed with Brian for the past two days. Satisfied, you curl against him naturally and close your eyes. You're all sticky and reek of sex, but the shower isn't quite up to the hot water standards of the loft. That is, if you could conceivably get up right now, which you're pretty sure you can't. You have to agree with Brian on this one-fulltime parenting, even if it is only for a weekend, can really drain a person.
"Apparently not you." Justin presses a kiss to his shoulder. "At least, not until a few days into it."
"The munchers say he's fucking calm compared to most kids his age. If that's calm-"
"Remember he's out of his usual environment and normal schedule. Not to mention that you brought him to New York City."
"Are you still pissed about that?" Brian asks, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the windowsill.
No, you'd forgiven him shortly after he'd shown up at your doorstep, unannounced, with Gus in tow. You were never really pissed about him being here with Gus in the first place. He just scared the ever loving shit out of you because you couldn't figure out any reason why he'd actually be here, let alone with his son. Naturally, you'd assumed the worst-Mel and Linds in a horrific car accident or something, dead and leaving behind two small children. Thank god it was only a matter of Mel's mother being ill that took them away from the kids for two weeks.
You hum, as if you have to think about it. "You let me top last night, which basically absolves you from any and all sins in a seventy-two hour period."
"I love him."
To anyone else, it might sound as if it came out of nowhere, but you've been expecting that proclamation all weekend. He doesn't say it to you, of course, but to the ceiling, arm across his forehead and sheets tangled around his legs. The tone of his voice-the way you know he's struggling with the frustration every parent must feel when they're dealing with kids over a few trying days-it gets to you.
You're proud of him for all that he's done for Gus this week. You know he doesn't want to be a father, just as you know that there's this tiny part of Brian, somewhere deep inside him, that actually does. You saw it at the zoo today when Brian picked Gus up so that he could have a better view of the bears, when he pointed the bears out to Gus and leaned in close to his son's ear to tell him some facts he glossed from the giant board that Gus couldn't read. You saw it during dinner around your coffee table when Brian was trying to show Gus how to use chopsticks and when he was drying Gus' hair with a towel before bed.
You weren't sure what would happen with you and Brian or Brian and Gus after everyone relocated. He's kept good on his promise to be a part of Gus' life, but he's definitely not used to having Gus on his own for so long. Maybe you shouldn't be so surprised that he flew clear to New York for some help. You're pretty flattered that he'd think of you at all for this, but you've always been a figure in Gus' life and have always been the person to see to Gus' needs between the two of you during visits.
"I know you do."
"He's driving me out of my fucking mind."
You smile easily to yourself, grateful for the protection of the dark. If he saw you smiling, he's likely to kick your ass to the floor for the night, and you haven't exactly figured out what that stain is in the carpet just yet. Not to mention that you sort of like it here, tucked against him. It's not cuddling-Brian Kinney doesn't cuddle, you're told-even though it so totally is cuddling, and, better yet, Brian's the one who started it.
"Lucky for you, then, that he's going home in two days and you'll be back to work."
The thought of it has Brian reaching for his stubbed out, half-smoked cigarette that he'd abandoned only moments ago. You help him light it, demanding a drag for your troubles.
"I'll miss him."
You close your eyes briefly, taking in the smell of cigarette, sex, and Brian. "You always do."
"I'll miss your ass too," he says, turning his head toward you.
"Just my ass?"
"What else is there to miss?"
Now he smiles, all teeth and playfulness, totally unguarded. You remember your first night with Brian, and if he'd said then that he would miss your ass, that would have been enough for you- a compliment you would have remembered until the day you died. Now you know better. Now you know that something like that means so much more than even those closest to Brian may ever know. It's an I-miss-you and an I-love-you all rolled into one, and maybe even topped off with a little I-need-you-home. And home isn't so much a place anymore as it is Brian and a bed.