protein-rich fic! (Oh, you so clever, Sake! :D)
Fic #09/50 for my fanfic50 table
Prompt: 001. Temptation
Title: Atkins Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: Season 2-ish?
Genre: fluff, humor
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: They only ever come up with those stupid bets or contests or whatever when they’re high, or drunk, or just bitching around.
Disclaimer: QaF US is Cowlip’s baby, not mine. Though I'd be the better mom. Just sayin'.
Notes: As always, please tell me about any typos you spot! And omg, why is my table not getting fuller?!?! :,(
Atkins Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by sakesushimaki
“Justin?”
“Mmmmnnwhat?”
“Get your hungover ass out of bed. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Justin glances at the alarm clock. He swears he got to sleep half an hour ago, but the blinking red numbers tell him that it’s 7:30 already. “Shit.”
He rolls out of bed, slips into some jeans and a sweatshirt and plods into the kitchen.
That’s when it hits him. “Fuck.”
What the fuck had he been thinking? Seriously. How could he think he could abstain for a week? A week, damn it!
They only ever come up with those stupid bets or contests or whatever when they’re high, or drunk, or just bitching around. It’s such a cheap set-up. They are getting too old and pathetic for that.
And Justin will stop referring to him and Brian as a collective right this second.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” Justin grumbles and goes to find his sneakers.
He lets Brian hand him his jacket and fix his hair, and they’re out the door.
+
“Hi, what are you guys watching?”
“X-Men!” Michael answers happily.
“For the fifty-thousandth time.”
Justin laughs at the desperation in Brian’s voice and nearly trips while trying to get out of his sneakers without bending down. The whole unlacing part is just too much of a hassle.
His head is still full of Michelangelo’s bitchiness, his professor’s enthusiasm, and Why the hell did he take a seminar that runs till 9pm each Thursday, and so he forgets. He pours some milk, grabs the box of Crunchy Nut and plops down on the sofa next to Michael.
“What did I miss?” he asks, pouring cereal. He thinks he’s seen the movie once, but Michael’s geeky recaps are usually worthwhile.
Justin doesn’t have time to put the spoon in before the bowl is wrenched from him. “Hey!”
“Don’t hey me, cereal boy! Did you forget?” Brian swings the spoon in front of his face.
Justin throws himself against the back of the couch dramatically. “God, I hate you.”
Michael blinks at him. “What’s up?”
He wants to scream but it’s not Michael’s fault. “We’re off carbs for a week.”
“Oh, right! I remember. The contract.”
“Wait, you were there?”
Michael pauses the movie. “You mean, was I there when you and your worse half proclaimed your newest endeavour to half of Woody’s and made the bartender notarize the Kinney-Taylor Carb Contract?”
Justin rubs his eyes. “Really?”
Brian comes back from taking the cereal into the kitchen and sits down next to Justin.
“We’re embarrassing,” Justin tells him.
Brian hooks a long leg over Justin’s. “We’re hot.”
+
Justin finds Brian with Ted at the bar.
“We’re waiting for a pool table,” Ted explains and Justin has no idea why.
Brian’s eyes look a bit glassy as he smiles and his skin appears a little flushed. Justin studies the empty beer bottles on the counter.
“I think I’m having a deja-vu. Wasn’t this how we got started on this bet in the first place? Me pointing out how very loosely you stick to your diet regimen?”
Brian blinks and drops his hand from Justin’s hip. “I don’t recall that we included liquids in our contract.”
“Actually”, Charlie, the bartender, notes. “You did.”
“Charlie, you suck!”
“Brian, I’m touched. You remember our night together, after all.”
“Get lost or your tip char will go home crying tonight.”
“I could get you something else, you know.”
“But I’m in a beer-ish alcoholic mood!” Brian protests.
“Isn’t there sugar in pretty much every kind of alcohol?” Ted asks.
“Actually, whisky or vodka, or any kind of distilled spirits have practically no sugar, hence no carbs,” Charlie explains. “I’m a diabetic, that’s how I know.”
“Ha! I knew it!”
Justin sighs. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I’ve always had a hunch,” Brian insists.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Okay, so, I have a hunch now.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, I know now.”
“Brian, are you sure you want to keep on drinking?”
“I have a hunch that I do.”
Justin leaves Brian at the bar and goes to play pool with Ted.
+
On the third day, the news anchor with the most annoying voice in TV history is on, and Justin is bored. And hungry.
“You know, if we both said that we’re out, nobody would lose. We would just dismiss the bet that is stupid and pointless anyway.”
“But nobody would win either.”
“So?” Justin flexes his toes against the coffee table.
“Everything that is not winning is losing.”
“Brian,” Justin sighs.
“Sunshine?”
Justin scoots across the sofa and throws himself against Brian’s side.
“Hmmph!”
“Sorry,” Justin mumbles into Brian’s neck and continues to nuzzle it. “You know, if we got ready right now, we could still make it to Debbie’s in time for dinner.”
“I already told her we’re not coming.”
Justin presses his lips to various spots below Brian’s ear. “She wouldn’t mind.”
“Why exactly are you molesting me when I’m trying to watch the news?” Brian complains, but hooks his arm around Justin’s knee.
Justin nips at an earlobe. “You love it. And you’re not listening anyway.”
“Of course I am.”
“Really? So tell me what’s going on.”
“They’re… they’re posing questions at Bloomberg.”
“Uh-huh,” Justin whispers against Brian’s skin. “What are they questioning him about?”
Brian’s fingers stroke along Justin’s denim leg. “About something… something about New York.”
“Is that so?” Justin slides a hand underneath Brian’s shirt and lets his fingers roam over Brian’s stomach. He can see the goose bumps forming on Brian’s skin. “I bet Debbie is boiling pasta as we speak. And she’s probably making at least two different sauces.”
“Hmmmmalfredo?” Brian closes his eyes.
“Definitely alfredo.”
Half a minute later, Justin is holding onto the back of the sofa as Brian yanks at his legs and sucks his dick into his mouth.
It doesn’t strike him as odd that Brian calls Debbie while he’s still licking come off of Justin’s stomach.
Prompt: 001. Temptation
Title: Atkins Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: Season 2-ish?
Genre: fluff, humor
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: They only ever come up with those stupid bets or contests or whatever when they’re high, or drunk, or just bitching around.
Disclaimer: QaF US is Cowlip’s baby, not mine. Though I'd be the better mom. Just sayin'.
Notes: As always, please tell me about any typos you spot! And omg, why is my table not getting fuller?!?! :,(
Atkins Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by sakesushimaki
“Justin?”
“Mmmmnnwhat?”
“Get your hungover ass out of bed. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Justin glances at the alarm clock. He swears he got to sleep half an hour ago, but the blinking red numbers tell him that it’s 7:30 already. “Shit.”
He rolls out of bed, slips into some jeans and a sweatshirt and plods into the kitchen.
That’s when it hits him. “Fuck.”
What the fuck had he been thinking? Seriously. How could he think he could abstain for a week? A week, damn it!
They only ever come up with those stupid bets or contests or whatever when they’re high, or drunk, or just bitching around. It’s such a cheap set-up. They are getting too old and pathetic for that.
And Justin will stop referring to him and Brian as a collective right this second.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” Justin grumbles and goes to find his sneakers.
He lets Brian hand him his jacket and fix his hair, and they’re out the door.
+
“Hi, what are you guys watching?”
“X-Men!” Michael answers happily.
“For the fifty-thousandth time.”
Justin laughs at the desperation in Brian’s voice and nearly trips while trying to get out of his sneakers without bending down. The whole unlacing part is just too much of a hassle.
His head is still full of Michelangelo’s bitchiness, his professor’s enthusiasm, and Why the hell did he take a seminar that runs till 9pm each Thursday, and so he forgets. He pours some milk, grabs the box of Crunchy Nut and plops down on the sofa next to Michael.
“What did I miss?” he asks, pouring cereal. He thinks he’s seen the movie once, but Michael’s geeky recaps are usually worthwhile.
Justin doesn’t have time to put the spoon in before the bowl is wrenched from him. “Hey!”
“Don’t hey me, cereal boy! Did you forget?” Brian swings the spoon in front of his face.
Justin throws himself against the back of the couch dramatically. “God, I hate you.”
Michael blinks at him. “What’s up?”
He wants to scream but it’s not Michael’s fault. “We’re off carbs for a week.”
“Oh, right! I remember. The contract.”
“Wait, you were there?”
Michael pauses the movie. “You mean, was I there when you and your worse half proclaimed your newest endeavour to half of Woody’s and made the bartender notarize the Kinney-Taylor Carb Contract?”
Justin rubs his eyes. “Really?”
Brian comes back from taking the cereal into the kitchen and sits down next to Justin.
“We’re embarrassing,” Justin tells him.
Brian hooks a long leg over Justin’s. “We’re hot.”
+
Justin finds Brian with Ted at the bar.
“We’re waiting for a pool table,” Ted explains and Justin has no idea why.
Brian’s eyes look a bit glassy as he smiles and his skin appears a little flushed. Justin studies the empty beer bottles on the counter.
“I think I’m having a deja-vu. Wasn’t this how we got started on this bet in the first place? Me pointing out how very loosely you stick to your diet regimen?”
Brian blinks and drops his hand from Justin’s hip. “I don’t recall that we included liquids in our contract.”
“Actually”, Charlie, the bartender, notes. “You did.”
“Charlie, you suck!”
“Brian, I’m touched. You remember our night together, after all.”
“Get lost or your tip char will go home crying tonight.”
“I could get you something else, you know.”
“But I’m in a beer-ish alcoholic mood!” Brian protests.
“Isn’t there sugar in pretty much every kind of alcohol?” Ted asks.
“Actually, whisky or vodka, or any kind of distilled spirits have practically no sugar, hence no carbs,” Charlie explains. “I’m a diabetic, that’s how I know.”
“Ha! I knew it!”
Justin sighs. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I’ve always had a hunch,” Brian insists.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Okay, so, I have a hunch now.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, I know now.”
“Brian, are you sure you want to keep on drinking?”
“I have a hunch that I do.”
Justin leaves Brian at the bar and goes to play pool with Ted.
+
On the third day, the news anchor with the most annoying voice in TV history is on, and Justin is bored. And hungry.
“You know, if we both said that we’re out, nobody would lose. We would just dismiss the bet that is stupid and pointless anyway.”
“But nobody would win either.”
“So?” Justin flexes his toes against the coffee table.
“Everything that is not winning is losing.”
“Brian,” Justin sighs.
“Sunshine?”
Justin scoots across the sofa and throws himself against Brian’s side.
“Hmmph!”
“Sorry,” Justin mumbles into Brian’s neck and continues to nuzzle it. “You know, if we got ready right now, we could still make it to Debbie’s in time for dinner.”
“I already told her we’re not coming.”
Justin presses his lips to various spots below Brian’s ear. “She wouldn’t mind.”
“Why exactly are you molesting me when I’m trying to watch the news?” Brian complains, but hooks his arm around Justin’s knee.
Justin nips at an earlobe. “You love it. And you’re not listening anyway.”
“Of course I am.”
“Really? So tell me what’s going on.”
“They’re… they’re posing questions at Bloomberg.”
“Uh-huh,” Justin whispers against Brian’s skin. “What are they questioning him about?”
Brian’s fingers stroke along Justin’s denim leg. “About something… something about New York.”
“Is that so?” Justin slides a hand underneath Brian’s shirt and lets his fingers roam over Brian’s stomach. He can see the goose bumps forming on Brian’s skin. “I bet Debbie is boiling pasta as we speak. And she’s probably making at least two different sauces.”
“Hmmmmalfredo?” Brian closes his eyes.
“Definitely alfredo.”
Half a minute later, Justin is holding onto the back of the sofa as Brian yanks at his legs and sucks his dick into his mouth.
It doesn’t strike him as odd that Brian calls Debbie while he’s still licking come off of Justin’s stomach.