Meltdown at the Big-Q
Meltdown at the Big-Q
Written by: sydneyalexis
Request: Brian/Justin. Um...non-angsty, as long as it's not angsty I'm happy. It can be whatever rating.
LJ Name: peach_passion
He was in hell. There was no other way to describe it. Surrounded by sugar-laden children, harassed looking mommies, and all the trappings of an over-commercialized nightmare that he had, in some small way, helped create, Brian very reluctantly stood holding Gus’ hand as they waited to see Santa.
And Justin, who stood beside the two of them happily snapping pictures to capture the horror, couldn’t be more amused.
“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Brian grumbled.
“Oh…come on. You don’t want Gus to miss meeting ‘Santa,’ do you?”
“There are other stores,” Brian reasoned. Ones where he wasn’t stuck between the aggressively cheerful, cheaply made in a sweatshop, poly-blend kids clothes and the equally offensive, plastic crap manufactured in some third-world country that passed for toys.
“Yes. Because Armani and Prada store fronts are so clearly associated with their ‘Meet Santa Claus’ displays,” Justin quipped.
“With the amount of cash I’ve outed at those places, those salesmen would lick my boots if I told them to,” Brian replied, eyes narrowing.
“As opposed to sucking your cock which is in no way remotely going to happen,” Justin volleyed, rolling his eyes.
Brian snorted because, yeah, he’d had just about everyone worth having at both stores. “At least there he’d have a suit that wasn’t made of some crushed, velvet shit,” he said, motioning towards the ‘Santa’ on duty.
Justin laughed. “Because it’s so important for Santa to be well dressed with all the little germ factories climbing on and off his lap all day,” he said, pausing to watch the three kids in front of them start screaming and chasing each other around their mother’s legs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a golden shower or two up there.”
The look of pure horror that Brian shot Justin was priceless.
“Relax. I’m sure they’ve got a couple of different suits for him to change into,” Justin said, trying to soothe the worried look on his partner’s face because he had so not just spent all morning in line for nothing.
“You don’t think all those breaks he’s been taking…”
Justin rolled his eyes yet again. “It’s probably for a cigarette or pot…wouldn’t you want to take the edge off after being sat on by a bunch of kids all day?”
“Depends on what type of kid you’re talking about,” Brian replied, smirking at Justin.
“I was never a kid,” Justin snorted, amused that Brian had once again steered their conversation towards the sexual despite the sheer volume of breeders around them. Then again, he was fairly certain that Brian would be more than willing to go further if they didn’t have Gus with them.
“I’m sure Jennifer would say otherwise. In fact,” he said, pausing for affect before adding, “I’ve seen the pictures to prove it.”
“She didn’t…she wouldn’t!”
Brian laughed at the high color rising on Justin’s cheeks as he replied, “You never mentioned you had a teddy bear you carried everywhere…and what was his name again?”
Justin buried his face in his hands.
“I can’t believe she told you!”
“Have you just met your mother? Because I could have sworn she’s the same woman that dropped off a bag of your shit in my office not so long ago.”
It was Justin’s turn to laugh. “And I bet you just loved that.”
“Are you kidding? Cynthia was giving me shit about it all day.”
“And I’ll bet you threatened to fire her about it while she continued to mock you.”
Brian’s smirk was enough of an answer.
The line moved once again and both paused to watch Gus break away from them slightly. He giggled and began spinning in place as he hummed to the Christmas musak being piped through the Big-Q speakers.
Brian began gritting his teeth as his kid forced him to tune back in to the awesomely bad rendition of Jingle Bells.
Lindsay owed him so fucking much for agreeing to do this.
“You know what you’re going to ask Santa for, Sonny Boy?”
Gus stopped spinning, craning his neck to look up at his dad before nodding. “Yup,” he replied, popping the ‘P.’
“And?”
“And I wanna hug.”
“A hug,” Brian repeated not believing he’d heard the kid right.
“Yup,” Gus said, nodding.
“You’re not going to tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” Justin asked.
Gus started giggling again. “I already sent him a letter, silly.”
Brian scratched his forehead in irritation. The whole purpose of the trip was to try and coax the list out of the kid because Gus had written his letter to Santa, addressed it ‘North Pole’ and sent it off in the mail without letting anyone see it.
Lindsay was convinced that the trauma of her son not getting what he’d asked for would scar him for life.
And, while Brian wanted to claim that not being able to stomach Lindsay’s histrionics was what convinced him to spend his Sunday morning at the Big-Q in line to see Santa, it was really the image of Gus upset on Christmas that made him do it.
“You know Santa’s getting older, Gus. Maybe you ought to remind him just to be sure.”
Gus bit his lower lip as he considered what this before nodding. “Okay, Daddy, but I still want to hug Santa.”
Releasing an audible breath, Brian ruffled his kid’s hair.
“Okay, Sonny Boy. Whatever you want.”
As the line crawled along and what seemed another hour (but was closer to ten minutes) was lost, Justin turned to Brian and asked, “Did you get Cynthia to do your shopping again this year?”
“I am capable of doing my own shopping,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Grinning, Justin replied, “Which, translated roughly from Kinney-speak means you got her to do most of it and bought the rest of it through the internet.”
“She handles the corporate gifts since I’m busy convincing kids that they need to have the newest Demonic Elmo toy to be super cool,” he said, motioning to the purposefully placed display.
And, after standing quietly in line for hours, that was all Gus needed to get started. Eyeing the creepy little red doll, Gus reached out his chubby little hands, and squawked, “Elmo!” before trying to duck beneath the cue line’s ropes to get to the toy.
“Hang on there, Sonny Boy. Don’t you want to wait to see Santa,” Brian asked, grabbing onto the back of Gus’ Oshkosh’s to stop him.
“Want. Elmo,” he said, squirming and reaching for the doll.
And his actions caught the attention of the other kids in the line starting a domino affect.
Some kids started trying to reach for their own doll.
Some started crying.
A pack escaped and made a wild dash for the display. They knocked several onto the floor and starting singing, dancing, jumping, and talking excitedly at the same time-the dolls and the kids.
A whole bunch of parents started sending Brian and Justin the evil eye. Like it was their fault their children were little terrors.
Looking from the ensuring pandemonium to Gus who was still struggling to get out of his grasp and join the Cult of Elmo, Brian sighed and knelt down in his too expensive to be touching the dirty linoleum jeans.
“Gus, why don’t you wait and ask Santa for Elmo,” he suggested.
Gus shook his head and shouted, “No!”
Dropping his voice until it was low and even, Brian replied calmly, “Gus, you know you’re not supposed to raise your voice. Now you have a choice, you can either start behaving again by quietly waiting in line like a big boy, or Justin and I’ll take you back to your Mommies without telling Santa what you want. It’s your choice.”
Gus blinked, eyes growing even wider as he read his dad’s face for any hint that he might cave.
“I wanna stay. I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise,” Gus said finally, pulling his thumb from his mouth.
Nodding, Brian kissed his son’s forehead and stood.
As the line cued forward once again, Justin couldn’t help but smile at Brian.
“Look at you, acting all fatherly.”
Brian couldn’t help the small, shy smile.
That afternoon, Brian and Justin dropped a fed, watered, and very tired Gus off at Chez Muncher before returning to the loft where Brian vowed to never willingly agree to take Gus to visit Santa again and to buy his kid that stupid Elmo doll because anything that made that much noise was sure to piss Mel off…and get even with the both of them for volunteering him for this little outing.
A/N: Special thanks for shadownyc for braving the fluff for me! :D
Written by: sydneyalexis
Request: Brian/Justin. Um...non-angsty, as long as it's not angsty I'm happy. It can be whatever rating.
LJ Name: peach_passion
He was in hell. There was no other way to describe it. Surrounded by sugar-laden children, harassed looking mommies, and all the trappings of an over-commercialized nightmare that he had, in some small way, helped create, Brian very reluctantly stood holding Gus’ hand as they waited to see Santa.
And Justin, who stood beside the two of them happily snapping pictures to capture the horror, couldn’t be more amused.
“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Brian grumbled.
“Oh…come on. You don’t want Gus to miss meeting ‘Santa,’ do you?”
“There are other stores,” Brian reasoned. Ones where he wasn’t stuck between the aggressively cheerful, cheaply made in a sweatshop, poly-blend kids clothes and the equally offensive, plastic crap manufactured in some third-world country that passed for toys.
“Yes. Because Armani and Prada store fronts are so clearly associated with their ‘Meet Santa Claus’ displays,” Justin quipped.
“With the amount of cash I’ve outed at those places, those salesmen would lick my boots if I told them to,” Brian replied, eyes narrowing.
“As opposed to sucking your cock which is in no way remotely going to happen,” Justin volleyed, rolling his eyes.
Brian snorted because, yeah, he’d had just about everyone worth having at both stores. “At least there he’d have a suit that wasn’t made of some crushed, velvet shit,” he said, motioning towards the ‘Santa’ on duty.
Justin laughed. “Because it’s so important for Santa to be well dressed with all the little germ factories climbing on and off his lap all day,” he said, pausing to watch the three kids in front of them start screaming and chasing each other around their mother’s legs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a golden shower or two up there.”
The look of pure horror that Brian shot Justin was priceless.
“Relax. I’m sure they’ve got a couple of different suits for him to change into,” Justin said, trying to soothe the worried look on his partner’s face because he had so not just spent all morning in line for nothing.
“You don’t think all those breaks he’s been taking…”
Justin rolled his eyes yet again. “It’s probably for a cigarette or pot…wouldn’t you want to take the edge off after being sat on by a bunch of kids all day?”
“Depends on what type of kid you’re talking about,” Brian replied, smirking at Justin.
“I was never a kid,” Justin snorted, amused that Brian had once again steered their conversation towards the sexual despite the sheer volume of breeders around them. Then again, he was fairly certain that Brian would be more than willing to go further if they didn’t have Gus with them.
“I’m sure Jennifer would say otherwise. In fact,” he said, pausing for affect before adding, “I’ve seen the pictures to prove it.”
“She didn’t…she wouldn’t!”
Brian laughed at the high color rising on Justin’s cheeks as he replied, “You never mentioned you had a teddy bear you carried everywhere…and what was his name again?”
Justin buried his face in his hands.
“I can’t believe she told you!”
“Have you just met your mother? Because I could have sworn she’s the same woman that dropped off a bag of your shit in my office not so long ago.”
It was Justin’s turn to laugh. “And I bet you just loved that.”
“Are you kidding? Cynthia was giving me shit about it all day.”
“And I’ll bet you threatened to fire her about it while she continued to mock you.”
Brian’s smirk was enough of an answer.
The line moved once again and both paused to watch Gus break away from them slightly. He giggled and began spinning in place as he hummed to the Christmas musak being piped through the Big-Q speakers.
Brian began gritting his teeth as his kid forced him to tune back in to the awesomely bad rendition of Jingle Bells.
Lindsay owed him so fucking much for agreeing to do this.
“You know what you’re going to ask Santa for, Sonny Boy?”
Gus stopped spinning, craning his neck to look up at his dad before nodding. “Yup,” he replied, popping the ‘P.’
“And?”
“And I wanna hug.”
“A hug,” Brian repeated not believing he’d heard the kid right.
“Yup,” Gus said, nodding.
“You’re not going to tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” Justin asked.
Gus started giggling again. “I already sent him a letter, silly.”
Brian scratched his forehead in irritation. The whole purpose of the trip was to try and coax the list out of the kid because Gus had written his letter to Santa, addressed it ‘North Pole’ and sent it off in the mail without letting anyone see it.
Lindsay was convinced that the trauma of her son not getting what he’d asked for would scar him for life.
And, while Brian wanted to claim that not being able to stomach Lindsay’s histrionics was what convinced him to spend his Sunday morning at the Big-Q in line to see Santa, it was really the image of Gus upset on Christmas that made him do it.
“You know Santa’s getting older, Gus. Maybe you ought to remind him just to be sure.”
Gus bit his lower lip as he considered what this before nodding. “Okay, Daddy, but I still want to hug Santa.”
Releasing an audible breath, Brian ruffled his kid’s hair.
“Okay, Sonny Boy. Whatever you want.”
As the line crawled along and what seemed another hour (but was closer to ten minutes) was lost, Justin turned to Brian and asked, “Did you get Cynthia to do your shopping again this year?”
“I am capable of doing my own shopping,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Grinning, Justin replied, “Which, translated roughly from Kinney-speak means you got her to do most of it and bought the rest of it through the internet.”
“She handles the corporate gifts since I’m busy convincing kids that they need to have the newest Demonic Elmo toy to be super cool,” he said, motioning to the purposefully placed display.
And, after standing quietly in line for hours, that was all Gus needed to get started. Eyeing the creepy little red doll, Gus reached out his chubby little hands, and squawked, “Elmo!” before trying to duck beneath the cue line’s ropes to get to the toy.
“Hang on there, Sonny Boy. Don’t you want to wait to see Santa,” Brian asked, grabbing onto the back of Gus’ Oshkosh’s to stop him.
“Want. Elmo,” he said, squirming and reaching for the doll.
And his actions caught the attention of the other kids in the line starting a domino affect.
Some kids started trying to reach for their own doll.
Some started crying.
A pack escaped and made a wild dash for the display. They knocked several onto the floor and starting singing, dancing, jumping, and talking excitedly at the same time-the dolls and the kids.
A whole bunch of parents started sending Brian and Justin the evil eye. Like it was their fault their children were little terrors.
Looking from the ensuring pandemonium to Gus who was still struggling to get out of his grasp and join the Cult of Elmo, Brian sighed and knelt down in his too expensive to be touching the dirty linoleum jeans.
“Gus, why don’t you wait and ask Santa for Elmo,” he suggested.
Gus shook his head and shouted, “No!”
Dropping his voice until it was low and even, Brian replied calmly, “Gus, you know you’re not supposed to raise your voice. Now you have a choice, you can either start behaving again by quietly waiting in line like a big boy, or Justin and I’ll take you back to your Mommies without telling Santa what you want. It’s your choice.”
Gus blinked, eyes growing even wider as he read his dad’s face for any hint that he might cave.
“I wanna stay. I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise,” Gus said finally, pulling his thumb from his mouth.
Nodding, Brian kissed his son’s forehead and stood.
As the line cued forward once again, Justin couldn’t help but smile at Brian.
“Look at you, acting all fatherly.”
Brian couldn’t help the small, shy smile.
That afternoon, Brian and Justin dropped a fed, watered, and very tired Gus off at Chez Muncher before returning to the loft where Brian vowed to never willingly agree to take Gus to visit Santa again and to buy his kid that stupid Elmo doll because anything that made that much noise was sure to piss Mel off…and get even with the both of them for volunteering him for this little outing.
A/N: Special thanks for shadownyc for braving the fluff for me! :D