"What If" - Fic 69 of 100 for fanfic100
Written in about 25 minutes for the prompt "Cheating" at 60_minute_fics... I got there late and was running out of time, which explains the ending. Heh. For fanfic100 Prompt #082 - If.
Post 513. Gio-friendly. :)
What If
by Severina
***
When Brian got home from Babylon, Justin was sitting on the sofa chewing his nail.
If Brian had been sober, he would have recognized Justin’s nail-biting affliction for what it was -- the outward manifestation of a deep-seated anxiety (surely one of many that Justin had -- the boy thought too much.) Having recognized said affliction, and added the contemplative slightly-distant look in Justin’s eyes to the equation, Brian would have backed slowly out of the room and hightailed it to Mikey’s house, where he would have spent the evening raiding Michael‘s fridge (avoiding Ben‘s tofu shit, of course) and scribbling instructive additions in the margins of Hunter‘s diary.
As it was, Brian was drunk. Very, very drunk.
So instead of running for his life, he leaned over the sofa and gave Justin a sloppy kiss. Justin tasted vaguely of raspberry tea -- Brian had no idea why the kid was trying to give up caffeine, and frankly didn’t give a shit -- and cigarettes. Brian licked his lips and was leaning in for seconds when Justin spoke.
“My father has a new girlfriend.”
Brian blinked. Tried to find an appropriate response. Failed.
So he flattened a hand on Justin’s chest and leaned down to taste the raspberry of Justin’s lips again. He could get behind this no-caffeine thing if---
“Did you hear me?” Justin snapped.
Brian sighed. Clearly he was getting no action until he dealt with this bullshit. Whatever the bullshit was.
He flopped onto the sofa beside Justin and rubbed the bridge of his nose, searching again for a suitable reply. It came to him in a flash. “Why the fuck do you care?”
“It’s some woman that he met when he was at Dartmouth,” Justin said. “They had a fling and then he met my mom. Then he got married and then they had another fling. He got divorced and had another fling--”
“Your dad is big on flings,” Brian said. It was amusing. ‘Big on flings’. He grinned.
Justin smacked him. It hurt.
“--and then he left that woman and now he’s back with the original chick. The one from Dartmouth.”
“Right.” Brian’s head hurt.
Justin sighed. “Don’t you get it? My father had an affair when he was married to my mother.”
“That,” Brian said confidently, “is because your father is a piece of shit.”
Justin nodded. “True. But what if…”
“Ifffffff…” Brian prodded.
“What if it’s genetic?”
Brian snorted out a laugh.
“What if it’s in my blood?” Justin continued. “What if what happened with Eth--”
“It’s NOT genetic.” Brian pushed himself up off the sofa unsteadily, a headache spiking in his skull. “And we’re not talking about this anymore.”
He almost made it to the stairs before he felt Justin’s hand on his arm.
“Brian.”
Brian sighed. “I was pleasantly fucking wasted when I got home.”
“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “Brian--”
“You are not a piece of shit.”
Justin paused, then grinned. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Fucking right.” He leaned heavily on Justin’s arm as he attempted to manoeuvre up the stairs. Brian was certain that whoever thought buying a house with a million stairs was a complete idiot.
And a complete romantic.
.
Post 513. Gio-friendly. :)
What If
by Severina
***
When Brian got home from Babylon, Justin was sitting on the sofa chewing his nail.
If Brian had been sober, he would have recognized Justin’s nail-biting affliction for what it was -- the outward manifestation of a deep-seated anxiety (surely one of many that Justin had -- the boy thought too much.) Having recognized said affliction, and added the contemplative slightly-distant look in Justin’s eyes to the equation, Brian would have backed slowly out of the room and hightailed it to Mikey’s house, where he would have spent the evening raiding Michael‘s fridge (avoiding Ben‘s tofu shit, of course) and scribbling instructive additions in the margins of Hunter‘s diary.
As it was, Brian was drunk. Very, very drunk.
So instead of running for his life, he leaned over the sofa and gave Justin a sloppy kiss. Justin tasted vaguely of raspberry tea -- Brian had no idea why the kid was trying to give up caffeine, and frankly didn’t give a shit -- and cigarettes. Brian licked his lips and was leaning in for seconds when Justin spoke.
“My father has a new girlfriend.”
Brian blinked. Tried to find an appropriate response. Failed.
So he flattened a hand on Justin’s chest and leaned down to taste the raspberry of Justin’s lips again. He could get behind this no-caffeine thing if---
“Did you hear me?” Justin snapped.
Brian sighed. Clearly he was getting no action until he dealt with this bullshit. Whatever the bullshit was.
He flopped onto the sofa beside Justin and rubbed the bridge of his nose, searching again for a suitable reply. It came to him in a flash. “Why the fuck do you care?”
“It’s some woman that he met when he was at Dartmouth,” Justin said. “They had a fling and then he met my mom. Then he got married and then they had another fling. He got divorced and had another fling--”
“Your dad is big on flings,” Brian said. It was amusing. ‘Big on flings’. He grinned.
Justin smacked him. It hurt.
“--and then he left that woman and now he’s back with the original chick. The one from Dartmouth.”
“Right.” Brian’s head hurt.
Justin sighed. “Don’t you get it? My father had an affair when he was married to my mother.”
“That,” Brian said confidently, “is because your father is a piece of shit.”
Justin nodded. “True. But what if…”
“Ifffffff…” Brian prodded.
“What if it’s genetic?”
Brian snorted out a laugh.
“What if it’s in my blood?” Justin continued. “What if what happened with Eth--”
“It’s NOT genetic.” Brian pushed himself up off the sofa unsteadily, a headache spiking in his skull. “And we’re not talking about this anymore.”
He almost made it to the stairs before he felt Justin’s hand on his arm.
“Brian.”
Brian sighed. “I was pleasantly fucking wasted when I got home.”
“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “Brian--”
“You are not a piece of shit.”
Justin paused, then grinned. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Fucking right.” He leaned heavily on Justin’s arm as he attempted to manoeuvre up the stairs. Brian was certain that whoever thought buying a house with a million stairs was a complete idiot.
And a complete romantic.
.