FICLET: Glow (QAF, B/J, R)

Sep 19, 2004 22:00

This is that sequel to Regards that I honestly thought I wouldn't write. And Regards still stands on its own, and that's basically the way I intended/wanted it to be.

It's not really even a sequel, more of a sequelet. A follow up. If you haven't read Regards before this, it will make much less sense.



When Brian woke up, he immediately felt Justin's presence at his side.

The sun was shining through a window at the back of the apartment. The light was muted, but painted broad swipes across the floor.

Justin twitched, realizing that Brian was awake, and the grip on Brian's ribs firmed a moment before Justin let go and rolled away.

"Wait -" Brian said hoarsely, and Justin stopped, upper body still twisted away from him. Shoulders stiff, Justin looked back at him, eyes full of something Brian didn't want to see.

"C'mere," he said roughly, and Justin immediately did, leaned into his arms and kissed him. He wasn’t hesitant, and Brian was glad, because he didn’t know what the fuck he would have done if Justin had been. But his lips were warm and sharp-edged under Brian’s. They felt a little chapped, but they felt right.

Justin broke away. "Brian," and his voice was rough too, like he'd been swallowing tears and snot all night. Jesus.

Brian ran a hand over Justin's ear, smoothing back his hair, which had grown out slightly since he'd left Pittsburgh. He stroked Justin's cheek, and let his hand stay there as he squeezed his eyes shut and felt something in him suddenly flare up, suddenly burn like hell.

"Jesus," Brian whispered. "Jesus fucking... Christ..." He shook his head and pressed his lips to Justin's forehead.

Justin grabbed his wrist, but not to move it. He just held it there, somehow just making sure Brian's hand didn't leave him, that they stayed connected, even if it was in a lousy, half-assed kind of way. Brian didn't care.

"Are you staying?" Justin said, but it wasn't a whisper or an allusion to an outcome, it was a fucking question. Square and direct.

Brian didn't respond for a moment, and Justin touched the side of his face. "Brian," he said.

Brian looked at him. "Yeah, I'm fucking staying," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Justin looked at him carefully, and gave a slow nod.

Brian sat up, looking around Justin’s apartment in the soft gray light. It was shadowy and bland looking, like Justin wasn’t really living there. There were some sketches taped to the wall, but he couldn’t quite make them out. “I need to piss,” Brian said.

“You know where it is,” said Justin. He shrugged, and smiled slightly, “Go ahead.”

Brian snorted and extricated himself from the bedcovers, suddenly catching a whiff of stale sweat. He swallowed hard, and went into the bathroom.

He wasn’t sure if he meant it as a gesture of trust or a veiled admonishment, Justin’s antics last night still fresh in his mind, but Brian made sure he left the door wide open.

He pissed for a long time, his bladder full from coffee and crappy airline alcohol. Once he’d finished, he washed his hands, then took off his shirt, wet a towel in Justin’s hotel-room-style sink, and wiped his armpits. It didn’t do a lot for his stink, but it did do a little, and it’d last him until he showered.

When Brian set the towel on the edge of the sink, he looked up and Justin was there.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” said Justin.

Brian looked down and scratched the back of his neck. “So, what do you want to do today?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Justin. He shrugged tiredly. “I didn’t make any plans. I figured we’d still be fucking at this point.”

“Well,” said Brian, “In the interest of keeping to our schedule, maybe we should be doing that.”

Justin snorted in amusement, which had been Brian’s aim. “Okay,” he said.

Brian glanced up into Justin’s face, and they spent a moment just staring at each other, which seemed like it should be weird, but was actually somewhat comforting.

Brian held out his hand, and Justin took it, stepping in close. Brian wrapped his arms around him, squeezing gently. “Hey,” he said again, and Justin nodded.

“Here,” and Justin tugged at his slacks. Brian quickly skimmed out of them and pulled Justin’s pants down, feeling the chill of air-conditioning still lingering on Justin’s arms and waist. Brian leaned away to get a better view, looking at Justin’s body, watching him.

Justin watched back, eyes lingering on Brian’s face and neck, his arms, chest. Gaze traveling downward, and Brian hardened suddenly and skipped a breath, hoping Justin still liked what he saw.

The florescent lighting in the bathroom made Justin’s normally immaculate skin look blotchy and pale. But his shape was the same, and his eyes were the same, almost. He was more fucking gorgeous than Brian remembered him. And Justin was hard, too. Thank god.

“You’re still fucking hot. At least you didn’t get one of those fake tans, or turn baby’s-ass-red after five months in the sun,” said Brian quietly, and Justin glared amusedly.

“Fuck you, I have some class,” Justin said, “And sunscreen.”

Then Justin paused, and added, “At least... we’re both still here.” He shook his head, like it wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say, but close enough.

Brian pulled Justin against him, cool skin against his own, Justin’s cock against his thigh. It was still different. It was still different, but it was working. Justin laughed again and pressed his face against Brian’s neck.

“There’s that, too,” said Brian, and breathed in deep.

end

fic, fic_queer as folk

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