Five Times Justin Didn’t Hear Brian Talking In His Sleep, And One Time He Did. - Brian/Justin ficlet
That was surprisingly quicker than I thought. Thank you so much to chimerachan for suggesting this bunny! *hugs*
It's the first time I try to write one of those "Five Times" fics, so I'm a little nervous. I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I confess I wanted it to be a lot lighter, but *someone* decided they wanted it to be angsty. Who am I to contradict a Muse?
Title: Five Times Justin Didn't Hear Brian Talking In His Sleep, And One Time He Did.
Author: aschicca
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: various timelines
Rating: R to be very very safe.
Word Count: 1.932
Warning: A bit of angst.
Beta: My beloved Partner in Crime, shinodabear *loves*. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: What the title says.
Disclaimer: Not mine. CowLip and Showtime own everything.
Blinkie by: nienna_weeper at potof_gold
AN: Dedicated to chimerachan who suggested the idea. Thank you so much, hon! I truly hope you will enjoy.
1.
After the bashing, sleep wasn’t something easy for Brian. Justin kept having nightmares and, more often than not, the night’s silence was disrupted by his hoarse screaming. The pattern was always the same: Brian dozed off for a couple of hours only to be jolted abruptly awake by his own name being shouted out of Justin’s lips; taking him into his arms, Brian then tried to talk to Justin, tried to help him cope with the images the nightmare had left in his head, then, as soon as he could feel Justin relax, Brian lay there watching him fall again into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to follow Justin’s example. It didn’t help that Brian’s own sleep was disturbed by pictures of a blond head covered in blood, and so he had no real wish to close his eyes and find himself back in that fucking parking lot.
One night, after he had fucked Justin slowly for the better part of an hour, Brian wasn’t able to keep his vigil. He wasn’t able to sleep with just one eye, waiting for the inevitable cry to come. He closed his eyes and fell immediately into a deep slumber. Predictably, the nightmare found him.
He was kneeling on the ground and had Justin’s hand in his. Justin lay there with his eyes closed and his face serene. Hadn’t it been for the blood that covered his blond hair, the scarf around his neck, and Brian’s own clothes, the scene could have been described as tender; a man holding his partner’s hand while he slept. But Justin wasn’t sleeping. He was dead. Brian knew he was. There was no pulse under his fingers, and no breath left his nostrils. Justin was dead.
“I didn’t save you. I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’m sorry. Justin, please, I’m so sorry… Didn’t… Didn’t save you,” Brian murmured out loud. His voice rang through the silence that permeated the loft.
Lost in his own nightmare, the beginning of the scream that soon would wake both himself and Brian already in his throat, Justin didn’t hear Brian’s desperate plea.
2.
The clock signed 2.59 a.m. when the door of the loft slid open. Brian stumbled in, hair mussed, eyes blurry from all the E and whisky he had consumed, body only partially satisfied by strangers hands, mouths, and asses. He threw his jacket in the direction of the sofa, then staggered his way towards his bedroom. His bed was empty. His whole loft was empty and silent and so damn neat that it made Brian want to puke. Who knew someone could miss all the clutter and the noise of having a blond twink live with them?
Shaking his head, Brian discarded all his clothes, leaving them scattered around his bedroom, then collapsed face down on the bed and fell immediately asleep.
“I won, Kinney. I won. He’s mine now.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Ian, if that’s what you need.” Brian rolled his eyes and yawned in the Fiddler’s face.
“He’s mine,” Ethan said again, and his smug expression made Brian want to punch the idiot’s face. “He chose me. He chose to come with me!”
‘But he didn’t,’ Brian thought. ‘He didn’t. I made that choice for him. I pushed him. He went with you because of what I did.’
And suddenly, Brian found himself staring into Justin’s eyes; the Fiddler long gone, disappeared into the folds of the dream. Justin looked at him with a sad expression, his head tilted, his eyes heavy with emotion.
“I miss you,” Brian confided to the empty loft. “I miss you, Justin. Miss you.” In the dream, Justin didn’t reply, and slowly started to fade away. Brian found himself unable to reach out to him. He couldn’t stop him, couldn’t do anything to prevent him from vanishing.
“Justin!” Brian yelled, and jerked awake.
Just like in his dream, no reply came to him.
3.
“Mr. Kinney? Five minutes and we’ll start preparing you for surgery.”
Brian opened his eyes and nodded at the nurse, who smiled and left the room. Believing himself alone again, he startled when he felt a hand suddenly grasping his.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Brian.”
Brian found himself staring into Justin’s concerned eyes. What was he doing here? Brian distinctly remembered yelling at him that he was leaving for Ibiza and there was nothing Justin could do about it. So why was he here now? Why was he in the hospital, putting on a brave front while he waited for his partner to be wheeled into a room where he’d lose one of his balls?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian asked, but all the answer he received was an eyeroll. “Justin, I…”
“I don’t want to hear it, Brian. I’m here now, and I’ll be here when you get back. You can’t get rid of me. I’m here to stay.”
“Stay. Stay, Justin. Don’t leave. Don’t…” Brian whispered softly, face smashed in his pillow. “Don’t leave… me. Don’t.”
The noise of the door sliding open woke him, and Brian sat up slowly on the bed grimacing at the wave of nausea that hit him. Taking deep breaths, the memory of the dream still vivid behind his eyes, Brian tried to focus on the voice he could now hear.
“…no, Daph, I’ve just come home,” Brian heard, and lay back down, listening to Justin’s phone call. “Yeah, today was the last day of treatment. He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay soon, Daph.”
The hope and the smile clearly audible in Justin’s tone brought a smile on Brian’s lips too. ‘Yes,’ Brian thought, ‘We’ll be okay, Sunshine.’
4.
Since there was virtually nothing they could do at the moment, not with Michael lying in a hospital bed hopefully recovering, not with Babylon being virtually destroyed, Brian took Justin back to his loft - both deciding to ignore the fact that Justin had initially intended to go to his studio - and the both of them collapsed still dressed on Brian’s bed.
They lay down facing one another, Justin’s hand fisted in Brian’s shirt while Brian kept caressing his face. They didn’t speak, both of them seemingly content to just lay there and keep each other close. Soon, they were both asleep.
Pictures kept running behind Brian’s eyelids, and his arm moved by its own volition to press Justin closer to him. Deep inside his own sleep, Justin sighed and buried his head in Brian’s neck.
Smoke… Fire… Screams… Death…God, those people are dead. Justin… Justin! Have to find him, have to… Justin… Not again… Not him… Please, do anything to me but not him… Not…
A flash… A light… Justin! In my arms… Safe… He’s safe! Justin…
“Love you… love you… love you, love you, love you,” Brian kept murmuring in Justin’s hair, the words pouring out of him like a mantra. “Love you.”
Justin shifted, rubbed his whole body against Brian's, and never woke up.
5.
During Justin’s first months in New York, Brian seemed to avoid his loft. He went there only to shower and change and, more often than not, he returned to Kinnetik after spending the night at Babylon and slept on the sofa in his office. Whenever Ted or Cynthia tried to point out that, surely, Brian would be much more comfortable in his own bed, Brian simply glared at his employees, pointing out that where he chose to sleep was none of their fucking business. The sofa was comfortable enough for Brian. Besides, the less he slept, the less chance he had to dream about things that would surely end up turning him into a lesbian.
One night, it became apparent to Brian how much he had underestimated the appeal that even a sofa could have for a sleep-deprived mind, and a thoroughly fucked body.
“You didn’t really want to marry me, Brian! At least admit it!”
“Why should I? You seem to have all the answers.”
“Come on, Kinney, this is me you’re talking about! You can’t tell me you weren’t relieved when we broke off the engagement!”
“Can’t I?”
“Brian!”
“Ok, ok, I wouldn’t say I was ‘relieved,’ but I wasn’t really devastated, either.”
“Uh huh! I knew it!”
“Yeah, little shit. Now I know why Michael calls you ‘Boy Wonder.’”
“Asshole. But, Brian, don’t you see? I’m still here, even if we didn’t get married. I’m still here. I don’t need a husband, I don’t even know if I want one anymore. I just want you.”
“You could have kept the ring, though. I wanted you to have it.” Brian said out loud. “Fuck the wedding. You’re right, I didn’t want it. But the ring… that’s yours, Justin.” Brian rolled on his side, face buried in the soft cushion of the sofa, and sighed.
In New York, Justin woke up suddenly with Brian’s name on his lips.
+1
Toeing off his shoes and leaving them and his backpack near the door, Justin let himself in. Only a dim light illuminated the loft, but Justin could clearly see Brian lying on his back on the bed. Smiling, Justin went towards the bedroom and climbed the steps to their bed. Once there, he knelt down and observed his partner. Justin had always loved watching Brian while he slept because it was the only time his beautiful features relaxed. If he was honest with himself, Justin had to admit that sleeping with Brian was one of the things he missed the most when he was in New York.
Luckily, he didn’t have to be away from Pittsburgh for more than a few weeks a year these days, but Justin remembered clearly how hard it had been for him in the beginning to get used to sleep without Brian. Sleeping alone becomes almost impossible when you’re used to sleep with Brian Kinney. Chuckling, Justin counted himself lucky that Brian couldn’t hear his thoughts. He could just imagine his horrified face and his comments.
Torn between the urge to wake Brian to let him know he was home and the desire to observe him sleep a little more, Justin settled for caressing his hair gently.
“Justin.” Brian said, surprising Justin. He was about to reply when Brian spoke again, “Come home soon. Can’t stop you… Can’t keep you from… I’m so proud of you, so proud. But… Come home. Come home. Please?”
Breath hitching in his throat, Justin was unable to move for a long minute. Then, almost like someone had switched a light inside him, he climbed on the bed and covered Brian’s body with his own. Slowly, Justin started kissing Brian’s face, his neck, his collarbone, while his own hands caressed his partner’s body. It didn’t take long for Brian to start reacting. In a flash, Justin found their positions reversed.
Lying completely dressed under Brian’s naked body, staring up at his still sleepy eyes, Justin smiled his trademark smile. “Hey, honey,” he said. “I’m home.”
A relieved look appeared in Brian’s eyes for a brief moment, hastily replaced by amusement, and Justin was sure he would have missed it had he not heard what Brian had earlier murmured in his sleep.
“As if I couldn’t tell. You woke me up, Sunshine,” Brian sing-songed.
“That I did. Will you punish me? Please?”
Brian laughed, kissed Justin hard, then proceeded to describe to a great length exactly how he was planning to punish him.
Neither of them got much sleep that night.
It's the first time I try to write one of those "Five Times" fics, so I'm a little nervous. I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I confess I wanted it to be a lot lighter, but *someone* decided they wanted it to be angsty. Who am I to contradict a Muse?
Title: Five Times Justin Didn't Hear Brian Talking In His Sleep, And One Time He Did.
Author: aschicca
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: various timelines
Rating: R to be very very safe.
Word Count: 1.932
Warning: A bit of angst.
Beta: My beloved Partner in Crime, shinodabear *loves*. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: What the title says.
Disclaimer: Not mine. CowLip and Showtime own everything.
Blinkie by: nienna_weeper at potof_gold
AN: Dedicated to chimerachan who suggested the idea. Thank you so much, hon! I truly hope you will enjoy.
1.
After the bashing, sleep wasn’t something easy for Brian. Justin kept having nightmares and, more often than not, the night’s silence was disrupted by his hoarse screaming. The pattern was always the same: Brian dozed off for a couple of hours only to be jolted abruptly awake by his own name being shouted out of Justin’s lips; taking him into his arms, Brian then tried to talk to Justin, tried to help him cope with the images the nightmare had left in his head, then, as soon as he could feel Justin relax, Brian lay there watching him fall again into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to follow Justin’s example. It didn’t help that Brian’s own sleep was disturbed by pictures of a blond head covered in blood, and so he had no real wish to close his eyes and find himself back in that fucking parking lot.
One night, after he had fucked Justin slowly for the better part of an hour, Brian wasn’t able to keep his vigil. He wasn’t able to sleep with just one eye, waiting for the inevitable cry to come. He closed his eyes and fell immediately into a deep slumber. Predictably, the nightmare found him.
He was kneeling on the ground and had Justin’s hand in his. Justin lay there with his eyes closed and his face serene. Hadn’t it been for the blood that covered his blond hair, the scarf around his neck, and Brian’s own clothes, the scene could have been described as tender; a man holding his partner’s hand while he slept. But Justin wasn’t sleeping. He was dead. Brian knew he was. There was no pulse under his fingers, and no breath left his nostrils. Justin was dead.
“I didn’t save you. I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’m sorry. Justin, please, I’m so sorry… Didn’t… Didn’t save you,” Brian murmured out loud. His voice rang through the silence that permeated the loft.
Lost in his own nightmare, the beginning of the scream that soon would wake both himself and Brian already in his throat, Justin didn’t hear Brian’s desperate plea.
2.
The clock signed 2.59 a.m. when the door of the loft slid open. Brian stumbled in, hair mussed, eyes blurry from all the E and whisky he had consumed, body only partially satisfied by strangers hands, mouths, and asses. He threw his jacket in the direction of the sofa, then staggered his way towards his bedroom. His bed was empty. His whole loft was empty and silent and so damn neat that it made Brian want to puke. Who knew someone could miss all the clutter and the noise of having a blond twink live with them?
Shaking his head, Brian discarded all his clothes, leaving them scattered around his bedroom, then collapsed face down on the bed and fell immediately asleep.
“I won, Kinney. I won. He’s mine now.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Ian, if that’s what you need.” Brian rolled his eyes and yawned in the Fiddler’s face.
“He’s mine,” Ethan said again, and his smug expression made Brian want to punch the idiot’s face. “He chose me. He chose to come with me!”
‘But he didn’t,’ Brian thought. ‘He didn’t. I made that choice for him. I pushed him. He went with you because of what I did.’
And suddenly, Brian found himself staring into Justin’s eyes; the Fiddler long gone, disappeared into the folds of the dream. Justin looked at him with a sad expression, his head tilted, his eyes heavy with emotion.
“I miss you,” Brian confided to the empty loft. “I miss you, Justin. Miss you.” In the dream, Justin didn’t reply, and slowly started to fade away. Brian found himself unable to reach out to him. He couldn’t stop him, couldn’t do anything to prevent him from vanishing.
“Justin!” Brian yelled, and jerked awake.
Just like in his dream, no reply came to him.
3.
“Mr. Kinney? Five minutes and we’ll start preparing you for surgery.”
Brian opened his eyes and nodded at the nurse, who smiled and left the room. Believing himself alone again, he startled when he felt a hand suddenly grasping his.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Brian.”
Brian found himself staring into Justin’s concerned eyes. What was he doing here? Brian distinctly remembered yelling at him that he was leaving for Ibiza and there was nothing Justin could do about it. So why was he here now? Why was he in the hospital, putting on a brave front while he waited for his partner to be wheeled into a room where he’d lose one of his balls?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian asked, but all the answer he received was an eyeroll. “Justin, I…”
“I don’t want to hear it, Brian. I’m here now, and I’ll be here when you get back. You can’t get rid of me. I’m here to stay.”
“Stay. Stay, Justin. Don’t leave. Don’t…” Brian whispered softly, face smashed in his pillow. “Don’t leave… me. Don’t.”
The noise of the door sliding open woke him, and Brian sat up slowly on the bed grimacing at the wave of nausea that hit him. Taking deep breaths, the memory of the dream still vivid behind his eyes, Brian tried to focus on the voice he could now hear.
“…no, Daph, I’ve just come home,” Brian heard, and lay back down, listening to Justin’s phone call. “Yeah, today was the last day of treatment. He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay soon, Daph.”
The hope and the smile clearly audible in Justin’s tone brought a smile on Brian’s lips too. ‘Yes,’ Brian thought, ‘We’ll be okay, Sunshine.’
4.
Since there was virtually nothing they could do at the moment, not with Michael lying in a hospital bed hopefully recovering, not with Babylon being virtually destroyed, Brian took Justin back to his loft - both deciding to ignore the fact that Justin had initially intended to go to his studio - and the both of them collapsed still dressed on Brian’s bed.
They lay down facing one another, Justin’s hand fisted in Brian’s shirt while Brian kept caressing his face. They didn’t speak, both of them seemingly content to just lay there and keep each other close. Soon, they were both asleep.
Pictures kept running behind Brian’s eyelids, and his arm moved by its own volition to press Justin closer to him. Deep inside his own sleep, Justin sighed and buried his head in Brian’s neck.
Smoke… Fire… Screams… Death…God, those people are dead. Justin… Justin! Have to find him, have to… Justin… Not again… Not him… Please, do anything to me but not him… Not…
A flash… A light… Justin! In my arms… Safe… He’s safe! Justin…
“Love you… love you… love you, love you, love you,” Brian kept murmuring in Justin’s hair, the words pouring out of him like a mantra. “Love you.”
Justin shifted, rubbed his whole body against Brian's, and never woke up.
5.
During Justin’s first months in New York, Brian seemed to avoid his loft. He went there only to shower and change and, more often than not, he returned to Kinnetik after spending the night at Babylon and slept on the sofa in his office. Whenever Ted or Cynthia tried to point out that, surely, Brian would be much more comfortable in his own bed, Brian simply glared at his employees, pointing out that where he chose to sleep was none of their fucking business. The sofa was comfortable enough for Brian. Besides, the less he slept, the less chance he had to dream about things that would surely end up turning him into a lesbian.
One night, it became apparent to Brian how much he had underestimated the appeal that even a sofa could have for a sleep-deprived mind, and a thoroughly fucked body.
“You didn’t really want to marry me, Brian! At least admit it!”
“Why should I? You seem to have all the answers.”
“Come on, Kinney, this is me you’re talking about! You can’t tell me you weren’t relieved when we broke off the engagement!”
“Can’t I?”
“Brian!”
“Ok, ok, I wouldn’t say I was ‘relieved,’ but I wasn’t really devastated, either.”
“Uh huh! I knew it!”
“Yeah, little shit. Now I know why Michael calls you ‘Boy Wonder.’”
“Asshole. But, Brian, don’t you see? I’m still here, even if we didn’t get married. I’m still here. I don’t need a husband, I don’t even know if I want one anymore. I just want you.”
“You could have kept the ring, though. I wanted you to have it.” Brian said out loud. “Fuck the wedding. You’re right, I didn’t want it. But the ring… that’s yours, Justin.” Brian rolled on his side, face buried in the soft cushion of the sofa, and sighed.
In New York, Justin woke up suddenly with Brian’s name on his lips.
+1
Toeing off his shoes and leaving them and his backpack near the door, Justin let himself in. Only a dim light illuminated the loft, but Justin could clearly see Brian lying on his back on the bed. Smiling, Justin went towards the bedroom and climbed the steps to their bed. Once there, he knelt down and observed his partner. Justin had always loved watching Brian while he slept because it was the only time his beautiful features relaxed. If he was honest with himself, Justin had to admit that sleeping with Brian was one of the things he missed the most when he was in New York.
Luckily, he didn’t have to be away from Pittsburgh for more than a few weeks a year these days, but Justin remembered clearly how hard it had been for him in the beginning to get used to sleep without Brian. Sleeping alone becomes almost impossible when you’re used to sleep with Brian Kinney. Chuckling, Justin counted himself lucky that Brian couldn’t hear his thoughts. He could just imagine his horrified face and his comments.
Torn between the urge to wake Brian to let him know he was home and the desire to observe him sleep a little more, Justin settled for caressing his hair gently.
“Justin.” Brian said, surprising Justin. He was about to reply when Brian spoke again, “Come home soon. Can’t stop you… Can’t keep you from… I’m so proud of you, so proud. But… Come home. Come home. Please?”
Breath hitching in his throat, Justin was unable to move for a long minute. Then, almost like someone had switched a light inside him, he climbed on the bed and covered Brian’s body with his own. Slowly, Justin started kissing Brian’s face, his neck, his collarbone, while his own hands caressed his partner’s body. It didn’t take long for Brian to start reacting. In a flash, Justin found their positions reversed.
Lying completely dressed under Brian’s naked body, staring up at his still sleepy eyes, Justin smiled his trademark smile. “Hey, honey,” he said. “I’m home.”
A relieved look appeared in Brian’s eyes for a brief moment, hastily replaced by amusement, and Justin was sure he would have missed it had he not heard what Brian had earlier murmured in his sleep.
“As if I couldn’t tell. You woke me up, Sunshine,” Brian sing-songed.
“That I did. Will you punish me? Please?”
Brian laughed, kissed Justin hard, then proceeded to describe to a great length exactly how he was planning to punish him.
Neither of them got much sleep that night.