For Brian -- Dated to December 31

[one__song]

Moping around Dean and Angua's yurt was getting tiresome. Luckily, self-pity had woven itself into a much more productive boredom, and sometimes he ever left. He went to the radio station to say hello, even to work. He'd stop by the site of the strip club and feel a tinge of excitement and nostalgia and eventually run home to report to Dean or

Comments

[queer_as_brian]

Brian was taking advantage of the occasion in every way. He was dressed in Armani and drinking Grey Goose, and he was going to enjoy every fucking minute of tonight.

He spotted Roger and just watched him for a minute, drinking him in from head to toe. Christ, he looked good tonight. Good enough to fuck.

It probably wasn't smart, but before he could remember why through the haze of alcohol, Brian had pushed away from the wall he'd been holding up and was moving through the crowd until he was right behind Roger. He slid an arm around his waist and purred in his ear, "Looking good tonight, Rockstar."

[one__song]

Bent slightly over the alcohol table, Roger was an easy target for predators. He had a feeling he knew who this particular one was, though, and he smiled a bit, straightening with a new cup of vodka that clearly was not his first.

"Jesus, you don't know when to quit," Roger said, but he was smiling, maybe even leaning back a bit. After the last few weeks, he needed the attention. "And I've asked you to stop calling me that, Jack--" He turned around, was face-to-face with a jaw he knew much better than Jack's. He pulled himself back immediately, his pulse quickening about threefold. "Brian." It was a recitation. Like he wasn't quite sure that's who it was. And Christ, had he leaned into him? Mistake. Big mistake.

[queer_as_brian]

"Only took you two tries, congratulat--" It slowly soaked through the alcohol haze, the implication of Roger's words. And while he didn't give a shit if Roger was sleeping with other people--monogamy was for deluded heteros, thanks--the thought that someone else called him Rockstar...that hit him. "...tions," he finished, blinking and belatedly re-summoning a smirk. He never would have let that shit rattle him if he was sober, but he and sober had parted ways several drinks ago, so all he could do now was damage control. "Should I wear a nametag next time?"

[one__song]

The words seemed to bounce off of Roger as if he were Teflon. His shoulders tightened muscle by muscle, weight shifting away from Brian.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, words coming so immediately he practically cut Brian off. And he did it again. "Before you can make any smartass joke about it being a free island or how you called a cab but the driver couldn't swim, I'm going to stop you. You know what I mean. What are you doing here." He gestured to the spot he was standing on, not sober enough to make more sense than that.