[for Brian]

[one__song]

[Continued from here.]That fucking face... Claire'd had an attitude adjustment, that was for sure. She wasn't the bumbling blonde bimbo she'd once been, and Roger vaguely hoped Hunter's cock had very little to do with it

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[queer_as_brian]

Brian was feeling pretty fucking good. He'd spent the last few days drunk on good liquor for once, and he was in the mood for some company.

He wandered over to Roger's room after finishing the bottle of Grey Goose, knocking lightly and poking his head inside when there was no answer. Not there. Fuck. He stood in the corridor for a few seconds, frowning.

Some blonde chick came out of the men's room and bolted past him without a word, rousing his curiosity. What the hell had she been doing in there? He pushed the door open and walked into the bathroom, peering into the stalls with a vague smirk that disappeared instantly the second he saw Roger.

"Shit." He was in the stall with Roger before he knew it, not even stopping to wonder how he recognized him so fast despite not seeing much more than his back and his ass. If asked he'd claim he never forgot an ass, but that wasn't it.

Dropping to his knees, he reached for Roger, resting a hand on his back. "Roger..."

[queer_as_brian]

Brian didn't comment, though. He just nodded curtly and finished wiping Roger's face before tossing the washcloth into a sink for someone else to take care of. He slipped an arm around Roger and asked quietly, "Think you can make it down to my room?" He wasn't sure; Roger looked pretty unsteady.

[one__song]

"Yeah," Roger said, blinking hard down at the sink and then leaning up against Brian. "Can we bring the washcloth, though? Felt good..." He'd thrown up his fucking guts. He was allowed to need the support.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian snorted softly, but with a smile as he retrieved the washcloth. "All right, let's go. I'm not a fan of spending this much time in the men's room when I'm not getting laid." He chuckled quietly and gathered Roger close again, heading for the door with more patience than his words would indicate.

[one__song]

"The high standards of Brian Kinney," Roger croaked, trying to talk through that sandpaper-hard quality his throat was taking on right then. It wasn't easy, but after years of smoking and drinking, it wasn't impossible.

[queer_as_brian]

"Of course," Brian murmured with a faint grin as he led Roger out and down the hall. "Want something to drink? Water, juice?" May as well ask before they headed down all of those stairs, after all.

[one__song]

Roger made a distasteful face and gripped onto Brian's opposite shoulder, his arm strong.

"Fuck no," he said, swallowing hard. "I just want to lay the fuck down." And if Brian chose to stay near, that was all him.

[queer_as_brian]

Fine by Brian. He shrugged lightly and continued toward the stairs, letting Roger set the pace as they descended to the bottom floor and Brian's room.

[one__song]

The descent to the bottom floor was slow and full of snail-like progress, but they did get there, eventually, and when they did, Roger hung back in the doorway, waiting for Brian to direct him. It wasn't his room, he knew the rules about Brian being a control freak, and while all he wanted was to lay down, he also sorta wanted contact. To remind him that he was alive. That he hadn't thrown up his fucking mortality.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian glanced at Roger and then guided him to the side of the bed without a word, sinking down on the bench along the side and pulling Roger with him. "Here. Lie down," he suggested, smoothing the cool washcloth lightly over Roger's cheeks and forehead again, though something inside was starting to protest. Fuck it. He'd deal with it later--or not.

[one__song]

Obediently, Roger lowered himself onto the bed. Before laying down, he stripped himself of his shoes, shirt and pants, leaving his boxers only, revealing skin layered in the this sheen of sweat.

Finally, he laid back, almost feverish and so grateful for the care.

"Thanks," he croaked after several moments, his hand laying limpy on Brian's leg.

[queer_as_brian]

"Sure," Brian said quickly, dismissively. He wiped down Roger's neck and chest, not even trying not to look at his body as he did so. Hey, if he was going to be all Florence Nightingale, at least he could appreciate the view. It was actually kind of enjoyable in a way, slowly moving the cloth over Roger's skin.

[one__song]

With Roger's eyes closed, he couldn't see Brian's admiration, and he didn't even have an idea. As far as Roger could tell, he looked disgusting, all barfy and sallow laying there, breathing like he wasn't sure how. But when he opened his eyes, he found he was wrong.

"Jesus, Brian," he said, a chuckle rounding out his voice.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian blinked and looked up at Roger's face. "What?" he asked with a little smirk, his hand still wiping smoothly across Roger's chest.

[one__song]

"How could you possibly want me right now?" Roger asked, his voice hushed with something akin to shame because he didn't know what else to feel. He found that he'd closed his eyes again, just because he had no idea where to look. He felt horrible, felt unattractive and gross and what the hell did it mean that Brian actually wanted him?

He absolutely didn't think about it. In a way that suggested he was very much thinking about it.

[queer_as_brian]

"You're hot, I know you're a good fuck, and you're mostly naked and in my bed." Brian smirked and slid his hand sans washcloth over Roger's chest. "I'm a gay man, Roger. I'm always thinking about sex."