(24) Fanfic -- "The Other Gus"
Title: The Other Gus
Author: severina2001
Timeframe: Post Season Five
Word Count: 1428
Rating: R?
Authors Notes: For mdlaw, who requested "one of your Unusual POV's that emphasizes Brian and Justin's relationship". UNUSUAL POV, I LOVE YOU.
The Other Gus
By Severina
* * *
Once upon a time, I was loved. Cuddled and kissed and brought to summer camp. Sure, Justin played with his Transformers and his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but it was me he confessed his troubles to when the lights went out, and me he (almost permanently) stained with raspberry Kool-Aid when he was trying to give me a drink. It was me he loved the most. His teddy bear. His Gus.
Then the inevitable happened.
My Justin grew up.
For some toys, that means a trip to the charity bin. Or a table at a yard sale with a tag stuck on your toe marked “twenty five cents”. For me, it meant being crammed at the bottom of a stuffy cardboard box and packed away for an eternity.
When the box was shifted to a new place, I didn’t get my hopes up. I’d been moved from place to place to place before, and the tape on my box always remained sealed.
This time, I can hear Justin chattering excitedly with someone… Daphne? Yes, that’s her laugh. I remember Daphne. She used to put pink barrettes on my ears and make me dance with her Barbies.
I hate Daphne.
Now, they’re chatting about “Britin” (which is apparently Justin’s new home) and “Brian” (who is apparently Justin’s new roommate, and I sure hope he‘s quieter than that guy in New York who talked in his sleep and kept me awake for all hours.) And then the talk and laughter fades away when Daphne leaves and Justin just hums quietly to himself as he works.
And then… a thin slant of light permeates the dark corner of the box where I lay.
My heart races. Yes, teddy bears have a heart. At least, those that have been loved certainly do!
Justin’s fingers pluck me from the bottom of the box. And he smiles at me. He brushes a stray piece of lint from my head, and my heart swells. He’s grown up tall and strong and beautiful.
And he places me carefully atop the burnished oak desk in the bedroom. My new home.
* * *
Justin is hanging clothes in the huge walk-in closet when the bedroom door opens. He glances up and smiles, his whole face lighting up. He glows, and it’s wonderful to see. “Hey,” he says as he walks over to give the newcomer a kiss.
I quickly deduce that this must be Brian.
My Justin has done well for himself.
“Hey,” Brian says when they break the kiss. He squeezes Justin’s shoulder before turning away to shrug off his tie, and his gaze takes in the multitude of boxes in various stages of disarray. A vein in his forehead twitches. I have a feeling Brian doesn‘t like clutter. “How’d the unpacking go?” he asks, his light tone belying the twitch.
“Pretty good,” Justin says, his head buried in another box and his voice muffled. “Daphne came by to help out.”
“I can see that she was an immense asset to--” Brian begins… and then his eyes light on me. And widen incredulously. “What the fuck is that?” he asks sharply.
“What?” Justin’s head pops up from behind Brian’s shoulder. When he sees that Brian is just looking at me, he relaxes. And pops Brian a good one in the shoulder. “Fuck, Brian! I thought you saw a cockroach or something.”
“What is it?” Brian repeats, enunciating every syllable.
I think I might be in trouble.
Justin blinks. “I was assuming that was a rhetorical question.”
“Never assume.”
“I’ve had that stuffed animal since I was two weeks old,” Justin explains, quite patiently in my humble opinion. “There’s a lot of sentimental value. Now that I’m finally settled -- now that we’re finally settled, in our own place, for good, I thought it was the best time to--”
“To display an old, rotted, presumably flea-ridden piece of trash?” Brian finishes. He points a finger and makes to prod at my belly, while I inwardly gape in astonishment. Flea-ridden! How dare he!
“Don’t touch him!”
Brian hand stops in mid-air and his mouth quirks in amusement. “Him?”
Justin hand scratches at the back of his neck, a gesture he‘s been doing since childhood. I feel a rush of warmth for my boy. “Look, he’s been around for a lot of years and I just don’t want him getting wrecked.”
Brian looks back at me critically. The appraising look in those eyes is almost enough to make a stuffed animal squirm.
“Seventy five percent of the fur is gone and it’s missing an eye,” he says slowly, “and you’re worried about it getting wrecked.”
“Fuck off,” Justin says, but he laughs sheepishly and looks at me and I know that he’s seeing me as I was in my heyday, all bright yellow fuzz and shiny green eyes. Back when he used to tuck me underneath his elbow when he went to bed, or prop me up on his desk and make rudimentary sketches of me in the back of his colouring books.
“Marriage is about compromise,” Justin says.
“We’re not married,” Brian answers quickly.
And Justin just raises an eyebrow and smiles.
Brian sighs and looks put upon. I have a feeling that with Justin around, he does that a lot. “All right,” Brian says, “you can keep it--”
“Gee, thanks,” Justin interjects sarcastically.
“--but that means that I get the blue venetian terrazzo marble in the master bath.”
“No fucking way!” Justin protests. “Every time I take a piss I’ll feel like I’m in the cast of The Little Mermaid!”
I don’t have any idea who this mermaid is of whom Justin speaks, but I mentally frown anyway. No underwater urchin is going to intrude on my turf!
Brian crosses his arms and presses his lips together. “That’s the deal.”
And Justin looks like he’s going to argue -- and boy, have I seen him argue; my Justin and his mother had some doozies back in the day, let me tell you -- but then Justin just blinks slowly and steps forward and presses his hand flat against Brian’s chest.
“How about this deal?” he asks, and pushes lightly, and Brian lets himself be steered toward the big old four poster bed. “How about I give you the best blowjob of your life, and you stop giving me shit?” Justin asks, and pushes again.
Brian topples lightly back onto the bed and Justin quickly climbs on top of him.
I’m intrigued.
“The best of my life, huh?” Brian smiles up at my boy.
“You got it,” Justin answers, and then his fingers are unhurriedly sliding down the zipper on Brian’s trousers, and his hand grips… and then he lowers his face to… and… his lips wrap around… and… oh my.
Oh my.
I would close my eyes if I could.
But I really don’t want to.
* * *
Later, when Brian is gasping and Justin is lying beside him with a very self-assured and slightly cocky smile on his face -- and when I am through cursing teddy bear manufacturers worldwide for not making me anatomically correct -- Brian rolls over and nudges Justin with his elbow.
“You named it, didn’t you?” he teases.
Justin doesn‘t take the bait. “Doesn’t every kid name their toys?”
Brian glances away, toward me and then up, to the ceiling. Beyond, if he could see it. He lifts a shoulder dismissively. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Please,” Justin says. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a favourite toy like that when you were a kid.”
Brian is silent. I curse Justin for opening his big mouth. I love the kid, but sometimes he just doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Okay,” Brian says, finally. “I won’t tell you.”
Justin opens his mouth and then closes it again. And instead of speaking, he smoothes a palm up Brian’s chest, to his neck, to his chin, and turns Brian’s face gently to his. And then he kisses him, long and sweet and soft, and even a poor little stuffed animal with only one clouded glass eye can see Brian melting beneath him. And then--
“His name is Gus,” Justin whispers against Brian’s lips.
And Brian laughs -- I don’t know why, Gus is a perfectly lovely name! -- and pulls Justin closer and then his hand moves down to cup Justin’s behind and… he slides his fingers… and there is… and Justin moans as Brian rolls on top of him… and… oh my.
Oh my.
I think I’m going to like living here.
.
Author: severina2001
Timeframe: Post Season Five
Word Count: 1428
Rating: R?
Authors Notes: For mdlaw, who requested "one of your Unusual POV's that emphasizes Brian and Justin's relationship". UNUSUAL POV, I LOVE YOU.
The Other Gus
By Severina
* * *
Once upon a time, I was loved. Cuddled and kissed and brought to summer camp. Sure, Justin played with his Transformers and his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but it was me he confessed his troubles to when the lights went out, and me he (almost permanently) stained with raspberry Kool-Aid when he was trying to give me a drink. It was me he loved the most. His teddy bear. His Gus.
Then the inevitable happened.
My Justin grew up.
For some toys, that means a trip to the charity bin. Or a table at a yard sale with a tag stuck on your toe marked “twenty five cents”. For me, it meant being crammed at the bottom of a stuffy cardboard box and packed away for an eternity.
When the box was shifted to a new place, I didn’t get my hopes up. I’d been moved from place to place to place before, and the tape on my box always remained sealed.
This time, I can hear Justin chattering excitedly with someone… Daphne? Yes, that’s her laugh. I remember Daphne. She used to put pink barrettes on my ears and make me dance with her Barbies.
I hate Daphne.
Now, they’re chatting about “Britin” (which is apparently Justin’s new home) and “Brian” (who is apparently Justin’s new roommate, and I sure hope he‘s quieter than that guy in New York who talked in his sleep and kept me awake for all hours.) And then the talk and laughter fades away when Daphne leaves and Justin just hums quietly to himself as he works.
And then… a thin slant of light permeates the dark corner of the box where I lay.
My heart races. Yes, teddy bears have a heart. At least, those that have been loved certainly do!
Justin’s fingers pluck me from the bottom of the box. And he smiles at me. He brushes a stray piece of lint from my head, and my heart swells. He’s grown up tall and strong and beautiful.
And he places me carefully atop the burnished oak desk in the bedroom. My new home.
* * *
Justin is hanging clothes in the huge walk-in closet when the bedroom door opens. He glances up and smiles, his whole face lighting up. He glows, and it’s wonderful to see. “Hey,” he says as he walks over to give the newcomer a kiss.
I quickly deduce that this must be Brian.
My Justin has done well for himself.
“Hey,” Brian says when they break the kiss. He squeezes Justin’s shoulder before turning away to shrug off his tie, and his gaze takes in the multitude of boxes in various stages of disarray. A vein in his forehead twitches. I have a feeling Brian doesn‘t like clutter. “How’d the unpacking go?” he asks, his light tone belying the twitch.
“Pretty good,” Justin says, his head buried in another box and his voice muffled. “Daphne came by to help out.”
“I can see that she was an immense asset to--” Brian begins… and then his eyes light on me. And widen incredulously. “What the fuck is that?” he asks sharply.
“What?” Justin’s head pops up from behind Brian’s shoulder. When he sees that Brian is just looking at me, he relaxes. And pops Brian a good one in the shoulder. “Fuck, Brian! I thought you saw a cockroach or something.”
“What is it?” Brian repeats, enunciating every syllable.
I think I might be in trouble.
Justin blinks. “I was assuming that was a rhetorical question.”
“Never assume.”
“I’ve had that stuffed animal since I was two weeks old,” Justin explains, quite patiently in my humble opinion. “There’s a lot of sentimental value. Now that I’m finally settled -- now that we’re finally settled, in our own place, for good, I thought it was the best time to--”
“To display an old, rotted, presumably flea-ridden piece of trash?” Brian finishes. He points a finger and makes to prod at my belly, while I inwardly gape in astonishment. Flea-ridden! How dare he!
“Don’t touch him!”
Brian hand stops in mid-air and his mouth quirks in amusement. “Him?”
Justin hand scratches at the back of his neck, a gesture he‘s been doing since childhood. I feel a rush of warmth for my boy. “Look, he’s been around for a lot of years and I just don’t want him getting wrecked.”
Brian looks back at me critically. The appraising look in those eyes is almost enough to make a stuffed animal squirm.
“Seventy five percent of the fur is gone and it’s missing an eye,” he says slowly, “and you’re worried about it getting wrecked.”
“Fuck off,” Justin says, but he laughs sheepishly and looks at me and I know that he’s seeing me as I was in my heyday, all bright yellow fuzz and shiny green eyes. Back when he used to tuck me underneath his elbow when he went to bed, or prop me up on his desk and make rudimentary sketches of me in the back of his colouring books.
“Marriage is about compromise,” Justin says.
“We’re not married,” Brian answers quickly.
And Justin just raises an eyebrow and smiles.
Brian sighs and looks put upon. I have a feeling that with Justin around, he does that a lot. “All right,” Brian says, “you can keep it--”
“Gee, thanks,” Justin interjects sarcastically.
“--but that means that I get the blue venetian terrazzo marble in the master bath.”
“No fucking way!” Justin protests. “Every time I take a piss I’ll feel like I’m in the cast of The Little Mermaid!”
I don’t have any idea who this mermaid is of whom Justin speaks, but I mentally frown anyway. No underwater urchin is going to intrude on my turf!
Brian crosses his arms and presses his lips together. “That’s the deal.”
And Justin looks like he’s going to argue -- and boy, have I seen him argue; my Justin and his mother had some doozies back in the day, let me tell you -- but then Justin just blinks slowly and steps forward and presses his hand flat against Brian’s chest.
“How about this deal?” he asks, and pushes lightly, and Brian lets himself be steered toward the big old four poster bed. “How about I give you the best blowjob of your life, and you stop giving me shit?” Justin asks, and pushes again.
Brian topples lightly back onto the bed and Justin quickly climbs on top of him.
I’m intrigued.
“The best of my life, huh?” Brian smiles up at my boy.
“You got it,” Justin answers, and then his fingers are unhurriedly sliding down the zipper on Brian’s trousers, and his hand grips… and then he lowers his face to… and… his lips wrap around… and… oh my.
Oh my.
I would close my eyes if I could.
But I really don’t want to.
* * *
Later, when Brian is gasping and Justin is lying beside him with a very self-assured and slightly cocky smile on his face -- and when I am through cursing teddy bear manufacturers worldwide for not making me anatomically correct -- Brian rolls over and nudges Justin with his elbow.
“You named it, didn’t you?” he teases.
Justin doesn‘t take the bait. “Doesn’t every kid name their toys?”
Brian glances away, toward me and then up, to the ceiling. Beyond, if he could see it. He lifts a shoulder dismissively. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Please,” Justin says. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a favourite toy like that when you were a kid.”
Brian is silent. I curse Justin for opening his big mouth. I love the kid, but sometimes he just doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Okay,” Brian says, finally. “I won’t tell you.”
Justin opens his mouth and then closes it again. And instead of speaking, he smoothes a palm up Brian’s chest, to his neck, to his chin, and turns Brian’s face gently to his. And then he kisses him, long and sweet and soft, and even a poor little stuffed animal with only one clouded glass eye can see Brian melting beneath him. And then--
“His name is Gus,” Justin whispers against Brian’s lips.
And Brian laughs -- I don’t know why, Gus is a perfectly lovely name! -- and pulls Justin closer and then his hand moves down to cup Justin’s behind and… he slides his fingers… and there is… and Justin moans as Brian rolls on top of him… and… oh my.
Oh my.
I think I’m going to like living here.
.