This is my 2006 Christmas ficlet for lynnska75. Enjoy :)
Edit: Comments are now enabled (don't know what happened there anyway other than me being stupid).
Title: The Christmas Wish
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Type: Romance, Drama
Pairings: Brian / Justin
Warnings: POV. This is slash, as in two males in a relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, leave now.
Disclaimer: All QaF characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No profit is being made, no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: In the aftermath of Stockwell's defeat, Brian has to face a problem of a quite different sort.
Notes: Set between S3 and S4, my timeline - my rules.
Beta reader: Domi ... you're a gem :)
The Christmas Wish
This is just royally fucked! I simply had to get involved. Of course. And not in a small way, no. I had to go for broke with that stupid ad, and now... Now the fucking Holidays are approaching and I'm broke. More than broke. I'm in depths up to my ears, and as if that's not enough, I have to drag him down with me.
He's working double-shifts at the diner so we have at least some food in the fridge, paying no heed to his hand that's simply not good enough for hours and hours of bussing and serving, and whatever else he's doing down in Debbie's little kingdom. Fuck!
When he got home today, he looked like death warmed over. And there's shit I can do about it. Plus, like I said, the Hols are coming up, and there's no way I can show him ... what I intended to show him. It's really not the art supply that I'm grieving over here. Even though, I think my little romantic twink would have been fucking moved by the gesture. Yeah, he's been suspended, but so what? He's still an artist, and if he can't draw and paint at P.I.F.A. ... well, the loft's big enough, isn't it?
But that's not the thing that pissed me off most when I had to return it. It's the tickets to Vermont... I'm not as dumb as some people – Mel, Ted, even Deb – think. I know that our little trip that didn't take place because I had to save my ass and fly to Chicago was a deciding point back then. Afterwards, it felt like ... he'd already left. Shit! I really don't want to think about that time, and more to the point the stuff that happened later.
Anyway, I wanted to show him that this time, things are different. And isn't that God's own truth? They are different, but not the way... Fuck! Get over it, Kinney. No use crying over spilled milk, or trips that aren't going to happen.
The thing is, after that little monologue he held in my office, I don't think he's expecting anything from me – even when I still had my money. And that smarts. It's as if he's accepted that I simply can't move on from the Brian Fucking Kinney legend, and that really is fucked! Not to mention that I can't live up to that legend anyway right now. I don't have a car to get me to my usual haunts, nor the money to pay for a cab. I only have... I only have him. And there's no only where he's concerned. Shit!
He's here, he stayed at a time when I don't even know how to pay my next phone bill, not to mention my debts. He's here, but then again, he isn't. Cause I'm too much of a coward to ask... But hey! It's Christmas, and maybe Santa will grant me my most secret Christmas wish for once. Never happened before, but who knows...
I touch his shoulder and shake him because time's of the essence – yeah, cause it's only a question of time before I chicken out of this again. "Justin?" He blinks once, twice, and then his eyes open and he smiles at me. And then he does this fucking adorable – I didn't just think something he does is adorable, did I? – thing. He's rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and raises his eyebrow at me in that way he stole from me.
Okay, here it goes. "You know, I've been thinking..." His eyebrows disappear into his hairline. Fucker! "You know how empty the loft is now that all my lovely furniture is gone..." He nods and begins to stroke my back as if I'm a pathetic little faggot and will lose it any moment now. "You might be able to help me with that." Now I have his attention. "By making a mess all over the place with your stuff..." I'm biting my lower lip, and no, my heart isn't beating so fast I'm afraid it'll burst out of my chest...
The little shit just smirks. "Let me just translate that to plain English, okay?" Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? "You're asking me to move back in, aren't you?" I'm tempted to stick my tongue out at him, or give him the finger. But I settle for huffing and shrugging. "Well, I have to think about it... There are a few things we have to agree on, you know?" No more rules, Justin. Please. No more fucking rules. "Actually, just two things. I don't want to come home again to find you fucking some trick in our bed." Just rub my nose in it, why don't you? I fucking know that was a shitty thing to do, thanks so very much! "Furthermore I want..." I'm not holding my breath, I'm not! "...no more fucking rules."
Then what the fuck is... It's not a rule, Kinney. It's a question of courtesy. Just think of what you'd do if your places were reversed and you'd come home to find him with ... not the fiddler. No more fucking musicians. I'm nodding before I even realise it. "Good. Now Mom's Christmas present will be even better..." Why am I fearing for my life now? "And I ... I can send another letter to Santa thanking him for granting me my wish..." He's yawning that last sentence, and – God help us – snuggles up to me, and the moment his head comes to rest on my shoulder, he's out cold again.
And I can't help grinning like a fucking loony – despite being terrified of the gift from my ... my ... my mother-in-law. Cause I can only agree with him. This time, Santa apparently deemed me worthy. He might not have been able to make my family love me, if only for a moment or two. But he fulfilled this – my most secret Christmas wish.
Tags: fan-fiction (qaf)
Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: Kim Wilde - You Came