Title: Briefly Yours
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Genre: Drama, angst
Rating: M / FRM
Summary: Snippets reflecting the events of the show, during the five seasons. Short glimpses of love and life on Liberty Avenue.
Warnings: Slash, language, references to violence, death, drug abuse, underage sex, drunkenness, and attempted rape.
Disclaimer: The characters, original story, and the places belong to Showtime and the makers of the series. No harm intended; no profit made. I’m just borrowing.
Beta: Mythra (mythras_fire)
Author’s Notes: Takes place after Season 1, since Justin has already left St. James Academy. Brian’s POV.
“Justin, you do understand this is illegal, right?”
“Like what you do never is.”
“Good point. But this still doesn’t make you a better homosexual.”
“Then I guess you have to teach me a little better – and harder.”
“Harder?” There’s the way he says it that makes me think of something completely different than what I’m about to engage in.
“Mm…” Justin hums, thoughtfully. He’s busy digging out equipment from his bag, crouching on the ground, but it’s hard to miss the smile on his lips, however dark it is out here. I can always tell when he wears that smile; self-satisfied, flirting, and expectant. He knows that once we get back to my loft, he is going to get it ‘hard’. The lesson, I mean. Can’t keep from doing my best to educate him, or else I’ll be stuck with him forever.
Not that he would mind, I think. Not at the moment, anyway; one day he’ll change his mind, I’m sure. But for now we’re both enjoying the ride.
“Come on, Brian. Help me up,” Justin says, his voice hushed, but still insistent enough to get me to move immediately. I clasp my hands together, and boost him up when he steps on them. He’s smirking, yet focused, carefully climbing up the fire escape ladder on the wall of the building.
I watch him go, promising myself that if he falls I won’t even try to catch him. What makes me nervous is that I need to tell myself that to begin with. After all, it should be clear as day…
He’s up the ladder now, balancing on the edge of the roof. Quick fingers work in a patter he’s been practicing since he decided to do this. I watch him like a hawk, still dreading he’ll topple over. My ears are the only part of me doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my whole presence: keeping watch.
The thought itself is ridiculous. Just imagine it: Brian Kinney, the most desired piece of flesh – and equipment – on Liberty Avenue; a top-ranking advertiser with infallible sense of style and glamour, keeping watch while his teenage-something is committing a hideous crime for the honor of the whole gay community. Okay, perhaps I went a little over the top back there somewhere, but who’s going to fight me over it? Well, Justin would, even if he knows I don’t do ‘boyfriends’… And yes: that would have been the part that would’ve arrested his attention, not the rest of the exaggerated bullshit.
Still, I’m his partner in crime here, and honestly, there’s no place I would rather be.
There’s a sound from above and I look up, spotting Justin on his way down. I reach up and grab him about the waist when he drops down the last few feet.
He packs up his stuff and I glance up, unable to keep the grin from my face. He soon joins me, standing and watching his handiwork. It looks brilliant, in a way. Justin’s learned some important lessons already, though he had this spirit of rebellion and dream-pursuing to begin with. Whatever I’ll teach him, he will always be the one standing up for others, openly. Or not so openly, like tonight, but I’ll let it slide.
Maybe I’m proud.
I nudge him on the shoulder, and together we spring away like kids from the scene of their mischief. When we break through the bushes lining the area, we can’t refrain from laughing anymore. It feels good to let go like this, to see his face lit up, knowing my own is a mirror image. It is these moments between us I embrace most – after the fucking, of course. Nothing can compare to that… But this moment is so… liberating. He doesn’t expect anything from me; nothing I’m not willing to give.
He keeps laughing when I scoop him into my arms. He’s still making that funny sound between a giggle and a chuckle when I lift him up a little, swirling us around in some strange, morbid dance. He seemingly cannot remain silent, but my lips on his shut him up, finally. Not that I don’t enjoy this display of life in him; but at times it’s just better to vanish from the crime scene discretely, and his tittering won’t allow us an unnoticed exit. Still, he doesn’t mind my means of shutting him up, and in the end I’m the one fighting to breathe when his lips refuse to leave mine.
In the next day’s newspaper it stands out from the front page:
In the picture that is taken of the side of the St. James Academy building, there’s a flag of rainbow colors hanging from the drainpipe following the edge of the roof.
Yes: we’re such slinky bastards, I think as I fold the paper again and sip from my cup of coffee. But it was Justin’s idea.