Title: Always Mine
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Era: 2005- (after QAF)
Genre: Drama, angst
Rating: M / FRM
Summary: Imaginary snippets of what might have happened after the fifth season. Short glimpses of life and love on Liberty Avenue – and the world around it.
In a way connected with “Briefly Yours”.
Warnings: Slash, language, references to violence and underage sex, death, drug abuse, drunkenness, (and a lot else not perhaps mentioned here).
Disclaimer: The characters, original story, and the places belong to the makers, creators, and producers of the series – Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen, Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and Showcase. No harm intended; no profit made. I’m just borrowing.
Beta: Mythra (mythras_fire)
Author’s note: Justin’s POV.
It was all a coincidence.
My mom called me to find out if I had the key to our old house – she had to return it to the new owner. That’s when I also found out that she and Tucker were moving in together. Somehow she had forgotten to tell me that before. I went through my keys, found the one I was looking for – and another I didn’t even think I had anymore.
So, when I took an extended weekend trip to Pitts, I couldn’t resist the temptation.
I cannot say how I still had the key to Brian’s loft. Yet there I stood, on an early Thursday evening, in a hallway that was so familiar to me; before the door that I still know better than the one in my own place in New York.
I didn’t knock – nor did I tell him in advance that I was coming. After all, I had the key, so why bother to announce my arrival? And what kind of a surprise is one you know of in advance?
The place was silent when I stepped in. That was a relief of sorts, as he could have been in the middle of something. Not that I hadn’t seen that ‘something’ before. It just didn’t sit well with me, the idea of walking in on him like that.
In the loft the air smelled a little dense, and the lights were out and curtains drawn. I dropped my bag near the door and walked further in, greeted with clean kitchen and living room area. The bed was also made, no clothes lying around, and a trip to the bathroom confirmed my suspicion: Brian wasn’t here.
A trip to Liberty Diner had little information to offer about Brian and his whereabouts. The single thing I learned was that he was out of town on a business trip, not expected back before next Tuesday. Just my luck, as I had to be back to New York on Sunday evening.
I heard the latest events from the guys, told some stories of my own, and even got lured into having drinks and a game of pool at Woody’s. I turned down the invitation to Babylon, excusing myself as a tired traveller. It¬ wasn’t a complete lie, as I was pretty beat after a day with my family and then with the guys – not to forget Debbie. I also wanted some time ‘alone’. So, as soon as I got back to the loft, made myself ready for bed and settled down between the clean sheets, I dialled a number I hadn’t contacted in what seemed like years. It was perhaps only months, yes, but who was counting?
Several seconds passed before the line was answered.
“Where are you?” I asked with an equal smile I would hear in the other’s voice.
“Kansas, believe it or not,” Brian snorted.
“How are the steaks?” I had to ask.
“Fine. I will have a hard time working them off, though.”
“What? No entertainment for you in there to take care of the extra carbohydrates immediately?”
“Perhaps I’m getting picky, but no, not really. Where are you?”
“Where you should be.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “In your loft, in Pittsburgh. I had the keys, and thought to pay you a visit. Obviously, you weren’t here.”
“Why, are you upset? You sure sound like it.”
“I’m never ‘upset’.”
“So I thought.”
“But I think I am.”
“Upset. After five hectic months I supposedly have you in my bed – probably naked – but I’m not there to enjoy it.”
I shifted slightly, definitely hearing the disappointment, irritation, and heat in his voice. “I kinda feel sorry too, for you not being here. Even if I didn’t come to Pitts only to see you.”
“So I’m the second-best reason to come over, huh?” A faked mockery crawled through the line.
“You’re the bonus,” I smirked. “The kind of bonus that makes me think that a shitty trip will be worth taking. And perhaps it might lure me to come again.”
“Come again…” Brian hummed as if greatly satisfied by the words. “That would be the agenda of the night if I were there.”
“No doubt. Been there, done that.”
“And you always came back for more.”
“If you mention the word ‘come’ one more time, I’m going to cream your expensive satin sheets.”
“So you are in my bed!”
“Was there ever any question?”
“I like you on the sofa too… And against the kitchen sink.”
“In the shower, pressed against the stall…”
“… sprawled across the dinner table…”
“…against the wall by the door…”
“…spread open in the elevator when I’m too busy getting inside you to get inside the loft.”
“Gross, Brian. And we’ve never done that.”
“Gives us something to do later. When do you have to go back?”
Not to be defeated, he asks again: “When will you be back?”
There’s a note of hope in his voice, and I can just sigh, feeling guilty. “I don’t know…”
“Then I have to come to New York. I’ll call you in advance, though.”
“Do that. I won’t be disappointed again…”
“Can’t risk that artist’s temper of yours.” There was a brief pause, a sound of shuffling on the other end, and then Brian was back again. “Still willing to cream my expensive satin sheets?”
I smirked, slid a little further down on the bed, bent my legs and answered proudly: “Willing and able.”
It was time to memorize what we couldn’t do at the moment. We would live up to it later.