Gusmas 2012 Title:City of Dreams Author:frantic_quest Prompts:Red, Life Isn't Fair, Night Sky Pic, Here in Town, If At First, Jet Lag, Such a Shame, On the Outside, Smells Like Snow Notes: I wanted to write a full series but ended up sick for most of December, so rather than miss Gusmas, I decided to post what I have and finish the rest later. Drabylon Dollars and Qaf Land member. Happy New Year, fandom! 1.
It started with a spicy burrito from Dos Caminos Soho
Brian had wanted Thai.
But in a moment of fucking weakness after receiving a Justin blow job that would have scored a Gold Medal in the Sexual Olympic Games, he had indulged the lad by allowing him to choose the night's take-out.
He remembered waking up hours later, chest on fire, gasping pathetically for breath, stumbling to the bathroom, reaching for the antacid, and falling to the cold tile floor instead.
He heard Justin calling him, begging him not to leave.
Suddenly, a voice shouted, "Code Red!"
What the fuck?
Justin stared in horror as the double doors swung shut behind the hospital gurney carrying Brian's body, a team of medical personnel surrounding him like a swarm of locusts.
He felt his knees begin to buckle, and staggered to the nearest wall, sliding slowly to the floor, back pressed to its unforgiving surface.
This had to be a joke; a fucking cruel cosmic prank orchestrated by some demented version of fate. There was no other way he'd accept that what was happening beyond those doors resembled reality.
He remembered one of Brian's favorite sayings.
"Sometimes life isn't fucking fair, Sunshine."
Brian opened his eyes and frowned at the night sky that slowly came into focus above him.
He made a fist with both hands, an uneasy feeling filling him as he realized his fingers were gripping warm, soft grains of sand.
He heard the gentle rhythmic sound of waves lapping upon the shore, and sat up with a start.
Where in fucking hell was he?
He heard music off in the distance, and turning his head to look he saw a vaguely familiar resort where many half-dressed men were laughing and dancing in the light of a beach bonfire.
4 & 5
Michael stood with the phone against his ear long after there was nothing but silence on the other end.
The complete stillness of his body pulled Ben's attention away from the papers he was grading.
"Michael?" He questioned, going to stand next to his husband. "What's wrong?"
Getting no response, he grabbed Michael's arms and gave him a slight shake, relieved when Michael took a deep breath, finally looking at Ben.
"Brian loved to see him smile," he told Ben sadly, "even if he didn't want to admit it at first."
"Michael, what's going on? You're not making any sense."
"Justin's smile." Michael answered, like that explained everything. "Brian told me once that no matter how much shit life threw at Justin, it never kept him down for long. Sooner or later he'd bounce back, his smile like a great big 'Fuck you' to fate."
Ben's uneasiness and confusion grew. He'd thought Michael had been talking to Justin on the phone. "Michael, did something happen to Justin?"
Michael was scrolling through the contacts on his cell phone almost casually. "What? Oh, no. Justin's okay. Well, he's not hurt or anything like that."
"It's Brian. He's in the hospital."
"I don't care about hospital policy." Justin slammed his palm down onto the countertop. "I can get whatever paperwork you need in the morning to prove I have every right to be kept informed on Brian's condition."
The nurse sighed and started to explain the hospital's position once again.
Justin raised weary eyes to her face. "Please." He said quietly, shoulders bowed with the weight of his fear and frustration. "Put yourself in my place. I know they lost him more than once in the ambulance. What if he---?"
"Okay." She nodded, interrupting him. "Let me go find his doctor."
Brian walked down the beach toward the bonfire, feeling disoriented and jet lagged, unable to remember just how the hell he had ended up in Ibiza in the first place.
Justin was going to be fucking pissed at him when he got back to the resort. Not that he had to answer to the little shit, but obviously he had been partying a bit harder than he'd realized, and left their room without his cell.
Brian sighed, resigning himself to giving up his ass in apology, although he doubted he could avoid a Justin Taylor safety lecture after this fiasco.
Janice watched the blond man quietly looking out the window as she waited for the doctor to answer his page. She hated the endless bureaucracy that interfered far too often with her ability to provide comfort to a patient's loved one for lack of a piece of paper.
When these privacy policies were drafted by lawyers and administrators, no one ever took into consideration situations like the one being faced by Mr. Taylor.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth about being Mr. Kinney's partner.
She just hoped the doctor would have good news.
Brian cursed in frustration as he realized he didn't have a fucking key card anywhere on him.
He pinched his nose in annoyance, drawing a complete blank when he tried to remember their room number. Sunshine was so gonna kick his ass over this shit.
He walked over to the beach bar, scanning the bartender's faces but not feeling a spark of recognition for either of them.
He ordered a beer, grateful his all inclusive package apparently included alcohol, before turning around to survey the crowd for a familiar face.
"Come here often?"
Brian glanced to his left, promptly choking.
Justin hesitated in the doorway, afraid of what he might find after speaking to Brian's doctor.
But what he saw when he finally entered the room was simply Brian, lying unusually still and quiet, surrounded by machines, IV drip in one arm, wire leads snaking from his chest to a monitor, nothing that indicated just how close Justin had come to losing him...could lose him still according to the doctor.
Pulling up a chair, Justin sat, picked up one of Brian's limp hands, and taking a deep, shaky breath he started to talk.