|testdog65 (testdog65) wrote in qaf_challenges,|
@ 2006-12-31 18:50:00
Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: Unavailable? Nah.
Written By: superren
Timeline: After 513.
Warnings: Only my complete inability to write a fluffy Christmas fic, though god knows, I tried.
Summary: Justin thinks about Christmas, makes a new friend in NYC, and forgets Brian's present back in his NYC apartment. Brian doesn't seem to mind.
Apparently all waiters in NYC are gay or working on something else while waiting tables. There's eight guys who work at the Bistro alongside Justin. Every single one has flirted or checked out his ass in within his first week working. One of them's named Sean, and he smiles at Justin a lot. They go for coffee, and it's a nice feeling to be in the beginning stages of a relationship, talking for hours. All that history to catch up on. It's been awhile since he's met someone who doesn't know all about his sordid, soap-opera past.
He misses Brian like he thought he would, and more. You idiot, he thinks. Leaving town doesn't automatically make you heart-whole, you know.
He paints a lot. Lots of angry blue strokes, and shadowed doorways, pink lights overhead and men with their backs turned to him. Once, he paints Brian in a fedora and a pinstripe suit. He paints himself in as a flapper, hair geometric and swinging. He has glitter on his cheekbones and the light is hitting his ski-slope nose just the way it used to at Babylon. He misses it fiercely, and in the morning, shoves the painting in the back of his closet, where all the products of drug-addled nights end up.
Sean invites him out to his favorite club, the Lizard Lounge, and keeps buying him drinks. Cut to the next morning, when Justin wakes up in Sean's bed with the taste of cock in his mouth and a splitting headache. Sean's still asleep, arm thrown over Justin, snoring gently.
It's not awkward at all. Sean gives him a ride to work and they finish out their shift only to go back to Justin's this time and fuck till three in the morning.
They start spending most of their time together, and in the midst of one late night fuck-fest turned gabfest, they get around to past relationships.
"So who was the first boy to break your heart?" Sean asks.
"Brian" But he put it back together again with a computer and a walk down the street, and a ridiculously huge house that's still sitting empty, according to Michael.
"So was he devastatingly handsome and unavailable?"
"Handsome, yes. Unavailable? Nah." After some stalking, of course.
"What about you?"
"His name was Gary." Sean sighs. "He was in eighth grade when I was in sixth. And he was really cute."
It may be the pot, or maybe the fact that this grown man once had a crush on an eighth grader named Gary, but Justin can't stop giggling.
"Oh please." says Sean, sounding a little offended "We can't all have soap opera romance."
And Justin still can't stop giggling.
He calls Brian at his office one day, and Brian answers ""Busy, busy, busy, Sunshine"
"Brian" he says in that tone, and he can practically hear Brian shift gears from yelling at the temps to talking to one of three people he actually likes talking to. He enjoys it slightly more than asserting his authority over college students unlucky enough to land an internship at Kinnetik, anyway.
"Hey. How's New York?"
"Entertaining. Awful. I can never get proper light."
"Uh huh" It's amazing, five years with Justin and he has no idea what the hell that means.
"So are you coming home for Christmas?"
"Yeah. I bought everyone presents."
"I got Deb a velvet painting of the city skyline, and a bunch of comic books you can't get in Pittsburgh for Michael. And tons of other stuff too"
"Don't you want to know what I got you?"
"If it's a velvet painting of cocks I am never having sex with you again"
"Please. You can't resist me"
Brian laughs here, which is his way of agreeing without saying yes.
"I got you a Prada cockring."
"No way" Brian deadpans. That's supposed to be an urban legend.
If Justin has actually gotten his hands on a Prada cockring, it would be the best Christmas ever. Like the Grinch, Brian grins wide and says ''Hurry up and get here soon then. I can't wait to open my present."
All the stores are playing Christmas music in the week leading up to the day. And Justin, cliche that he is, thinks about all the memorable Christmases in his life.
He's seven and still enamored with the idea of Christmas, and his whole world revolves around his parents and his new baby sister.
He's eleven and still milking the whole Santa myth for more presents even though he's known since he was about eight that Santa wasn't real.
He's sixteen, and the thing he wants most is a car, like Mark in his class at St. James got for Christmas this year.
He's almost eighteen and Christmas doesn't matter anymore, because he's with Brian now and all he wants is for Brian to say that he loves him.
Brian doesn't celebrate Christmas, because he sees enough of consumerist bullshit in the three months before the day. So Justin doesn't expect that much. He'll probably say 'come kiss me under the mistletoe' and fuck him into the mattress. And that'll be enough for Justin.
He's twenty-four and buying presents for his family for the first time in years. He never made a big deal of it before, but he's alone in New York, and he loves it, he really does. But he can't very well call and say he misses everyone and wants to come home. So he buys everyone gifts, carefully calculating how much he can spend this month and still eat once a day. He hopes, in the part of him that's still a naive girl, that he'll open his door on Christmas morning to find Brian standing there, like something out of a Sandra Bullock movie.
Possibly, he'll have flowers in his hands.
Cliches are cliches for a reason, and they live on despite what English teachers would like you to believe. Even in the hearts of men who should know better, by now.
Instead of Brian on his doorstep, it's Justin standing in front of the familiar sliding door on Christmas day.
Brian looks rumpled and there are tell-tale creases left over from sleep in his eyes.
Justin is half-hard anyway.
And then he remembers about the present.
"Oh crap. I forgot the cockring. I know exactly where it is too. On my easel, right next to my favorite horse-hair brush."
"Forget that and get your ass over here."
"Yes sir!" And Justin bounds over to the bed, to get on with celebrating Christmas properly.
Which they do. Four times.