|testdog65 (testdog65) wrote in qaf_challenges,|
@ 2006-12-31 18:59:00
Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: Mustard Yellow
Written By: vlredreign
Summary: Justin is having a hard time coming up with a gift for Brian
Author's Notes: Thanks to my awesome beta, who looked this over at the last minute. I love you.
It all started when I ran out of yellow paint.
Not just any yellow, oh no. It was mustard yellow, the color that I use when I’m painting Brian’s eyes.
So, I change into something a little less paint splattered, and head down to the art supply store.
Which is closed.
I glance at my watch, and realize that it’s a little before 2. AM. Well, of course it’s closed, it closed almost six hours ago. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I need to get this finished, seeing as how Christmas is only two days away.
I’d dragged Daphne all over Pittsburgh trying to find the perfect gift for Brian. Yeah, that was fun. Like a goddamned case of herpes.
We went to the mall, to Torso (what the fuck was I thinking? Daphne dropped a hundred bucks, and I got nothing), even to Slings and Eros, where I thought I’d found the perfect gift. It was a gift box, full of nifty stuff for a rainy day. Or a sunny day. Fuck it, did Brian need a reason to stay in and fuck? I actually bought it, wrapped it, and was all set to reap the rewards for my cleverness, until I happened to be walking with Brian a few weeks later, and we passed the window display.
“The fuck??” Brian said, backing up. He looked at the open gift box in the window, full of anal beads, paddles, lube and other fun things, and snorted. “The gift for the idiot who couldn’t think of anything better to give for Christmas.”
“What? You wouldn’t want to get that?” I asked.
“What the fuck for? I’ve already got all that shit. You need a reminder?”
Three hours and a sore ass later, I surreptitiously removed the tag from the box, and wrote ‘To Emmett, From Justin.”
My next bright idea was a bottle of fifty-year-old bottle of scotch. How could I go wrong? Brian loved scotch. And for once, I had the money to spend on it. I was pretty happy with myself, until Bennett Crawford came to town.
Brian thought that it would be a good idea to take me to a business dinner with him. Any other time, I might have gone out of my way to find some way to get out of a situation like that, but really, how often would Brian ever invite me to join him for dinner with a client?
The evening was going pretty well, Brian in his element. I didn’t get a chance to watch him in action - well, not that kind of action - very often, and that night I realized why Kinnetik was so fucking successful. It wasn’t just that Brian did his homework when chasing a new account, it was …Brian. He knew exactly what to say to any one to convince them that they couldn’t live without his services.
I knew I couldn’t.
Watching him gave me the biggest hard on.
Which promptly went away when the after dinner drinks came.
Brian took one swallow of his scotch and waved the maitre’d over. He asked to see the bottle, and wouldn’t you know it, it was the same fucking bottle that I’d bought for him. Of course, I managed to pick a brand that Brian hated.
I really wanted to drop my head onto the table and bang it repeatedly.
Instead, I tagged the bottle for Ted.
Two minutes later, I re-tagged it for Carl. I forgot that Ted was dry these days.
Finally, I decided to do something totally unoriginal. Paint him a goddamned picture.
Which, if I may say so, was going fabulously well until I ran out of fucking mustard yellow.