testdog65 (testdog65) wrote in qaf_challenges, @ 2007-02-20 19:26:00 |
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Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: Space
Written By: starryskies
Timeline: Season 4
Rating:. PG-13
Summary: Brian Kinney didn’t care about anyone but himself. So this clearly wasn’t happening. He wasn’t standing in front of his window, worrying about some blond twink.
When Brian bought the loft, one of the first things he was attracted to was the window. He loved that he could look over the entire city through it. It felt powerful and peaceful.
Brian Kinney was a superhero; Brian Kinney owned Pittsburgh. He could control outcomes of elections, fuck any man he wanted (any woman, too, but… eww), and look amazing doing it. No Kryptonite could stop him. He was a big, fat, fucking success… unlike, say, his father.
And this man, this god, found himself looking out his window over his city and felt scared. Brian Kinney didn’t do fear. Brian Kinney didn’t care about anyone but himself, either. So this clearly wasn’t happening. He wasn’t standing in front of his window, worrying about some blond twink.
But this wasn’t some blond twink, it was Justin. Fucking Justin. Fucking kid, running around Pittsburgh with a gun, chasing all the ghosts and misplaced breeders he could find. Brian could see all of Pittsburgh out his window, but he couldn’t find Justin.
He pressed his forehead against the window and watched his breath fog the glass. Brian Kinney didn’t believe in god, because Brian Kinney wasn’t weak. Brian Kinney didn’t need anyone but himself.
Brian looked down onto Tremont Street and whispered, “Please.”
Brian Kinney shook his head and returned to his bedroom. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t going to sit around fretting, waiting for his lover to return. Justin would come back or he wouldn’t. It was his choice, and Brian Kinney wouldn’t care either way.
Brian lay down on his bed and lit a joint. He watched the smoke drift to the ceiling and tried to concentrate on it.
He heard the sound of the door opening, and watched Justin walk tentatively to the bedroom. Brian didn’t move. He remembered the nights after the bashing, when Justin was too terrified to occupy the same space as him, but too scared to go anywhere else. He’d hated those days.
Justin stood in front of the bed and looked at Brian. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
“I confronted Chris Hobbes.”
Brian stared at him for a long moment. “Are you happy now?”
Justin took off his clothes, tossing his pink tank top out of the bedroom. No gun. He climbed into bed, and lay on his side facing Brian. “I’m okay.”
Brian held Justin’s stare. “Really?”
Justin sighed. “I had a gun down Chris Hobbes’s throat, and I didn’t pull the trigger. It didn’t do anything, though. It didn’t take away the bashing, or give me back the memory of prom. I didn’t feel powerful, I felt… just like him. And I don’t want to be like that.”
“Then don’t be.”
“Yeah, I know.” Justin pressed his face against Brian’s neck, as Brian put his arm around him. “Thank you.”
Brian just held him a little tighter, filling in the space between them, and closed his eyes. He was tired; he hadn’t been sleeping well lately, but he felt like that was about to change.