testdog65 (testdog65) wrote in qaf_challenges, @ 2007-02-21 09:32:00 |
|
|||
Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: I'll Tell You When I'm Upset...
Written By: sxysadie21
Timeline: Post Season 5
Rating: PG-13, I suppose. There are a few choice words. Not much.
Warnings: Character Death. Sadness possible. Nothing in depth. Main character.
Summary: Justin tries to get Brian to show his emotions. Good luck, Sunshine!
Author's Notes: There could be more, possibly. It ended abruptly. But this is where the muses gave up. Also, thanks to bestmixtape and sita_moonlight for the help!
I could feel my body tensing, as my teeth held my bottom lip firmly. "Fuck." I uttered. I groaned as the phone rang once again. "Just fucking tell him we're busy." I panted out between moans, shoving the phone towards Brian's hand.
"Mikey!" he snapped into the phone, not missing a thrust. He balanced the phone against his shoulder, smacking my hand away from my throbbing cock.
"Brian!" I yelled out loudly. I opened my eyes wider, my heart skipping a beat as I watched his face fall as I struggled to sit up. I gasped as he pulled out suddenly, without a warning, reaching for a towel.
"I'll be right there," he said softly, hanging up.
"Brian…"
"I have to go," he said under his breath, tugging his pants on.
I moved to the end of the bed, crawling towards him. "Brian!" I wanted to scream at myself for sounding so needy, but he had me worried, damnit. "Tell me what's going on!"
He shrugged his shirt on quickly, sitting down on the end of the bed, his back to me as he slid his shoes on. "It's Deb," he said finally.
"What?" I felt my voice catch in my throat.
"Deb and Carl were in an accident." He grabbed his jacket, throwing it on. "Mikey's at the hospital. I have to go." He kept saying that, but his tone wasn't changing. His tone was telling me nothing. It was just Brian – no emotions.
"Hold on!" I growled, throwing my clothes on quickly. I wasn't going to just sit around and wait for them to call with news.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hadn't paid much attention when we came in. I merely know he sat down on the couch. I put away the food from Michael and Ben's, changed my clothes, poured Brian a drink and then noticed he hadn't moved. He hadn't even removed his jacket.
"It was a nice service." I handed him the drink and sat down next to him. There was no movement or sound from his direction for what felt like an eternity. I turned towards him, tucking my leg under me. "It was nice that Mel and Linds made it out." I saw him sneer slightly, still not taking so much as a sip of his drink.
"Yes, Sunshine. It was all so nice."
I took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant, Bri—" I started, but he cut me off.
"It's so nice to get us all together in a room to share our utter and irreconcilable grief." I saw his eyes roll. "And Thank God! Thank God we complimented the occasion with cold cuts." He took the drink in one large swig, before slamming the glass down on the coffee table.
"Brian," I felt like I had said his name a hundred times in the past few days. "It's alright if you're upset. Fuck. We're all upset!" I could feel the tears stinging my eyes.
"I'm not."
"She was like a mother to you." I started.
"Like. She wasn't my mother."
"Why can't you just admit you're upset. She was like ALL of our mothers." It was more of a statement, than a question when it left my mouth. I had given up attempting to fight the tears off at this point. I was torn between wanting to hold it together, and tell Brian it was fine if he was upset and the alternative, which was losing it all together.
"I will."
"See? Was that so hard?" I felt I had won a small victory. I brushed a tear off my cheek. "We loved her."
"No. And when I am upset. I'll tell you." He smirked. "But I'm not."
"Of course not," I sat back, biting my tongue. "Why would you be sad about it? Why would you show any emotions, period!? God forbid you be upset about it at all!"
"I am upset at how much time I could have spent fucking your brains out that we have wasted talking about the munchers and cold cuts."
"Jesus Brian! Can't you show some fucking emotions on this? Why are you fighting it so hard?" I choked back a sob. "Don't you care that you'll never go into the diner and see her there again? And what about Christmas?" I could feel my voice getting louder. "Who's going to make you show up for dinner?" I was suddenly struck at the thought of never having a large "family" gathering during the holidays again.
"Yes," he sneered. "Who will dress in tacky holiday clothes and make us hang fucking tinsel on the tree?"
"Just forget it," I stalked off towards the bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week after Deb's funeral, I woke to an empty bed in the middle of the night. I said nothing until it had happened three times in that same week.
"Where were you last night?" I poured a glass of orange juice, turning to look over my shoulder at him.
He looked at me from behind the paper, taking a long sip of coffee. "From the way you gingerly got out of bed this morning, I figured you would remember me being buried in your ass." He shrugged in a mocking way. "But if you can't remember, I could.."
"SAVE IT." I snapped. "You've been gone every time I've woken up this week."
He laughed, setting down both the paper and his coffee cup. "I've been at Babylon. Going over things. With Ted nonetheless. Don't confuse that for fun, Sunshine."
I let it drop, rinsing my glass in the sink before heading for the shower. I was having a hard enough time dealing with my own grief. I didn't know if I could fight him to let his out, too, at the moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next night, when I woke up, yet again, alone, I called Brian. "Damnit," I mumbled as I heard his cell phone ringing from the nightstand on his side of the bed.
I dialed Ted's number.
"Hullo?" He said, his voice full of sleep.
"Ted. Sorry." I cringed. "It's Justin. I just thought Brian might be with you, and he forgot his phone."
"Me?" He scoffed. "Why would the great Brian Kinney grace me with his presence at this hour of the night? Unless it was to order me to do something completely and utterly…"
"I get it." I moaned. "Where the fuck is he?" I said, almost to myself.
"Have you checked the office?"
"The office? Why would he be at the office? It's 2:45."
"I don't know. I don't ask the questions. Remember?" Ted laughed. "But the security guard asked me why Brian had been coming in every night so late."
"He's sneaking out to go to the office?" I asked incredulously.
"Maybe." Ted yawned into the phone. "He's been acting strange since…" He stopped.
"Since Deb. I know." I searched for my pants in the dark of the bedroom. "Thanks Ted. Sorry."
"No problem, Justin."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Fuck," I mumbled as I walked past the security guard. "Hey Frank." I said, rubbing my hands together. "It's cold." I said, not sure why the obvious statement was necessary. But the words seemed comforting. When I wasn't talking, I was worrying. Everyone had noticed a change in Brian, not just me. But he wouldn't talk about it. There was no chance he was going to admit it to anyone. Especially me. And not Michael. If he wouldn't talk to either one of us ...
"He's upstairs." Frank said, a look flashing across his eyes, his voice bringing me back to reality. "And he seems …"
"Strange?" I asked.
"Yeah."
I nodded a goodbye and headed up the stairs. I didn't want to risk him hearing me coming up the elevator.
I stood near the doorway of his glass office watching him, a cigarette in one of his hands, a picture in his other. I watched for at least twenty minutes before he got up and started towards the door, after safely tucking the picture into his desk.
Should I stay? Ask him what he's doing? Or should I take off for home, and try to beat him back there? I thought about staying. I wanted to. But I was sure it would end in a blow out fight and I wasn't prepared mentally for physically for that. Brian had been acting a bit strange. But nothing indicated it was from Deb's death. So I knew if I pushed the issue the floodgates might open. And instead of any hurt or anger at her death, it would all be directed at me.
I ran past Frank. "Bye Frank. Our secret?" I yelled out.
He nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I waited a week. I spoke to Carl. I spoke to Michael. I even stole a few things from Debbie's room, and rifled through her cookbooks and recipe cards that still littered the kitchen. And then I waited, until he left. I pretended I was asleep, until I heard the door click shut and then headed for the kitchen.
An hour later, I called Frank. "He's still there, right?"
"For the last 45 minutes." Frank replied.
"Thanks!"
I packed my bag and hurried out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frank smiled as I finally made it past him, a short while later.
I used the elevator, not worried about Brian figuring out I was there this time, and stopped right before his door, my hands full.
I knocked as best I could with my right hand wrapped around a pot.
"What the fuck?" He opened the door quickly, his face full of what seemed to be both anger and confusion.
"Hey," I shoved past him, setting the pot down on his desk and pulled off my messenger bag. "Shut the door." I said firmly.
He shut it and walked towards me. "Have you lost your fucking mind, Justin? It's 3 am."
"No. I didn't lose my mind."
"And what is that…?" He wrinkled up his nose as if he was trying to place the smell.
"It's for after this." I dug inside my messenger bag and pulled out a joint. "From Debbie's stash."
He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"And," I pulled out two forks from my bag. "Her cheesey tuna casserole." I pulled the lid off.
He looked at me again, his face set in stone. "I'm not upset."
"Oh," I pulled out a simple silver frame from my bag and shoved it at him. "And this is for the picture of you, her, and Michael that you keep hiding in your desk drawer."
I pulled out a lighter. "Should I light it? Or do you want to?"
He looked down at the frame and then back up at me. "You are almost as bossy as her."