mander3_swish (mander3_swish) wrote in qaf_giftxchnge, @ 2012-12-31 15:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2012 gift exchange |
Gift # 22 of 36
TO: guavejuice
FROM: gabe1990
TITLE: Stories of Christmas Past
GIFT REQUEST: post 513/canon-gapfiller, angst free, a bit shmoop
NOTE: So this is part of my 'A Beautiful Mistake' universe. You don't really have to read it first to understand the story (you can find the link here though) but if you have read it, it doesn't give anything away since I haven't finished the first part yet. This has mentions of mpreg within, but nothing explicit, and focuses mainly on Brian's Christmas' through the years.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Christmas was never exactly a holiday Brian Kinney had looked forward to.
As a child, it had hardly been anything special. He couldn’t remember a time when he was ever excited about the approaching holiday, although he could vividly remember the time Jack had laughed loudly, drunkenly, and told him that “no little shits like you are getting any presents”. They celebrated of course – because Joan wouldn’t have it any other way and Jack was way too absent around the holidays to actually control what they were doing. Brian remembered being roughly dressed in “his best clothes,” which were the cheapest and itchiest things he ever had the misfortune to wear (perhaps a reason why he now brought nothing but designer brands, only the best), and then frog marched beside Claire to the church ten blocks from their home – there was one closer, but Joan claimed this one kept a higher standard of parishioners, with a haughty tint in her voice and a self-righteous sniff. He remembered sitting through twelve hours worth of church ceremonies – being violently jerked awake by either an angered Joan, who couldn’t even fathom the embarrassment that her son falling asleep during a sermon would bring upon her, and Claire, who refused to have to be the only one who suffered through this.
On Christmas day, he didn’t awake to presents and a Christmas tree; to heart-warming films and Christmas dinner, with all the trimmings. No, it was cold and empty. Jack would have gotten back early that morning and passed out, drunk, on the couch in the main room, and he and Claire would have to keep quiet, unless they woke him up – because no one wanted that to happen.
When Brian grew, met Mikey and Debbie and Vic, he got to see what a real Christmas was like. All the flashing lights and the overflow of food; the laughs and the stories, and the good will for all. At the time, he had wanted to spend just one holiday with them, to experience all that love and comfort, and though he never said it out loud, he was sure that the Novotny’s knew. Fuck, Debbie invited him enough times.
Of course, he never attended. “Christmas is a time for family,” Joan had stated simply, her claw like fingernails digging sharply into his shoulder.
As an adult, with his own home, his own life, and the ability to make his own decisions, Brian tended to avoid the holiday altogether. Unless it was ‘Ho-Ho-Ho’ night at Babylon because, really, why would ‘Brian Fucking Kinney’ miss the opportunity to get some fucking in? He was invited for Christmas dinner and if it wasn’t for the fact that Debbie would have used his balls as Christmas decorations, he probably wouldn’t have gone at all. At the loft, no mistletoe was hung (like he needed it); no wreath was put over the door; no Christmas tree or lights or plastic angels. Lindsey always complained about it when she visited.
“It’s Christmas,” she would try to persuaded, a wide pleading grin on her face, and when she brought around the little plastic thing, decorated with tinsel and little presents, he had kept it, instead of throwing it away like he had first wanted. Anything to keep her off his ass.
But now, everything was different.
Brian had Justin. The persistent blond twink that had wandered into his life three years ago and completely turned it upside down – in every sense of the word. In that one night, he hadn’t known what was going to happen. At the time, Brian knew he probably wished he could rewrite history, but now, with him being so much more than he once was, he’s glad of it.
That night, his son, Gus, was born, with a full head of thick dark brown hair and the longest eyelashes he had seen on a child. A perfect little carbon copy of him, Mikey had teased, much to Mel’s annoyance. Brian had smirked and played along, but silently, he had hoped not. He didn’t want his son to be like him. He wanted him to be better – and he was, so much better.
And then, a month later, another bombshell was dropped on him. Justin was pregnant. Brian can honestly say that he never fucking ever expected that to happen. He and Justin were hardly in the position to be full time parents – he was still stuck in his Stud of Liberty Avenue phase as Justin calls it, and Justin was…just a kid, still in high school. It was difficult, yes and there was so many times he just wanted to run away – something he told himself he was never going to do again – but god, it was worth it.
Their little girl was born in the summer, thick hair like her brother’s and the bluest of eyes, exactly like her Papa. She smiled like him too, big and wide and beaming. Gus was a good big brother; utterly entranced with her presence for the first few days – at the age of one, he had understood the notion of a baby sister vaguely, but he seemed proud to tell anyone who would listen who is “sissta” was – and then her guide as she shakily learnt to walk and talk. Her first word was “Gussie”.
And then Christmas celebration arose once more, and he actually had to be involved. He was a father now, a real parent, and he was in a relationship, even though he still shuddered to admit it. He had responsibilities now; people that counted on him. He refused to let them down.
Brian had been cautious at first. Big family Christmas’ were hardly something he was familiar with. Debbie, Mikey and Vic, and later, Emmett, Ted, Lindsay and Melanie - that was something he was used to. Nothing much was expected from him and that had suited him just fine.
But now there are the kids to consider, and he wanted desperately for them to have a better time over the holidays than he ever did. He may have gone overboard on his first Christmas as a father of two, showering the too-young-to-really-understand brother and sister with cuddly toys and dolls and toy cars, little transforming robots and music boxes, and clothes, all designer, of course. Justin thought it was adorable that both babies had a leather jacket each – “just like their daddy,” he had teased.
Now, he had Justin to look for – he didn’t want to screw up and have the boy nearly leave him, not again, he wasn’t sure whether he could handle that again. Roses and video games and music and sketchbooks and artist pencils. Justin had seemed overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of everything, and told him that really, he didn’t need that much. The next year, Brian had just bought them tickets to Ibiza – their first holiday together as a family.
All that was even before he mentioned Mother Taylor. She was wary of him for months, even after the baby was born, and he thought, maybe now, she was starting to warm up to him. Still, he worked hard to get that from her. Photo albums and diamond jewellery and expensive liquors. Justin kept telling him that Brian shouldn’t try and buy his mother’s affection – “although, really, a pearl necklace, nice touch,” he winked.
It was all a stressful time really and more than once, when he and Justin had fallen into shouting matches about where they should be having dinner this year, or whether the Christmas tree is in the right place, Brian wished for the times before the kids and Justin where he would spend Christmas Eve getting dick sucked by faceless, meaningless tricks, that didn’t follow him home and hog the bed covers.
But, by Christmas morning, when the door to the master bedroom had creaked open and two sets of feet padded their way across the wooden floor, giggles and shushed breaking the silence, before little bodies threw themselves heavily onto the lumps in the bed, letting out squawks and excited squeals of “It’s Christmas!”
Justin would breathe out something under his breath, way too tired at that moment to do anything but peer beadily up at the chubby smiling faces of the two three-year-olds. Brian would grumble under his breath, complaining about how early it was, and when he’d tilted his head up from where his face had been buried in the pillow, and saw his Sonny Boy, and his Peanut, beaming down at him, urging him with firm hands…well, Brian didn’t want anything else.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year :3 xx