This is why you love Brian Kinney.
Brian is like a shining beacon of light in Justin's dismal upper middle class suburban life. He broke up the monotony of Justin's existence the first moment that predatory smile was set on him. It's like he was torn to pieces and remade into something that is better than he was--maybe like a shadow of what Brian is, though Justin dislikes thinking of it that way, because who would really want to be anyone's shadow? Brian already has Michael.
It wasn't just the sex. Okay, a lot of it was the sex, but it was also the ghosting "love you" Brian's lips made across his skin as they fucked that first time, or even the lame attempts to bat Justin away as though he didn't have a chance of meaning something in Brian's world. Justin knows he's wrong, though, knows it with a certainty that he's never before felt, and even when everything's going to hell he's got this idea of Brian waiting beyond is all, like his reward for having shitty homophobic parents.
He knows that Brian is his from the way that Justin fits in his life. His friends, his place, his diner--everything just seems to bend to accommodate Justin, and he's more than happy to worm his way into the world of Brian. Justin sees that Brian's world has become pinched and small, and he sincerely believes that he was thrown into it for a reason.
He can love Brian with all of his heart, not simply because he's young or because he's never been in love before. He can love Brian because Brian needs it, soaks it up like a sponge whenever he thinks Justin's not looking. It's not blind adoration--Justin knows there are other people Brian has for that. It's love, pure and plain and simple and there, and as soon as Brian gets his head out of his ass, he's going to trip over his own words as he realizes just what happened.
See, Justin has a plan. It consists of nothing more than just being there, through everything. Even when he loses his temper and can't control his frustration; even when Brian is being a world-class dick (and not in the good way) Justin plans on sticking around for a damn long time. He learned this from suburban hell: everyone there is so fucking unhappy with what and who they've got that if he's lucky enough to stumble across something perfect and wonderful he'd better cling to it with his last dying breath.
So he does.
This is why Justin loves Brian Kinney: because at the end of the day, when he sees Justin in his apartment rifling through his cds, he doesn't get mad. He picks up the one Justin was glancing at and slips in into the cd player, sliding back to where Justin is and undressing him with a look. They kiss, and it's sweet and deep and wordless, full of meaning and promise that Justin thinks Brian is still to blind to see. They sway to the piano in the background, the soft raspy voice, and when they have sex, Brian slips and calls it "making love."
wow, sa. never seen, didn't need to with that. very recognizable characters.
Yup; no background needed.
I seem to remember someone doing a QAF piece awhile back, and posting it here. And damn, I can't remember who or when. Maybe my brain is draining out....
SA, have I had the chance to read that before? Because it reads as something I already know, and like. I do like it, btw. It's very evocative and intense.
More X-Files drabble
Beyond the Sea
He doesn't go back to the hotel at first, back to where Fred and Gunn will have questions, where it still reeks of Angelus.
Instead, he goes to Justine's apartment. It's small, worn-out, filled with pictures of his father and her sister. She's shaking, she smells like triumph, like an animal who's brought down its first kill.
She lights the candles that surround her collection of images, the flames reflecting off the small, soft, still versions of her face, trapped behind glass, reflecting in her eyes. He watches carefully; there's no peace there.
Peace, he realizes, is just another lie.
Very nice, PMM. And Justine! Justine!
Whoooooo yeah, Plei. These just keep getting better.
The Resurrection Gambit
Part Seven: Why I Hate Shanghai
“Next round’s on me,” said Xander, rising from the table, smiling broadly and walking briskly toward the bar. Dawn watched him wordlessly, knowing full well that his appearance of affability was merely an act.
Xander, for his part, was wondering why every seedy bar he ended up at, in every corner of the world, always had American classic rock playing. Someone had downloaded the Eagles’ “Greatest Hits” into the sound system, and “Desperado” was casting a melancholic pall across the room.
Funnily enough, in a similar bar in Japan a few years back, the same song had prompted an impromptu sing-along. He thanked whatever gods were listening for the small mercy of that not happening here. Not today. Today, he wanted to actually feel the melancholy. “The music of pain.” He smiled genuinely at the thought of once being devastated at Buffy not going to the Prom with him. Or was it Homecoming? One of those. It seemed so long ago. He glanced over his shoulder at Dawn, who was not-so discreetly watching him.
He smiled, and turned back to catch the bartender’s attention, when a flash of memory danced across his brain. Him, on a Shanghai rooftop, the stake in his hand, the look of mixed horror and relief on Angel’s face as the point pounded into his heart, then suddenly only the swirl of dust. The banshee shrieks of Angel’s soul as the Juris siphoned it from his body, a column of dark-tinged light erupting into the night sky. Dawn’s shrieks as Drusilla forced her down onto her back, fangs sinking into her flesh. The horror and revulsion he felt when he knew he couldn’t possibly reach her in time. The sudden relief as Wesley grabbed Drusilla’s hair, yanked her head backwards and slit her throat. The feeling of defeat as he watched the Aurelius Gem tumble between dimensions into Hell. The haunting memory of the Juris uttering just one, simple word, which reverberated now inside his head.
“Judgement.”
He was crying now. Not giant Lucille Ball sobs, just thin creeks running down his cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed their starting.
Dawn was suddenly beside him, wiping the tears away. He kissed her gently on the lips, and regained his composure enough to order drinks. If the bar patrons had noticed anything, they said nothing. In some places, it paid not to notice things.
And still, the Juris’s last words haunted him.
“Judgement,” thought Xander. “But for whom?”
