(no subject)
Hoping against all hope that malli_ is going to get Internet access rather sooner than later.
Second part of her nightmare-therapy. All the heads-up are in the last post. Summary: Three Months After...
Follow me there
A beautiful somewhere
A place that I can share with you
The doorbell rang, Hunter hastily straightened his hair (he liked to do the morning shifts when he didn’t have early classes), everyone looked up admiringly and Debbie grabbed a pot of her blackest, strongest coffee as Brian entered the Diner. He had eaten in the Diner his entire life since he had been fourteen, but altogether Debbie had never sitten so much with him as in the past three months. They had had a sort of family crisis meeting (her, Emmet, Ted and Michael had been at Woody’s at the same time by accident) after they had found out that Justin would move to New York. The main question of the discussion had been: What do we do so that Brian doesn’t commit suicide sooner or later? They had this discussion about once every three years, but with Justin entering their lives, they began happening more and more. The temporary answer had been: Let’s hope that Justin cancels his flight and doesn’t leave.
But he had left and now it was at least her highest priority that Brian didn’t become an emotionless, livingless fucking asshole. Well, not more than he already was, anyway. So she sat with him every breakfast he took in the Diner and after three weeks, he had stopped complaining.
“Morning, Brian.”
He smiled at Debbie and slid gracefully into a booth, waving at Hunter in a ‘come here’ gesture who didn’t even bother anymore but only rolled his eyes: “Black and strong, I know.” Then he took the offered pot from Debbie and walked over to where the older man was getting comfortable and raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“I was going to ask where your mummies are, but I must say that I am amazed by your extraordinarily dependable memorizing-skills of my regular breakfast-preferences.”
“Ben’s having an early class and Michael’s gone to do the groceries before work. So they wouldn’t know if you accidentially happened to be fucking me in the bathroom”, Hunter answered with his most charming manners (so he was straight. So? Who in the right mind wouldn’t want Brian Kinney to fuck them?) and poured his favourite client some coffee.
Brian snorted and took the cup, swallowing the black liquid in one gulp.
“Someone’s been busy late last night.”
He ignored Debbie’s comment as the woman sat down opposite from him and opened his briefcase, taking out a newspaper.
“Refill, that’s it then”, he threw vaguely into Hunter’s direction who rolled his eyes. It didn’t take any extraordinarily dependable memorizing-skills to figure out that Brian hadn’t had ordered breakfast other than in fluid form for the past three months.
“You bring him a large plate with bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages and two chocolate chips muffins, honey. Oh, and while you’re at it, get him some lemon bars”, Debbie ordered her grandson who simply left the table and did as he was told. He had gotten used to the weird mother/son-“I’ll-shove-food-down-your-throat-even-if-you-die”-relationship which Brian and Debbie shared.
Brian had heard it all, but didn’t even bother to look at Debbie from behind the open newspaper he was reading now as he spoke:
“You do realise that, as on every other morning for the goddamn fucking three past months, I won’t eat it.”
Debbie only smiled her sweetest smile and put on her warmest voice:
“You do realise that, as on every other morning for the goddamn fucking three past months, I’m gonna shove it into your stomach if necessary.”
These two sentences were sort of a ritual they went through every morning. Brian put down the newspaper. Firstly did he want Debbie to see his patented tongue-in-cheek smirk and secondly didn’t he actually mind her company or her stuffing him. She had done it for the past twenty years, so why stop now, he figured.
“Admit it, Deb. You’re just cramming me for money because you know that I will never leave a bill unpaid.”
She grinned widely, constantly chewing her pink gum and answered surprisingly gently:
“Smartass.”
“My my, we are so original today. Say, don’t you have some clients to serve instead of pampering me like a baby?”
As on clue, the bell rang. Brian smirked again, but Debbie only shouted: “Kiki, get that!”, then turned her full attention back to Brian who rolled his eyes.
“Ted already left half an hour ago - he said he better be in the office before you, it was check-day. And Emmet is still asleep from the wedding he hosted last night, so you’re stuck with me.”
Brian gazed at Debbie who had opened her arms wide and grinned so brightly that it was blinding, then returned to reading the newspaper.
“I hope there will be better news in here.”
His surrogate mother sighed and leaned back. It was rather her giving Brian a hard time than the other way around, but she knew that he was secretly glad that he didn’t have to eat alone. Brian had never liked lonely breakfasts, not even as a kid. If he didn’t show up at the Novotny’s in time for dinner or in the middle of the night, she could be 100 percent sure that he would be there for breakfast. And Debbie also knew that Brian wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t for her forcing him to.
She knew better than to tell him that, though.
“Are there?”
“Well, if you consider the opening of a new grocery store in Manhattan good news, yes, there are.”
Debbie raised an eyebrow.
“What the fucking concern is it of Pittsburgh’s newspapers if a new grocery store is opening in Manhattan?”
“It’s not.”
Brian’s laugh made Debbie cringe. It was more of a sneer, hollow and not at all amused. He folded the paper and threw it down onto the small table, first page slamming into Debbie’s face:
The New York Times.
Debbie was shocked. Shit! She had thought Brian was coping well enough to live his own life, but he had just shoved into her face that his main concern was still Justin. His Sunshine.
“What the fuck are you doing with the New York Times?!”
He snorted and smiled fakely sweetly.
“Checking the death announcements. If Justin dies, I want to contribute a girdle of golden gardenies from South China.”
“BRIAN!”, Debbie shrieked; he tried to look away quickly, but it was too late anyway: She had already seen the violent hurt in his eyes and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, not allowing him to back away and built up his walls.
“You listen to me, and you do it closely, kiddo”, she said firmly, “Sunshine is alright and--“
“You don’t know that!”, he blurted out, just as firm as her and Debbie thought she might just start to cry about all the pain that was searing his eyes. Brian, with all his walls and pretending, always has had two crystal clear windows to his soul in his face. Not everyone had them, but he did.
“We don’t know”, he repeated, now a lot calmer and steadier, “he could be in the gutter hustling for all we know from him.”
They kept each other’s gazes for a while: Brian slowly regaining his composure again and Debbie desperately searching for the right words. She took his cup and sipped from his coffee, buying some time.
“Brian, honey. I am sure that he’ll call more often soon. He must be so busy, trying to get the galleries to showing his work and painting…”
“…and fucking”, Brian stated emotionlessly.
“Yeah, that probably too”, she agreed. “Point is, he will call. At the latest when he’s having his first show!”
She smiled, still fondling his mug, and Brian returned it, but it was awfully sour.
“He’s already had one, Deb.”
“WHAT?!!”
The entire diner fell silent after Debbie’s outraged scream. She almost was crunching Brian’s cup between her hands.
“When?!!”
Unlike her, Brian stayed totally calm, folded the newspaper back together and put it back into his briefcase.
“Last Friday. The critics were ravishing.”
For the first (or maybe second) time in her life, Debbie Novotny was speechless.
“When… how… I mean… why weren’t you there?”
Brian took the cup out of her hands and drank some of the black liquid so calmly as if this wasn’t any reason to be upset. Then he looked at Debbie as if his answer was totally obvious.
“I wasn’t invited.”
“Then how did you know about it?!”
Brian smiled sarcastically and patted his briefcase.
“The ability of reading proves to be highly useful, Debbie.”
Debbie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Their sunshine had his first show and hadn’t invited a living soul?! Not even her? Slowly she considered that Justin really might be in the gutter hustling right at this moment.
At that moment, Hunter brought a tray and placed it in front of Brian.
“Lemon bars, chocolat chips muffins, bacon, scrambled eggs and sausages, as your majesty ordered.”
“Thank you so much, Hunter”, Brian smirked and grabbed a lemonbar. He smiled brightly at Debbie in his best ironic manner, then he shoved the first half of the bar into his mouth. He chewed theatrically, all the way grinning at his really confused surrogate mom.
“I’m gonna bus some tables”, Debbie said under her breath and practically fleed from the table.
They needed to hold a new family crisis meeting like right fucking now!
Brian grinned after her. A part of him felt slightly bad for telling Debbie in such a shitty way - he hadn’t wanted to tell her at all, after all, this was Justin’s decision and not his, but something in him had snapped. As always, she knew his very inner soul and brought it to the surface.
The bell above the door rang and Brian’s head shot up, convincing himself that he was only hoping that maybe Mikey or Emmet would be walking in to keep him some company.
It was a young man, the back of his blond head walking in first because he was going backwards, talking to someone outside. Brian’s heart jumped for the split of a second. Maybe maybe maybemaybemaybe…! But then the twink turned around and Brian looked back down. Fucking heart. Never stopped hoping, even if the circumstances were fucking ridiculous. Fuck! He threw a bill on the table knowing it would more than just cover the food, snatched his second lemon bar and left the diner - painfully noticing he was walking on the sheds of his hope and that he could hear his own heart breaking all so slowly.
saura_ hon, I promise that I will write you a fic you can read. Girls' Scout's honour!
aranel80 baby, I'm gonna write you an e-mail when I don't feel like a tired mess.
germansoulmate darling, you'll get an e-mail with a fucking hilarious pic of our god pretty soon. *snickers*
♥
Second part of her nightmare-therapy. All the heads-up are in the last post. Summary: Three Months After...
Follow me there
A beautiful somewhere
A place that I can share with you
The doorbell rang, Hunter hastily straightened his hair (he liked to do the morning shifts when he didn’t have early classes), everyone looked up admiringly and Debbie grabbed a pot of her blackest, strongest coffee as Brian entered the Diner. He had eaten in the Diner his entire life since he had been fourteen, but altogether Debbie had never sitten so much with him as in the past three months. They had had a sort of family crisis meeting (her, Emmet, Ted and Michael had been at Woody’s at the same time by accident) after they had found out that Justin would move to New York. The main question of the discussion had been: What do we do so that Brian doesn’t commit suicide sooner or later? They had this discussion about once every three years, but with Justin entering their lives, they began happening more and more. The temporary answer had been: Let’s hope that Justin cancels his flight and doesn’t leave.
But he had left and now it was at least her highest priority that Brian didn’t become an emotionless, livingless fucking asshole. Well, not more than he already was, anyway. So she sat with him every breakfast he took in the Diner and after three weeks, he had stopped complaining.
“Morning, Brian.”
He smiled at Debbie and slid gracefully into a booth, waving at Hunter in a ‘come here’ gesture who didn’t even bother anymore but only rolled his eyes: “Black and strong, I know.” Then he took the offered pot from Debbie and walked over to where the older man was getting comfortable and raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“I was going to ask where your mummies are, but I must say that I am amazed by your extraordinarily dependable memorizing-skills of my regular breakfast-preferences.”
“Ben’s having an early class and Michael’s gone to do the groceries before work. So they wouldn’t know if you accidentially happened to be fucking me in the bathroom”, Hunter answered with his most charming manners (so he was straight. So? Who in the right mind wouldn’t want Brian Kinney to fuck them?) and poured his favourite client some coffee.
Brian snorted and took the cup, swallowing the black liquid in one gulp.
“Someone’s been busy late last night.”
He ignored Debbie’s comment as the woman sat down opposite from him and opened his briefcase, taking out a newspaper.
“Refill, that’s it then”, he threw vaguely into Hunter’s direction who rolled his eyes. It didn’t take any extraordinarily dependable memorizing-skills to figure out that Brian hadn’t had ordered breakfast other than in fluid form for the past three months.
“You bring him a large plate with bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages and two chocolate chips muffins, honey. Oh, and while you’re at it, get him some lemon bars”, Debbie ordered her grandson who simply left the table and did as he was told. He had gotten used to the weird mother/son-“I’ll-shove-food-down-your-throat-even-if-you-die”-relationship which Brian and Debbie shared.
Brian had heard it all, but didn’t even bother to look at Debbie from behind the open newspaper he was reading now as he spoke:
“You do realise that, as on every other morning for the goddamn fucking three past months, I won’t eat it.”
Debbie only smiled her sweetest smile and put on her warmest voice:
“You do realise that, as on every other morning for the goddamn fucking three past months, I’m gonna shove it into your stomach if necessary.”
These two sentences were sort of a ritual they went through every morning. Brian put down the newspaper. Firstly did he want Debbie to see his patented tongue-in-cheek smirk and secondly didn’t he actually mind her company or her stuffing him. She had done it for the past twenty years, so why stop now, he figured.
“Admit it, Deb. You’re just cramming me for money because you know that I will never leave a bill unpaid.”
She grinned widely, constantly chewing her pink gum and answered surprisingly gently:
“Smartass.”
“My my, we are so original today. Say, don’t you have some clients to serve instead of pampering me like a baby?”
As on clue, the bell rang. Brian smirked again, but Debbie only shouted: “Kiki, get that!”, then turned her full attention back to Brian who rolled his eyes.
“Ted already left half an hour ago - he said he better be in the office before you, it was check-day. And Emmet is still asleep from the wedding he hosted last night, so you’re stuck with me.”
Brian gazed at Debbie who had opened her arms wide and grinned so brightly that it was blinding, then returned to reading the newspaper.
“I hope there will be better news in here.”
His surrogate mother sighed and leaned back. It was rather her giving Brian a hard time than the other way around, but she knew that he was secretly glad that he didn’t have to eat alone. Brian had never liked lonely breakfasts, not even as a kid. If he didn’t show up at the Novotny’s in time for dinner or in the middle of the night, she could be 100 percent sure that he would be there for breakfast. And Debbie also knew that Brian wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t for her forcing him to.
She knew better than to tell him that, though.
“Are there?”
“Well, if you consider the opening of a new grocery store in Manhattan good news, yes, there are.”
Debbie raised an eyebrow.
“What the fucking concern is it of Pittsburgh’s newspapers if a new grocery store is opening in Manhattan?”
“It’s not.”
Brian’s laugh made Debbie cringe. It was more of a sneer, hollow and not at all amused. He folded the paper and threw it down onto the small table, first page slamming into Debbie’s face:
The New York Times.
Debbie was shocked. Shit! She had thought Brian was coping well enough to live his own life, but he had just shoved into her face that his main concern was still Justin. His Sunshine.
“What the fuck are you doing with the New York Times?!”
He snorted and smiled fakely sweetly.
“Checking the death announcements. If Justin dies, I want to contribute a girdle of golden gardenies from South China.”
“BRIAN!”, Debbie shrieked; he tried to look away quickly, but it was too late anyway: She had already seen the violent hurt in his eyes and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, not allowing him to back away and built up his walls.
“You listen to me, and you do it closely, kiddo”, she said firmly, “Sunshine is alright and--“
“You don’t know that!”, he blurted out, just as firm as her and Debbie thought she might just start to cry about all the pain that was searing his eyes. Brian, with all his walls and pretending, always has had two crystal clear windows to his soul in his face. Not everyone had them, but he did.
“We don’t know”, he repeated, now a lot calmer and steadier, “he could be in the gutter hustling for all we know from him.”
They kept each other’s gazes for a while: Brian slowly regaining his composure again and Debbie desperately searching for the right words. She took his cup and sipped from his coffee, buying some time.
“Brian, honey. I am sure that he’ll call more often soon. He must be so busy, trying to get the galleries to showing his work and painting…”
“…and fucking”, Brian stated emotionlessly.
“Yeah, that probably too”, she agreed. “Point is, he will call. At the latest when he’s having his first show!”
She smiled, still fondling his mug, and Brian returned it, but it was awfully sour.
“He’s already had one, Deb.”
“WHAT?!!”
The entire diner fell silent after Debbie’s outraged scream. She almost was crunching Brian’s cup between her hands.
“When?!!”
Unlike her, Brian stayed totally calm, folded the newspaper back together and put it back into his briefcase.
“Last Friday. The critics were ravishing.”
For the first (or maybe second) time in her life, Debbie Novotny was speechless.
“When… how… I mean… why weren’t you there?”
Brian took the cup out of her hands and drank some of the black liquid so calmly as if this wasn’t any reason to be upset. Then he looked at Debbie as if his answer was totally obvious.
“I wasn’t invited.”
“Then how did you know about it?!”
Brian smiled sarcastically and patted his briefcase.
“The ability of reading proves to be highly useful, Debbie.”
Debbie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Their sunshine had his first show and hadn’t invited a living soul?! Not even her? Slowly she considered that Justin really might be in the gutter hustling right at this moment.
At that moment, Hunter brought a tray and placed it in front of Brian.
“Lemon bars, chocolat chips muffins, bacon, scrambled eggs and sausages, as your majesty ordered.”
“Thank you so much, Hunter”, Brian smirked and grabbed a lemonbar. He smiled brightly at Debbie in his best ironic manner, then he shoved the first half of the bar into his mouth. He chewed theatrically, all the way grinning at his really confused surrogate mom.
“I’m gonna bus some tables”, Debbie said under her breath and practically fleed from the table.
They needed to hold a new family crisis meeting like right fucking now!
Brian grinned after her. A part of him felt slightly bad for telling Debbie in such a shitty way - he hadn’t wanted to tell her at all, after all, this was Justin’s decision and not his, but something in him had snapped. As always, she knew his very inner soul and brought it to the surface.
The bell above the door rang and Brian’s head shot up, convincing himself that he was only hoping that maybe Mikey or Emmet would be walking in to keep him some company.
It was a young man, the back of his blond head walking in first because he was going backwards, talking to someone outside. Brian’s heart jumped for the split of a second. Maybe maybe maybemaybemaybe…! But then the twink turned around and Brian looked back down. Fucking heart. Never stopped hoping, even if the circumstances were fucking ridiculous. Fuck! He threw a bill on the table knowing it would more than just cover the food, snatched his second lemon bar and left the diner - painfully noticing he was walking on the sheds of his hope and that he could hear his own heart breaking all so slowly.
saura_ hon, I promise that I will write you a fic you can read. Girls' Scout's honour!
aranel80 baby, I'm gonna write you an e-mail when I don't feel like a tired mess.
germansoulmate darling, you'll get an e-mail with a fucking hilarious pic of our god pretty soon. *snickers*
♥