New ficlet: Six Degrees of Seperation
Disclaimer: As usual all things "Queer As Folk" belong Russell T. Davies, CowLip and Showtime. No profit was made from this fiction and no disrespect for the show, its writers or the actors is intended. This is just me having fun.
Post S1 Ep.22
Summary: Brian waits ... and thinks.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It's official; there isn't a problem in the world that can't be linked to me via some twisted six degrees of separation. Deb originated that theory half a lifetime ago and it has subsequently coursed through everyone in the group ... well, everyone except Mikey. My guess is the many years of unconditional friendship prevented him from pointing out the all too obvious. Now it's Jennifer Taylor taking up the war cry and who can blame her? That's her child in there laying motionless, tubes hooked up to the most unimaginable places. He looks so small, so ... frail. If that were my son, I'd kill the person responsible ... then I'd kill me because I'm just as responsible.
He hasn't moved for two days, and all we can do is sit--in our respective corners--and stare.
And wait.
Just what the hell was I thinking, anyway? A 30-year-old man at a high school dance with his 18-year-old sometime ... most of the time ... lover. Did I really think things had changed that much since Mikey and I were in high school? Fuck. Was I even thinking at all? It goes without saying that the general consensus is a resounding 'no'.
But I was thinking.
I was thinking that Lindz was right, because she knows me better than anyone. I was thinking about how much I really cared for that kid, and right before that bastard Hobbs cracked a cheap imitation Louisville Slugger against Justin's temple, I was thinking about how happy he was and how good he looked, and how I still got a chill up and down my spine every time we touched. I was thinking how magical--how downright fucking magical--it felt dancing with him. I was thinking about how letting him know, without losing face over the words or actions, exactly how I felt was such a release for me. I was thinking how incredible it was going to feel sinking into his hole later on, fucking him hard then waiting and fucking him gently, and how I'd even let him cuddle up against me for the rest of the night, as if that would be some kind of sacrifice.
I never told him how much I really do enjoy that feeling of closeness and now all I can do is hope to God it isn't too late.
Post S1 Ep.22
Summary: Brian waits ... and thinks.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It's official; there isn't a problem in the world that can't be linked to me via some twisted six degrees of separation. Deb originated that theory half a lifetime ago and it has subsequently coursed through everyone in the group ... well, everyone except Mikey. My guess is the many years of unconditional friendship prevented him from pointing out the all too obvious. Now it's Jennifer Taylor taking up the war cry and who can blame her? That's her child in there laying motionless, tubes hooked up to the most unimaginable places. He looks so small, so ... frail. If that were my son, I'd kill the person responsible ... then I'd kill me because I'm just as responsible.
He hasn't moved for two days, and all we can do is sit--in our respective corners--and stare.
And wait.
Just what the hell was I thinking, anyway? A 30-year-old man at a high school dance with his 18-year-old sometime ... most of the time ... lover. Did I really think things had changed that much since Mikey and I were in high school? Fuck. Was I even thinking at all? It goes without saying that the general consensus is a resounding 'no'.
But I was thinking.
I was thinking that Lindz was right, because she knows me better than anyone. I was thinking about how much I really cared for that kid, and right before that bastard Hobbs cracked a cheap imitation Louisville Slugger against Justin's temple, I was thinking about how happy he was and how good he looked, and how I still got a chill up and down my spine every time we touched. I was thinking how magical--how downright fucking magical--it felt dancing with him. I was thinking about how letting him know, without losing face over the words or actions, exactly how I felt was such a release for me. I was thinking how incredible it was going to feel sinking into his hole later on, fucking him hard then waiting and fucking him gently, and how I'd even let him cuddle up against me for the rest of the night, as if that would be some kind of sacrifice.
I never told him how much I really do enjoy that feeling of closeness and now all I can do is hope to God it isn't too late.