ficlet: leave nothing to chance
Title: Leave Nothing to Chance
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin
Summary: 312 gapfiller. For a very tired and fed up Brian Kinney, saving Liberty Avenue can wait a few more hours.
Warnings: Nothing much.
“You coming?” Brian asked Justin as he pulled on a shirt. Hunter was loitering in the corner by the door, sullen and sulking. Justin shook his head, arms folded. In the dim light of the loft, it was obvious that the many late nights he’d entertained while putting up the posters and trying to hustle no-show cops were taking their toll.
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t take Michael’s shrieking at three in the morning. Can I stay?” He didn’t really expect Brian to say no, but his penance for his transgression with Ethan was always asking for permission first. He didn’t want to expect anything, and he didn’t want Brian to think that he did. Also, he didn’t feel like trudging through sleet and avoiding ice patches on the way back to Daphne’s.
Brian grunted in response. Justin knew that as a yes and shuffled back to the bedroom, tugging off his clothes as he went. Hunter watched him go with his chin upheld, trying to get a better view in the low light. Brian grabbed his jacket off of the couch, snatched the car keys from the counter, and shoved the hustler out of the door, saying, “Stop admiring the view.”
“Why do you let him stay over?” Hunter asked, affronted, and pushed his hands in his pockets. Brian pushed up the gate for the elevator and they both stepped on.
“Well, since I’m not paying him, I think that he at least deserves a warm bed so that he won’t freeze his ass off. I doubt he’d get any customers without it.” Brian really wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter, with Hunter or anyone else. The Ziplocked condom was in his jacket pocket, and his mind kept drifting to ways that he could nail the bastard with it once Carl coughed up the data.
“It’s not that great,” the other mumbled, stumbling back a step when the elevator sputtered to life. Brian couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face at the sight.
--
The drive to Mikey’s and the Professor’s was silent because Brian wouldn’t have it any other way. Hunter opened his mouth once or twice - probably to offer to fuck him again - but one level look shut it before he could get a word out. Brian drove with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his eyes against the glare of the streetlights.
The interrogation at the apartment went as expected - Michael and Ben both blew a gasket, Hunter got pissed that they were treating him like a child and stormed out, and Brian gave them a degrading quip before tucking the evidence the hustler had brought away and slipping out. He knew that there would be more to face tomorrow when Michael gave him shit for ‘encouraging’ Hunter or whatever the hell he wanted to believe, but, at four in the morning, Brian’s top priority was getting back to his loft and maybe coercing another blow job out of Justin.
Justin had turned off all the lights again when Brian came back, and he tripped over a shoe when he opened the door. He didn’t bother cursing, since the point was moot anyway, and stripped on his way to the bedroom. The trail of clothes across the hardwood tracked his progress.
He had half-expected Justin to be awake for him, but the blonde wasn’t. He had a pillow over his face and the blankets tangled around his legs, his naked back exposed to Brian as he climbed in on his side of the bed. Dark shadows were cast by the hard ridges of his spine, and they unfortunately masked his ass. There wasn’t much that Brian could complain about if the other wasn’t even awake, though. He gave the blanket a few careful tugs until it slid out of the vise of Justin’s legs and swept it around his waist.
Justin rolled over at the gentle manipulations and looked up at him tiredly in the darkness of the room.
“What’d Michael say?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep.
“He blames me. Not that I didn’t expect it. Little fucker,” Brian replied, and left it ambiguous as to whether the little fucker was Michael or Hunter. Justin didn’t probe further, instead choosing to tuck his head against the older man’s chest and close his eyes.
Brian was probably more averse to cuddling than even the most homo-hating heteros, but on occasions when he was completely burnt out and his brain was going a million miles a minute on things that really should have no bearing on him at all, he was too lazy to make a point of being against it.
Saving Liberty Avenue could wait a few more hours.
He slung an arm over Justin’s back, swung his leg over the other’s ankles, and went to sleep.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin
Summary: 312 gapfiller. For a very tired and fed up Brian Kinney, saving Liberty Avenue can wait a few more hours.
Warnings: Nothing much.
“You coming?” Brian asked Justin as he pulled on a shirt. Hunter was loitering in the corner by the door, sullen and sulking. Justin shook his head, arms folded. In the dim light of the loft, it was obvious that the many late nights he’d entertained while putting up the posters and trying to hustle no-show cops were taking their toll.
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t take Michael’s shrieking at three in the morning. Can I stay?” He didn’t really expect Brian to say no, but his penance for his transgression with Ethan was always asking for permission first. He didn’t want to expect anything, and he didn’t want Brian to think that he did. Also, he didn’t feel like trudging through sleet and avoiding ice patches on the way back to Daphne’s.
Brian grunted in response. Justin knew that as a yes and shuffled back to the bedroom, tugging off his clothes as he went. Hunter watched him go with his chin upheld, trying to get a better view in the low light. Brian grabbed his jacket off of the couch, snatched the car keys from the counter, and shoved the hustler out of the door, saying, “Stop admiring the view.”
“Why do you let him stay over?” Hunter asked, affronted, and pushed his hands in his pockets. Brian pushed up the gate for the elevator and they both stepped on.
“Well, since I’m not paying him, I think that he at least deserves a warm bed so that he won’t freeze his ass off. I doubt he’d get any customers without it.” Brian really wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter, with Hunter or anyone else. The Ziplocked condom was in his jacket pocket, and his mind kept drifting to ways that he could nail the bastard with it once Carl coughed up the data.
“It’s not that great,” the other mumbled, stumbling back a step when the elevator sputtered to life. Brian couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face at the sight.
--
The drive to Mikey’s and the Professor’s was silent because Brian wouldn’t have it any other way. Hunter opened his mouth once or twice - probably to offer to fuck him again - but one level look shut it before he could get a word out. Brian drove with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his eyes against the glare of the streetlights.
The interrogation at the apartment went as expected - Michael and Ben both blew a gasket, Hunter got pissed that they were treating him like a child and stormed out, and Brian gave them a degrading quip before tucking the evidence the hustler had brought away and slipping out. He knew that there would be more to face tomorrow when Michael gave him shit for ‘encouraging’ Hunter or whatever the hell he wanted to believe, but, at four in the morning, Brian’s top priority was getting back to his loft and maybe coercing another blow job out of Justin.
Justin had turned off all the lights again when Brian came back, and he tripped over a shoe when he opened the door. He didn’t bother cursing, since the point was moot anyway, and stripped on his way to the bedroom. The trail of clothes across the hardwood tracked his progress.
He had half-expected Justin to be awake for him, but the blonde wasn’t. He had a pillow over his face and the blankets tangled around his legs, his naked back exposed to Brian as he climbed in on his side of the bed. Dark shadows were cast by the hard ridges of his spine, and they unfortunately masked his ass. There wasn’t much that Brian could complain about if the other wasn’t even awake, though. He gave the blanket a few careful tugs until it slid out of the vise of Justin’s legs and swept it around his waist.
Justin rolled over at the gentle manipulations and looked up at him tiredly in the darkness of the room.
“What’d Michael say?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep.
“He blames me. Not that I didn’t expect it. Little fucker,” Brian replied, and left it ambiguous as to whether the little fucker was Michael or Hunter. Justin didn’t probe further, instead choosing to tuck his head against the older man’s chest and close his eyes.
Brian was probably more averse to cuddling than even the most homo-hating heteros, but on occasions when he was completely burnt out and his brain was going a million miles a minute on things that really should have no bearing on him at all, he was too lazy to make a point of being against it.
Saving Liberty Avenue could wait a few more hours.
He slung an arm over Justin’s back, swung his leg over the other’s ankles, and went to sleep.