qaf prompts
About a month ago, I asked people to request fic from me. I have now written everything I felt like I could write. There were a few that I just didn’t feel very inspired in…
The original versions are in the comments of the request post, but I thought I’d put all the fics together in one post… So here they are.
These are all unbeta’d and written pretty fast. All mistakes are mine. The general rating is probably PG/PG-13.
Brian/Justin - Conan O’Brien, Chips (Timeline: season 3)
”Come on, get up. We’re leaving.” Brian says alarmed when some red-haired freak starts to string-dance on TV.
They’re sitting on the couch at Debbie’s one evening, both fired and bored out of their minds. Well, Brian is sitting like a normal human being; Justin lies in a funny position taking up most of the couch space. His head leans on Brian’s shoulder like it’s the most natural thing he ever did, a leopard-dotted blanket covers his legs that rest on Debbie’s lap.
“Lemme just watch this,” Justin mumbles, eyes fixed on the screen, and laughs when the freak suddenly starts bouncing from side to side. Brian decides that he would rather poke his eyeballs with the spoon Debbie is currently using to scrape more chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream straight from the cardboard goblet than watch this brainless show for one more second.
“Christ! Let him be,” Debbie yells when Brian begins to push at Justin’s sides trying to make him move. She swats him on the head when he starts sliding his hands down Justin’s stomach and up his thighs in attempt at setting the boy’s priorities right. It almost works, too, and just when Brian thinks Justin is about to sit up, Debbie hands him a bag of Doritos. A smug look on her face, she watches Justin’s attention return to the gnome-like loser.
Defeated, Brian sighs and starts counting down slow minutes in his head until the show ends, cursing under his breath the injustice of life.
Brian/Justin - Fall, Leaves, Leather Gloves (Timeline: post-series)
Walking down a small path in Central Park, Brian breathes in the dank air of fall. Everywhere around him, trees have changed colour, cadmium reds and yellows replaced summer’s simple mossy and light green.
He hasn’t seen so many hues since Justin moved out.
Brian isn’t all that surprised to find him there. Sitting on a black park bench, arms hugging a thin sketchpad to his chest. He wonders briefly if he should have called before he left, but doesn’t really care. Not now, not anymore.
His hair is darker, Brian thinks, when Justin looks up; he looks up to him, and a shadow of a smile crosses his face as he rises.
“Fuck you,” Justin breathes into his neck when they touch.
Brian presses his mouth against the side of Justin’s eye, and man does it feel like home. “Hey, Sunshine.”
His leather glove-clad hands stuff the ends of Justin’s light blue scarf better inside the dark jacket, but he stays still when cold fingertips brush against his lip.
Brian/Justin - Hogwarts’ Homohop (Timeline: post-series)
”What the fuck is going on?” Brian exclaims alarmed trying to escape through the door of the house he was just tricked into entering - The Novotny-Bruckner’s.
Justin pushes him further inside. “Don’t be a baby,” he says, but curses their bad luck under his breath.
“Brian!” Michael yells hurrying to greet them. “I don’t know what you said to him to get him to come, but it obviously worked,” he adds giving Justin a pat on the back and a wide smile.
“That’s just it,” Justin grins and grips Brian’s arm a little tighter when he feels the man slowly backing away. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he adds and gives his partner an apologetic smile.
Michael scampers away when Ben calls for him.
With mild amusement, Justin looks at the usually plain and average decor that has been replaced with thick cream white candles, hideous portraits that were no doubt dug out of Debbie’s garage, and cobwebs of every size.
But what really catch his eye, are the wizard hats that adorn the guests’ heads. Debbie’s is blood red.
Beside him, Brian sighs.
“Okay! Okay, listen up everyone,” Michael is standing on the coffee table in the living room yelling and flapping his hands excitedly. The sight makes Brian snort and step further into the room. “I appreciate you all coming to celebrate Hunter’s Birthday. It really means a lot,” he says the last part eyes on Brian who shrugs and looks at a random spot on the wall.
“Now. We chose a Harry Potter theme because Ben heard Hunter mention it the other day,” Michael continues as he hops back on the floor. “Remember to stay quiet when he opens the door and then yell surprise.”
“Jesus, do you want to give the kid life-lasting trauma?” Brian says as Michael tries to make him and Justin wear matching green felt wizard hats. Justin wrinkles his nose at them, and Brian decides that maybe Justin wants to be there just as much as he does. He smiles at him, and cups his head.
When Hunter finally comes home, two hours late and breath smelling like his new friend’s father’s liquor cabinet, the party has already started. All thanks to Brian’s how-to-make-a-lame-ass-party-seem-less-lame-speciality: spiked punch.
Hunter watches from the doorway as Brian and Justin hump each other on the sofa, hats and everything, while Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett clap their hands all synchronized with the music. Debbie and Carl dance around the living room no doubt reliving their lost youth.
Slowly, Hunter lowers his backpack on the floor and shakes his head, thinks adults.
“What the fuck is this? Hogwarts’ Homohop?”
Brian/Justin - Hurricane (Timeline: season 5)
Justin and Daphne sit huddled up on the loft sofa one evening, blankets and everything wrapping them in a tight cocoon.
TV turned on the news channel, they watch as a balding man in a shabby wool jacket and dirt-coloured suit pants explains the various precautions people should take in the hurricane areas. There are weather maps and statistics in the background.
Brian is on the phone with Lindsay.
“You sure you don’t want me to… Fine, but call me if anything changes. Yeah. I know… Call me in the morning… Bye.” He throws the phone in the vicinity of one of the armchairs, and flops down on the sofa next to Justin, tired and worried about his four-year-old.
“They said it’s not supposed to hit the city very hard. Just some rain and wind,” Justin speaks softly against Brian’s cheek, one arm around Daphne, palm cupping her shoulder, the warmth of her light mauve sweater soaking into him. He feels Brian nod against his lips as he closes his eyes.
Daphne snickers when Justin begins to snore in his sleep. Her eyes meet Brian’s and they both laugh at the absurdity of the moment.
”Night, darling.” Brian chuckles trying to get more comfortable on the sofa.
“Night,” she grins and leans her head on Justin’s arm.
Brian listens to the soft breathing around him, and it mixes with the shrilling wind and pounding rain creating a pleasant un-rhythm that makes his eyes droop and head feel heavy forcing him into sleep as well.
Brian/Justin - Christmas (Timeline: season 1) Inspired by this
”Hey, Boy Wonder.” Michael says as he sits down at the counter next to Brian.
“I’ll have two lemon squares to go. David and I are celebrating,” he adds grinning smugly at his best friend who is sipping black coffee, one eye skimming the paper, the other casually following the gentle sway of Justin’s ass.
“Celebrating what?” Brian asks only half interested in hearing the real answer. “The good doctor finally get a dick prosthesis?” He makes a face at the thought but feels the corners of his mouth twitch when Justin chuckles from behind the counter.
“For your information, David and I were going at it like two horny rabbits last night,” Michael defends hotly crossing his arms. “It’s the three month anniversary of the first time we fucked.”
Justin scrunches up his face and closes the take-out container. “Here,” he says and reaches for the money Michael put on the counter. Just when he’s about to get the coffeepot to fill Brian’s cup, Michael grabs his arm.
“Hey, wait! What the fuck are these?”
“Lemon cupcakes. Let go,” Justin says annoyed and yanks his arm free.
“I asked for lemon squares, not some cupcake shit,” Michael whines.
“Didn’t you see the poster on the door? It’s December 15th.” Justin explains like he’s talking to a child, a very slow child, and sighs at the blank expression on Michael’s face.
“It’s the National Lemon Cupcake Day,” he adds fighting the urge to call Michael a doofus.
Brian snorts proceeding to choke on his coffee.
“But I still don’t get it.” Michael stares at the two creamy nonpareil covered poppy seed cupcakes like the answer would be there if he just looked long enough.
Justin massages his forehead wondering how many times he will have to have this same conversation before the day ends.
“Look. Just ask your mom. She’s the one who’s in charge of all this,” he sighs and moves to pat Brian - who is still coughing up the coffee from his windpipe - on the back.
“I swear. If anyone asks me about the fucking cupcakes one more time, I’m gonna cut a bitch,” Justin shakes his head dreading the next day’s theme.
Why did Debbie have to discover the list of weird-ass holidays anyway? “It’ll be like Christmas every day!” She had said. Yeah, right, Justin thinks and rubs Brian’s back soothingly ignoring his protests.
Justin and Brian then watch Michael walk to his mother who is arguing loudly about the Christmas Eve Specials Menu with the chef, every now and then popping her fruit mix gum for good measure.
Brian eyes up Justin for a while before getting up, throwing some money near the plateful of lemon cupcakes and buttoning up his leather jacket. “When do you get off?”
“In about two hours,” Justin says looking at the plastic Garfield clock on the wall (an early Christmas present to Kiki from a ‘’secret admirer’’), the hand hitting three forty-five.
“’K, I’ll pick you up then,” Brian winks and pinches Justin’s ass enjoying the high-pitched yelp he manages to produce. “Pack some of those with you,” he grins wolfishly at the pile of cupcakes as he walks backwards through the door.
Justin chuckles rubbing his smarting ass. Maybe the odd holidays weren’t such a bad idea after all.
He waits eagerly for the National Chocolate-covered Anything Day, his dick twitching excitedly against the soft denim of his jeans.
Brian & Lindsay - Colouring Book (Timeline: pre-series, college)
Come on, let’s get you drunk, he had said three hours earlier in her small cube-like room. She had sat in the middle of her tomato-red fold up sofa bed clutching an old colouring book in her hands looking small and pathetic.
The red knee length dress she has decided to wear for her ‘party for one, now I guess for two if you insist’ matches the sofa, the thick polka dot curtains, and even the quadrate tablecloth that he knows has no actual purpose.
She lives in phases, he will learn seven months later, when she paints her walls a pleasant shade of green.
“The colouring book reminds me of life before,” she whispers suddenly, eyes on the strategically placed black and white Madonna poster that covers a smudge or two.
She’s drunk now. Drunk like the fucking goldfish in its round glass bowl on the windowpane. Her walls are still white, and he thinks it’s fitting.
Clinking her sea-green bottle head together with his, she asks for a toast. A toast to the Birthday Girl. Because that’s her. And maybe she is too old for big family parties in the backyard, cream cakes and soft packages, but goddammit she deserves to be toasted at least.
He stands up, reels about here and a little there, and lifts his half empty bottle of ‘the best beer I can get for this and this amount, buddy’. With a wolfish grin on his too perfect for his own good face, he salutes her, and watches her pass out on the sofa, calves smoke-white in her long stockings.
Six and half hours later, she wakes up alone, arm numb under her head, and finds a rectangular package lying on the floor beside the sofa. The wrapper is red, and she knows what’s inside.
Gale/Randy - SLS Opening Night
There is familiar warmth in his stomach as Gale walks him home. Despite the nearly frightening episode with the fans and a few reporters, Randy is happier than he has been for… well, for quite a while.
The streetlights illuminate his face softening the rougher look that he knows Gale’s eyes still aren’t quite accustomed to.
There are accidental bumps of hips and arms, weather-chilled fingers brushing against each other. Familiar and comforting.
“Well. This is it,” Randy smiles lukewarmly and nods at the general direction of the apartment house he lives in.
Gale stops beside him, fingers taking the cigarette from Randy’s. “Right,” he says and inhales the burning smoke.
Straightening Randy’s dark brown toque that has come lopsided on his head, Gale breathes the smoke against his closed eyes before pulling him into a short embrace - the kind that leaves you unsatisfied and wanting - evening shadows keeping them fairly hidden from curious eyes.
“How’s Simon?” Gale asks grinning when he lets go of him.
“He’s… good. Why? What do you care?”
“I don’t,” Gale chuckles as he drops the cigarette on the ground, the heel of his boot coming to put out the light.
“Right,” Randy snorts and gives him a peck on the lips. “Well. Thanks for… you know.”
“Yeah.”
“I had a good time,” he says feeling the familiar pang in his chest when Gale’s fingertips gently brush his hair out of his eyes.
“Night, Randy,” he says and turns to leave. “Call me. Or something.”
“Night,” Randy breathes and watches him walk away hands in the pockets of his brown overcoat, shoulders hunched up just a little to give shelter from the cool wind.
The original versions are in the comments of the request post, but I thought I’d put all the fics together in one post… So here they are.
These are all unbeta’d and written pretty fast. All mistakes are mine. The general rating is probably PG/PG-13.
Brian/Justin - Conan O’Brien, Chips (Timeline: season 3)
”Come on, get up. We’re leaving.” Brian says alarmed when some red-haired freak starts to string-dance on TV.
They’re sitting on the couch at Debbie’s one evening, both fired and bored out of their minds. Well, Brian is sitting like a normal human being; Justin lies in a funny position taking up most of the couch space. His head leans on Brian’s shoulder like it’s the most natural thing he ever did, a leopard-dotted blanket covers his legs that rest on Debbie’s lap.
“Lemme just watch this,” Justin mumbles, eyes fixed on the screen, and laughs when the freak suddenly starts bouncing from side to side. Brian decides that he would rather poke his eyeballs with the spoon Debbie is currently using to scrape more chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream straight from the cardboard goblet than watch this brainless show for one more second.
“Christ! Let him be,” Debbie yells when Brian begins to push at Justin’s sides trying to make him move. She swats him on the head when he starts sliding his hands down Justin’s stomach and up his thighs in attempt at setting the boy’s priorities right. It almost works, too, and just when Brian thinks Justin is about to sit up, Debbie hands him a bag of Doritos. A smug look on her face, she watches Justin’s attention return to the gnome-like loser.
Defeated, Brian sighs and starts counting down slow minutes in his head until the show ends, cursing under his breath the injustice of life.
Brian/Justin - Fall, Leaves, Leather Gloves (Timeline: post-series)
Walking down a small path in Central Park, Brian breathes in the dank air of fall. Everywhere around him, trees have changed colour, cadmium reds and yellows replaced summer’s simple mossy and light green.
He hasn’t seen so many hues since Justin moved out.
Brian isn’t all that surprised to find him there. Sitting on a black park bench, arms hugging a thin sketchpad to his chest. He wonders briefly if he should have called before he left, but doesn’t really care. Not now, not anymore.
His hair is darker, Brian thinks, when Justin looks up; he looks up to him, and a shadow of a smile crosses his face as he rises.
“Fuck you,” Justin breathes into his neck when they touch.
Brian presses his mouth against the side of Justin’s eye, and man does it feel like home. “Hey, Sunshine.”
His leather glove-clad hands stuff the ends of Justin’s light blue scarf better inside the dark jacket, but he stays still when cold fingertips brush against his lip.
Brian/Justin - Hogwarts’ Homohop (Timeline: post-series)
”What the fuck is going on?” Brian exclaims alarmed trying to escape through the door of the house he was just tricked into entering - The Novotny-Bruckner’s.
Justin pushes him further inside. “Don’t be a baby,” he says, but curses their bad luck under his breath.
“Brian!” Michael yells hurrying to greet them. “I don’t know what you said to him to get him to come, but it obviously worked,” he adds giving Justin a pat on the back and a wide smile.
“That’s just it,” Justin grins and grips Brian’s arm a little tighter when he feels the man slowly backing away. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he adds and gives his partner an apologetic smile.
Michael scampers away when Ben calls for him.
With mild amusement, Justin looks at the usually plain and average decor that has been replaced with thick cream white candles, hideous portraits that were no doubt dug out of Debbie’s garage, and cobwebs of every size.
But what really catch his eye, are the wizard hats that adorn the guests’ heads. Debbie’s is blood red.
Beside him, Brian sighs.
“Okay! Okay, listen up everyone,” Michael is standing on the coffee table in the living room yelling and flapping his hands excitedly. The sight makes Brian snort and step further into the room. “I appreciate you all coming to celebrate Hunter’s Birthday. It really means a lot,” he says the last part eyes on Brian who shrugs and looks at a random spot on the wall.
“Now. We chose a Harry Potter theme because Ben heard Hunter mention it the other day,” Michael continues as he hops back on the floor. “Remember to stay quiet when he opens the door and then yell surprise.”
“Jesus, do you want to give the kid life-lasting trauma?” Brian says as Michael tries to make him and Justin wear matching green felt wizard hats. Justin wrinkles his nose at them, and Brian decides that maybe Justin wants to be there just as much as he does. He smiles at him, and cups his head.
When Hunter finally comes home, two hours late and breath smelling like his new friend’s father’s liquor cabinet, the party has already started. All thanks to Brian’s how-to-make-a-lame-ass-party-seem-less-lame-speciality: spiked punch.
Hunter watches from the doorway as Brian and Justin hump each other on the sofa, hats and everything, while Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett clap their hands all synchronized with the music. Debbie and Carl dance around the living room no doubt reliving their lost youth.
Slowly, Hunter lowers his backpack on the floor and shakes his head, thinks adults.
“What the fuck is this? Hogwarts’ Homohop?”
Brian/Justin - Hurricane (Timeline: season 5)
Justin and Daphne sit huddled up on the loft sofa one evening, blankets and everything wrapping them in a tight cocoon.
TV turned on the news channel, they watch as a balding man in a shabby wool jacket and dirt-coloured suit pants explains the various precautions people should take in the hurricane areas. There are weather maps and statistics in the background.
Brian is on the phone with Lindsay.
“You sure you don’t want me to… Fine, but call me if anything changes. Yeah. I know… Call me in the morning… Bye.” He throws the phone in the vicinity of one of the armchairs, and flops down on the sofa next to Justin, tired and worried about his four-year-old.
“They said it’s not supposed to hit the city very hard. Just some rain and wind,” Justin speaks softly against Brian’s cheek, one arm around Daphne, palm cupping her shoulder, the warmth of her light mauve sweater soaking into him. He feels Brian nod against his lips as he closes his eyes.
Daphne snickers when Justin begins to snore in his sleep. Her eyes meet Brian’s and they both laugh at the absurdity of the moment.
”Night, darling.” Brian chuckles trying to get more comfortable on the sofa.
“Night,” she grins and leans her head on Justin’s arm.
Brian listens to the soft breathing around him, and it mixes with the shrilling wind and pounding rain creating a pleasant un-rhythm that makes his eyes droop and head feel heavy forcing him into sleep as well.
Brian/Justin - Christmas (Timeline: season 1) Inspired by this
”Hey, Boy Wonder.” Michael says as he sits down at the counter next to Brian.
“I’ll have two lemon squares to go. David and I are celebrating,” he adds grinning smugly at his best friend who is sipping black coffee, one eye skimming the paper, the other casually following the gentle sway of Justin’s ass.
“Celebrating what?” Brian asks only half interested in hearing the real answer. “The good doctor finally get a dick prosthesis?” He makes a face at the thought but feels the corners of his mouth twitch when Justin chuckles from behind the counter.
“For your information, David and I were going at it like two horny rabbits last night,” Michael defends hotly crossing his arms. “It’s the three month anniversary of the first time we fucked.”
Justin scrunches up his face and closes the take-out container. “Here,” he says and reaches for the money Michael put on the counter. Just when he’s about to get the coffeepot to fill Brian’s cup, Michael grabs his arm.
“Hey, wait! What the fuck are these?”
“Lemon cupcakes. Let go,” Justin says annoyed and yanks his arm free.
“I asked for lemon squares, not some cupcake shit,” Michael whines.
“Didn’t you see the poster on the door? It’s December 15th.” Justin explains like he’s talking to a child, a very slow child, and sighs at the blank expression on Michael’s face.
“It’s the National Lemon Cupcake Day,” he adds fighting the urge to call Michael a doofus.
Brian snorts proceeding to choke on his coffee.
“But I still don’t get it.” Michael stares at the two creamy nonpareil covered poppy seed cupcakes like the answer would be there if he just looked long enough.
Justin massages his forehead wondering how many times he will have to have this same conversation before the day ends.
“Look. Just ask your mom. She’s the one who’s in charge of all this,” he sighs and moves to pat Brian - who is still coughing up the coffee from his windpipe - on the back.
“I swear. If anyone asks me about the fucking cupcakes one more time, I’m gonna cut a bitch,” Justin shakes his head dreading the next day’s theme.
Why did Debbie have to discover the list of weird-ass holidays anyway? “It’ll be like Christmas every day!” She had said. Yeah, right, Justin thinks and rubs Brian’s back soothingly ignoring his protests.
Justin and Brian then watch Michael walk to his mother who is arguing loudly about the Christmas Eve Specials Menu with the chef, every now and then popping her fruit mix gum for good measure.
Brian eyes up Justin for a while before getting up, throwing some money near the plateful of lemon cupcakes and buttoning up his leather jacket. “When do you get off?”
“In about two hours,” Justin says looking at the plastic Garfield clock on the wall (an early Christmas present to Kiki from a ‘’secret admirer’’), the hand hitting three forty-five.
“’K, I’ll pick you up then,” Brian winks and pinches Justin’s ass enjoying the high-pitched yelp he manages to produce. “Pack some of those with you,” he grins wolfishly at the pile of cupcakes as he walks backwards through the door.
Justin chuckles rubbing his smarting ass. Maybe the odd holidays weren’t such a bad idea after all.
He waits eagerly for the National Chocolate-covered Anything Day, his dick twitching excitedly against the soft denim of his jeans.
Brian & Lindsay - Colouring Book (Timeline: pre-series, college)
Come on, let’s get you drunk, he had said three hours earlier in her small cube-like room. She had sat in the middle of her tomato-red fold up sofa bed clutching an old colouring book in her hands looking small and pathetic.
The red knee length dress she has decided to wear for her ‘party for one, now I guess for two if you insist’ matches the sofa, the thick polka dot curtains, and even the quadrate tablecloth that he knows has no actual purpose.
She lives in phases, he will learn seven months later, when she paints her walls a pleasant shade of green.
“The colouring book reminds me of life before,” she whispers suddenly, eyes on the strategically placed black and white Madonna poster that covers a smudge or two.
She’s drunk now. Drunk like the fucking goldfish in its round glass bowl on the windowpane. Her walls are still white, and he thinks it’s fitting.
Clinking her sea-green bottle head together with his, she asks for a toast. A toast to the Birthday Girl. Because that’s her. And maybe she is too old for big family parties in the backyard, cream cakes and soft packages, but goddammit she deserves to be toasted at least.
He stands up, reels about here and a little there, and lifts his half empty bottle of ‘the best beer I can get for this and this amount, buddy’. With a wolfish grin on his too perfect for his own good face, he salutes her, and watches her pass out on the sofa, calves smoke-white in her long stockings.
Six and half hours later, she wakes up alone, arm numb under her head, and finds a rectangular package lying on the floor beside the sofa. The wrapper is red, and she knows what’s inside.
Gale/Randy - SLS Opening Night
There is familiar warmth in his stomach as Gale walks him home. Despite the nearly frightening episode with the fans and a few reporters, Randy is happier than he has been for… well, for quite a while.
The streetlights illuminate his face softening the rougher look that he knows Gale’s eyes still aren’t quite accustomed to.
There are accidental bumps of hips and arms, weather-chilled fingers brushing against each other. Familiar and comforting.
“Well. This is it,” Randy smiles lukewarmly and nods at the general direction of the apartment house he lives in.
Gale stops beside him, fingers taking the cigarette from Randy’s. “Right,” he says and inhales the burning smoke.
Straightening Randy’s dark brown toque that has come lopsided on his head, Gale breathes the smoke against his closed eyes before pulling him into a short embrace - the kind that leaves you unsatisfied and wanting - evening shadows keeping them fairly hidden from curious eyes.
“How’s Simon?” Gale asks grinning when he lets go of him.
“He’s… good. Why? What do you care?”
“I don’t,” Gale chuckles as he drops the cigarette on the ground, the heel of his boot coming to put out the light.
“Right,” Randy snorts and gives him a peck on the lips. “Well. Thanks for… you know.”
“Yeah.”
“I had a good time,” he says feeling the familiar pang in his chest when Gale’s fingertips gently brush his hair out of his eyes.
“Night, Randy,” he says and turns to leave. “Call me. Or something.”
“Night,” Randy breathes and watches him walk away hands in the pockets of his brown overcoat, shoulders hunched up just a little to give shelter from the cool wind.