Boundaries; Queer As Folk
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Title: Boundaries (Or, The Three Times Brian Wanted To Kiss Emmett, And The One Time He Did.)
Pairing: Brian/Emmett, mentions of Ted/Emmett, Brian/Justin, OC/Emmett and Brian/Michael.
Warnings: Vaguely sexual, offensive language, obscure pairing.
Summary: Acceptance is the first step to enlightenment.
1.
Michael has his first real boyfriend that first time; Brian’s thought enough about it, himself, and his future, and he knows he’s too late to opt for conventionality, just like he knows every other idealistic queer is. It isn’t the day and age or society to blame. Men are wired with flimsy metal panes to protect their hearts and every nerve in their body leading to their dick, and men like them are wired the same, with added vinegar and drugs pulsing in their pipe cleaner veins, hearts of thicker steel and infinitely more breakable skin.
Sitting in his apartment like he belongs is Emmett - younger Emmett, who still can’t chose between his old friends, and them, still doesn’t know beyond his roommate Michael and still never spoke more than necessary to Brian, who makes it clear enough he doesn’t give a shit either way. He tries to comfort with company only, doesn’t say a word at all. He sits next to Brian on the couch, passes him hot tea, even though he’s made up for Babylon and not a funeral. Brian mourns his love for Michael the same way he did as a teenager - shades of denial and ignorance. With his father and he’s hopeless relationship, it was through fucking, but it was satisfying then, after feeling like God’s sin, feeling like an outcast, to have some divine pleasure, to feel almighty and all powerful and forget. (He did this with Michael once - a cute, small boy with black hair, and he made it slow, and he made it hurt, and he slid one hand over that shouting mouth so it felt a little more disillusioning, and he breathed low, “Fuck, Mikey.” Even Brian had a hard time recovering from the guilt. Even Brian couldn’t meet him eye to eye that next month and a half.)
He isn’t going to do that to Emmett, because Michael will take it personal, and it’s Emmett is a nice enough person not to fuck around with his roommates best-friend, ‘one true love’ or whatever - but Brian tries it, anyway. He always likes the shock factor, likes the carnage a little bump of lips and grind of hips can cause in an instant. Emmett has lovely eyes, sharper than Brian likes, Emmett has pinkpink lips and a nice ass; Brian can remember the feel, one hazy night at Babylon with two long arms hanging off his shoulders, Emmett’s face lying in the curve of his neck, Brian’s hands traversing out of idle curiosity. The thing is, Brian likes Emmett beyond appearances - which his hardening cock agrees he quite likes too - and if his twisted adolescence taught him a thing it was to never make a friendship difficult, to never fuck with your best friends or their camp but pretty roommates.
When Brian leans in, Emmett stops him just a second before it’s too late. Brian likes Emmett for getting him, even a little, and he doesn’t cause a shitstorm in the middle of his apartment, doesn’t say a thing to Michael, or Ted, or anyone - he squeezes Brian’s arm with a pitying expression and says softly, “Oh, sweetie.”
2.
The second time, there isn’t this much justification. Brian’s just turned twenty-four, and Michael’s single, and Ted’s single and Emmett’s got some equally flamboyant, ridiculous and mildly handsome guy with him. This is around the time Ted’s crush of Michael has blown to wild proportions and Brian has watched all of them so many times stumble through relationship after relationship, looking for something nobody, not even any breeder can find. This is around the time he’s trying to give Michael some space and let him search for it himself, because if Brian wants anyone to have happiness, it’s Mikey, the only one who deserves it. So Brian pushes him into some bulky dancer and forgets him for the rest of the night, snickering at the way Ted blanches.
He wades his way to the bar, slings an arm around Emmett’s shoulders and asks whoever-the-fuck his boyfriend is if he can borrow him for a moment. There’s a delay between him settling his smiling mouth on Emmett’s cheek and Emmett giving a light, “Back in a moment,” with one hand spread on whoever-the-fuck’s chest as a goodbye. Brian leads Emmett to the bathrooms by his hands, and ignores the questions until he’s walked them to a stall. “What are we doing here?” Emmett asks again, eying the other inhabitants, rowdy and filthy, and Brian would make some smart comment here if he had any idea what his own answer was in the first place. All he says is, “I’m not stupid enough to do this on my own,” and he gets high in the bathroom stall with Emmett, pushes him against the door and runs sharp teeth along a jutted collarbone.
“This outfit is ridiculous,” he mutters, but the same could be said for just about everything Emmett’s ever worn, and Brian’s most likely been there to insult them, too, so Emmett just roll his eyes. “And who’s the fag?” And Brian never knows why he starts things like this, why he wants everyone so miserable and why he wants Emmett to want him like everybody else does - Emmett was his first rejection and it stings his reputation more than it really does himself, it’s more of just a challenge, something the businessman in Brian dies for.
Emmett’s opened his mouth to answer but Brian doesn’t want to know anyway, doesn’t care at all, so he starts on Emmett’s jaw line, wet mouth and slippery tongue, making a mess to get a rise, get anything at all. Everything Brian’s had his hands on always manages to slip away and frustration takes over - suddenly his hands are clawing Emmett’s jeans and Emmett’s reply has dwindled into an empty grunt and they’re pressing, messy and rough against the stall’s side.
His head starts pounding, and Emmett’s only letting him because he’s out of it, but Brian takes what he can get, grabs it with greedy hands and the only reason he stops at all is because when the door bounces back, whoever-the-fuck is standing there to catch them - him, just him - in the act and Emmett sprints after him without looking back.
Brian just wipes his mouth and pants against the doorframe, and they don’t talk about it after.
3.
After this, the whole Ted and Emmett calamity strikes, and Justin‘s ran off with his street-performing prince. Even a fuck-up like Brian knows Emmett can do better, and Ted has this infernal habit of dragging every happy human being down to his lifeless level. If anything, he should be thanked, he should be praised, but when he tells this to Michael, he gets called a heartless asshole and he leaves it there. He tell Lynsay about it, like an afterthought: “It’s warm out today, huh? And isn’t Ted Schmidt a useless fuck?”
Lynsay tells him not to be so hard on people, especially his friends, and especially Ted, because the guy’s been buried neck deep in shit for god knows how long now. “And whose fault is that?” Brian asks blankly, patting his son’s back, smiling at Lynsay the way that wins her over and makes her agree, no matter what. She just shakes her head, takes Gus back, and they drop the subject because everybody’s tired of a Father Kinney preach by now. “Don’t say anything,” she tells him quiet, and she kisses his cheek knowing he will in the end.
He relates it to Emmett in a stream of bullshit, incomprehensible above the Babylon din, but Emmett makes out every word of his sermon, makes that face like he’s tasting something bitter, like he’s hurt and Brian knows he’s fucked-up again, knows the damage is done and it’s too late to redeem himself, so why stop at all? Emmett snaps, “Fuck you, Brian,” for once sparing the rambles on true love, all the shit Brian can’t stand about him ignored and maybe Emmett needs just a little convincing to move on and realize his potential as a historic Pittsburgh fuck, just like the famed Brian Kinney.
Hands grab just like before - two fingers in his lapels, reeling him in, pressing their hips together and Emmett knows where it’s going already, doesn’t try to stop him at first, with his teeth caught in his adorable pink bottom lip. Brian lies a hand on Emmett’s cheek, bends closer, sharing warm breaths, sharing this one moment of weakness.
It happens in a flash. Emmett jerks him away with wide eyes and spits, “Fuck you, Brian!”
4.
Justin’s ran off again and Ted’s stuck in rehab; Brian hears a lot of news about arguing, about separation and the kid who overdosed in Ted’s apartment reappearing to fuck them all over once more, and then he stops hearing anything at all. Michael is home with his boyfriend and Emmett is standing at the bar of Babylon, sipping on a Cosmopolitan, as inconspicuous as ever.
“Isn’t this ironic,” Brian says with some shit-eating smirk. Emmett’s eyes glance at him, devoid, and he’d be frowning without the straw in his mouth, Brian knows. “Planning on joining your boyfriend?” He taps the glass with his finger and Emmett stiffens, remembering the deal with Brian is that no matter who it is, he has a right to overstep every and any boundary.
There’s hesitation before Emmett answers, “I don’t think he’s my boyfriend. He’s into young blond junkies, and I‘m just a sober old queen. Hey! You guys almost share a type.” And Emmett goes back to drinking, goes back to ignoring him, and Brian didn’t even hate heterosexual Emmett as much as he hates this bitter one.
Brian rests one hand on his shoulder, sets his mouth against his ear and says, “I don’t have a type. I have many.” He smiles, the one that wins Michael and Lynsay and Justin over, and Emmett’s eyes are too sharp to fall for that shit, because Brian doesn’t offer anything above an empty promise and Emmett’s obviously growing fucking sick of them by now. “You know, the answer isn’t at the bar.” He pulls Emmett away, turns him towards the inside of the club - a thousand bodies moving in waves, music loud enough Brian’s whole body trembles with the bass - and he throws an arm around him, the same careless way he would do Michael.
“I don’t use sex to run from my problems,” Emmett says right into his ear and the personal jab is ignored because Brian is becoming so much more increasingly accepting of his flaws - screwing around is one of the few he likes. Brian just smiles into his hair, slides his hand a little lower and presses them closer together, calling him out. “Brian,” Emmett starts, a warning tone, but they’ve came this far and he knows not much can stop him - Emmett isn’t Sunshine or Mikey, Brian has no fucking clue where Emmett stands at all. The lines are all blurring, have been since he turned thirty.
Brian slips the hand on Emmett’s shoulder around to reach his chin, tilts Emmett’s face to meet his own. “Didn’t I tell you before you could do better,” he breathes, and the kiss isn’t at all adulterated like Brian wants - just firm and careful, on the lips, fingertips light on the bare skin of his arm. It only lasts a moment and he can feel Emmett’s heart hammering the whole time, even after he’s pulled away. A Brian Kinney ‘Friend Kiss.’ Brian’s sick of giving them by now, sick of all those would-be could-be moments with Michael and sick of all the tiptoeing around Emmett. He wants to prove whatever his point is, fuck Emmett right there against the bar, tear at pinkpink lips with his teeth, wants this ordeal to be over and his heartbeat to calm the fuck down.
Emmett reaches up and kisses him again, the corner of the mouth, chaste and light and he wraps Brian in his arms after, close and tight and it makes no sense at all when all he’s dreamt of is having his own pristine boytoy back for months upon months and when Emmett is so set on some fairytale romance with a deadbeat ex-porn-peddler, but Brian can’t stop himself patting him awkwardly on the back and saying, “Ted loves you,” when he means that he loves him, Brian loves he and Ted and Michael and Justin, and it’s terrifying having to accept himself, all these ridiculous new aspects he never thought of before, all this pent up emotion he can’t handle at all, terrifying to admit he cares about anybody in his life besides himself. All he can think of for a moment is Justin and how he’s fucked-up and how easily he can repair it if he tried at all. All he can think of for a moment is now, two years ago.
Emmett pulls away and there’s a mutual understanding in the air that they will never, ever talk about it, before Brian asks him what the fuck he was thinking when he bought the purple feathered jumper he’s sporting and Emmett just rolls his eyes and smiles, a little. “We aren’t all perfect,” Emmett quips, and Brian doesn’t say anything back.
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Title: Boundaries (Or, The Three Times Brian Wanted To Kiss Emmett, And The One Time He Did.)
Pairing: Brian/Emmett, mentions of Ted/Emmett, Brian/Justin, OC/Emmett and Brian/Michael.
Warnings: Vaguely sexual, offensive language, obscure pairing.
Summary: Acceptance is the first step to enlightenment.
1.
Michael has his first real boyfriend that first time; Brian’s thought enough about it, himself, and his future, and he knows he’s too late to opt for conventionality, just like he knows every other idealistic queer is. It isn’t the day and age or society to blame. Men are wired with flimsy metal panes to protect their hearts and every nerve in their body leading to their dick, and men like them are wired the same, with added vinegar and drugs pulsing in their pipe cleaner veins, hearts of thicker steel and infinitely more breakable skin.
Sitting in his apartment like he belongs is Emmett - younger Emmett, who still can’t chose between his old friends, and them, still doesn’t know beyond his roommate Michael and still never spoke more than necessary to Brian, who makes it clear enough he doesn’t give a shit either way. He tries to comfort with company only, doesn’t say a word at all. He sits next to Brian on the couch, passes him hot tea, even though he’s made up for Babylon and not a funeral. Brian mourns his love for Michael the same way he did as a teenager - shades of denial and ignorance. With his father and he’s hopeless relationship, it was through fucking, but it was satisfying then, after feeling like God’s sin, feeling like an outcast, to have some divine pleasure, to feel almighty and all powerful and forget. (He did this with Michael once - a cute, small boy with black hair, and he made it slow, and he made it hurt, and he slid one hand over that shouting mouth so it felt a little more disillusioning, and he breathed low, “Fuck, Mikey.” Even Brian had a hard time recovering from the guilt. Even Brian couldn’t meet him eye to eye that next month and a half.)
He isn’t going to do that to Emmett, because Michael will take it personal, and it’s Emmett is a nice enough person not to fuck around with his roommates best-friend, ‘one true love’ or whatever - but Brian tries it, anyway. He always likes the shock factor, likes the carnage a little bump of lips and grind of hips can cause in an instant. Emmett has lovely eyes, sharper than Brian likes, Emmett has pinkpink lips and a nice ass; Brian can remember the feel, one hazy night at Babylon with two long arms hanging off his shoulders, Emmett’s face lying in the curve of his neck, Brian’s hands traversing out of idle curiosity. The thing is, Brian likes Emmett beyond appearances - which his hardening cock agrees he quite likes too - and if his twisted adolescence taught him a thing it was to never make a friendship difficult, to never fuck with your best friends or their camp but pretty roommates.
When Brian leans in, Emmett stops him just a second before it’s too late. Brian likes Emmett for getting him, even a little, and he doesn’t cause a shitstorm in the middle of his apartment, doesn’t say a thing to Michael, or Ted, or anyone - he squeezes Brian’s arm with a pitying expression and says softly, “Oh, sweetie.”
2.
The second time, there isn’t this much justification. Brian’s just turned twenty-four, and Michael’s single, and Ted’s single and Emmett’s got some equally flamboyant, ridiculous and mildly handsome guy with him. This is around the time Ted’s crush of Michael has blown to wild proportions and Brian has watched all of them so many times stumble through relationship after relationship, looking for something nobody, not even any breeder can find. This is around the time he’s trying to give Michael some space and let him search for it himself, because if Brian wants anyone to have happiness, it’s Mikey, the only one who deserves it. So Brian pushes him into some bulky dancer and forgets him for the rest of the night, snickering at the way Ted blanches.
He wades his way to the bar, slings an arm around Emmett’s shoulders and asks whoever-the-fuck his boyfriend is if he can borrow him for a moment. There’s a delay between him settling his smiling mouth on Emmett’s cheek and Emmett giving a light, “Back in a moment,” with one hand spread on whoever-the-fuck’s chest as a goodbye. Brian leads Emmett to the bathrooms by his hands, and ignores the questions until he’s walked them to a stall. “What are we doing here?” Emmett asks again, eying the other inhabitants, rowdy and filthy, and Brian would make some smart comment here if he had any idea what his own answer was in the first place. All he says is, “I’m not stupid enough to do this on my own,” and he gets high in the bathroom stall with Emmett, pushes him against the door and runs sharp teeth along a jutted collarbone.
“This outfit is ridiculous,” he mutters, but the same could be said for just about everything Emmett’s ever worn, and Brian’s most likely been there to insult them, too, so Emmett just roll his eyes. “And who’s the fag?” And Brian never knows why he starts things like this, why he wants everyone so miserable and why he wants Emmett to want him like everybody else does - Emmett was his first rejection and it stings his reputation more than it really does himself, it’s more of just a challenge, something the businessman in Brian dies for.
Emmett’s opened his mouth to answer but Brian doesn’t want to know anyway, doesn’t care at all, so he starts on Emmett’s jaw line, wet mouth and slippery tongue, making a mess to get a rise, get anything at all. Everything Brian’s had his hands on always manages to slip away and frustration takes over - suddenly his hands are clawing Emmett’s jeans and Emmett’s reply has dwindled into an empty grunt and they’re pressing, messy and rough against the stall’s side.
His head starts pounding, and Emmett’s only letting him because he’s out of it, but Brian takes what he can get, grabs it with greedy hands and the only reason he stops at all is because when the door bounces back, whoever-the-fuck is standing there to catch them - him, just him - in the act and Emmett sprints after him without looking back.
Brian just wipes his mouth and pants against the doorframe, and they don’t talk about it after.
3.
After this, the whole Ted and Emmett calamity strikes, and Justin‘s ran off with his street-performing prince. Even a fuck-up like Brian knows Emmett can do better, and Ted has this infernal habit of dragging every happy human being down to his lifeless level. If anything, he should be thanked, he should be praised, but when he tells this to Michael, he gets called a heartless asshole and he leaves it there. He tell Lynsay about it, like an afterthought: “It’s warm out today, huh? And isn’t Ted Schmidt a useless fuck?”
Lynsay tells him not to be so hard on people, especially his friends, and especially Ted, because the guy’s been buried neck deep in shit for god knows how long now. “And whose fault is that?” Brian asks blankly, patting his son’s back, smiling at Lynsay the way that wins her over and makes her agree, no matter what. She just shakes her head, takes Gus back, and they drop the subject because everybody’s tired of a Father Kinney preach by now. “Don’t say anything,” she tells him quiet, and she kisses his cheek knowing he will in the end.
He relates it to Emmett in a stream of bullshit, incomprehensible above the Babylon din, but Emmett makes out every word of his sermon, makes that face like he’s tasting something bitter, like he’s hurt and Brian knows he’s fucked-up again, knows the damage is done and it’s too late to redeem himself, so why stop at all? Emmett snaps, “Fuck you, Brian,” for once sparing the rambles on true love, all the shit Brian can’t stand about him ignored and maybe Emmett needs just a little convincing to move on and realize his potential as a historic Pittsburgh fuck, just like the famed Brian Kinney.
Hands grab just like before - two fingers in his lapels, reeling him in, pressing their hips together and Emmett knows where it’s going already, doesn’t try to stop him at first, with his teeth caught in his adorable pink bottom lip. Brian lies a hand on Emmett’s cheek, bends closer, sharing warm breaths, sharing this one moment of weakness.
It happens in a flash. Emmett jerks him away with wide eyes and spits, “Fuck you, Brian!”
4.
Justin’s ran off again and Ted’s stuck in rehab; Brian hears a lot of news about arguing, about separation and the kid who overdosed in Ted’s apartment reappearing to fuck them all over once more, and then he stops hearing anything at all. Michael is home with his boyfriend and Emmett is standing at the bar of Babylon, sipping on a Cosmopolitan, as inconspicuous as ever.
“Isn’t this ironic,” Brian says with some shit-eating smirk. Emmett’s eyes glance at him, devoid, and he’d be frowning without the straw in his mouth, Brian knows. “Planning on joining your boyfriend?” He taps the glass with his finger and Emmett stiffens, remembering the deal with Brian is that no matter who it is, he has a right to overstep every and any boundary.
There’s hesitation before Emmett answers, “I don’t think he’s my boyfriend. He’s into young blond junkies, and I‘m just a sober old queen. Hey! You guys almost share a type.” And Emmett goes back to drinking, goes back to ignoring him, and Brian didn’t even hate heterosexual Emmett as much as he hates this bitter one.
Brian rests one hand on his shoulder, sets his mouth against his ear and says, “I don’t have a type. I have many.” He smiles, the one that wins Michael and Lynsay and Justin over, and Emmett’s eyes are too sharp to fall for that shit, because Brian doesn’t offer anything above an empty promise and Emmett’s obviously growing fucking sick of them by now. “You know, the answer isn’t at the bar.” He pulls Emmett away, turns him towards the inside of the club - a thousand bodies moving in waves, music loud enough Brian’s whole body trembles with the bass - and he throws an arm around him, the same careless way he would do Michael.
“I don’t use sex to run from my problems,” Emmett says right into his ear and the personal jab is ignored because Brian is becoming so much more increasingly accepting of his flaws - screwing around is one of the few he likes. Brian just smiles into his hair, slides his hand a little lower and presses them closer together, calling him out. “Brian,” Emmett starts, a warning tone, but they’ve came this far and he knows not much can stop him - Emmett isn’t Sunshine or Mikey, Brian has no fucking clue where Emmett stands at all. The lines are all blurring, have been since he turned thirty.
Brian slips the hand on Emmett’s shoulder around to reach his chin, tilts Emmett’s face to meet his own. “Didn’t I tell you before you could do better,” he breathes, and the kiss isn’t at all adulterated like Brian wants - just firm and careful, on the lips, fingertips light on the bare skin of his arm. It only lasts a moment and he can feel Emmett’s heart hammering the whole time, even after he’s pulled away. A Brian Kinney ‘Friend Kiss.’ Brian’s sick of giving them by now, sick of all those would-be could-be moments with Michael and sick of all the tiptoeing around Emmett. He wants to prove whatever his point is, fuck Emmett right there against the bar, tear at pinkpink lips with his teeth, wants this ordeal to be over and his heartbeat to calm the fuck down.
Emmett reaches up and kisses him again, the corner of the mouth, chaste and light and he wraps Brian in his arms after, close and tight and it makes no sense at all when all he’s dreamt of is having his own pristine boytoy back for months upon months and when Emmett is so set on some fairytale romance with a deadbeat ex-porn-peddler, but Brian can’t stop himself patting him awkwardly on the back and saying, “Ted loves you,” when he means that he loves him, Brian loves he and Ted and Michael and Justin, and it’s terrifying having to accept himself, all these ridiculous new aspects he never thought of before, all this pent up emotion he can’t handle at all, terrifying to admit he cares about anybody in his life besides himself. All he can think of for a moment is Justin and how he’s fucked-up and how easily he can repair it if he tried at all. All he can think of for a moment is now, two years ago.
Emmett pulls away and there’s a mutual understanding in the air that they will never, ever talk about it, before Brian asks him what the fuck he was thinking when he bought the purple feathered jumper he’s sporting and Emmett just rolls his eyes and smiles, a little. “We aren’t all perfect,” Emmett quips, and Brian doesn’t say anything back.
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