[for Brian]

[one__song]

[Continued from here.]That fucking face... Claire'd had an attitude adjustment, that was for sure. She wasn't the bumbling blonde bimbo she'd once been, and Roger vaguely hoped Hunter's cock had very little to do with it

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[queer_as_brian]

Brian was feeling pretty fucking good. He'd spent the last few days drunk on good liquor for once, and he was in the mood for some company.

He wandered over to Roger's room after finishing the bottle of Grey Goose, knocking lightly and poking his head inside when there was no answer. Not there. Fuck. He stood in the corridor for a few seconds, frowning.

Some blonde chick came out of the men's room and bolted past him without a word, rousing his curiosity. What the hell had she been doing in there? He pushed the door open and walked into the bathroom, peering into the stalls with a vague smirk that disappeared instantly the second he saw Roger.

"Shit." He was in the stall with Roger before he knew it, not even stopping to wonder how he recognized him so fast despite not seeing much more than his back and his ass. If asked he'd claim he never forgot an ass, but that wasn't it.

Dropping to his knees, he reached for Roger, resting a hand on his back. "Roger..."

[one__song]

Roger's retching covered the swinging open of the door, but not the footsteps, and he was getting so lightheaded that he didn't notice they were heavier than the previous ones.

"I said get out, Claire," Roger hissed, and then when the hand fell onto his back, it felt familiar, and though he didn't want to admit it, he knew who it was.

He coughed and spit again, then took a deep, trembling breath, his whole body sore, eyes and nose dripping. He propped an arm against the seat and rested his head on his arm... but he didn't pull away.

"Brian..."

[queer_as_brian]

Brian's hand moved slowly over Roger's back, trying to calm him, although his own heart was pounding now. The effects of the alcohol were quickly fading as adrenaline went through him. He had to swallow a few times and wet his lips before he could ask "Do you need a doctor?" in anything approaching a calm voice. It sounded pretty good to him when he managed it, although inside he was anything but calm.

[one__song]

Another cough threatened to bring up more of the contents of his stomach, but he curbed it and just spit once, instead. That seemed to help.

"Not AIDS-related," Roger said, and he spit once more for good measure. Then, he was against the stall divider: these were the only two positions he could manage at that time.

"Well. Not really." He snorted cruelly and his stomach reminded him that was a bad idea.