UNSAID
Title: Unsaid
Written By: crazy4qaf
Timeline: Second half of Season 3 (between eps 7 and 11)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Shifting POVs
What if: Brian and Justin didn't reunite the way they did
Summary: The beat of your heart is deafening in your ears. The music burns its path down your back like the slick fingers of a stranger would, and that's not what you wish for tonight. You move your body the way he likes it, just like you always did, and you know he's been watching you. You can feel his eyes on your hot skin, imagine his hands on your hips, as he guides you through the night.
Author's Notes: Huge, huge thanks to my beta, who really helped me to make my peace with this story. :)
***
Secretly, covertly, you watch him as he glides through the club. It's been weeks since Ian left the stage, and it's been much longer than that since you managed to live in blissed out denial. You really wish you could blame anyone but yourself for that one, because even at your worst, he was onto you, and you can't help but wonder where that precocious boy is now.
You down three more shots of Beam, your hand wiping away the errant drops of the liquid from your mouth, and look across the room. He's here tonight and you feel frozen where you're standing. You take a deep breath and swallow. You try closing your eyes to erase him from your mind, but it doesn't help. He is still the only one you see. The one you want.
***
The beat of your heart is deafening in your ears. The music burns its path down your back like the slick fingers of a stranger would, and that's not what you wish for tonight. You move your body the way he likes it, just like you always did, and you know he's been watching you. You can feel his eyes on your hot skin, imagine his hands on your hips, as he guides you through the night. You savor the fantasy with a sigh and pull the dirty blond you are dancing with into the backroom. His eyes still follow your every step. Yeah, he definitely still wants you, so you smile. The rest are only details.
***
“Refill?” You look up when you hear his voice. A steaming coffee in one of his hands and a bright smile on his lips just made your evening a little brighter. Against your better judgment, you return a smile and nod at him. He bends over the table slightly, causing his shirt to ride up higher, showing you just a sliver of that pale skin you miss so much. It takes everything in you to not just bend him further over the table and fuck him senseless, but once again, you discover how much self-control you really possess. Instead, you focus your fascination on the look of utter concentration on his face and you can't help but be taken back to a time not so long ago. He knew you then, and you pushed him away for that. Just one of your “smart” moves. Working with Stockwell was the latest one. So much for it being just a fucking job. You should`ve known that everything comes with a hefty price. You should`ve known you would pay for it eventually. If anything, life taught you that little lesson.
“When are you off?” You ask him before you can change your mind. Lately, it's been known to happen a lot. You don't know why the fuck is that, but you have your theories that he somehow has something to do with it. Ironically, he usually does.
He refocuses on you and you can see the slight confusion in his eyes. There is so much left unsaid, so many question are unanswered. Well, at least you are able to keep him on his toes. Only, you're not so sure that is actually a good thing.
“In ten minutes. Why?” You look away, feeling his eyes scorching your skin. It throws you off for a split second, because you know that he used to see through you from a mile away. This kind of reaction leaves you a numb around the edges.
“Want me to give you a ride somewhere?” The words leave your mouth before you realize the double entendre. Judging by his facial expression, he realized it too.
“Uh, to drop you off somewhere, that is...” Nice save. Well, if it weren't for the fact that you aren't a fourteen year old science geek in the dire need of getting laid anymore.
It's really weird what he makes you do, how he makes you act and why you're still stunned by your reaction to him, you have absolutely no fucking idea. Nothing should surprise you anymore.
“Sure, let me just finish this and I'll meet you outside in 10 minutes.” You nod silently, as you watch him walk away.
The thing is, you have no expectations for this, but still, somewhere inside, in the deepest recesses of your mind, you hope. For what exactly, you're not sure, but then again, you never were, were you...He was just always there and you took all that he offered.
Ten minutes later, you're standing in front of the diner, your jacket zipped tight, when the door opens and Justin joins you. You take a long drag of your cigarette and your eyes meet. He smiles at you and moves in on your cigarette, sucking the cancer stick between his chapped lips, and suddenly you're so fucking glad that it's dark and that's he's alive and standing there. He always did have more than you in the balls department, because as ridiculous as that sounds, now that he's here, the last thing you want to do is drive him away again. But this time, you're gonna let him make the first move. It's up to him.
“Come on...” You let your words get carried away in the winter wind, leaving the boy to trail behind you to the car. You stick your hands into the pockets, trying to suppress the impulse to take his hand in yours, because you're not allowed yet. You still get the feeling he's off limits to you.
“Where to?” You murmur, distracting yourself by surfing for stations on the radio. The same freaking car radio you never even turn on.
“Daphne's,” he murmurs back.
You glance at him, watching silently the way his chest rises and falls in the semi-dark of your car. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back on the seat. He seems dead on his feet and you wish you could run your fingers through his hair right now, just to try and take some of that tiredness away. Instead, your fingers tighten slightly around the wheel, leaving you filled to the top and empty at the same time.
“Long day?” You ask him, even though you know the answer. Even though you know the answers to all your questions, just hearing his voice makes you feel good. You ask because you can feel the silence surrounding you, almost about to suffocate you, and you just can't stand it. It reminds you too much of the same silence you had for a company when Justin was in the coma.
He murmurs something unintelligible and you know he's asleep. Quick...Think...What do you do? Should you still drop him off at Daphne's or let him sleep it off in the loft? Eventually, he decides for you, when his head hits your shoulder. You glance down at him, his golden hair a breathtaking contrast to your leather jacket, and you can't help but smile, because you have never seen anything more beautiful. And it's almost like he never left. It's a fucking mind game you sometimes use to torture yourself. The what ifs.
What if he stayed, what if you gave him everything he asked for, what if you never showed up at his prom...Would he still be here, alive? Would you be happier being alone? And the best one by far...What if you never met him? Would his life be everything he dreamed about? Would he find himself some little twink, maybe live in the fucking suburbs, trying desperately to blend in with the neighbors and live in some hetero matrix of a lifestyle? There are so many possibilities and so many variables that you can never be sure, but you choose to be selfish this time. Justin belongs to you. That's the only thing that`s clear in your mind..
You park your car in front of your building and come around to get Justin out of the front seat. You lock the car door and gather him carefully in your embrace, his tired body pliant in your arms. He buries his nose in your shoulder and you glance down, as you enter the elevator with your precious cargo. The way his hair falls in his eyes reminds you of Gus a little and you sigh silently at the sudden tightening in your chest. And it's not like you to have expectations, but hope is for free and it's all you really got.
***
Slowly, you open your eyes and the first thing you see is Brian sound asleep, that adorable little snore caused by his deviated septum like a song to your ears. You realize you are under the covers and he, still fully clothed, is on top of them, and you know he's been watching you sleep again. Sure, you let him believe you have absolutely no idea he's doing it, but that's completely selfish decision on your part, because it makes you feel loved by Brian Kinney and that in itself seems like a small miracle. Besides, you're the one watching now, but you want more. You want to touch, to be touched. You want to belong to him again.
The tip of your index finger trails down Brian's bicep and slowly, you scoot closer. Before you know what you're doing, your lips gently touch his. Quickly, as if you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, you move away a little and wait for a reaction. When you realize Brian sleeps right through it, something predatory awakens inside of you and you dive head first for his lips again. This time, your kiss is merciless and the way your lips slide against Brian's makes your heart do somersaults inside your chest. And then, you feel him moving and it's everything you dreamed of since you've been apart, because in a frenzy of movements, his lips are hard against yours, and his fingers dig deep into your hips, and you know this will leave huge fucking bruises on your skin, but you just don't fucking care, because you want him inside, want him like you never wanted anyone else in your life. Suddenly, you feel him pull away a bit and you glance at him, the hurt obvious in your eyes. He lays his hand gently on your cheek and caresses your cheekbone with his thumb and all you can do is lick your lips in anticipation, because it's love, pure and simple.
“Justin...” You watch him, as he searches for the right words and your pearly whites flash that tiny smile you save just for him.
“Are you sure? Because I still can't give you all you want. I...care about you, but...I'm not like-” You shake your head at him, because you know what he means, but life is too fucking short for pussy footing and you'll be damned if you'll let one more day go by without him in your life.
“Brian, it's alright. I know what I'm doing and what we want from each other now. We can make it work. I'm sure of it.” He looks at you with such vulnerability, such openness, that you just want to reach for him and hold him and you know that the thought itself is so fucking ridiculous that you want to cry, but you can't help yourself.
“No more fiddlers?” You grin slightly and shake your head.
“No more fiddlers,” his hand caresses your cheek and you lean into the touch. Gently, you kiss the inside of his palm.
“Um, what about a pianist?”
“You little...” His eyes widen a little and then, you hear him sputter in laughter and you know you are where you`re meant to be. You find yourself laughing in his strong, familiar arms and then, he's kissing you just like he always did. Slowly, everything else fades into the background, and when he slides deep inside of you, you sigh with your eyes closed, grabbing the duvet with your trembling fingers. Your legs hold on tightly around his hips as he rides your ass hard, the slap of skin against naked skin the only sound that roars obscenely in the silence of the bedroom. And you'd swear you feel the desperation in Brian's every movement, in his every thrust, so you reach out and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue soft and playful against his, because you feel a little desperate yourself right now. And at the moment, you can't help but wonder why you ever left this man.
***
You know that the best thing for you both would be for this to have never happened. You know that Justin is too fucking young to settle for someone who is so...damaged like you, so imperfect in so many ways. You know all that, but you want him. He makes your blood boil and you want to possess him, to claim him in the club full of people, to go against your very self for him. You can't explain it, but it's who you are, who he is to you. And you and the whole wide world know you are a selfish fuck when it comes to Justin. You know that, but it doesn't matter. Because he's yours again. In all the ways that count, he's a part of you and you wouldn't change that even if your life depended on it.
Silently, you roll out of bed, pull your jeans on and leave him to sleep. He looks like a fucking angel, laid down invitingly on the duvet, but you know it's a trap, a facade. He's so much more dangerous underneath all that pale skin, so much more powerful and you're so fucking glad for it. He's a fighter, a survivor, and the bravest fucking man you've ever met.
You light a cigarette and pour yourself a glass, brown liquid a welcome burn inside your body. With a sigh, you take your drink and pad over to the sofa. Another swallow and you lean back, close your eyes and move to lift your feet on the coffee table, when you hear something slide off of it. Your eyes open and you look down on the floor. You realize it's one of Justin's sketchbooks and you bend down to pick up the papers that fell from it. Slowly, you spread it all on the table and you swallow hard. ”Hail to the chief.” You fucking recognize this. You've seen it before, you're sure of it. ”Laughing stock.” You blink. Yeah, it's heavy-handed and crude and suddenly, you know exactly where you've seen it. You realize that these same pictures have stared at you from the walls of Liberty Avenue for the last couple of weeks. Shit, he did it all by himself. And you finally understand what this is all about. You know what needs to be done, what you have to do to protect what's yours from the Stockwells of this world.
You won't let someone like him win. You can't. Too much depends on it.
The End
Written By: crazy4qaf
Timeline: Second half of Season 3 (between eps 7 and 11)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Shifting POVs
What if: Brian and Justin didn't reunite the way they did
Summary: The beat of your heart is deafening in your ears. The music burns its path down your back like the slick fingers of a stranger would, and that's not what you wish for tonight. You move your body the way he likes it, just like you always did, and you know he's been watching you. You can feel his eyes on your hot skin, imagine his hands on your hips, as he guides you through the night.
Author's Notes: Huge, huge thanks to my beta, who really helped me to make my peace with this story. :)
***
Secretly, covertly, you watch him as he glides through the club. It's been weeks since Ian left the stage, and it's been much longer than that since you managed to live in blissed out denial. You really wish you could blame anyone but yourself for that one, because even at your worst, he was onto you, and you can't help but wonder where that precocious boy is now.
You down three more shots of Beam, your hand wiping away the errant drops of the liquid from your mouth, and look across the room. He's here tonight and you feel frozen where you're standing. You take a deep breath and swallow. You try closing your eyes to erase him from your mind, but it doesn't help. He is still the only one you see. The one you want.
***
The beat of your heart is deafening in your ears. The music burns its path down your back like the slick fingers of a stranger would, and that's not what you wish for tonight. You move your body the way he likes it, just like you always did, and you know he's been watching you. You can feel his eyes on your hot skin, imagine his hands on your hips, as he guides you through the night. You savor the fantasy with a sigh and pull the dirty blond you are dancing with into the backroom. His eyes still follow your every step. Yeah, he definitely still wants you, so you smile. The rest are only details.
***
“Refill?” You look up when you hear his voice. A steaming coffee in one of his hands and a bright smile on his lips just made your evening a little brighter. Against your better judgment, you return a smile and nod at him. He bends over the table slightly, causing his shirt to ride up higher, showing you just a sliver of that pale skin you miss so much. It takes everything in you to not just bend him further over the table and fuck him senseless, but once again, you discover how much self-control you really possess. Instead, you focus your fascination on the look of utter concentration on his face and you can't help but be taken back to a time not so long ago. He knew you then, and you pushed him away for that. Just one of your “smart” moves. Working with Stockwell was the latest one. So much for it being just a fucking job. You should`ve known that everything comes with a hefty price. You should`ve known you would pay for it eventually. If anything, life taught you that little lesson.
“When are you off?” You ask him before you can change your mind. Lately, it's been known to happen a lot. You don't know why the fuck is that, but you have your theories that he somehow has something to do with it. Ironically, he usually does.
He refocuses on you and you can see the slight confusion in his eyes. There is so much left unsaid, so many question are unanswered. Well, at least you are able to keep him on his toes. Only, you're not so sure that is actually a good thing.
“In ten minutes. Why?” You look away, feeling his eyes scorching your skin. It throws you off for a split second, because you know that he used to see through you from a mile away. This kind of reaction leaves you a numb around the edges.
“Want me to give you a ride somewhere?” The words leave your mouth before you realize the double entendre. Judging by his facial expression, he realized it too.
“Uh, to drop you off somewhere, that is...” Nice save. Well, if it weren't for the fact that you aren't a fourteen year old science geek in the dire need of getting laid anymore.
It's really weird what he makes you do, how he makes you act and why you're still stunned by your reaction to him, you have absolutely no fucking idea. Nothing should surprise you anymore.
“Sure, let me just finish this and I'll meet you outside in 10 minutes.” You nod silently, as you watch him walk away.
The thing is, you have no expectations for this, but still, somewhere inside, in the deepest recesses of your mind, you hope. For what exactly, you're not sure, but then again, you never were, were you...He was just always there and you took all that he offered.
Ten minutes later, you're standing in front of the diner, your jacket zipped tight, when the door opens and Justin joins you. You take a long drag of your cigarette and your eyes meet. He smiles at you and moves in on your cigarette, sucking the cancer stick between his chapped lips, and suddenly you're so fucking glad that it's dark and that's he's alive and standing there. He always did have more than you in the balls department, because as ridiculous as that sounds, now that he's here, the last thing you want to do is drive him away again. But this time, you're gonna let him make the first move. It's up to him.
“Come on...” You let your words get carried away in the winter wind, leaving the boy to trail behind you to the car. You stick your hands into the pockets, trying to suppress the impulse to take his hand in yours, because you're not allowed yet. You still get the feeling he's off limits to you.
“Where to?” You murmur, distracting yourself by surfing for stations on the radio. The same freaking car radio you never even turn on.
“Daphne's,” he murmurs back.
You glance at him, watching silently the way his chest rises and falls in the semi-dark of your car. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back on the seat. He seems dead on his feet and you wish you could run your fingers through his hair right now, just to try and take some of that tiredness away. Instead, your fingers tighten slightly around the wheel, leaving you filled to the top and empty at the same time.
“Long day?” You ask him, even though you know the answer. Even though you know the answers to all your questions, just hearing his voice makes you feel good. You ask because you can feel the silence surrounding you, almost about to suffocate you, and you just can't stand it. It reminds you too much of the same silence you had for a company when Justin was in the coma.
He murmurs something unintelligible and you know he's asleep. Quick...Think...What do you do? Should you still drop him off at Daphne's or let him sleep it off in the loft? Eventually, he decides for you, when his head hits your shoulder. You glance down at him, his golden hair a breathtaking contrast to your leather jacket, and you can't help but smile, because you have never seen anything more beautiful. And it's almost like he never left. It's a fucking mind game you sometimes use to torture yourself. The what ifs.
What if he stayed, what if you gave him everything he asked for, what if you never showed up at his prom...Would he still be here, alive? Would you be happier being alone? And the best one by far...What if you never met him? Would his life be everything he dreamed about? Would he find himself some little twink, maybe live in the fucking suburbs, trying desperately to blend in with the neighbors and live in some hetero matrix of a lifestyle? There are so many possibilities and so many variables that you can never be sure, but you choose to be selfish this time. Justin belongs to you. That's the only thing that`s clear in your mind..
You park your car in front of your building and come around to get Justin out of the front seat. You lock the car door and gather him carefully in your embrace, his tired body pliant in your arms. He buries his nose in your shoulder and you glance down, as you enter the elevator with your precious cargo. The way his hair falls in his eyes reminds you of Gus a little and you sigh silently at the sudden tightening in your chest. And it's not like you to have expectations, but hope is for free and it's all you really got.
***
Slowly, you open your eyes and the first thing you see is Brian sound asleep, that adorable little snore caused by his deviated septum like a song to your ears. You realize you are under the covers and he, still fully clothed, is on top of them, and you know he's been watching you sleep again. Sure, you let him believe you have absolutely no idea he's doing it, but that's completely selfish decision on your part, because it makes you feel loved by Brian Kinney and that in itself seems like a small miracle. Besides, you're the one watching now, but you want more. You want to touch, to be touched. You want to belong to him again.
The tip of your index finger trails down Brian's bicep and slowly, you scoot closer. Before you know what you're doing, your lips gently touch his. Quickly, as if you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, you move away a little and wait for a reaction. When you realize Brian sleeps right through it, something predatory awakens inside of you and you dive head first for his lips again. This time, your kiss is merciless and the way your lips slide against Brian's makes your heart do somersaults inside your chest. And then, you feel him moving and it's everything you dreamed of since you've been apart, because in a frenzy of movements, his lips are hard against yours, and his fingers dig deep into your hips, and you know this will leave huge fucking bruises on your skin, but you just don't fucking care, because you want him inside, want him like you never wanted anyone else in your life. Suddenly, you feel him pull away a bit and you glance at him, the hurt obvious in your eyes. He lays his hand gently on your cheek and caresses your cheekbone with his thumb and all you can do is lick your lips in anticipation, because it's love, pure and simple.
“Justin...” You watch him, as he searches for the right words and your pearly whites flash that tiny smile you save just for him.
“Are you sure? Because I still can't give you all you want. I...care about you, but...I'm not like-” You shake your head at him, because you know what he means, but life is too fucking short for pussy footing and you'll be damned if you'll let one more day go by without him in your life.
“Brian, it's alright. I know what I'm doing and what we want from each other now. We can make it work. I'm sure of it.” He looks at you with such vulnerability, such openness, that you just want to reach for him and hold him and you know that the thought itself is so fucking ridiculous that you want to cry, but you can't help yourself.
“No more fiddlers?” You grin slightly and shake your head.
“No more fiddlers,” his hand caresses your cheek and you lean into the touch. Gently, you kiss the inside of his palm.
“Um, what about a pianist?”
“You little...” His eyes widen a little and then, you hear him sputter in laughter and you know you are where you`re meant to be. You find yourself laughing in his strong, familiar arms and then, he's kissing you just like he always did. Slowly, everything else fades into the background, and when he slides deep inside of you, you sigh with your eyes closed, grabbing the duvet with your trembling fingers. Your legs hold on tightly around his hips as he rides your ass hard, the slap of skin against naked skin the only sound that roars obscenely in the silence of the bedroom. And you'd swear you feel the desperation in Brian's every movement, in his every thrust, so you reach out and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue soft and playful against his, because you feel a little desperate yourself right now. And at the moment, you can't help but wonder why you ever left this man.
***
You know that the best thing for you both would be for this to have never happened. You know that Justin is too fucking young to settle for someone who is so...damaged like you, so imperfect in so many ways. You know all that, but you want him. He makes your blood boil and you want to possess him, to claim him in the club full of people, to go against your very self for him. You can't explain it, but it's who you are, who he is to you. And you and the whole wide world know you are a selfish fuck when it comes to Justin. You know that, but it doesn't matter. Because he's yours again. In all the ways that count, he's a part of you and you wouldn't change that even if your life depended on it.
Silently, you roll out of bed, pull your jeans on and leave him to sleep. He looks like a fucking angel, laid down invitingly on the duvet, but you know it's a trap, a facade. He's so much more dangerous underneath all that pale skin, so much more powerful and you're so fucking glad for it. He's a fighter, a survivor, and the bravest fucking man you've ever met.
You light a cigarette and pour yourself a glass, brown liquid a welcome burn inside your body. With a sigh, you take your drink and pad over to the sofa. Another swallow and you lean back, close your eyes and move to lift your feet on the coffee table, when you hear something slide off of it. Your eyes open and you look down on the floor. You realize it's one of Justin's sketchbooks and you bend down to pick up the papers that fell from it. Slowly, you spread it all on the table and you swallow hard. ”Hail to the chief.” You fucking recognize this. You've seen it before, you're sure of it. ”Laughing stock.” You blink. Yeah, it's heavy-handed and crude and suddenly, you know exactly where you've seen it. You realize that these same pictures have stared at you from the walls of Liberty Avenue for the last couple of weeks. Shit, he did it all by himself. And you finally understand what this is all about. You know what needs to be done, what you have to do to protect what's yours from the Stockwells of this world.
You won't let someone like him win. You can't. Too much depends on it.
The End