406 Gapfiller--Enjoy! :)
Here is the gapfiller I promised a few days ago :) Thanks to Severina2001 and her amazing beta talents, I made it through the re-write stage fairly quickly. Thanks Vicki!! :)
The music beat in his head, thumping through his veins. It leapt from his temples to his torso, spreading down throughout his body, pulsing at his fingertips. His hands twitched, aching to take the sensation a step further. Instinctively, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the vial. He brought it to his nose but stopped short when he saw that it was empty. He gritted his teeth, remembering he’d done his last hit just before playing doctor with that asshole from the bet. What was his name? Steve? Shawn? Sheldon? Whatever.
All Brian knew now was that he needed a drink. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a double JB. Unfortunately, the bartender was more interested in the tall blond standing at the end of the bar than in doing his job. The blond guy was cute -- the obvious could not be denied -- but Brian had had him before and he really wasn’t worth the energy the bartender was putting into him. Ninety percent of the guys here weren’t worth it.
“Hey!” Brian called, leaning over the bar. “I’d like a fucking drink before I start collecting Social Security!”
The bartender glanced at him dismissively and Brian felt the fire in his gut flare. He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored -- especially at Babylon.
“I hope you like seafood, because he’s got crabs,” Brian remarked loudly. That got the bartender’s attention. He turned away from the mortified blond, poured the drink and placed it on the bar. Brian took a generous swallow and turned toward the dance floor.
All around him, sleek, sweat-streaked bodies pulsated - - hypnotized by flashing blue and white strobe lights, the music’s relentless beat and the heady scent of sex. Brian had spent a lot of time at Babylon over the years and its unlimited supply of sex, drugs and alcohol gave him a certain amount of comfort. He always knew what to expect at Babylon.
Yet now, looking out over the sea of men, Brian was a little surprised to find himself feeling somewhat bored with it all. It had always been like this - - ever since he began hanging out here. It had probably been the same way back when Vic was a player - - hot guys, pounding music, easy drugs . . . the occasional rain of silver glitter. Sure, the styles were different, thank god. (Brian shuddered to think of anyone hitting on him wearing a polyester leisure suit.) But aside from that, nothing had really changed - - except that Vic wasn’t a player anymore. He wasn’t anything anymore.
Vic was dead.
He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fuck death and fuck polyester and fuck Vic’s sorry ass,” he thought. He felt a surge of anxiety rush up through him unbidden and unwelcome. It was at times like these when a good blowjob came in handy.
He hammered down the rest of his JB and headed out onto the dance floor. He felt a roomful of eyes touch him -- following him as he headed toward the backroom. One set of eyes lingered a little longer than the rest and Brian snatched him from the crush of the crowd.
“You’ll do,” Brian said, leading him through the darkened doorway into the deep blue lights of the backroom.
He leaned back against a free space along the wall. The trick’s stupid smile broadened as Brian pushed him to his knees.
No, nothing had changed.
He rested his head back and sighed, closing his eyes as he felt the trick’s fingers tug on his zipper.
“I just thought you should know . . .”
Brian’s eyes shot open.
“You should get it checked out . . . the sooner the better.”
He felt his breath hitch in his throat as he convulsively grabbed the trick’s wrist.
“Hey! What’s your problem? Do you want me to blow you or what?”
Brian glanced down into the trick’s baffled eyes. They looked familiar . . . just like the eyes of a thousand other guys he’d had in the backroom.
Good enough.
“Get up,” he ordered.
“Huh?”
“Get up! I’ve had you before. And if I remember correctly, you were boring the first time.”
The trick sprang to his feet. “Fuck you!”
“You should only be so lucky.”
He zipped himself up and turned toward the door. This was boring. He glanced at his watch. Twelve-thirty. If he couldn’t find anyone worth tricking by now, he wasn’t going to at all.
* * *
He turned the key in the lock and slid back the loft door. He was somewhat surprised to find it dark and silent inside. Usually, Justin was there, working on some drawing for Rage with every light in the house on and techno blasting from the CD player. But tonight, it was oddly quiet.
Brian wondered where Justin was. Then in a flash he remembered. Justin was pissed at him for leaving Deb’s during her “time of need.” He grunted and headed to the bar.
“He can go ahead and console that crazy bitch all night for all I care,” he thought. Not that she needed much consolation. After all, Vic’s death wasn’t what one would call a surprise. Deb should have been prepared for it. Vic was lucky to have any extra time at all let alone four years of relative health and even a fucking boyfriend in the picture. She should have been grateful for it.
His fingers trembled as he set the bottle down and raised the glass to his lips. He smiled grimly. Her grief definitely hadn’t robbed her of her sass -or her strength. She really knew how to pack a punch.
He downed the drink and drew in a deep breath. The stale scent of cigarettes and booze saturated his clothes. There was another smell, too, something even closer and more disgusting - - Dr. Trick’s cologne. It smelled like a cross between Old Spice and English Leather, cheap and ancient - - just like Jack used to smell.
He stripped off his shirt and tripped up the stairs to the shower. He turned on the taps, tugged off his pants, and stepped under the warm spray. He had to confess that it wasn’t always the best way to go - - dying slowly of some disease over the course of months or years. Sometimes, it’s better to just die and be done with it quickly. Better for everyone.
He smiled acidly as he considered his father’s end. If that old prick had done anything right it was waiting until the last possible moment to tell Brian he was dying.
He remembered taking Deb’s advice and tying up loose ends. He’d known that it would be useless to come out to Jack, but he’d driven out to the house anyway. They’d tossed around a few useless words disguised as conversation and then Brian had told him he was gay. For a second, he’d actually believed that Jack might just understand - - maybe even accept it. But then Jack had said those words:
“You should be the one who’s dying.”
Brian remembered how the words had struck him like a fist. He’d expected to be called a queer or a fairy - - to be ridiculed for the timing of his declaration and disowned forever. But for some reason, he hadn’t expected his father to say that.
All at once, he’d felt all the contempt - - all the hatred - - he’d ever had for his father gather into his fist and before he knew it, it went flying out toward the old man. But Brian had pulled away just in time to see Jack shrink back like the spineless, diseased piece of shit he was. That was the moment when Brian had realized for the first time that he would never be another Jack Kinney.
“But I’m not the one who’s dying,” he’d replied triumphantly. “You are.”
Those words had given Brian a sense of power he’d never before felt. For once, he’d trumped his father. He’d stood tall as Jack cowered behind his worthless boxes of old junk. Brian was strong and healthy and felt as if he could live forever. Young and beautiful - - just like Mikey had said he’d always be.
Nothing like his old man.
“You have a lump on your left testicle . . .”
His heart leaped painfully in his chest. The unbidden words ricocheted through his head. He struggled to toss them away, but before he had a chance, his left hand rubbed across it - - a pea-sized bump on the underside of his testicle.
He felt a chill steal through him. He could almost see his father’s face rising up through the steam like a ghost, laughing.
The End < /lj-cut>
In other news, I was perusing Dear Abby yesterday, and came upon some wonderful words of wisdom. They're the AA Credo, but I think they work for *everyone* -- not just recovering alcoholics. They're especially timely as we begin this season of New Years Resolutions! I know Vicki has resolved to quit smoking. I'm so happy for you, Vicki! *Sending good vibes your way* :)
Just for today, I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all my problems at once. I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
Just for today, I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine.
Just for today, I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things I can correct and accept those I cannot.
Just for today, I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer.
Just for today, I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I'll not speak ill of others. I'll improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking. Just for today, I'll refrain from improving anybody but myself.
Just for today, I will do something positive to improve my health. If I'm a smoker, I'll quit. If I'm overweight, I'll eat healthily--if only just for today. And not only that, I'll get of the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it's only around the block.
Just for today, I will gather the courage to do what is right and take responsibility for my own actions. < /lj-cut>
Hope everyone's having a wonderful evening!
The music beat in his head, thumping through his veins. It leapt from his temples to his torso, spreading down throughout his body, pulsing at his fingertips. His hands twitched, aching to take the sensation a step further. Instinctively, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the vial. He brought it to his nose but stopped short when he saw that it was empty. He gritted his teeth, remembering he’d done his last hit just before playing doctor with that asshole from the bet. What was his name? Steve? Shawn? Sheldon? Whatever.
All Brian knew now was that he needed a drink. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a double JB. Unfortunately, the bartender was more interested in the tall blond standing at the end of the bar than in doing his job. The blond guy was cute -- the obvious could not be denied -- but Brian had had him before and he really wasn’t worth the energy the bartender was putting into him. Ninety percent of the guys here weren’t worth it.
“Hey!” Brian called, leaning over the bar. “I’d like a fucking drink before I start collecting Social Security!”
The bartender glanced at him dismissively and Brian felt the fire in his gut flare. He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored -- especially at Babylon.
“I hope you like seafood, because he’s got crabs,” Brian remarked loudly. That got the bartender’s attention. He turned away from the mortified blond, poured the drink and placed it on the bar. Brian took a generous swallow and turned toward the dance floor.
All around him, sleek, sweat-streaked bodies pulsated - - hypnotized by flashing blue and white strobe lights, the music’s relentless beat and the heady scent of sex. Brian had spent a lot of time at Babylon over the years and its unlimited supply of sex, drugs and alcohol gave him a certain amount of comfort. He always knew what to expect at Babylon.
Yet now, looking out over the sea of men, Brian was a little surprised to find himself feeling somewhat bored with it all. It had always been like this - - ever since he began hanging out here. It had probably been the same way back when Vic was a player - - hot guys, pounding music, easy drugs . . . the occasional rain of silver glitter. Sure, the styles were different, thank god. (Brian shuddered to think of anyone hitting on him wearing a polyester leisure suit.) But aside from that, nothing had really changed - - except that Vic wasn’t a player anymore. He wasn’t anything anymore.
Vic was dead.
He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fuck death and fuck polyester and fuck Vic’s sorry ass,” he thought. He felt a surge of anxiety rush up through him unbidden and unwelcome. It was at times like these when a good blowjob came in handy.
He hammered down the rest of his JB and headed out onto the dance floor. He felt a roomful of eyes touch him -- following him as he headed toward the backroom. One set of eyes lingered a little longer than the rest and Brian snatched him from the crush of the crowd.
“You’ll do,” Brian said, leading him through the darkened doorway into the deep blue lights of the backroom.
He leaned back against a free space along the wall. The trick’s stupid smile broadened as Brian pushed him to his knees.
No, nothing had changed.
He rested his head back and sighed, closing his eyes as he felt the trick’s fingers tug on his zipper.
“I just thought you should know . . .”
Brian’s eyes shot open.
“You should get it checked out . . . the sooner the better.”
He felt his breath hitch in his throat as he convulsively grabbed the trick’s wrist.
“Hey! What’s your problem? Do you want me to blow you or what?”
Brian glanced down into the trick’s baffled eyes. They looked familiar . . . just like the eyes of a thousand other guys he’d had in the backroom.
Good enough.
“Get up,” he ordered.
“Huh?”
“Get up! I’ve had you before. And if I remember correctly, you were boring the first time.”
The trick sprang to his feet. “Fuck you!”
“You should only be so lucky.”
He zipped himself up and turned toward the door. This was boring. He glanced at his watch. Twelve-thirty. If he couldn’t find anyone worth tricking by now, he wasn’t going to at all.
* * *
He turned the key in the lock and slid back the loft door. He was somewhat surprised to find it dark and silent inside. Usually, Justin was there, working on some drawing for Rage with every light in the house on and techno blasting from the CD player. But tonight, it was oddly quiet.
Brian wondered where Justin was. Then in a flash he remembered. Justin was pissed at him for leaving Deb’s during her “time of need.” He grunted and headed to the bar.
“He can go ahead and console that crazy bitch all night for all I care,” he thought. Not that she needed much consolation. After all, Vic’s death wasn’t what one would call a surprise. Deb should have been prepared for it. Vic was lucky to have any extra time at all let alone four years of relative health and even a fucking boyfriend in the picture. She should have been grateful for it.
His fingers trembled as he set the bottle down and raised the glass to his lips. He smiled grimly. Her grief definitely hadn’t robbed her of her sass -or her strength. She really knew how to pack a punch.
He downed the drink and drew in a deep breath. The stale scent of cigarettes and booze saturated his clothes. There was another smell, too, something even closer and more disgusting - - Dr. Trick’s cologne. It smelled like a cross between Old Spice and English Leather, cheap and ancient - - just like Jack used to smell.
He stripped off his shirt and tripped up the stairs to the shower. He turned on the taps, tugged off his pants, and stepped under the warm spray. He had to confess that it wasn’t always the best way to go - - dying slowly of some disease over the course of months or years. Sometimes, it’s better to just die and be done with it quickly. Better for everyone.
He smiled acidly as he considered his father’s end. If that old prick had done anything right it was waiting until the last possible moment to tell Brian he was dying.
He remembered taking Deb’s advice and tying up loose ends. He’d known that it would be useless to come out to Jack, but he’d driven out to the house anyway. They’d tossed around a few useless words disguised as conversation and then Brian had told him he was gay. For a second, he’d actually believed that Jack might just understand - - maybe even accept it. But then Jack had said those words:
“You should be the one who’s dying.”
Brian remembered how the words had struck him like a fist. He’d expected to be called a queer or a fairy - - to be ridiculed for the timing of his declaration and disowned forever. But for some reason, he hadn’t expected his father to say that.
All at once, he’d felt all the contempt - - all the hatred - - he’d ever had for his father gather into his fist and before he knew it, it went flying out toward the old man. But Brian had pulled away just in time to see Jack shrink back like the spineless, diseased piece of shit he was. That was the moment when Brian had realized for the first time that he would never be another Jack Kinney.
“But I’m not the one who’s dying,” he’d replied triumphantly. “You are.”
Those words had given Brian a sense of power he’d never before felt. For once, he’d trumped his father. He’d stood tall as Jack cowered behind his worthless boxes of old junk. Brian was strong and healthy and felt as if he could live forever. Young and beautiful - - just like Mikey had said he’d always be.
Nothing like his old man.
“You have a lump on your left testicle . . .”
His heart leaped painfully in his chest. The unbidden words ricocheted through his head. He struggled to toss them away, but before he had a chance, his left hand rubbed across it - - a pea-sized bump on the underside of his testicle.
He felt a chill steal through him. He could almost see his father’s face rising up through the steam like a ghost, laughing.
The End < /lj-cut>
In other news, I was perusing Dear Abby yesterday, and came upon some wonderful words of wisdom. They're the AA Credo, but I think they work for *everyone* -- not just recovering alcoholics. They're especially timely as we begin this season of New Years Resolutions! I know Vicki has resolved to quit smoking. I'm so happy for you, Vicki! *Sending good vibes your way* :)
Just for today, I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all my problems at once. I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
Just for today, I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine.
Just for today, I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things I can correct and accept those I cannot.
Just for today, I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer.
Just for today, I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I'll not speak ill of others. I'll improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking. Just for today, I'll refrain from improving anybody but myself.
Just for today, I will do something positive to improve my health. If I'm a smoker, I'll quit. If I'm overweight, I'll eat healthily--if only just for today. And not only that, I'll get of the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it's only around the block.
Just for today, I will gather the courage to do what is right and take responsibility for my own actions. < /lj-cut>
Hope everyone's having a wonderful evening!