QAF ficlet thing: Of New York & Rome (Gus, Brian)
Of New York & Rome | QAF: US | Gus, Brian | no spoilers
Thanks to
Tiff for the read through, even though she didn't like the ending (sorry, Boo. I don't like it either). This was supposed to be that big, eye-opening Brian/Gus fic, but it's not. It's just another one of those things.
Back before Jack realized the power of black on blue and your mother found sanctuary at the bottom of an empty glass, you imagined it.
i. in the back of my mind:
You never wanted to be a father.
Back before Jack realized the power of black on blue and your mother found sanctuary at the bottom of an empty glass, you imagined it. A little child with your eyes and someone else's smile, and maybe you were curious about a life as "Daddy."
But the vision was fleeting; drowned and buried by a battered home and broken love. Innocence was lost to the waking slap of reality, and the world is no fucking place for a child named Kinney.
(She asked when you were messed up, tweaked out, and you thought "what the fuck."
Suddenly, it was nine months later and you were more terrified than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
You don't know how to be a father.)
ii. fact over fiction:
You won't ever be the type of father that Gus deserves.
(The closest thing you ever had to a real Dad was your best friend's dying uncle, but there are things that even the best of role models can't teach you. Like how to love.
Truth is, you only think love is bullshit because that's what you were brought up to believe. Love is trust and loyalty and safety. Or, that's what love is supposed to be.
For you, it is blood and pain and heartache. It was missing school because your ribsarmshead hurt so badly that breathing seemed impossible. It was the lies you would tell Michael, the excuses you would give Lindsay, the reason why you wanted to get the fuck out of Dodge.
It is what your parents lack, what you were never shown until Michael and Vic and Deb.
It's the thing you try not to see in Justin’s eyes.
Love is bullshit because all that come from it is disappointment. If you don't love, you can't get hurt.
And you're so tired of hurting.)
There are things you can't give him, things that, in the stillness of midnight when the world is deaf and blind, you admit to yourself that you want to give him so fucking bad. You'll lie there with Justin pliant and warm against your side and imagine how life could be if things were different, if you were different.
iii. one that's all your own:
You never wanted to be a father, but you are not Jack Kinney.
(You were scared. You were fucking terrified. The nurse placed him in your hands and he was so tiny, so frail, and you wildly thought "how the fuck am I going to do this?"
And then your son opened his eyes, wrapped his little hand around yours finger, and you knew, you *knew* that everything was going to be ok. )
Thanks to
Tiff for the read through, even though she didn't like the ending (sorry, Boo. I don't like it either). This was supposed to be that big, eye-opening Brian/Gus fic, but it's not. It's just another one of those things.
Back before Jack realized the power of black on blue and your mother found sanctuary at the bottom of an empty glass, you imagined it.
i. in the back of my mind:
You never wanted to be a father.
Back before Jack realized the power of black on blue and your mother found sanctuary at the bottom of an empty glass, you imagined it. A little child with your eyes and someone else's smile, and maybe you were curious about a life as "Daddy."
But the vision was fleeting; drowned and buried by a battered home and broken love. Innocence was lost to the waking slap of reality, and the world is no fucking place for a child named Kinney.
(She asked when you were messed up, tweaked out, and you thought "what the fuck."
Suddenly, it was nine months later and you were more terrified than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
You don't know how to be a father.)
ii. fact over fiction:
You won't ever be the type of father that Gus deserves.
(The closest thing you ever had to a real Dad was your best friend's dying uncle, but there are things that even the best of role models can't teach you. Like how to love.
Truth is, you only think love is bullshit because that's what you were brought up to believe. Love is trust and loyalty and safety. Or, that's what love is supposed to be.
For you, it is blood and pain and heartache. It was missing school because your ribsarmshead hurt so badly that breathing seemed impossible. It was the lies you would tell Michael, the excuses you would give Lindsay, the reason why you wanted to get the fuck out of Dodge.
It is what your parents lack, what you were never shown until Michael and Vic and Deb.
It's the thing you try not to see in Justin’s eyes.
Love is bullshit because all that come from it is disappointment. If you don't love, you can't get hurt.
And you're so tired of hurting.)
There are things you can't give him, things that, in the stillness of midnight when the world is deaf and blind, you admit to yourself that you want to give him so fucking bad. You'll lie there with Justin pliant and warm against your side and imagine how life could be if things were different, if you were different.
iii. one that's all your own:
You never wanted to be a father, but you are not Jack Kinney.
(You were scared. You were fucking terrified. The nurse placed him in your hands and he was so tiny, so frail, and you wildly thought "how the fuck am I going to do this?"
And then your son opened his eyes, wrapped his little hand around yours finger, and you knew, you *knew* that everything was going to be ok. )