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cityphonelines at 10:00am on 26/04/2005 under fic, fic:qaf: a very merry unbirthday (bk/jt)
cityphonelines at 10:00am on 26/04/2005 under fic, fic:qaf: a very merry unbirthday (bk/jt)Fandom: QaF
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: Pretty, but alas...
Notes: Going with the canon of Justin's 18th Bday being between eps. 114 and 115 and then his 19th during ep. 216 and season three ends at ep. 314 then this is set shortly after the season ended. Michael and Hunter are MIA and Ted is... ahem, indisposed.
Written on the fly last night as a b-day pressie for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crazydiamondsue, posted belatedly. Unbeta'd 'cause Sue's m'beta.
Turning eighteen should have meant getting into clubs, leaving home and smoking cigarettes inside the house instead of sneaking out to the backyard. It should have been this and more; but it wasn't, because Justin's beauty and connections have had him clubbing for months, home was a distant and replaced thing and no one even quirked their noses at the stale tobacco scent of his hair, so really it wasn't anything devastatingly huge. Except that he was officially, no consulting state laws or loopholes legal. An adult. And he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted for his birthday that year.
Brian. On tap.
Talk about hitting your birthday peak.
When he thinks back to his nineteenth birthday he gets so angry and it isn't at himself or Brian anymore. Because even though he'd indulged him the year before, Brian had been upfront about his thoughts on age progression and he himself should have been impressed by the honesty of the situation and amused that Brian had given it that good ol' college try in the end. He's forgiven them their trespasses.
Now he blames Lindsay. She'd set him up and she'd let him down. She'd played on the openness of his whatever the hell it was with Brian. She'd played him for a child and he’d fallen for it, eyes wide shut. He’d hung on every word that floated from her mouth that day; as they sat through the recital she'd filled his head with things that she had no business saying and he shouldn’t have been hearing. Oh, they were true, but it hadn’t been her place; he sees that now.
Chalk it up to experience. It makes us what we are.
He’s not even looking forward to twenty-one, the perks of that milestone have been at his fingertips for years, so twenty isn’t even blipping on the screen. He can look at you straight on, tell you he doesn’t care and completely mean it; and when the Sunday before the Tuesday of his birthday rolls around and Deb’s table is far from busting at the seams and Emmett forgoes the faux pas by asking how he plans to celebrate, this is what he does. Every set of eyes slide toward Brian, some with subtlety, some with blatant disdain, before flickering back to Justin with pity evident.
Well, Justin thinks, this’ll go well.
Which is of course when it starts.
"Baby, you can’t mean that! It’s a whole new decade for you."
"Fuck, that’s it! Sunshine's been officially brainwashed."
“Great going Kinney, I guess his diploma’s in the mail.”
“You know Justin, twenty is the point where most men really start to feel like they’re coming into their own.”
“Justin, honey, really, if you’d like to celebrate Mel and I would be happy to plan something for you.”
At that Justin snorts out a humorless laugh. It comes out though his nose sharply and his next words hiss out in an almost deadly voice. “Trust me Lindsay, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to help me celebrate my birthday this year. I’m sure the day can fuck itself up without assistance.”
“Justin, I didn’t mean…”
“Drop it, Lindsay. I have.”
He gets up from the table and for the first time takes in the look on Brian’s face. He can see Brian reliving the beginning of the end and wants so desperately to give Brian an out.
“I’m leaving. Thanks for dinner, Deb. Hey Brian, wanna share a cab? It’s kinda pointless not to.”
Once they’re outside Justin starts walking, knowing that these days Brian will accompany him without discussion. They’re quiet for the first three blocks and it’s driving Justin crazy. Just when he thinks he can’t stand it Brian speaks.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“About what?”
“Don’t play ignorant, it doesn’t suit you.”
Justin takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Yeah, I meant it. Relieved?”
“No.”
“No? That’s surprising. Why not?”
“Why are we walking?” Brian asked in that bypassing, this part of the discussion is over way of his. “I distinctly heard the words ‘share a cab’ not ‘take a bracing stroll’.”
Justin pulls out his cell phone, scrolls for the number, gives the name of a bookstore they’re near and tells the service to pick them up there.
***********************************
It’s past midnight. One day to go.
Without stereo or television, computer or desk, work or school there really isn’t much to do at the loft. Without money, there isn’t much to do outside the loft. He feels like it should bother them; make their teeth itch and their feet tap. It doesn’t.
“I think we should talk.”
Justin jerks his head from its place on Brian’s chest. “Hey, that’s my line. Who switched the scripts? And if I’m playing you I want a raise, the physical exertion alone is worth time and a half.”
Brian cuffs him upside the head then toys with Justin’s hair absently. “Allow me to amend my statement. I think I should talk and you should listen. So, shut up and pay attention.”
Justin rolls his eyes then burrows back down into Brian, “The floor’s all yours.”
“I think I screwed you up. I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t conscious, but I did. I pushed my mantras on you until they became your gospel. I twisted you into something I could handle. I was going to make it better this year. Do something… right. For you. And now I’m poor and carless, close to homeless. I don’t have anything worth anything to give you, third year running.”
“Are you quite through?” Justin said, making no attempt to hide his mocking tone. When he doesn’t hear an answer he goes on, “You’re so fucking full of yourself, it’s not even funny. Please, mantras and gospel? When did your mother show up?”
“Asshole, I was being serious.”
“And so am I. I make my own beliefs. Not caring about my birthday has very little to do with you and almost everything to do with me. Go figure, something not being all about you. I’m past the age for cake and ice cream and I’m not doing anything but getting older at this point. As for not giving me anything worth anything, well, you know what I want and it doesn’t cost a thing.”
“Fine, while I still don’t believe in your average birthday, I do, however, believe that you being able to see another one with me is an accomplishment.”
“I’m thinking of running for sainthood.”
“Twat. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah,” Justin breathed out, “I do.”
“Here’s the deal, I’ll give you what I can. Your birthday isn’t for twenty-four more hours, so, happy unbirthday to you,” Brian said, defiant grumble lacing his words, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: Pretty, but alas...
Notes: Going with the canon of Justin's 18th Bday being between eps. 114 and 115 and then his 19th during ep. 216 and season three ends at ep. 314 then this is set shortly after the season ended. Michael and Hunter are MIA and Ted is... ahem, indisposed.
Written on the fly last night as a b-day pressie for
crazydiamondsue, posted belatedly. Unbeta'd 'cause Sue's m'beta.Turning eighteen should have meant getting into clubs, leaving home and smoking cigarettes inside the house instead of sneaking out to the backyard. It should have been this and more; but it wasn't, because Justin's beauty and connections have had him clubbing for months, home was a distant and replaced thing and no one even quirked their noses at the stale tobacco scent of his hair, so really it wasn't anything devastatingly huge. Except that he was officially, no consulting state laws or loopholes legal. An adult. And he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted for his birthday that year.
Brian. On tap.
Talk about hitting your birthday peak.
When he thinks back to his nineteenth birthday he gets so angry and it isn't at himself or Brian anymore. Because even though he'd indulged him the year before, Brian had been upfront about his thoughts on age progression and he himself should have been impressed by the honesty of the situation and amused that Brian had given it that good ol' college try in the end. He's forgiven them their trespasses.
Now he blames Lindsay. She'd set him up and she'd let him down. She'd played on the openness of his whatever the hell it was with Brian. She'd played him for a child and he’d fallen for it, eyes wide shut. He’d hung on every word that floated from her mouth that day; as they sat through the recital she'd filled his head with things that she had no business saying and he shouldn’t have been hearing. Oh, they were true, but it hadn’t been her place; he sees that now.
Chalk it up to experience. It makes us what we are.
He’s not even looking forward to twenty-one, the perks of that milestone have been at his fingertips for years, so twenty isn’t even blipping on the screen. He can look at you straight on, tell you he doesn’t care and completely mean it; and when the Sunday before the Tuesday of his birthday rolls around and Deb’s table is far from busting at the seams and Emmett forgoes the faux pas by asking how he plans to celebrate, this is what he does. Every set of eyes slide toward Brian, some with subtlety, some with blatant disdain, before flickering back to Justin with pity evident.
Well, Justin thinks, this’ll go well.
Which is of course when it starts.
"Baby, you can’t mean that! It’s a whole new decade for you."
"Fuck, that’s it! Sunshine's been officially brainwashed."
“Great going Kinney, I guess his diploma’s in the mail.”
“You know Justin, twenty is the point where most men really start to feel like they’re coming into their own.”
“Justin, honey, really, if you’d like to celebrate Mel and I would be happy to plan something for you.”
At that Justin snorts out a humorless laugh. It comes out though his nose sharply and his next words hiss out in an almost deadly voice. “Trust me Lindsay, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to help me celebrate my birthday this year. I’m sure the day can fuck itself up without assistance.”
“Justin, I didn’t mean…”
“Drop it, Lindsay. I have.”
He gets up from the table and for the first time takes in the look on Brian’s face. He can see Brian reliving the beginning of the end and wants so desperately to give Brian an out.
“I’m leaving. Thanks for dinner, Deb. Hey Brian, wanna share a cab? It’s kinda pointless not to.”
Once they’re outside Justin starts walking, knowing that these days Brian will accompany him without discussion. They’re quiet for the first three blocks and it’s driving Justin crazy. Just when he thinks he can’t stand it Brian speaks.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“About what?”
“Don’t play ignorant, it doesn’t suit you.”
Justin takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Yeah, I meant it. Relieved?”
“No.”
“No? That’s surprising. Why not?”
“Why are we walking?” Brian asked in that bypassing, this part of the discussion is over way of his. “I distinctly heard the words ‘share a cab’ not ‘take a bracing stroll’.”
Justin pulls out his cell phone, scrolls for the number, gives the name of a bookstore they’re near and tells the service to pick them up there.
It’s past midnight. One day to go.
Without stereo or television, computer or desk, work or school there really isn’t much to do at the loft. Without money, there isn’t much to do outside the loft. He feels like it should bother them; make their teeth itch and their feet tap. It doesn’t.
“I think we should talk.”
Justin jerks his head from its place on Brian’s chest. “Hey, that’s my line. Who switched the scripts? And if I’m playing you I want a raise, the physical exertion alone is worth time and a half.”
Brian cuffs him upside the head then toys with Justin’s hair absently. “Allow me to amend my statement. I think I should talk and you should listen. So, shut up and pay attention.”
Justin rolls his eyes then burrows back down into Brian, “The floor’s all yours.”
“I think I screwed you up. I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t conscious, but I did. I pushed my mantras on you until they became your gospel. I twisted you into something I could handle. I was going to make it better this year. Do something… right. For you. And now I’m poor and carless, close to homeless. I don’t have anything worth anything to give you, third year running.”
“Are you quite through?” Justin said, making no attempt to hide his mocking tone. When he doesn’t hear an answer he goes on, “You’re so fucking full of yourself, it’s not even funny. Please, mantras and gospel? When did your mother show up?”
“Asshole, I was being serious.”
“And so am I. I make my own beliefs. Not caring about my birthday has very little to do with you and almost everything to do with me. Go figure, something not being all about you. I’m past the age for cake and ice cream and I’m not doing anything but getting older at this point. As for not giving me anything worth anything, well, you know what I want and it doesn’t cost a thing.”
“Fine, while I still don’t believe in your average birthday, I do, however, believe that you being able to see another one with me is an accomplishment.”
“I’m thinking of running for sainthood.”
“Twat. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah,” Justin breathed out, “I do.”
“Here’s the deal, I’ll give you what I can. Your birthday isn’t for twenty-four more hours, so, happy unbirthday to you,” Brian said, defiant grumble lacing his words, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
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