Title: "Stupid"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom/Spoilers: "QaF"-US.
Rating/Classification: 'R', Brian pov, Brian/Justin, angst, language, fluff
Disclaimer: CowLip!! Moo!
Summary: I figure this fits QAFImprov #4...it's fluffy. Sort of. As fluffy as Mr. Kinney gets. A filler scene for episode 207...Brian does a little thinking.

He falls asleep in your arms, his head tucked beneath your chin. You know he's going to drool on your chest at some point and if it was anybody else, you'd knock them off the bed for it. But it's not anybody else. It's not just *anyone*, as he said earlier.

It's Justin.

And you let him get away with everything.

He still walks around, half the time, on eggshells. Afraid he'll piss you off, afraid he'll do something that will make you change your mind about him and say "fuck the rules" and kick him out. The other half the time, he leaves the coffeemaker on all day until whatever's inside is the consistency of sludge...or he forgets to leave the check for Consuela out and she, rebelliously, doesn't take out the trash for two days straight...or he uses your razor to shave his balls...and, *then*, the eggshells appear.

He gets this look...the same look he must've had on his face right before the Louisville Slugger came at him. Panic. Terror.

*OhGodBriandon'tmakemego.*

"Shut up," you'll hiss at him, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him close. He's got the most fucking beautiful mouth and he's got to know that you're pretty much useless without it attached to yours now. "Shut up, Justin. Everything's all right."

And, most of the time, it IS all right.

Like when you lace your fingers through his and walk down Liberty Avenue together...so fucking proud that he's alive and with you and nothing can take him down...

Or when you catch his eye across a room and he smiles, bright like the fucking sun, and it almost knocks you over because you know he won't smile like that for anyone else in the world...

Or when you come home, late, and he's waiting for you, naked and ready with a bottle of Beam and a tube of Astroglide...

And, especially at times like this, where he's warm and sleepy and flush against you and it could inspire some sappy ad campaign for a romantic honeymoon getaway if you let it. He could inspire a whole hell of a lot of sappy ad campaigns if you let him.

But then he reminds you that he's just a kid. A stupid, wide-eyed kid who trusts you enough to ask you to fuck him bareback no matter what the consequences.

A stupid, wide-eyed kid who could smarten up way, way, too fast.

A stupid, wide-eyed kid who might get over the myth and the man, Brian Kinney, in a heartbeat if a better deal came along.

There are a hundred and one ways to lose him. No matter how many times you slide into him and whisper and plead "I want you safe...I want you around for a long time", into the damp skin at the base of his neck...

He'll never really be safe.

And, as long as you love him, neither will you.

--end--

February 18, 2002.



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