Aftermath, Part 1 (You & Me Series)
Mar. 22nd, 2011 08:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soulmatejunkeeTitle: Aftermath, Part 1 (You & Me-Series)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soulmatejunkee
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 5.13; POV's
Word Count: 2.334
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
Beta:mander3_swish - thank you so much!
Next part!
I needed a little time, because my muse disappeared - again!!
I try to catch her and to hold her tight, but she's smart!
As always: Every comment is welcome. I Love to read what you think. Thanks!
01. Listen to me
02. Trust me
03. Babylon Part 1 | Part 2
04. Find a way Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
05. ...remember what's missing?
06. The Party
07. Thanksgiving 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
08. 1 wedding, 4 rings... 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
09. The first Webcam Sex Chat
10. The first call
11. Expectations - Happy Valentine | Revenge
12. March 18th 2006
13. Aftermath - 1
Brian's POV
It might sound weird, but I guess you could call tonight a success. Most people donated some money to the group of surviving dependants. They took all the money they got from insurance claims and the donations from tonight and dispersed the money amongst those survivors and dependants who needed it.
Justin hadn’t talked much, actually nobody really did. The memories from a year ago seemed to overwhelm everyone.
We drove back to the house as soon as the event was over. It was almost midnight and normally the club would just be heating up (and we thought about switching from the memorial to a party), but I wasn’t sure how people would react to that. In the end, I decided to not open the club, just for tonight.
When we got home, we showered and we fucked – in silence. It was a slow, tender, and quiet fuck. It was what I had wanted last year, what I had needed... and what I missed when I came back to the loft that night and he wasn’t there because he’d had his own place. He seemed to have handled that night way better than I did.
Today he had a place of his own, too... but he was also living with me again.
He was thinking. I could see it in his eyes. We were lying on the bed, face to face, naked. He looked at me, but he had this empty look on his face. His thoughts were drifting away.
“What?” I asked.
“I was just thinking about where we would be today if the bombing had never happened.”
I swallowed. “You would be in New York and I would be in Pittsburgh.”
I knew that wasn’t what he was thinking about; it wasn’t what he was wondering about. But other than him I didn’t want to think about it. If none of it would’ve happened, I would still be in Pittsburgh – without him. He wouldn’t call me and there wouldn’t be any webcam sex at least three times a week. I wouldn’t see him every weekend; I couldn’t touch him or even look at him. He would be gone.
“We wouldn’t be here right now,” he said.
No, we wouldn’t. There wouldn’t be a house. There wouldn’t be rings. There wouldn’t be us. “Probably not.”
“You never would’ve told me that you love me.”
I would’ve gone to Australia, I would’ve fucked some guys, Lindsay would’ve talked Justin into New York, and he would’ve left. He probably would’ve asked me if there was any reason for him to stay… I wouldn’t have said anything.
Was it wrong that I was thankful for what had happened? How could I be thankful for a night that destroyed four families? That had cause three kids to lose their mother?
“I feel guilty,” he whispered.
“Why?”
He shrugged, “I wouldn’t ever give up what I have now, but I wouldn’t have it if the bomb hadn’t happened. How pathetic is it to say that something horrible like that turned things into something so wonderful? At least for me. It feels wrong.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything if nothing had come out of it,” I said. “You love to fight for gay rights. Living in this house, wearing these rings… it’s a small victory, but it is one we can be proud of. They can’t take that away from us.”
“They have given this to us.”
I couldn’t help but smiling. “How ironic is that?”
He answered the smile. “We should let them know.”
I hated to think about that night and how I felt back then, how scared I was, how unimportant everything else became when I had to face the possibility that he might be dead, and how selfish I thought about that. I even thought it might be a punishment, because I let him go, because I didn’t fight with him and for him, and because I made him think that he wasn’t worth fighting for.
“Debbie’s right. Love is the best way to knock them down.”
I laughed. “So what do you have in mind? Want to go to one of their churches and fuck in their faces?”
He raised an eyebrow. “That would be fun.”
Talking about those who were fighting against us reminded me about his father. “Did you see your father there tonight?”
He looked down and nodded. “He told me that he would come.”
“And he did.”
“Big step.”
“Guess he really means it,” I said.
“I don’t want to talk about it or him. Not now.” He moved closer to me, put his leg over mine and leaned his forehead against my own. “So, Mr. Kinney, lets talk about your birthday present to me.”
He wanted to change the subject – and to a much better one.
“Did you like it?” I asked. I knew he did, at least I assumed so since he had laughed out loud when he saw it broadcast onto his computer screen. And then he told me that he loved me. So that was a good reaction.
“I have always loved your cock, you know that, but I’ll admit that the red bow around it made it even more special. Unfortunately I couldn’t untie it and use it for myself.” His hand wandered down my chest until it reached my dick. I’ll probably never find out how he does it… that the second he touches me I’m horny and hard. I decided to just enjoy it. “Do you still have the bow?”
“Why?” I sighed while he stroked my cock in an almost painfully slow way. “Do you want me to wrap it back up for you?”
“Yes, and then I want to untie it slowly and carefully with my teeth.”
I closed my eyes and moaned. Fuck, he was good… with his hands, with his mouth – no matter if he was sucking or talking.
“If I would’ve known that…” I somehow mumbled as my hand wandered down his back, his ass, his thigh, and then started to stroke him, too.
That was definitely not a moment that needed to be disturbed. Unfortunately some idiots disagreed. We both jumped when we heard a noise that sounded like glass breaking.
“What was that?” Justin asked and sat up. My cock felt the loss of his hand immediately.
A noise like that couldn’t be anything good. The new alarm system hadn’t been installed yet, but in that moment I wished it was. We were all alone in this big house.
“We should call the police.”
I got up and put my jeans on. My dick wasn’t happy about this whole thing and neither was I. I looked at Justin and said: “Stay here… I’ll take a look.”
“The fuck I will.”
He got up, too, and a few minutes later we were standing in the living room looking at the broken glass of the window and the papered stone that was lying in front of our feet.
“Watch where you’re walking, there’s glass,” I said. Then I took the stone and unwrapped it. I knew it, even before I read it. What else could it have been? “Faggots, take your asses away! We don’t want you here!”
“What?!” Justin took the paper. He was obviously shocked. “Oh my god… what…? I haven’t talked to any of the neighbours so far, why…?”
“Since when do we need to talk to people to make them hate us?” I asked him and grabbed his arm to pull him back when another papered stone broke through the window.
He screamed and started to jump on one foot. “Fuck!”
“Sit down,” I said and backed him to the sofa. His foot was bleeding. “Shit.” I went straight to the hall, turned on the outside lighting, opened the door and yelled out: “Fucking idiots! Get your asses off my property! The police are on the way!”
“That’s right,” Justin said. “I’m calling the police!”
He tried to get up, but I pushed him down again and gave him my shirt. “Take this to stop the bleeding; we have to go to the hospital.”
“It’s just a small cut, it’s okay,” he said and made a face when he pressed the shirt on it. “Fuck!”
“There could be glass in it,” I said.
“But first we call the cops!” he exclaimed and took the phone from the table. “That’s wilful damage of property, and physical injury resulting from negligence. They could’ve hurt us!”
“They did!” I pointed to his feet. “And what did you do? Study law without telling me?” I asked him while grabbed the other stone and tried to see anything outside, but it was impossible. I unwrapped the stone and read the second message: That’s just the beginning, go away!.
“They’re on their way,” Justin said when he hung up. He took the other paper and shook his head. “Why?”
“Guess we’re soiling their perfect neighbourhood.” I sat down beside him and put an arm around him, holding him. Not that there was a right or better moment for something like that to happen, but the first anniversary of a bombing night had to definitely be the worst moment.
We talked to the cops and showed them the stones and the papers, but for some reason it didn’t look as if they really cared. They just called it a prank and that we should call our insurance to pay for the broken window.
“My foot is bleeding!” Justin exclaimed. “That’s far more than just a funny trick. And what they wrote, those are threats.”
“Look, I understand that you’re upset. I agree it’s not funny, but since you didn’t see anyone, all you can do is file a complaint against persons unknown.”
“That’s all?!” He was angry and scared.
“You also should go to the hospital to get your wound checked,” the other officer suggested.
“We will,” I said and nodded. Even though it was depressing and just wrong, there really was nothing they could do. “We’ll lodge a complaint against persons unknown, then. Thanks for coming.”
They took our names and took some photos of the broken windows and the stones before they left. I closed the door behind them and locked it.
“Unbelievable,” Justin sighed.
“Justin…” I went back to him and took his head between my hands. Being the victim of a homophobic attack wasn’t funny, especially not when you had already been through it. And he had - twice. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
He looked at me, noticeably sad and upset, and nodded.
“I’ll take care of it.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “This is… our house. It’s our home, they’re not… they can’t…”
“They won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
It was really bad timing for bullshit like this. His emotions were already on edge before this happened. I looked at the windows and shook my head. “This won’t happen again.”
Thank god he trusted me. He nodded and leaned against me. So far I had no idea what to do to make sure that something like this would never happen again, but I was sure that something would come to me, sooner or later.
“I cover the windows, and then I’m taking you to the hospital.”
He stopped me when I wanted to leave him to find something to fix the window.
“Can we… please stay at the loft for the rest of the weekend?”
I nodded. That was a sign for me that I had to do something to make sure that he would feel safe again in this house – in our home.
At the hospital they cleaned and dressed the wound. He was limping, but the doctor said that it wasn’t bad. Well, it was bad enough. We drove to the loft and went to sleep. I noticed that he checked the alarm twice and that he pulled the drapes closed before he came to bed, but I didn’t say anything.
When he left on Sunday night, I was still thinking about the possibilities: a wall, a fence, a gate – or all of it? We had a huge driveway in front of the house with a big garden. It was a very big piece of property.
On Monday, Theodore asked me if we had a new client when he noticed some catalogues on my desk.
“No, I’m just… looking for something.”
“Need to fence in your loft?” he joked.
“No, my house,” I sighed. “Some idiots threw stones through the windows, then Justin freaked out, and I’m a little worried he might not feel safe there anymore. So I’m trying to…”
“What house?” he interrupted me and raised an eyebrow. “The house you told us you had sold after he had left for New York?”
I nodded. “Yup, that’s the one.”
“You kept it?”
I had no intention of talking to him about my reasons to keep the house, to furnish it, and to live there every second weekend. I pointed to the catalogue. “Focus.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
That’s why I liked Theodore. He realized when a subject wasn’t worth talking about, he lets it go. Of course he was a fag - and therefore a chatterbox - so the risk that sooner or later everyone would know about the house was pretty high, but that was not my main concern right now.
He looked at the wall sections (which included a gate) that I had picked out. He nodded, saying, “That’s not bad, but maybe it’s a little over the top. The incident happened only once… maybe it really was just a prank and won’t happen again. Maybe you should wait and see.”
Normally I would have agreed with him, but this wasn’t about me. “Wait for what? Justin’s already been bashed in the head, nearly blown up by a bomb, and now attacked with rocks flying through the windows of our home! What exactly should I be waiting for… for him, or me, to be shot by a gun?!”
TBC
Author:
soulmatejunkee Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 5.13; POV's
Word Count: 2.334
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
Beta:
mander3_swish - thank you so much!Next part!
I needed a little time, because my muse disappeared - again!!
I try to catch her and to hold her tight, but she's smart!
As always: Every comment is welcome. I Love to read what you think. Thanks!
01. Listen to me
02. Trust me
03. Babylon Part 1 | Part 2
04. Find a way Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
05. ...remember what's missing?
06. The Party
07. Thanksgiving 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
08. 1 wedding, 4 rings... 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
09. The first Webcam Sex Chat
10. The first call
11. Expectations - Happy Valentine | Revenge
12. March 18th 2006
13. Aftermath - 1
Brian's POV
It might sound weird, but I guess you could call tonight a success. Most people donated some money to the group of surviving dependants. They took all the money they got from insurance claims and the donations from tonight and dispersed the money amongst those survivors and dependants who needed it.
Justin hadn’t talked much, actually nobody really did. The memories from a year ago seemed to overwhelm everyone.
We drove back to the house as soon as the event was over. It was almost midnight and normally the club would just be heating up (and we thought about switching from the memorial to a party), but I wasn’t sure how people would react to that. In the end, I decided to not open the club, just for tonight.
When we got home, we showered and we fucked – in silence. It was a slow, tender, and quiet fuck. It was what I had wanted last year, what I had needed... and what I missed when I came back to the loft that night and he wasn’t there because he’d had his own place. He seemed to have handled that night way better than I did.
Today he had a place of his own, too... but he was also living with me again.
He was thinking. I could see it in his eyes. We were lying on the bed, face to face, naked. He looked at me, but he had this empty look on his face. His thoughts were drifting away.
“What?” I asked.
“I was just thinking about where we would be today if the bombing had never happened.”
I swallowed. “You would be in New York and I would be in Pittsburgh.”
I knew that wasn’t what he was thinking about; it wasn’t what he was wondering about. But other than him I didn’t want to think about it. If none of it would’ve happened, I would still be in Pittsburgh – without him. He wouldn’t call me and there wouldn’t be any webcam sex at least three times a week. I wouldn’t see him every weekend; I couldn’t touch him or even look at him. He would be gone.
“We wouldn’t be here right now,” he said.
No, we wouldn’t. There wouldn’t be a house. There wouldn’t be rings. There wouldn’t be us. “Probably not.”
“You never would’ve told me that you love me.”
I would’ve gone to Australia, I would’ve fucked some guys, Lindsay would’ve talked Justin into New York, and he would’ve left. He probably would’ve asked me if there was any reason for him to stay… I wouldn’t have said anything.
Was it wrong that I was thankful for what had happened? How could I be thankful for a night that destroyed four families? That had cause three kids to lose their mother?
“I feel guilty,” he whispered.
“Why?”
He shrugged, “I wouldn’t ever give up what I have now, but I wouldn’t have it if the bomb hadn’t happened. How pathetic is it to say that something horrible like that turned things into something so wonderful? At least for me. It feels wrong.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything if nothing had come out of it,” I said. “You love to fight for gay rights. Living in this house, wearing these rings… it’s a small victory, but it is one we can be proud of. They can’t take that away from us.”
“They have given this to us.”
I couldn’t help but smiling. “How ironic is that?”
He answered the smile. “We should let them know.”
I hated to think about that night and how I felt back then, how scared I was, how unimportant everything else became when I had to face the possibility that he might be dead, and how selfish I thought about that. I even thought it might be a punishment, because I let him go, because I didn’t fight with him and for him, and because I made him think that he wasn’t worth fighting for.
“Debbie’s right. Love is the best way to knock them down.”
I laughed. “So what do you have in mind? Want to go to one of their churches and fuck in their faces?”
He raised an eyebrow. “That would be fun.”
Talking about those who were fighting against us reminded me about his father. “Did you see your father there tonight?”
He looked down and nodded. “He told me that he would come.”
“And he did.”
“Big step.”
“Guess he really means it,” I said.
“I don’t want to talk about it or him. Not now.” He moved closer to me, put his leg over mine and leaned his forehead against my own. “So, Mr. Kinney, lets talk about your birthday present to me.”
He wanted to change the subject – and to a much better one.
“Did you like it?” I asked. I knew he did, at least I assumed so since he had laughed out loud when he saw it broadcast onto his computer screen. And then he told me that he loved me. So that was a good reaction.
“I have always loved your cock, you know that, but I’ll admit that the red bow around it made it even more special. Unfortunately I couldn’t untie it and use it for myself.” His hand wandered down my chest until it reached my dick. I’ll probably never find out how he does it… that the second he touches me I’m horny and hard. I decided to just enjoy it. “Do you still have the bow?”
“Why?” I sighed while he stroked my cock in an almost painfully slow way. “Do you want me to wrap it back up for you?”
“Yes, and then I want to untie it slowly and carefully with my teeth.”
I closed my eyes and moaned. Fuck, he was good… with his hands, with his mouth – no matter if he was sucking or talking.
“If I would’ve known that…” I somehow mumbled as my hand wandered down his back, his ass, his thigh, and then started to stroke him, too.
That was definitely not a moment that needed to be disturbed. Unfortunately some idiots disagreed. We both jumped when we heard a noise that sounded like glass breaking.
“What was that?” Justin asked and sat up. My cock felt the loss of his hand immediately.
A noise like that couldn’t be anything good. The new alarm system hadn’t been installed yet, but in that moment I wished it was. We were all alone in this big house.
“We should call the police.”
I got up and put my jeans on. My dick wasn’t happy about this whole thing and neither was I. I looked at Justin and said: “Stay here… I’ll take a look.”
“The fuck I will.”
He got up, too, and a few minutes later we were standing in the living room looking at the broken glass of the window and the papered stone that was lying in front of our feet.
“Watch where you’re walking, there’s glass,” I said. Then I took the stone and unwrapped it. I knew it, even before I read it. What else could it have been? “Faggots, take your asses away! We don’t want you here!”
“What?!” Justin took the paper. He was obviously shocked. “Oh my god… what…? I haven’t talked to any of the neighbours so far, why…?”
“Since when do we need to talk to people to make them hate us?” I asked him and grabbed his arm to pull him back when another papered stone broke through the window.
He screamed and started to jump on one foot. “Fuck!”
“Sit down,” I said and backed him to the sofa. His foot was bleeding. “Shit.” I went straight to the hall, turned on the outside lighting, opened the door and yelled out: “Fucking idiots! Get your asses off my property! The police are on the way!”
“That’s right,” Justin said. “I’m calling the police!”
He tried to get up, but I pushed him down again and gave him my shirt. “Take this to stop the bleeding; we have to go to the hospital.”
“It’s just a small cut, it’s okay,” he said and made a face when he pressed the shirt on it. “Fuck!”
“There could be glass in it,” I said.
“But first we call the cops!” he exclaimed and took the phone from the table. “That’s wilful damage of property, and physical injury resulting from negligence. They could’ve hurt us!”
“They did!” I pointed to his feet. “And what did you do? Study law without telling me?” I asked him while grabbed the other stone and tried to see anything outside, but it was impossible. I unwrapped the stone and read the second message: That’s just the beginning, go away!.
“They’re on their way,” Justin said when he hung up. He took the other paper and shook his head. “Why?”
“Guess we’re soiling their perfect neighbourhood.” I sat down beside him and put an arm around him, holding him. Not that there was a right or better moment for something like that to happen, but the first anniversary of a bombing night had to definitely be the worst moment.
We talked to the cops and showed them the stones and the papers, but for some reason it didn’t look as if they really cared. They just called it a prank and that we should call our insurance to pay for the broken window.
“My foot is bleeding!” Justin exclaimed. “That’s far more than just a funny trick. And what they wrote, those are threats.”
“Look, I understand that you’re upset. I agree it’s not funny, but since you didn’t see anyone, all you can do is file a complaint against persons unknown.”
“That’s all?!” He was angry and scared.
“You also should go to the hospital to get your wound checked,” the other officer suggested.
“We will,” I said and nodded. Even though it was depressing and just wrong, there really was nothing they could do. “We’ll lodge a complaint against persons unknown, then. Thanks for coming.”
They took our names and took some photos of the broken windows and the stones before they left. I closed the door behind them and locked it.
“Unbelievable,” Justin sighed.
“Justin…” I went back to him and took his head between my hands. Being the victim of a homophobic attack wasn’t funny, especially not when you had already been through it. And he had - twice. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
He looked at me, noticeably sad and upset, and nodded.
“I’ll take care of it.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “This is… our house. It’s our home, they’re not… they can’t…”
“They won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
It was really bad timing for bullshit like this. His emotions were already on edge before this happened. I looked at the windows and shook my head. “This won’t happen again.”
Thank god he trusted me. He nodded and leaned against me. So far I had no idea what to do to make sure that something like this would never happen again, but I was sure that something would come to me, sooner or later.
“I cover the windows, and then I’m taking you to the hospital.”
He stopped me when I wanted to leave him to find something to fix the window.
“Can we… please stay at the loft for the rest of the weekend?”
I nodded. That was a sign for me that I had to do something to make sure that he would feel safe again in this house – in our home.
At the hospital they cleaned and dressed the wound. He was limping, but the doctor said that it wasn’t bad. Well, it was bad enough. We drove to the loft and went to sleep. I noticed that he checked the alarm twice and that he pulled the drapes closed before he came to bed, but I didn’t say anything.
When he left on Sunday night, I was still thinking about the possibilities: a wall, a fence, a gate – or all of it? We had a huge driveway in front of the house with a big garden. It was a very big piece of property.
On Monday, Theodore asked me if we had a new client when he noticed some catalogues on my desk.
“No, I’m just… looking for something.”
“Need to fence in your loft?” he joked.
“No, my house,” I sighed. “Some idiots threw stones through the windows, then Justin freaked out, and I’m a little worried he might not feel safe there anymore. So I’m trying to…”
“What house?” he interrupted me and raised an eyebrow. “The house you told us you had sold after he had left for New York?”
I nodded. “Yup, that’s the one.”
“You kept it?”
I had no intention of talking to him about my reasons to keep the house, to furnish it, and to live there every second weekend. I pointed to the catalogue. “Focus.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
That’s why I liked Theodore. He realized when a subject wasn’t worth talking about, he lets it go. Of course he was a fag - and therefore a chatterbox - so the risk that sooner or later everyone would know about the house was pretty high, but that was not my main concern right now.
He looked at the wall sections (which included a gate) that I had picked out. He nodded, saying, “That’s not bad, but maybe it’s a little over the top. The incident happened only once… maybe it really was just a prank and won’t happen again. Maybe you should wait and see.”
Normally I would have agreed with him, but this wasn’t about me. “Wait for what? Justin’s already been bashed in the head, nearly blown up by a bomb, and now attacked with rocks flying through the windows of our home! What exactly should I be waiting for… for him, or me, to be shot by a gun?!”
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2011-03-22 11:49 pm (UTC)And I was the one who tell you to go to write, fool, please, next time I'll let you to do what you want, except to write.
I'm scared, really, I don't like how the things are...you know what I mean.
I don't know if I want to read the next, you scared me!!
no subject
on 2011-03-23 07:24 am (UTC)So far nothing happened to them, except for the cut on Justin feet, which of course sucks but he's not in life danger...
So... you want me to stop writing?! :(