Gift for tg
a Queer as Folk story
by oneplusone_equals_876
The elevator hauled itself upwards, gears grinding, as Brian leaned back against its wall. His briefcase dangled from his fingertips, brushing, with the motion of the lift, against his camel-colored wool overcoat. It was late. A fuckup with a mockup of the Anderson shoe account had meant an extra two hours tacked on to Brian's day and an addition to the list of people he would fire as soon as he made partner.
Brian sighed. Times like this, he didn't entirely mind having the kid around. It was almost nice knowing that there was a hot piece of blond boy ass waiting desperately for his return, willing and very eager to help him fuck away the day's stress.
The elevator jerked to a halt. Brian slid the elevator cage away and strode out, opening the loft door with one smooth pull. Setting his briefcase down and shrugging out of his coat, he glanced around. The lights were on, Justin's shit was spread out in a five foot radius around Brian's desk, but the twink was nowhere in sight.
"Honey, I'm home!" Brian called out in a mock falsetto, loosening his tie as he went up the steps into the bedroom. The light in the bathroom was on, but Justin appeared in the doorway just as Brian moved to go in, a towel slung low on his hips and damp hair spiked in every direction.
"Hey," Justin said with a smile.
"Hey, yourself," Brian replied, his eyes roaming Justin's body, following the quick trail of a water bead from the middle of his neck down his chest. He stepped closer, running his hands over Justin's arms. "You should have waited for me."
"You were late," Justin said, still smiling, "and I was cold."
"Cold?" Brian leaned forward and licked away a bead of water from Justin's neck, then continued up, licking and kissing, to Justin's jaw. "I'm sure I could have done something about that," he murmured around kisses. Brian moved along Justin's jaw line, breathing in the clean mix of Irish Spring bar soap and strawberry shampoo. But when he brushed his lips to Justin's, trying to deepen the kiss, Justin pulled back. Not a lot, but enough to yank Brian out of the moment.
"What?" Brian asked, his mild irritation throbbing in tune with his dick.
Justin moved out of Brian's grasp and crossed his arms, rubbing his biceps and shook his head. "Cold," he replied, and only then did Brian notice the tiny tremors running through Justin's body.
With a frown, Brian went to the closet and pulled out one of his own sweaters - grey, cashmere, and so much fucking warmer than anything from Justin's Abercrombie and Fitch collection - and a pair of black sweatpants. He handed them to Justin and grabbed a tan sweater and jeans for himself.
Changed and wearing far more than he preferred, Brian came up behind Justin just as he was tugging his head through the sweater. Brian tugged it down over Justin's torso, fussing a minute with the fit before bringing his hands up and running them over Justin's back. "Better?"
Justin nodded and sighed, leaning back as Brian wrapped him up in a loose hug. "How was your day?" Justin asked.
"I've had better." Brian nuzzled into Justin's damp hair, blowing softly behind his ear and smirking when Justin squirmed. "Yours?"
"I've had better," he repeated. "I've had better weeks, actually." He scrubbed his eyes with the soft cuff of the sweater, sighing again. "I still haven't finished that project for Art and Identity," Justin motioned to the flood of papers in the living room, "and about an hour ago Deb called and asked me to take tomorrow's six am shift."
"Another diner shift?" Brian felt a stab of annoyance at Deb. The kid was already working 30 hours a week on top of school; he didn't have time to be picking up other people's slack.
Justin shrugged, coughed lightly and broke free of Brian's arms, heading back to the desk. "Deb fired the guy who was supposed to cover it. Caught him jerking off."
"And the sight offended her delicate sensibilities?" Brian snorted, following Justin out into the main room. "She's caught us fucking in the back at least three times."
"Yeah, but our cum wasn't the secret ingredient in the split pea soup."
Well. That was true.
Resigning himself to not getting the piece of hot-blond-boy-ass he had been hoping for - at least not until Justin took a study break - Brian walked over to the refrigerator. "You eat?" he called over his shoulder as he pulled the door open. Poppers, water, guava juice and pudding cups - for Gus. He closed the door and grabbed the phone. "Thai?"
Justin glanced up from the papers, flushing a bit. "I'm not really that hungry."
Brian scoffed at the ridiculousness of that statement, ordering Justin a drunken noodle and enough pad thai for the both of them. He deposited the phone back in its cradle before dropping down onto the couch to wait. Clicking the television on, Brian lowered the volume to not disturb Justin and flicked his way through a dozen channels. All shit. He glanced at his collection of DVD porn, but quickly rejected that idea; who knew how long Justin would be at his project, and jerking off alone was not a remotely satisfying option.
Instead, Brian turned his eyes to Justin, who was hunched over his soon-to-be masterpiece of art. Though Brian would deny it to the day he died, a part of him actually liked these quiet moments, just sitting and watching Justin work. There was an intensity in Justin that seemed to manifest itself as he sketched - the little facial expressions, how Justin worried his bottom lip and crinkled his forehead...Brian cocked his head. But today…today there was something different - something wrong.
Fewer concentration wrinkles lined his forehead (though in Brian's opinion that wasn't horrible - less need for Botox later), and the ones that did were soon smoothed away as a quick, knuckled swipe of his hand underneath his nose or a hard swallow and a quiet clearing of his throat stole Justin's attention away. Brian frowned as Justin took a small sip from his nearly empty bottle of water, wincing as he swallowed.
`Allergies?' Brian wondered. It was the middle of January, so pollen shouldn't be a problem. Though the cleaning woman had cancelled last week - maybe dust?
But Brian had seen Justin take his allergy pills that morning - right before he had fucked him over the bathroom counter. Brian felt his dick twinge at the memory and paused a moment to oblige it. It had been a good fuck. He could still hear Justin grunting, moaning Brian's name as he dug his fingers into Brian's thighs -
Brian was yanked from his reminiscing by a sudden movement in the present. Justin dropped his pencil, sharply drew up his hand and jammed it under his nose, his breath hitching as he grimaced against what looked like a stubbornly strong sneeze. "ehh…ih-Heh!" He exhaled harshly and ducked his head, as if suddenly remembering he wasn't alone in the room. But Brian could still see perfectly well from where he was sitting; he watched Justin scrub viciously at his nose, pinching the nostrils closed once every few seconds until even that couldn't help him fight off the sneeze any longer. He snapped his other hand up, cupping them both over his nose and mouth and gasped. "huh-Huh…eh-heISHOO!"
Now that was different. Not that Brian spent his time pondering the way Justin sneezed, but when you lived with someone who's allergic to fucking hypo-allergenic pillows, it's hard not to notice. Justin's sneezes were usually quiet, short and came in multiples. Not loud and wet. Though, Brian thought as he glanced at Justin's wavering face, it looked like the `multiple' requirement was about to be fulfilled.
Justin's eyes fluttered shut and even though he kept his hands cupped over his face, Brian could just see his nose trembling with every twitch of his cheeks. "He-ih..Eh-ISHoo…heh.ih.IH-HehISHOOH!" The last sneeze had a faint barking sound to the end of it and Brian had to wince sympathetically at what it must have felt like over an already sore throat.
This wasn't allergies; his kid was sick. Brian watched as inconspicuously as he could, shuffling through a pile of Unzippeds as Justin drained the rest of his water and dropped the empty bottle in the trashcan under the desk, grimacing again as he gently cleared his throat. Christ. How had it taken Brian half an hour to realize this? The kid had been fucking shivering, for Christ's sake.
Brian leaned forward, taking a moment to evaluate. Maybe Justin was a bit paler than usual, but he was always fucking pale. And his cheeks and nose were a bit pink, but he had just come out of the shower…
There were a thousand fucking reasons why he hadn't realized it. The only way he could have known definitively is if Justin had told him. Brian narrowed his eyes. Maybe what he should have been asking was why had the little fucker not mentioned it to him?
Before Brian could ask Justin that very question, however, the door buzzer rang. The Thai food was here. Brian switched off the television then walked to the intercom, buzzed the delivery boy up and paid. As he shut the door, he glanced over to see if Justin had moved from the desk - but he hadn't. His elbow still was propped up on the desk top while his head rested heavily in his hand, eyes just staring at the paper in front of him.
Again, Brian felt that twinge of sympathy, but with it, this time, came a bit of understanding; he would probably have done the exact same thing in Justin's place. No one fucking needed to know if he had a widdle case of da sniffles. Fuck. It's still pissed him off that Justin was hiding shit from him, but he'd let the kid handle it his way. For the moment, at least; if Sunshine got it in his head to be noble and sacrifice sex to keep Brian from catching whatever the hell he had - like he had earlier, pulling out of the kiss - Brian would be putting a stop to things right then and there.
With a quick leer at Justin, for what it was worth, Brian dropped the takeout bag on the counter, grabbing dishes and silverware to set the table with.
Justin did get up then, but he went up the stairs, through the bedroom and into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar because, as Brian would say, they were fucking miles past modesty at this point. After the toilet flushed, the tap was turned on and left on for a good minute or so. Over the sound of rushing water, Brian could just make out the wet honking of a nose blow and the clink of pills - Tylenol if he had to guess - being shaken out of their bottle.
Brian opened the takeout boxes and set them in the middle of the table. He also set a fresh bottle of water next to Justin's plate; he had almost placed the guava juice there as well - the closest thing he had to orange juice - but remembering how Justin had winced drinking just water, he'd thought better of it.
The bathroom tap had been shut off, but Justin still hadn't emerged. Brian seized the opportunity to spoon out portions of the drunken noodles, pad thai, and rice onto Justin's plate. Sunshine was eating something, whether he felt like it or not.
Justin came to the table just after Brian had sat down and begun doling out his own dinner. Brian had been right; he did look paler. Justin's gaze swept from his place setting, over the takeout boxes, finally rested on Brian. "What service," he teased. "Four stars."
"Only the best at Chez Kinney," Brian replied with a mock bow. "Now, sit your ass down and eat. We've got enough pad thai to feed fucking Thailand."
Justin dropped himself into the chair and picked up his fork. Scooping up a small bit of the drunken noodle, he hesitated only slightly before sliding it into his mouth. Brian was sure he caught a flash of relief as Justin swallowed the soft bite without much of a wince, even though he chased it with a gulp of water.
"How's your project going," Brian asked, sipping his own beverage of choice, Jim Beam.
Justin shrugged. "It'll be okay. Probably. It wod't-" Justin paused and snuffled discreetly against the back of his hand, feigning an itch on his cheek. Brian smirked as Justin continued, "I doubt it will be perfect, though. I'll probably have to stop before I get it to where I'd like it to be." He held up his right hand and flexed it a few times to make his point.
"Your hand?" Brian asked, a bit anxiously. The physical therapy had been doing its job; Justin had regained a decent amount of motor control over extended periods of time, as long as he didn't push it. He still used the computer for most of his work, but his professor had insisted this project be done by hand - which was the main reason why Justin was still working on the lion's share of the project and not just finishing touches two days before the deadline. If that fucking cunt's requirements fucked up his recovery-
But Justin shook his head, seeming to know where Brian's thought train was barreling. "It's okay," he assured. "I'll just have to rest it."
Somewhat appeased, Brian lifted another forkful of pad thai and ate it, staring at Justin until he did the same. It was a tactic he kept up throughout the meal, though he stopped as soon as he recognized Justin's faint grimace of nausea for what it was. Justin had finished half his plate and Brian chose to be satisfied with that.
After dinner, Brian ordered Justin to the couch, insisting Justin rest his hand for a while longer, while he deposited the leftovers in the refrigerator and stuck the dishes in the dishwasher. He glanced over at the living room; Justin had his back towards the kitchen, but his reflection, quietly wiping its nose on a tissue, was easily visible in the window, against the black winter sky. Brian waited for Justin to finish before walking over to the couch. Justin had curled up against the arm rest and Brian had to nudge him off to make sitting room on Justin's left side. He tugged at Justin's sleeve until he slid up, laying his head in Brian's lap.
Brian gently picked up Justin's right hand and began kneading the sore and knotted muscles, starting at the palm and moving up the forearm. Justin sighed and relaxed, his whole body melting into Brian.
Brian smiled, massaging with his right hand and carding his fingers through Justin's hair with his left. He should offer to do it more often, not just when Justin's hand crapped out on him.
Brian leaned back and allowed his hands to drop into a rhythm, the slightly raspy sound of Justin's breathing keeping tempo, while his mind drifted, not really focusing on any particular thought. And not really paying attention to how much time passed.
It was Justin who broke the comfortable silence, inhaling sharply and yanking to free his hand from Brian's grip. Brian let go, but it was too late for Justin to completely contain his sneeze. With no way to cover, he had automatically angled his face downwards into Brian's leg.
"Heh-heKISHOoo! snfsnf. SNIFF!" The sneeze left a patch of damp warmth against Brian's thigh not too bothersome, but the sniffle was horribly liquid and made Brian cringe, more in sympathy than disgust. Still sniffling, Justin pressed his face harder against Brian's thigh and, frowning, Brian ran his fingers through Justin's hair.
Not dozen seconds later though, Justin's breath was hitching again and he was struggling to push himself up to a sitting position. Brian helped, bracing his shoulders, but let go as Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of obviously used tissues.
Giving Justin's back a quick rub, Brian stood and went into the bathroom to fetch the box of tissues. On his way back, he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
"Hehhh…ehh…eh-HeITSHOo! SNF!SNF!" Justin was hunched over, his back to Brian as gasped again. "Heh…Heh-ITCHO! Cough! Sniff! cough!cough!cough!"
Christ. Justin's cough sounded fucking awful. Brian sat down next to Justin, touching his shoulder to get his attention. With one hand holding the used tissues to his nose, Justin snatched three from the box Brian held and pressed them to his nose, dropping the others into his lap.
He groaned as his breath wavered for a fourth time. "IH! eh.eh.EH!...ehKISSSHOO!" Too desperate to clear his nose to care that Brian was watching, Justin gave a long, gurgling blow into the tissues, folding them once and blowing again. He dropped the soggy square into his lap and grabbed a few more tissues from the box, repeating his efforts until his sinuses felt drier, but completely blocked.
Back in control, a flush of embarrassment colored Justin cheeks and he ducked his head away from Brian, who was still sitting next to him, still holding the tissue box. Brian stroked Justin's chin until he brought his eyes back up to meet Brian's.
"You done?" Brian asked, tilting the tissue box towards Justin, in case the answer was no. Justin nodded, but a moment later the ominous rattle in his throat snagged his breath. He turned to the side, away from Brian, and hunched over as the hacking cough clenched his chest and stomach muscles painfully, forcing up the mucus which had been dripping down the back of his throat for the better part of the evening. Twenty or so seconds passed before the cough went dry; Justin picked up his least used tissue wad from his lap and spat the mess into it, pinching it closed afterwards.
It was only after his fit that Justin registered Brian's hand rubbing circles on his back. Brian handed him the bottle of water, but the cold was too sharp for his freshly raw throat and he handed it back after only a few sips. Pressing his palm to his chest, Justin started gathering up the used tissues from his lap, intending to throw them out, but Brian batted his hand away, knocking the tissues to the floor. Brian pulled Justin back down, positioning Justin's head on his lap again and resumed playing with the blond hair.
Justin eyes fell on the damp patch on Brian's jeans and he cringed. He reached over and rubbed at it, rasping a quiet, "Sorry," as he did.
"Sorry's bullshit," Brian muttered, rubbing he hand back and forth across Justin's head. "And this little game you're playing is bullshit, too," he added, with a tiny edge to the comment. Justin at least had the decency to blush. Brian went on, his gentle petting softening his words. "Did you think I wouldn't fucking notice that you're sick?" Justin shrugged, the motion made awkward with his left shoulder pinned underneath his body.
"I guessed you would," Justin muttered, turning his face into Brian's leg.
"And what did you guess I would do? Throw you out on the street?" The flush on Justin's neck deepened. "Christ! You did, didn't you?"
Justin responded by burying his face deeper in Brian's jeans, snuffling softly. Brian gently pulled Justin up off his lap so he could stand. Once on his feet, he turned back to Justin. "Get up, you little asshole." Brian said. "Up. Now."
When Justin didn't move, Brian bent down, grabbed his elbow and hoisted him up. He pulled him fully around the couch before dropping his arm. "Go." Justin glanced up at Brian and was rewarded with a small shove - but not towards the door. Towards the bed.
"Go. Strip. Get in the bed." Brian dragged Justin up the stairs, leaving him by the bedside while he went into the bathroom. Slowly, Justin removed the sweater, laying it neatly on the bed. He was just folding the pants when Brian came out of the bathroom carrying hot water bottle and a fresh box of lotion-soft tissues.
He glared at Justin. "You have a cold, not brain-damage. Get.In.Bed." And Justin obeyed. Despite his words, Brian's hands were gentle as he pulled the covers over Justin before giving him the wonderfully warm hot water bottle to curl up against and placing the box of tissues on the nightstand.
Brian disappeared, and Justin, warm and sleepy, closed his eyes for a moment, only to be pulled back to consciousness by Brian's footsteps. He deposited Justin's bottle of water next to the tissues and placed the cordless phone next to that. "I'm going to go and grab you some medicine. That Tylenol you took couldn't have done shit." Justin didn't even bother being surprised Brian knew what he had taken. "Then, I'm going to call Debbie and let her know that you will not be coming in at fucking six am. She can rehire the jizz-inator if she can't get anyone else to cover. She'll just have to warn people off the fucking pea soup."
Justin chuckled. "Okay."
Brian turned towards his closet, but spun back around a second later, adding, "And tomorrow you can email that professor of yours and inform her that she'll be giving you an extension or we'll be taking the matter up with the Dean."
"Sure," Justin said, his voice a bit hoarse still, but he was smiling.
Brian pulled his overcoat off a hanger and slipped it on. "You're not allergic to NyQuil, are you?"
Justin shook his head. "Pretty sure it's okay." Then he snuggled down under the covers, pressing his head into the soft pillow. His eyes started to drift shut, but Brian's voice had him yanking them open a second time.
"One more thing, Sunshine," Brian said, and suddenly he was sitting on the edge of the bed, petting Justin's leg through the blankets. He leaned down, his lips hovering just over Justin's ear, and whispered, "Don't think I don't fucking realize what you're doing, only using words that hide how sick you sound. Cut it the fuck out." Brian dropped a quick kiss behind Justin's ear and was gone.
Sighing, Justin tugged the water bottle a bit higher on his chest. He burrowed down into the pillow again, rubbing his cheek against the 3000 thread count sheets and called out, "I love you too, hodey!"
A moment later, the sound of the door slamming echoed through the loft - and Justin smiled.
Disclaimer: Brian and Justin, despite my thousands of letters to Santa, remain the property of CowLip.
Notes: Despite my undying love for this fandom, this is my first time playing with these boys. I'm sorry if it's OOC...or just plain sucks... :) Anyway. Happy holidays tg! Thanks for all the wonderfully sneezey boys you've given us over the years. Not *exactly* what you asked for, but pretty close. My muse tried to thwack me every time I put Brian and cute in the same sentence, regardless of context. But I hope you enjoy!