Drabbles
All these were done during the lyrics-drabble meme that was going 'round a while ago. Well, except for the last one.
8. Tell me how you've never felt delicate or innocent. -- "Show Me Love", Tatu
Brian had never particularly wanted to see anyone in a miniskirt, much less Justin. But it's certainly better than the alternative. Better than the days and weeks where Justin let his peach fuzz grow out to stubble, and carried around a suspiciously phallic weapon to prove his manhood. Now he watches the stretch of leather across Justin's ass and thinks that maybe Emmett was right all those times that he said it takes a real man to wear a skirt. He also thinks maybe Justin was right when he discovered, but didn't say, that he didn't have to prove his goddamned manhood to anyone.
4. Can't you see what you've done to my heart and soul?--Slow Hands by Interpol
Justin lies down on top of Brian, both of them mostly naked, and runs his nose along Brian's skin, gently. The funeral had been hell. He was just glad Brian had let him come.
"She loved you, as much as she could," Justin's confrontational brand of comfort was met this time with only a short shake of Brian's head.
"It doesn't matter," he quietly responded. "It would never--she would never have changed."
Justin just holds him a little tighter.
2. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I've ever seen. (The Chordettes - Mr Sandman)
"Ooh, what about him?" Emmett coos. They turn to look at the guy picking up his to-go order.
"Are you crazy? Look at him, he has love handles!" Ted exclaims indignantly.
"So? He's a total bear. Rowr."
"Besides," Michael chimes in, "You're one to talk." He gives Ted's side a little pinch. Ted squawks and Emmett whaps Michael with his newspaper.
Justin only sighs and sips on his mediocre coffee. What could L.A. possibly have that would hold a candle to this?
10. Stop me, oh, stop me, stop me if you think that you've heard this one before (The Smiths -- Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before)
I mean, please, Justin resists telling him, it's not like no one in the world's ever had cancer before. Not like no one has ever gotten sick before. It happens every god damned day. And when it happens, it sucks, but you deal with it. The people who love you give you the help you need. And then you get better, and it's over. That's how it works.
This can't be that foreign of a concept, especially since I've seen you do same for other people. So maybe you, asshole, can stop acting like it's the fucking end of the world and let it work how it's supposed to.
Justin never says it aloud. But he repeats that to himself over and over. The worse Brian gets, the angrier it sounds in his head.
A small, treacherous part of Brian's brain, the same part that knows he would have married Lindsay if he'd been straight, knows that he covets Justin's lower-upper-class upbringing. Oh, all of him loves fucking Justin's tight little lilly-white ass until he's begging for more, all dignity and properness forgotten. But the part of him that's still a poor kid from a run-down blue-collar neighborhood wants to posses Justin because a blond, beautiful, high-class, WASPy lover would go perfectly with his state-of-the-art appliances and fifteen-thousand-dollar imported leather sofa.