Author's Notes: This was going to be a 505 gap-filler that took place immediately after Justin turned down Brian's sexual advances and the credits rolled. I never finished it 'cos others who are FAR better at gap-filling than I am did exemplary jobs at writing this scene. I couldn't have added anything of value to the work they'd already completed.

Catch A Falling Knife

”Am I your poison, am I a thorn in your side?
Am I your picture perfect subject tonight?”

I tried to not care that he didn’t want to fuck. I tried to pretend that it meant nothing that I’d come home just to fuck him before anyone else. I tried to pretend, as I walked to the shower knowing without a doubt that tonight he wouldn’t be following me, that something inside me wasn’t being squeezed into a painful lump of worry and fear.

Peeling my clothes off and leaving them in the floor behind me, I closed the bathroom door quietly. If he wasn’t going to join me, fuck him. He wouldn’t get to watch me, either. And I needed the privacy, needed to wipe away the stain his rejection had left on my face, in my eyes.

When will he learn to stop trying to force me to say the things he wants to hear? When am I going to learn to stop saying stupid, cruel shit to hurt him when I feel cornered? And when the fuck will we learn to stop chasing each other with words?

Fucking Mikey. It's all his fault.


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Author's Notes: I have no clue what this was going to be or why I was writing it or what I wanted to say with it. Most mysteriously of all, the name of the file I saved it under was "schmoopforequus". Huh? Anyway, this was supposed to have taken place in the days immediately following Justin moving back into the loft during season 5.

“Sunshine.”

Brian’s soft, deep rumble carried to where Justin sat perched by the window.

Justin turned in the darkened loft, seeking out Brian’s form buried under the covers, little more than his head poking out. The street lamps caught the gleam in Brian’s eyes when he blinked and Justin smiled to himself. He wondered if his absence in their bed during his time in California had awakened Brian in the deep of the night the same way it seemed to now that they were living together and decided it probably had. Not that Brian would ever admit it.

“I’m here, Brian,” he called softly, and began to make his way across the floor.

“Come back to bed,” Brian breathed and Justin could hear him shifting in the sheets. When he reached the edge of the platform, he saw that Brian had pulled back the blankets and was holding them open for him. He crawled in gratefully, his skin immediately registering the difference in temperature. He hadn’t even realized how chilled he’d become sitting by the window. He burrowed close to Brian’s warmth and sighed quietly when Brian’s arms slipped around him, pulling him even closer.

“What’s on your mind?” Brian asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Justin lied. “Go back to sleep.”

“I haven’t been asleep since you got out of bed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Justin sighed again.

“You don’t want to know, Brian. Let’s just go to sleep, ok?”

Brian pinched his bottom playfully, his lips finding the outer edge of Justin’s ear and nibbling.

“Tell me, twat,” he purred, sending shivers through Justin’s body.

“Don’t call me that, asshole,” he laughed, turning in the circle of Brian’s arms to come nose to nose with him.

“I thought you liked when I used endearments,” Brian grinned.

“Yeah, some endearment, thanks loads,” Justin sneered, goosing Brian and making him twitch.

“You’re trying to change the subject,” Brian pressed a kiss to Justin’s forehead. Something about the warmth of the bed and the late hour always brought out a quiet romantic in him that he’d long ago given up trying to kill.


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Author's Notes: I got this weird notion that Brian wanted to confront Craig, or maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, this was going to be a confrontation fic between the two. I started it well before season 5 began, with the assumption that Justin would take Brian up on his offer to move in after returning from CA.

Ask The Question

He was about to roll a joint and turn on a James Dean DVD when the knock came at the door. Grousing to himself, he ignored it. This was the first afternoon he’d taken off in weeks and it was bad enough that Justin wasn’t home to fuck into the mattress, but visitors he really didn’t need.

A moment later the knock came again, more insistent this time, and Brian let out a real growl.

“Fine, coming, hang the fuck on!”

He strode across the floor in just a few steps and ran the loft door open. The grinding noise was a nice accompaniment to his current mood.

“What?” He demanded before stopping, his mouth still hanging open. In his doorway was a man who looked remarkably like Justin, only older. A stray thought wandered crazily through his mind (I wonder if this is what Justin will look like at 50?) before slipping away, leaving behind only shock.

“Crai-“ Brian cleared his throat and started again. “Mr. Taylor.”

Craig looked incredibly uncomfortable, almost as if he might turn and bolt at any second. Brian wasn’t sure what the etiquette was on hateful homophobic fathers of ones live-in... whoever... Did you invite them in or let them stand out in the hallway and squirm like a worm on a hook until they slunk away like the slimy things they were?

He watched Craig open and close his mouth several times, like a fish on land starving for air, before finally asking, “Can I help you?”

“I’m-“ Craig croaked out and then tried again, “I’m looking for my son.”

“Here’s not here,” Brian affected a bored expression.

“Ever?” Craig asked, “Or just right now?”

“What?” Brian asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I mean,” Craig cleared his throat, “I mean, is he ever here? Was I wrong to look for him here?”

“He lives here,” Brian stated flatly, enjoying the wince Craig didn’t try to hide.

“Right, I thought he might. Uhh...” Craig looked panicked for a moment. “Ummm... Brian. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“That’s me,” Brian answered archly and offered Craig his most soul-withering, shit-eating grin. He was proud of himself for refraining from saying, “The pervert who fucked your son and turned him queer,” but it was a close call.

Craig flinched again and Brian thought to himself that this little visit was going remarkably well.

Craig seemed at a complete loss and stood in the hallway peering into Brian’s loft curiously. Brian groaned inwardly and stepped aside.

“Would you like to come in?” He asked, hoping Craig would turn and leave so he could get back to his joint and James Dean, and maybe if he was lucky, Justin coming home early for a leisurely afternoon tumble.

"I probably shouldn’t-" Craig had taken a step back and Brian wondered if the man really thought he’d be molested if he walked into the home he shared with the guy's son.


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Author's Notes: This was also started during the long hiatus between seasons 4 and 5. It was my own musings on what our boys might be like in the future, and was going to be a fic about the first time they fuck raw. Best laid plans- it never inspired me enough to continue.

Married Men

They were married for a little over a year and neither of them could really believe how much richness and texture the simple words, “I do,” had added to their already fiery, challenging relationship.

There’d been some benign teasing early on about whether or not their sex lives would suffer once they were husband and husband, but so far, their fears and the dire predictions of their friends had been for naught. Sex between them, they were both happy to report, was as frequent and intense as ever. In fact, and this they never felt the need to share with anyone but each other, the new freedom they’d achieved to express their feelings for one another openly often heightened their arousal and enhanced the experience more than either of them could have previously imagined.

Yet, a single, frustrating barrier remained between them and Brian arrived home from work one evening barely a month after they’d celebrated their first anniversary, prepared to demolish it.

Dropping his briefcase at the door and pulling at his tie, he glanced around, spying Justin settled in a corner by the large windows, his sketchpad on his knee, scribbling furiously over the page.

“Hey,” he called.

Justin smiled without looking up from his pad. His hand kept moving. Brian figured he wasn’t feeling any pain today and wanted to make sure he could draw as long as possible before it started.

“Hey,” Justin answered as Brian made his way to the corner where he sat. He tipped his head back for a kiss, which lingered longer than usual. That was all the clue Justin needed to know that something about his husband was different, tonight.

He finished the portion of the sketch he’d been working on, closed the pad and laid it carefully on the end table next to him.

“What’s up?” he asked, knowing by the smile on Brian’s face that, at least today, it wasn’t bad news.

Brian reached down and thumbed a charcoal smudge from Justin’s high cheekbone.

“We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

Justin’s face scrunched in confusion and he shrugged his silent question.


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