Title: Day 9
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Rating: R
Pairing: Brian/Justin, Michael/David
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: Brian is sick and no one loves him. Well, almost no one.
Notes: Written during my 13 Ficlets in 13 Days in 2016 project for symphonyflute
More Notes: This one also makes no sense in the timeline. Sorry about that. Also, it's a little rough. I rewatched almost all of season 1 while writing this, but I'm not sure I captured them exactly as I wanted to.

How long had it been since Brian Kinney had walked into the Liberty Diner? One week? Two? It seemed like much longer. Everything hadn't been all right before Michael's birthday; there had been tension and drama and manipulation and confusion—no one was denying that. But everyone had been much less miserable when Brian and Michael had been friends.

“htttChhhhh!” And Brian certainly had looked much less miserable than he did right now, period.

Justin heard him all the way across the diner. He looked over to see Brian hunched over on one of the stools at the counter, one hand cupped to his nose and mouth and the other reaching for a napkin from the closest dispenser. He didn't get to one before he snapped forward with a second sneeze. “h'Tichhew!”

This time, he managed to get hold of a napkin and drag it back and forth beneath his nose. Brian sniffed and cleared his throat. “Can I get some service here?”

Deb appeared out of nowhere, like magic. “Depends what kind of service you need. If you want breakfast, you've come to the right place. If you want your cock sucked, frankly, you're not my type.” She laughed at her own joke and leaned to the side, cocking her head and placing her hand on her hip. “What'll you have?”

“Coffee,” Brian croaked. “Lots of coffee. And french toast... and bacon.” Leaning forward a little more, he wrapped his arms around his chest to conserve his warmth.

Did Brian have a fever? Justin knew Brian would never let him feel his forehead, not even if they were alone together in his loft instead of at the diner. But Justin was willing to bet he had a fever. All the color was drained from Brian's face and his eyes were overbright.

“Are you going to stare at him all day or are you going to get our food?”

Justin looked down at the table in front of him where Michael, Ted, and Emmett sat. All three of them looked on the angry side of impatient. And Michael looked especially uncomfortable. He was doing all he could to not look in Brian's direction. “Right, sorry.”

They gave him their orders. Ted got the same thing as usual. Michael opted for eggs over easy. And Emmett got the blueberry pancakes again.

“httchhhhh!”

It was hard not to look over at Brian when he was clearly drawing attention his way. He had to be feeling awful—they both did. Brian was definitely feeling sick and Michael was probably feeling bad not being able to help him, sympathize with him. Debbie said Michael had a good heart, so he had to be fighting a lot of conflicting emotions right now. Hating Brian for what he'd done. Feeling sorry for him. Feeling angry and helpless and maybe even a little happy that Brian was miserable?

“Hello?” Michael asked again. “Do we have to get our food ourselves?”

“No, I'm going.” Justin headed off to get the food. Several tables' orders were ready by now, so it took him a few minutes to circle around back to Brian.

He set the order down in front of Brian, who stared at it. “What the hell is this?”

Before him was a bowl of oatmeal and a plate of scrambled eggs with buttered toast on the side. There was also a tall glass of orange juice. “Food?”

“Not my food.” Brian leaned back as though it might attack him.

Justin tried not to laugh. “Debbie thought this would be healthier and better for your cold.”

“I want what I ordered. I... I... hhhtttChhhhh!” Brian rubbed his hand back and forth at his nose as he sniffed. “I dod't care what's better—”

“Well, that's obvious, if you're here at the diner. If you feel half as bad as you look, you should be home in bed.”

Brian glared at him, a look that Justin was learning was only just an appearance, a front. “I was hudgry.”

Justin smiled back. “And now you've got food.” He headed back to the kitchen for other orders, then made his rounds on the tables to see who needed anything else and who needed their checks. He ended up refilling Brian's orange juice twice, as he kept draining it.

The last time he went by, Brian slammed a few bills on the counter to pay for his meal. “Keeb the chadge,” Brian said, his voice shot from all the talking and stuffed-up from all the sneezing.

He wanted to tell Brian to feel better. But he also wanted to take Brian home and convince the man to give him another rim job. Because it was Brian, after all. Justin just smiled then rubbed the back of Brian's hand before heading to his other tables.

Ted and Emmett were looking at something in the paper, but Michael had been watching. And this gesture of Justin's did not go unnoticed.

“After what he did, I can't believe you're talking to him, let alone serving him.” Michael looked daggers over at Brian, and if looks could kill...

Justin knew Michael had a reason to be angry at Brian, but Brian was beyond miserable right now. Not only was he obviously missing his friends, but he looked and sounded like he had the worst cold right now.  Michael still didn't understand that Brian had done it to help him. 'Poor Brian' was not something Justin ever thought would cross his mind, but here it was. And he didn't have anyone else to look after him right now. But he couldn't say any of this to Michael, of course. “Brian's a paying customer just like everyone else. Plus, he tips well.”

“I tip well,” Michael said defensively. Then, trying to ram his point home, “When the server's actually done something to deserve it.”

Justin tensed. 'I bust my butt here 4 hours a day on top of school work. I serve strung-out queens and addicted club kids. I'm one step away from being one of those working boys who wander in at breakfast for coffee and toast. I put up with fussy customers and impatient customers and know-it-all customers who think they can get whatever they want when they want it just because their mom also works at the diner. Fucking right I deserve that.' But Justin didn't say any of this out loud. He just smiled and kept his polite demeanor.

“I've got a tip for you,” said Emmett, leaning forward, one hand on the table the other in his pocket. “One of the most important things in life is honesty. Don't waste time on people who aren't true to themselves or people who say they're one thing like, say, a friend, and who are actually something else like a backstabbing hypocrite.” He looked over at Brian pointedly.

“Thanks,” said Justin. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Brian was huddled over his bowl of oatmeal, even though it was no longer hot. Brian's brow furrowed. His nose wrinkled and nostrils flared. Then his eyes closed and mouth dropped open. “ih ihhh-KIHTchh!” Brian grabbed another napkin from the holder and pressed it to his faces. “Hitchhh! Khtchhh! Hihhshhh!”

Justin took his apron off. “Gotta get to class, Deb!” he called loud enough for Debbie to hear him over the ambient noise in the diner and Brian's sneezes. Justin untied his apron and, with a last look at Brian, who was rubbing his nose into a napkin, he headed back into the kitchen. Grabbing a few things, he headed out the back and walked around to the front entrance.

Just as he leaned back against the wall of the building next to the diner, trying to look casual, Brian emerged. He seemed to have just one thought in his head: getting back to his loft. So he almost walked right past Justin without seeing him. Justin had to clear his throat to get Brian's attention.

“I thought you had class.” He said, rubbing the back of his hand at his nose.

“I do. But I can be back by three o'clock if you want me to come over to your place.”

“To my...”

“I thought you could use the company.” Not just company, but someone who gave a damn to look after him. “And this.” Justin held up a bag of Styrofoam and plastic containers. “Soup. Sandwiches. Meatloaf. Enough food to last you a few days. Maybe you'll feel better by then.”

Brian considered this kindness, probably debating if it made him seem weak or not. In the end, he reached for the bag. He pulled his hand back almost immediately, however. “ihh htttChhhhh!” His hand barely made it to his nose and mouth in time. “eht hehChhhhhh!” He rocked forward and back, breathing hard. 

Quickly, Justin reached into the bag and came up with a napkin. He handed it over, but Brian wasn't done sneezing yet.

“HEHTchhhhhh! Ugh...” Brian opened his eyes and took the napkin, nodding but not verbalizing his thanks. He blew his nose lightly, folding the napkin around his nose and ending with a wipe. Justin saw more than fever in his eyes now. There was fatigue, weariness, and need. “Sure you have to go?”

Though his whole body told him it was okay to skip school this one time to stay home with Brian, and even though Debbie would probably understand why he did it if the school called her to follow-up on his absence, he knew he couldn't. “I'm sure.”

Brian turned on his advertising executive charm, trying to find an opening here. “You'll leard a lot bore with be thad at school.”

It was a nice try. “I'm sure I would, but Deb would kill me. I'll be at your place by three, okay? You got enough of everything to tide you over until then? Medicine? Tissues?” Justin moved in closer. He wanted to kiss Brian. Despite the sniffling and the probably contagious cold, he still wanted to kiss Brian.

“B'fide,” Brian said, pushing Justin away. “Go.”

Justin wished he could call Michael to keep an eye on him. He wished that seeing Brian so miserable with a cold would have been enough to make Michael realize how much he missed Brian. Mostly, he just wished for it to be three o'clock already.