Title: Gift for oneplusoneequals876 2007
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their world. Please don't sue me. I'm just having fun and not making any money.
Summary: Brian is sick. Jumps around to different POVs.
Notes: Happy holidays, oneplusoneequals876!
Brian waved dismissively at his assistant as she started to tell him to feel better. All he wanted to do was leave without a fuss; he couldn't stand when people coddled him or crooned sympathetically just because he was a little ill. Besides, this was just a god-awful head cold, not cancer. He wasn't about to keel over and die any time soon just because he was leaving work a little early.
He hated leaving early. He hated worrying about what was happening at Kinnetic without him. He hated postponing meetings and conference calls. He hated trusting anyone with his employees. Worst of all, he hated admitting he couldn't handle working in his condition. But as he didn't look gorgeous or professional when he was coughing or sneezing, it made the most sense to escape prying eyes and inquiring minds.
All he wanted now was to go home and allow himself to crash. Brian pinched his nose with one hand, turning the steering wheel with his other hand. He managed to stave off the sneeze until he hit a red light. Then he uncurled his fingers slightly to cup his hand over his nose and mouth. He could feel it coming, tickling from the back, right up to the very tip of his nose. It drew in the rest of his face, making his mouth drop open and eyes flutter closed briefly. Then the tickle increased, taking him over completely with need. "huh-hah-HATChoo! EhShoo!" He didn't have tissues in the car, and he wasn't about to rub his nose on the sleeve of his good suit. So he settled for sniffling until he reached home, holding his hand under his nose the whole time to keep the situation somewhat under control. He swore as often as he sniffled.
He felt another sneeze coming on as he rode up in the elevator, so he pinched his nose and held his breath in hopes of making it into his loft first. Brian leaned against the side of the elevator, the cool metal feeling good against his warm cheek. He closed his eyes and thought about the only thing that would possibly make him feel better: Justin.
Justin was safely overseas painting and being inspired, not due to head back through Pittsburg for another week and a half. That was plenty of time for Brian to slip squarely into complete misery and emerge afterwards feeling fit as a fiddle and as dead sexy as ever. If Justin called to talk- because Justin regularly called every few days, unless Brian called him first- Justin would just be able to say nice, sympathetic things for a little while, which would no doubt make Brian feel better while still ensuring that Sunshine not see him with his nose running like a fucking faucet.
Brian barely had the strength to roll the door of his loft open and closed behind him. He coughed with congestion before he sneezed, but neither cough nor sneeze sounded very good. "ehhhhhgErschhoo!" Brian kicked off his shoes and stumbled forward, moving straight for his bed. His foot made contact with something hard along the way that shouldn't have been there. "Fuck!" Sniffling and badly in need of Kleenex, he looked down and went cold. "Ohhhhh fuck." The word hardly seemed sufficient.
It was luggage. Actually, to be fair, calling it luggage was an insult to gorgeously matching, high-priced Gucci bags everywhere. It was the sort of backpack people took camping or, in Justin's case, travelling around Europe.
Brian lifted his head. "Justin?" His call was muffled from the hand he had up over the lower half of his face. He massaged his still-tickling nostrils with thumb and forefinger. "Justin? You here?" This time it was a little louder, but there was still no answer. Hesitantly, he stepped over the pack and headed to the bed. It was unoccupied, but there was a note on the pillow.
Brian sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for the note with one hand as he reached for Kleenex with the other. He blew his nose messily and read the note:
Bri-
Making the rounds, saying my hellos. Meet me at the diner for dinner
if you get home before six. Otherwise, I'll be home in time
to go out with you... or stay in with you as the case may be.
Love,
Justin
"Love?" Brian coughed and crumpled the note. "Not for long. Ehh- shit- hehhh-ERshooo! HEHRIHShoo!" Brian fell back onto the bed with a groan. A week and a half of recovery would have to be compressed into a couple of hours. That would require drugs, and plenty of them.
Brian rolled off the bed and coughed his way to the bathroom. He turned the shower on full blast and breathed in the steam. Brian loosened his tie, then pulled the whole thing right off and dropped it onto the bathroom counter.
He took two tablets for his headache, which would also help with the aches in his body. He shivered and put a hand to his forehead, then took a third tablet for the fever he probably had. He swallowed two more for the congestion and popped an extra strength cough drop in his mouth. He grabbed a second tissue box for assurance and flopped back into bed.
"ehhh... eh-hehhhh..." His nose started to tickle again, unbearably, seizing his whole body so that the only thing he could focus on was the tingle and the tissue pressed desperately to his nose. "ehhhERHushhhhh!" The relief was tantamount to a good orgasm, and as eager as he was to feel that again, he blew his nose before another tickle could build up.
Brian rolled up in the sheets and blankets and buried his head between two pillows. The warmth of his breath amidst satin pillowcases and heavy feather pillows made him nod off in no time, despite the itch in his throat and the runniness of his nose.
*
Justin walked in, shaking off his jacket and the scents of alcohol and smoke that lingered on it. He hadn't meant to spend so much time out, but Ted, Blake, and Emmet had insisted on taking him to Woodies for drinks. He nearly tripped over the black leather, Calvin Klein Horatio shoes. "Brian?" he called, getting no reply. There was, however, the sound of water running.
Grinning, Justin checked out the bathroom, not noticing the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed along the way. Expecting to strip down and join Brian in the shower, Justin had his shirt off and his pants halfway off already by the time he realized Brian wasn't actually in the shower. It was running on hot and the bathroom was filled with steam, so much so that it actually choked Justin a little as he went to turn off the water. The air felt moist and warm against his skin, until he emerged from the bathroom and the difference in temperature made him shiver. Thinking that Brian must be out, he decided the best course of action would be to make himself properly presentable for Brian's return. Perhaps naked and stretched out on the bed? Brian would like that. He reached down for one of the blankets to cover up with in the meantime, and noticed two things.
The note he had left Brian was gone and the lump in the middle of the bed wasn't just a lump. "Brian?" Justin said, chuckling a little to himself. "What's this? It's not even nine yet. I leave for a few months and you go soft on me?" He sat down on the bed, but the movement did not wake Brian. Justin Slowly pulled the pillow away, wanting to see Brian but not to wake him if he could help it. He had a feeling Brian wasn't just nursing a hangover at ten o'clock at night.
Sure enough, Brian looked sick. He was pale and breathing through his mouth. His forehead was moist and hair was plastered to his forehead. He still wore his work clothes, the green button-down shirt and khaki pants were terribly wrinkled and rumpled. He was curled up on his side and one hand clutched a balled up tissue. Justin was slightly relieved to see him like this. Brian had looked miserable when he'd been going through cancer treatments, but a much different sort of miserable. Justin touched the back of his hand to Brian's cheek. The heat made him pull his hand back immediately. But this time, Brian stirred.
"Mmph."
"Brian," Justin whispered, bending over with his mouth right up to Brian's ear. "Do you have a cold?"
Brian's head moved in what could most closely resemble a nod. "Yerh."
Justin smiled. He could get the truth out of Brian, but only when Brian didn't know he was telling the truth. "Can I get you anything?"
"Nnph," he replied, which Justin took to be a negative response.
"Then how about I just hold you while you sleep?"
"Mmmhmmm... Sunshine..." Justin paused, expecting Brian to wake up fully now, but that didn't happen. And Brian didn't say anything more. So Justin climbed over him and snuggled up behind Brian, draping his arm over Brian. He knew Brian liked this very much but wouldn't say so. Brian's body language spoke for itself. Brian took Justin's hand in his own and hugged it to his chest. He leaned back into Justin. Justin smiled and relaxed. Even without mind-blowing sex, this was already turning into a wonderful homecoming.
Then, suddenly, Brian sat bolt upright in bed. His eyes, wide open, darted to Justin in shock and accusation. His breathing was fast and shallow, and Brian could almost hear his heart racing. "What are you doing here?"
"You just told me I could sleep here."
Brian frowned and shook his head. Then he turned away. "eh-ehhERChhh-HahChuhh!" He mopped at his nose and sniffed hard. "I bead, why ared't you id Europe?"
"Came home early for some quality time," said Justin, sitting up as well. "Thought you'd be surprised."
"Oh," said Brian, still rubbing his nose. "I was surbrised all right. You fuckig scared be to death."
"Sorry," Justin said, softly. He reached out and put an arm around Brian from behind, drawing them together. He kissed the side of Brian's neck and pressed his body against Brian's back. "Let me get you out of these clothes. They're going to need some serious washing and ironing after this."
Brian curled up more, protectively, and sneezed again into his own chest. "ehChoo! hehhhTChehhhh!"
"Looks like you're going to need some serious caring for, too."
Brian shook his head a little. "You should go stay with Bichael add Bed udtil I feel better. I dod't deed your care."
"Bullshit." Justin ran his hand through Brian's hair, then he repeated the action. "I know you. Your idea of caring for yourself is curling up here in bed for three days straight until you starve. You need more than that."
"Oh yeah?" Brian closed his eyes, reluctantly relaxing in response to Justin's petting.
"Yeah." Justin kissed him and held him close. He wished he could do more. He loved watching Brian submit, though he knew it wouldn't last for long.
"Add what did you have id bide? Sniff! Sniff! You goig to coddle be add tuck be id add bake be feel like a fuckig two year old?" He sniffled and rubbed his finger under his nose. Then he shook against Justin. "eehhhKTchhh! ehChhh! Hehshoo!"
"No," said Justin, trying not to laugh at Brian's stuffy speech. "I'm going to call Michael."
It took a few moments for the words to take up residence in his brain. Then Brian sat straight up in bed again, wide awake and coughing. "Cough! What?"
Justin sat up, too, chuckling lightly. "I'm just going to ask him to pick up some things at the Big Q."
Brian shook his head. "It's too late. He add his husbad have brobably already gode to bed."
Justin didn't doubt this was the case, but if it were so, Justin also knew Michael would wake up for this. "It's only around ten. I'll risk it. Now you-" Justin pushed Brian back down and yanked a blanket up over him. He was neither coddling nor tucking; he barely needed to use force this time. "Stay here and rest. I'll be right back." Brian's head touched back down onto the pillow and stayed there.
*
"Justin?" Michael called out as he let himself into the loft. "Brian?" He got no reply from either man but continued on towards the kitchen to deal with the groceries that needed refrigerating. Then he walked quietly over to the bed, finding both men spooning and fast asleep. He cleared his throat.
Justin blinked and then flashed Michael an apologetic smile. He carefully pulled away from Brian, slipping out from under the heavy blankets. He touched Michael's arm and steered him back to the kitchen. "Sorry. My internal clock is fucked. My body keeps telling me it's four in the morning." Not to mention that it was so comfortable being back in Brian's bed and being able to wrap his arms around Brian. Justin yawned and apologized again. Then he noticed the food. "Michael, you didn't have to bring all this!"
"Well, you know Brian. I figured you should have options if he gives you a hard time." He hesitated, leaning back against one of the counters. "Has he been giving you a hard time?"
Justin shook his head.
"That's a bad sign."
Justin nodded.
Michael rooted through one of the plastic bags and withdrew a box. "Try these. They'll probably knock him out for a while but they should do the trick. If not, there's some other stuff in there."
Justin nodded again. "Options, right."
"And food. There's stuff in the fridge. You know how Brian never has anything to eat. And--"
Justin moved forward and kissed Michael's cheek. "Thank you. I'll take it from here."
Michael understood, though he glanced back at the bedroom. There was no need to strain to make out Brian amongst the blankets, because Brian was right there, walking towards them. Brian still wore the shirt and slacks he'd gone to work in, though calling them ruffled now would have been too kind. Michael was sure they were going to need an hour of ironing to begin with. He was also a bit surprised that Justin hadn't managed to get Brian out of them already.
"You should stay in bed."
Brian shrugged and passed the side of his hand under his nose. With a disapproving sound, Justin unpacked a tissue box from one of the shopping bags. He forced a tissue on Brian, who held it to his nose. "Hiya, Bikey. What brigs you here?" His breath caught and he turned to the side at once. "hehERSchikooo! Erchoo!" He wiped his nose then leaned forward on the counter, arms folded casually.
Michael stared him down, not needing to answer. He knew Brian was trying to look fine and it wasn't working in the slightest.
Brian shrugged again. "Hungry?"
"I'll make you something if you go back to bed," Justin said, giving Brian a little nudge in the right direction. Brian didn't move.
Michael smiled and reached across the counter. He pressed his hand to Brian's forehead. "Feels like you're running a fever. Poor baby." Brian was warm, certainly, but nothing too high, to tell the truth. Brian pulled away from the touch and moved closer to Justin and his warmth.
Justin put his arm around Brian and nuzzled. "Aw, baby, do you feel miserable and need to cuddle?"
Brian stumbled backwards a few steps and coughed. "Okay, assholes," he said. His voice was low, gravelly. "I get it." He waved his hand dismissively at them and shuffled back to the bedroom.
Michael and Justin watched him go, then they both laughed softly. Michael wished Justin good luck.
Justin headed back to bed with a bottle of water and some cold medicine in hand. Michael watched Justin climb into bed and snuggle up to Brian then realized he probably shouldn't be watching. He couldn't help but listen as he silently headed out, however.
"C'mon. Take this. You'll either feel better or it'll knock you out for the rest of the night. I'm hoping for both, personally."
There was silence as Brian, supposedly, swallowed the offered medicine. "heh-hehh-EH'Kshoo! EhhTChhh!" Then, stuffily, "I dod't really have a high fever, do I?"
"No you don't. You're warm, but it's a low grade one."
"Oh. Good." His tone was soft and he sounded relieved. "You ared't really goig to cuddle be, are you?"
"Yes I am. And I'm not going back to New York until you're well."
"Oh." Then, after a pause, he replied so softly that Michael nearly missed it, "Good."