Title: With Love

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: Queer as Folk UK

Rating: NC-17 I suppose (R? I've lost all ability to judge)

Warnings: homosexual relationships, shagging, and British slang up the you-know-what

Spoilers: Sort of gives away what happens at the end of "season 2" but it's rather inevitable so it's not spoiling a heck of a lot. And Des isn't even in here so, yeah, it really doesn't give anything away.

Disclaimer: Russell T. Davies is a God and deserves all the props for the characters and stories. I love him and would never claim they're mine or accept money or shags or anything else for this :-)

Summary: In which Vince and Stuart are in D.C., Vince is sick, and the Misfits get a postcard. That's it. And the fic's so damn short, there's really no point in reading it now. LOL

Notes: My very very very first attempt at writing in this fandom. Plot bunny was formed and story was written all in the span of less than a day. But I hope it turned out all right anyway.

Feedback: Sure... just go easy on me as it's my first. I've a feeling there's too much kissing. So, yeah, go easy but constructive criticism is as welcome as praise.

 

 

With Love

 

     "Post's here!" Alexander called cheerfully, entering as though floating into the tiny kitchen to deliver the stack.

 

     Hazel took it at once and began rooting through it, tossing the bills onto the table to put reading them off as long as possible but pausing at the junk mail just to be sure there wasn't a giveaway for a car or a vacation sweepstakes hidden amongst them.

 

     "Always so bloody happy these days when the post comes round," Bernie observed, pouring the three of them cups of coffee instead of tea even if it was teatime.

 

     "Course he's happy. He's shagging the postman," Hazel replied quickly and casually, not taking her eyes off the letter she was reading.

 

     Grinning, Alexander swept the bills off the table gracefully to make room for a plate of cookies. "You know I can't resist a man in uniform," he said, speaking quickly and waving his hand dramatically. "Serviceman, policeman, fireman... I'd shag the milkman if only we had one." He snatched a cookie and had a bite. He looked thoughtful for a moment, swallowed, then mused, "Remind me to look into milk delivery later, yeah?"

 

     Hazel discarded another letter, apparently deciding it was rubbish, but her eyes lit up at the next one. "Ohhh! It's a postcard from the boys."

 

     She held out her hand automatically and accepted the coffee as she slid down into a kitchen chair. Bernie and Alexander, flanking each side, leaned in to see the image on the card and follow along as she read aloud. "We toured Washington D.C. today. Free museums, decent clubs, and a giant erection monument. Our kind of town. We'll be heading down the coast to Florida after this, sampling the beaches along the way. You're in our thoughts--"

 

 

     "Oh, don't say 'you're in our thoughts'. Write 'with love from'." Vince said as he walked in from the hotel bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He wore boxers but was otherwise clothing-less.

 

     From across the room at the table, Stuart made a face. His pen paused over the bottom of the postcard. "Don't want to say love, why should I say love?"

 

     "Because that's how we ended the last one and you know how Hazel will read into it if we go more informal this time," Vince pointed out.

 

     Stuart, however, rolled his eyes. "Vince, she can't be bothered to remember what she made for dinner last night, let alone what we wrote on a postcard a week ago. Besides, she's your Mum."

 

     "That's right, and I love her. So put it in."

 

     "Yeah but it's more than just her reading it, isn't it? There's Bernie and Alexander and Nathan and--"

 

     "And probably your son," Vince said, pointing at Stuart. Alfred was just starting to learn to read now, after all. "So you'd better put love and I don't care how slushy you think it is." He chucked his towel across the room and flopped down on the bed with a cough.

 

     Stuart abandoned the postcard and walked over to the bed, crawling up it to lie beside Vince. "Still feeling sick, are you?"

 

     Vince nodded regretfully. "I had hoped a hot shower would help, but I think I'm just as stuffy as I was before." He rubbed a finger beneath his nose and sniffled for the effect.

 

     To evaluate properly, Stuart leaned close, kissing with sound and passion and force. Vince had to breathe through his nose, which they could both tell he could hardly do. When he pulled away, he ran his fingers over Vince's cheek and forehead, then the short brown spikes of hair. "Think you're right. And running a fever too, I'd wager."

 

     Vince ran the back of his hand against his mouth. "Shouldn't kiss me like that. You'll catch this."

 

     Stuart grinned broadly. And, in his normal suave king-of-the-world tone, replied, "Nothing can catch me."

 

     "I did," Vince piped up.

 

     Stuart shook his head. "I let you. Remember? You looking like some lost puppy. Begging to go with. Giving up that pathetic life and job just because you thought you had a chance with me. Pitiful."

 

     "ehhh..." his face fell and he raised his hand to cover the lower portion of it. "ehhh-HITChhhhhh! Hektchhhhhh! ehhh... ehhh-eh-HUTChhh!" He rubbed his hand beneath his nose as he sniffled. "Yeah, pitiful. Sort of says it all."

 

     Stuart had pushed off from the bed at the beginning of the sneezing fit and returned from the bathroom with a couple tissues in hand. "You're not that bad, really." He settled on the bed and let Vince sit up and lean against him. Stuart wrapped his arms around from behind and handed over the tissues. "It's just a little cold is all. You'll be fine."

 

     Vince coughed and snuffled into the tissues. "Never thought I'd see the day. Stuart Alan Jones cuddling when he could be out on the town."

 

     But things were different now. They were older. Older and wiser. And together. Or at least together most of the time. "Yeah, well, keep talking like that and I might just leave to go out." But he tightened his arms around Vince in a hug and they both knew he wouldn't leave. A kiss on Vince's cheek sealed the sentiment.

 

     "So..." Vince said with a sigh. "What're we in store for tonight? We could watch some telly I guess."

 

     "Nah," Stuart shook his head. He leaned back against the pillows and the wall and closed his eyes.

 

     "We could order in a movie, then?" he suggested.

 

     "Nothing good on. I checked already."

 

     "There's always straight porn," Vince said, chuckling a bit. His nose crinkled as he sniffed, feeling another sneeze on its way. He folded a tissue in hand and held it up in time. "hehhhhh-ehhhKShhhhh!" He blew his nose quickly, trying to head off any more tickling in it. "God... sorry," he mumbled through the tissue as he rubbed and sniffed.

 

     "S'alright," Stuart whispered, kissing Vince's temple reassuringly.

 

     "It's not," Vince insisted. "I feel like shite. I sound like shite. You're just trying to be nice."

 

     "And why would I go and do a thing like that?" But he hugged Vince again and tugged the coverlet up to their waists.

 

     "Cause I've got a fever and probably won't remember it in the mor... morning. Ehh-ehh-CHIHHH!" He coughed and closed his eyes. "Come on, Stuart. Turn on the telly or something. I don't want to lie here listening to myself sneeze all night. Sniff!  I really don't."

 

     "There are better things to do all night," Stuart said, kissing Vince's cheek, then his neck. His hand slid down the still slightly damp body and into Vince's shorts.

 

     "What do mean?" he laughed. "Better than watching telly or better than listening to me sneeze?" He stiffened and then relaxed as Stuart took hold of him and began stroking.

 

     "Better than both," he replied. He turned Vince's face towards his and craned his neck forward to catch Vince in another strong kiss. Forgetting about his cold and sneezes for the moment, Vince kissed back, tongue and all. The more he kissed, the more Stuart rubbed him. And the more Stuart rubbed him, the more he forgot he was sick. Forgot or didn't care. It didn't much matter which.

 

     Vince felt how hard Stuart was, as well. But at the moment, all he cared about was Stuart's touch and the warmth it brought. It brought back memories of that time when they were kids and Stuart was wanking him to that photo in the magazine.

 

     If anyone knew anything about just how to touch and just how to move, it was Stuart Alan Jones. He knew Vince better than he knew himself. He bounced lightly in place, urging Stuart to go harder and faster. "Stuart," Vince whispered helplessly in warning, shutting his eyes tightly as he leaned back against the man.

 

     "What?" Stuart asked, grinning and trying to sound innocent. "You gonna sneeze?"

 

     Vince shook his head. He reached down and back, trying to get to Stuart's cock. But all he managed to grab onto was one of Stuart's legs. "Oh!" he gasped, unable to hold back any longer at the fantastic sensation. He squeezed Stuart's leg tightly to brace himself. Then his hips bucked forward and he went stiff. "Ohhhhh!" he groaned. When done, he relaxed heavily against Stuart and the pillows. "Ohh my god," he sighed deeply. "Far better than watching the telly."

 

     Smiling, Stuart took one of the unused tissues back from Vince and wiped his hand off. "Glad to hear it."

 

     Vince coughed and turned a bit, pulling himself off Stuart. He yawned and set his head down on Stuart's shoulder. Then he raised his head again. "You want me to do you now?"

 

     "Nah, you're tired and sick. And I'm all right." He kissed Vince again, this time gently on the forehead.

 

     Vince looked doubtful and hesitant. His hand moved towards Stuart's crotch, then pulled back and cupped over his nose and mouth. "ehhhhChhh! ehhKFShhhhhh!" After sniffling into his last tissue, he looked back up again.

 

     "Really, I'm all right. I just want you to rest and get better. You are feeling tired, aren't you?" Vince nodded. "Right, well, it's settled then isn't it?"

 

     As Stuart helped him lie down and tucked the blankets around him, he smiled. "You turning down a good wank? I..." he broke off to yawn again. He closed his eyes and murmured, "I really never thought I'd see the day."

 

     Replying with a chuckle, "You've got a fever. You won't remember anything when you wake up in the morning." Most likely he would not remember Stuart's reply either as Vince had already started to fall to sleep. To test the theory, he whispered, "Besides, who said you were a good wanker? I just want you well so we can go out and cop off properly." Vince did not reply, but his breathing grew slow and deep, albeit stuffy.

 

     Softly Stuart petted his head, and he switched off the light by the bed, leaving the one by the table in the room still on. He headed over there to finish up the postcard. He gave it a quick reread before adding the last bit.

 

     "ehhhShhhhh! ehhCHISHH! KTSHH!"

 

     "Need some more tissues?" he called over concernedly. When he looked over, Vince was rubbing at his nose but falling back to sleep.

 

     "End it with love," he muttered sleepily, turning his head into the pillow. Stuart smiled and turned back to the postcard.

 

 

     "--You're in our thoughts, Stuart and Vince," Hazel finished reading. "Well how's that for a closing? Could have put love or even warm wishes. In our thoughts could mean anything."

 

     "It's just a postcard," Bernie said, taking it from her and putting the picture of the Washington Monument up on the fridge. "Don't read too much into it."

 

     "Besides," Alexander said, dunking a chocolate chip cookie into her coffee and handing it over to Hazel. "Since when has Stuart Alan Jones ever said he loved anyone?"

 

     Hazel bit into the cookie and smiled, knowing perfectly well who it was Stuart loved and not minding that she'd lost her son to him.