Okay. Well, midterms are over. And I need to start on my two fests due in November. BAH. I'll do it later this week. :twiddles thumbs: I have a HUGE list of recs for QAF fic but I'll get them to you all by the end of the week. I'm having fun sorting through all the terrible fic and let me tell you, there are many.

SO in anticipation I bring you a little drabble. POST Season FIVE. If you don't know the situation between Brian and Justin or the last two episodes, then you will be spoiled. I still owe people some drabbles and I will get to them.

I have gotten to any fic reading or journal commenting. But know that I love you.

ON TO THE B/J angst LOVE! Oh and there is a bit of a cliffhanger and if you want to know what the inscription is... you must wait and see. Muahahahah!


Hey Brian. Thanks for returning all of my calls asshole. But don't you worry, I'll just keep calling because as much as you would like to think that we'll never see each other again, I'm not buyin' it. I'm going to be staying with a friend Lindz set me up with until I can find my own place. Yeah. Well, I miss you. Erm, so yeah, later.

Brian pressed seven and slammed his phone down on the table. Brian refused to wallow.

"You are such a wallower!"

Brian glared across the diner booth at Mikey who looked smug. Brian tore the sugar packet with malice and dumped it into his coffee.

"I can't believe you turned down that trick. Even I would have-"

"Mikey, I would really appreciate it if you would shut your fucking mouth while I'm drinking this pathetic excuse for a coffee."

Deb appeared, in all her gaudy glory and smacked him against his head. Brian didn't have the energy to block her when she smacked him again but he did let out an indignant cry.

"What the fuck Deb?"

She smacked him again before she huffed away in tears. Brian rubbed his cheek and glared at Mikey who was smiling and happily eating his eggs.

"It's nice not to be on the receiving end once in a while."

"Don't kid yourself little Mikey, no one would ever let you top."

Mikey glared back and stabbed at his eggs, mumbling under his breath. Brian didn't give a flying fuck, only pinched the bridge of his nose and contemplated whether or not he wanted to wait around to find out what he did wrong or just get his ass to work. A sound of a plate breaking and the follow, "FUCK YOU BRIAN KINNEY!" made up his mind.

"That's my cue." He got up, threw a ten dollar bill on the table and placed a hasty and hopefully distained filled kiss on Mikey's temple and disappeared out the door to more cursing from Deb. Brian shook his head and walked purposefully to his car, ignoring the slight twinge that screamed that Deb was almost always right.


Let's pretend I'm haven't been having lovely solo conversations with your voicemail, shall we? Hey Brian! Hey Sunshine. How's Kinnetic? I hate the art department. How's NYC? Wonderful but it would be even better if you were here. I'm glad you miss my cock. I miss you too, Brian. Are you going out tonight? Yes, I need a good life affirming experience. But it would be easier if I could just stay at home. I wish I was back in the Pitts too. Make sure you rest your hand. I love you too, Brian- NOW PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE YOU LITTLE SHIT!! :pause: I'm settled and I'm going to the galleries tomorrow. I'll call you soon. Later.

Brian took a violent stab at his Thai take out, a long swig from his bottle of Jim and stared at the black box that was mocking him on the counter. Two bites later he stalked off to the bedroom and pulled out the old dog-tags his father had given to him years before his death. Brian stomped back to the kitchen and threw the two metal tags into the trash can. The clanging of the metal of the trash can and the dog-tags was oddly satisfying. He glared again at the small box before he ripped it open and took the smaller of the two rings, still gleaming from their polish and slid it onto the metal chain.

The metal was cool against his neck as he pulled the necklace on and Brian swiftly tugged off his shirt to watch it hang, brushing against the top of his stomach. Brian sighed, feeling himself hate the world a little less.


And then immediately hate himself more.

Two hours later he was making his way through the handle of Beam and recited the lines of a Brando film through the haze of spliff smoke.

He fell asleep, his fingers tracing the inscription inside the ring.
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