The Fight
NOTES: This was crafted out of sheer boredom and a need to make some changes.
WARNINGS: Pod Justin does not exist in this fic. My Justin is more like the Season 1 version, feisty and not afraid to speak his mind. He is going to call Brian on his shit, and it won’t be pretty. Members of the Church of Brian Kinney, beware.
*******************
"What the fuck were you thinking?"
“I told ya - he looked like that underwear model you like.”
“This was not what I had in mind.”
“I thought it would be fun.”
“What, another fucking threesome? We fuck all the time! We have those fucking ‘Date Nights!’ More sex with strangers is not my idea of a birthday present! You don’t know me at all, do you?”
“Care to explain that remark?”
“How long have you known me, Brian?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A world of difference!”
“Nearly two years, okay? Why?”
“Correct - give the man a cigar. Have I, during any of this time, ever struck you as being someone who would want another trick for his birthday?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. You would have said ‘No’ if it didn’t interest you.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I only went with whatever you wanted because I didn’t want to disappoint you? That I only agreed to what we did to keep from losing you? I knew the only way to have you in my life was on your terms!”
“I thought those terms applied to you, too - you’re the one who made up the rules!”
“Do you know why I established those rules? It was the only way I could tolerate everything!”
“Wait a fucking minute - are you telling me you were just going along with all this, not because you wanted to but because you felt you had to?”
“Yes!”
“That is so fucked, Justin.”
“Fucked it may be, but that’s what I am. I never did care for the tricking. That’s your thing - I’m a one-man guy. I only wanted to be with you.”
“You’ve been around the Munchers too long.”
“Why do only lesbians and straights get to have good relationships? That’s not fair!”
“That’s the reality of being a man, Justin. I even told Mikey this when he found out about Dave going to the Baths a while back.”
“So, being a man to you basically means you have to be a self-absorbed, immature slut?”
“If that’s how you feel, why are with me?”
“Because I love you, you idiot!”
“You’re too young to know what love is.”
“I’m getting really sick of people assuming that because I’m nineteen, I don’t know what I want or need. My mom kept me from you when I got out of the hospital, because she assumed it was best for you to stay away. You won’t have a real relationship with me because you assume I shouldn’t be tied down at my age. I’ve loved you since I was seventeen! I had to listen to all these people assassinate your character, all while defending you. And you know what? They were right. You are a fucking coward. They were right to assume you were this selfish asshole who would only hurt me, because you’re too fucking chicken to let anyone know you have any feelings!”
“Hold up - what the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying the selfish asshole in you is only a façade. I may have gotten a bat to the head last summer, but it didn’t knock out my ability to assess what’s wrong. You don’t want me to love you - that was apparent two years ago. You don’t want to have me exclusively, because I might hurt you and leave, and then you’ll have to pick up the pieces but you know what? It’s a risk we all take in life. I took a huge risk going home with you that first night. You could have been anybody, like you said, but I knew you weren’t just anybody - you were the man of my dreams.”
“Some man you picked.”
“See? There you go - beating yourself up again, which is your other lousy habit. If you’re not behaving like a dick because you’re being a chicken shit, you wallow in self-pity - oh, wait - you only wallow in self-pity when no one can see you, huh? You don’t want anyone to see you feel anything except someone’s mouth on your cock. I’m tired of it, Brian. I’m tired of being the fifth wheel on the Jeep as you drive yourself toward self-destruction. I want someone to care enough about me to put me first, and give me their all. You can’t do it.”
“If you can’t deal with it, then fuck you!”
“I’m sure you can say more than that, Brian - but remember that violin recital I went to today? I met the smartest, hottest, most talented guy. He paid attention to ME the whole time we talked. He flirted with me. He made me feel giddy and attractive in five minutes. He wasn’t looking for a quick fuck - he gave me the impression that if I were to hook up with him, it would be for keeps.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
“Don’t you feel even the slightest bit jealous?”
“I don’t do jealous.”
“No, you don’t. Sorry, I forgot - you just act like an idiot with your fucked-up gestures to make a point, like pissing on my art.”
“I already apologized for that!”
“Yeah, but you know what? No matter how many times you say ‘I’m sorry,’ you did something highly despicable. I’d have forgiven you for messing up the pages and going off like you did, but pissing on my work was a low blow. It was a slap in the face. You couldn’t have hurt me more if you’d hit me.”
“I don’t know what you want from me anymore. It seems like everything I do for you is the wrong thing.”
“Brian, can’t you just try to be a real boyfriend for once? You could have given me a fucking Hostess’ cupcake with a candle in it today, and I would have been so happy you thought of me. You could have taken me to dinner. You could have fucked me here in the loft with candlelight and music, just you and me - no fucking ugly-ass gift wrapped hustlers. There were a million things you could have done, but no - you had to think of the only thing other than work that’s in your tiny brain: sex, and most importantly, sex with other people.”
“What’s wrong with sex?”
“It’s all we do, Brian! It’s all you have me here for! I’m your convenient 24-hour trick. I really thought we were making some progress this year, and now you’ve knocked me back down to Square One.”
“I don’t think of you as a trick, Justin. I haven’t thought of you as a trick since that first night.”
“Then what am I, Brian? What the fuck am I? If I packed my shit right now and left, how would you feel?”
"Fuck you! If you want to fucking leave, then leave!"
"Maybe I will!"
"Fine!"
"Isn't it just like you to just give up on me like that? I'm not surprised, Brian. I am SO not surprised. Give up, so you can still be the heartless shit everyone thinks you are, instead of fighting for what you truly want, because it will make you look like you fucking care. Doesn't it bother you to know how fucking sad that is?"
“I don't have to listen to this shit, and especially from someone who's supposed to be my partner.”
“What did you just say?”
“You’re my partner, Justin. We’ve been partners since you moved back in with me. I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy, Justin. I never was. Flowers are for guys like my dad, who fuck up and try to get back in their wives’ good graces. I’m not going to do that shit. Okay, so maybe my gift was a little short-sighted on my part, but at least I tried. I wasn’t planning to even celebrate your birthday at all until the Munchers reamed me out. Doesn’t that count?”
“Shit - you mean the only reason that guy was here was because Mel and Linds went off on you? God, you’re worse than I thought! Dammit, Brian - you are totally fucked!”
“Let me tell a little story - maybe then you’ll understand.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“My birthday was never a happy occasion in my house. My mom would bake my favorite chocolate-chip cake, my sister would harass me, and my dad would come home drunk and go off on Mom about celebrating the worst day of his life - the day I was born. The absolute worst was my eighteenth birthday. That morning I woke up, showered, dressed, went to school, did my shift at the record store, then came home. All my clothes, soccer equipment - all my shit, sat packed up in boxes and luggage on the front lawn. And my dad was standing in front of it, with a huge grin on his face. He said, “Happy Birthday Sonnyboy - you’re eighteen now, you’re finally a man. So get the fuck out.”
“Shit - that’s wrong! Where did you go?”
“I moved in with Deb, Vic and Mikey, and stayed there until I graduated and went to Pitt.”
“Fuck.”
“So, now you know why I’m so down on birthdays.”
“Yeah, especially when you use them to throw people off cliffs.”
“Come again?”
“Mikey’s birthday last year - remember?”
“I did it for his own good, Justin. I was dragging him down. You knew this.”
“And what about your birthday?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to talk about it because I know what happened. Mikey told me about your little scarfing incident before you came to my Prom.”
“I’m gonna kill him! He wasn’t supposed to tell ANYBODY about that, especially not you!”
“Why? Because you didn’t want my pity over you attempting suicide because you were thirty?”
“Fuck you, Justin!”
“No, fuck you! You keep going on about the lousy birthdays you had over the years, and then you showed up at my Prom - my Senior Prom, after telling me you wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a bunch of fucking 18-year-olds, on your thirtieth fucking birthday! The dance and kisses we shared don’t count for anything?”
“You remember that?”
“Hell yeah, I remember! I remember how beautiful you looked that night. I remember how happy Daphne was to see us together. I remember how you kissed me. I remember the look on your face when we ran out to the Jeep - I remember it all. That’s the only reason I stayed, because I knew, that at least once, you proved once and for all that you loved me - and then Chris Hobbs brought everything down to shit.”
“Were you ever going to tell me you remembered, Justin?”
“I wanted to so many times, but once I had an opportunity, you’d do something to piss me off. I often wondered if you deserved to know I remembered. I still do.”
“Do you know what it did to me to see you on that parking lot floor, with blood pouring from your head? To know that I was doing something to make you happy and to watch you almost die in front of me? It was my fault, Justin. I should have let you have fun with Daphne, enjoy your Prom, and celebrated with you later, instead of making this big grand gesture. I almost got you killed!”
“And because of that, you’re too scared to allow yourself to be romantic with me anymore! It wasn’t your fault, Brian! Chris probably would have whacked me in the head if you hadn’t showed up. He was after me with a vengeance after I outed him on Liberty that one night, and had become more violent, so it would have happened anyway. Don’t let what happened to me stop you from showing me your feelings - remember when you made me go to Pride to keep from letting Chris win? Well, I'm telling you the same thing.”
“I don’t know if I can risk it again, Justin. I’ve never felt for anyone, not even Michael, what I felt - feel, for you. I had an epiphany that night, and wanted to shout from the rooftops how much I loved you. Then that bat came down and ruined everything. It just proved what I’d known all along: love will only lead to pain. It wasn't worth it.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Brian - you know it. You know how amazing we were that night! It was because we were so in love, and content in that love. I won’t let you ruin those memories for me now that I have them again! We can be those two happy men again. You know we can - you’re just scared. Remember when you told me how scared I was when I’d decided to go to Dartmouth? Your situation is no different - you want to love me - you know you do. But you’re terrified - you want to control the universe, but love doesn’t work that way. Love has its own agenda and works in its own way - I could easily have fallen for the guy I saw today, because he wasn’t afraid to tell me he thought I was attractive and was truly interested in me. It was a feeling I hadn’t had since the Prom, when I felt I was more to you than a live-in fuck. He didn’t see showing his feelings as losing control, like you obviously do.”
“I - I don’t know what to do, Justin - all I do is fuck things up for people, even you - I ruined your birthday, and didn’t even know it.”
“Baby, you tried - that doesn’t count for much, but it counts for something. Let me help you - let me show you what it means to be a real boyfriend, Brian.”
“I can’t believe this - when did I become Grasshopper and you Sensei? It doesn’t make sense - I’m older. I should be teaching you.”
“This is the remedial course, Brian. I’m helping you - this may be my first, and hopefully my only, relationship, but it’s the only one I want. You just need a little help - I know you hate that, but you do. Grow up and live with it.”
“I am grown up!”
“To a certain degree you are, but when it comes to love, you need work. Just come along for the ride. We'll learn together.”
“I’ll probably fuck up again.”
“Yes, but I’ll be here to call you on your shit.”
“Aren’t you always?”
“Not as much as today.”
“I know. I’m exhausted.”
"As you should be - it's about fucking time I got all that off my chest. I'm not sucking it up anymore. If you fuck up, I'm telling you. Got it?"
"Whatever."
“Okay, I guess I’ve reamed you out long enough. Lesson One is this: If your lover is exhausted, you help him to bed.”
“Are we gonna - “
“Nope. We’re going to rest, and then we’re going to work on the other lessons of life as Justin Taylor’s boyfriend.”
“Shouldn’t that be life as Brian Kinney’s boyfriend?”
“Oh, the man and his ego."
"Shut up."
"Either way, we’re going to fix this together, and without any of your wacky schemes.”
“Yes, Dear.”
“Now, that I like much better - you’re learning already!”
“Hahaha…Twat.”
“I’m your twat, though.”
“Yep. Don’t forget we have Michael’s party tonight.”
“I won’t - now can we take a nap?”
“Yes, baby.”
Return to Mothafunkybat's Fanfiction