Queer as Folk: "Invincible" (Brian/Justin)
Jul. 2nd, 2008 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mclachlandInvincible, by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mclachlan
QaF US, Justin (Brian/Justin)
Post Season 5
Summary: It's not as if you asked for this.
It's not as if you asked for this.
1.
It's definitely not the career opportunity you had in mind when you moved to New York, the center of all that is happening and breeding grounds for the worst kinds of evil.
The canvas is half-finished, drying in the sun that pours over the roof of your apartment building. You breathe it in, that warmth, and enjoy the feeling of being topped off to the brim with flashes of white. Something clicks, as if all the pieces of your life have fallen into place. Perhaps it's the great epiphany everyone strives to have.
You're floating four feet off the ground.
Perhaps not.
2.
You spend the entire day panicking in your apartment, wondering what's happening to you, hoping the burning sensation that rocks your insides will subside sometime soon, because it's unnerving and, hello, burning. The sun disappears behind ominous-looking clouds. Four hours pass before you get the hang of the floating thing, another three hours turns the floating into flying. Flying. Your apartment isn't ideal for that kind of experimentation, so you return to the roof and continue to try. It isn't long before you're buzzing around like a pro.
It's everything you dreamed it could be.
You pull into the sky and the clouds part to gild you with light.
3.
You pretty much figure out what's going to happen with this the day you wish the burning would just leave you. And it does. Setting your easel on fire.
It's easy to open your sketchpad and know what you want to create, but you're a picky queen and it has to be just right. And that sort of creation always ties in with a name. You make it come to life on paper, and the next day you ask your old roommate, Leena -- with two E's -- if she can do it.
Your uniform (not a costume, never a costume), is ready by the end of the week.
4.
You're given a name by the public after the first time you thwart -- thwart, that never fails to make you laugh -- a bank robbery. There are five guys altogether, dressed in black with ski masks. It's almost ridiculous. Hollywood claims five more.
They have guns, and once upon a time that would've frightened you, but no longer. However, that same confidence is not carried by the hostages, the poor people who came to deposit and withdraw, lying on their stomachs and praying to make it out alive.
You end the situation with a brilliant flare of white flame.
And he left in a flash, a witness claimed, like a solar flare!
The New York Observer dubs you The Solar Flare. It catches on overnight.
It all comes back to the sun.
5.
By the beginning of April, you're a household name. You're Spiderman. You're Superman. Batman. Captain fucking America. Michael calls you excitedly to see if you've been able to catch a glimpse of The Solar Flare, and you can't answer without lying and you're horrible at lying, so you evade the question by asking a few of your own, how's JR? Have you heard from the girls? How're Ben and Hunter? How's Brian?
You haven't called?
I've been a little busy, you think at the phone. Saving the world and all.
It's a lighthearted conversation, and you're surprised at how happy you are to hear from Michael. You've missed him. You've missed them all.
Being a superhero is a lonely business.
You wish Brian would call.
6.
You lost.
It's the only thing that enters your mind as you sit on the toilet in your little bathroom and try to staunch the bleeding. It's all over the floor and in the sink. Staining the already stained white red.
You lost.
It began with a string of horrible deaths, and the culprit leaving a little piece of himself behind. A small pile of black acid. While the city of New York panicked, demanding that The Solar Flare save them, you tracked him down (those stalker days came in handy after all) and got your ass kicked.
He calls himself Nacht.
7.
When Brian does call, he offers no excuses. Nothing. And you're exhausted. It's been raining for days, which for some reason fucks with your system, and you're still recovering from your encounter with Nacht.
What the hell is your problem? You sound like a zombie.
You want to tell him. You've never wanted to tell him anything so badly in your life. It would be so easy to just let it slip -- you know that superhero, The Solar Flare? Yeah, well, guess what I've been doing in my spare time. -- but you won't. You can't. No one can know who you are, and it's taken this thing with Nacht to make that absolutely clear to you.
If he knew who you are, he would find them. All he would have to do is put Brian, or Debbie, or Michael, Emmett, Ted, your mother, Molly -- anyone -- in a cage. And you would come for them.
Been busy, is what you tell him.
7.5.
Your half-finished canvas from that fateful afternoon sells for over ten-thousand dollars, purchased by some wealthy woman with a real mink coat who talks your ear off at the gallery opening and calls you darling. Your family shows up and smothers you in love, and you revel in it after having been remiss from it for so long. Michael watches you all evening, brooding (which isn't a good look for him), waiting for the perfect moment to corner you.
Justin--
I know. Brian's on a business trip in Detroit--
That cut on your chin…
I nicked it while carrying the canvas.
I was watching the news, and The Solar Flare had a cut like that in that same spot.
And what can you say to that? You say nothing, and Michael takes it for what it is. He surprises you with a long hug and whispers shakily, you were always one of my biggest heroes, costume or no costume.
It's a uniform, you whisper back.
8.
You're flying, and this time it's not for the joy of it. It's a means of escape. You can barely stay aloft, the everlasting rain keeping you down. He's following you, unhindered by the downpours, and you can feel the black boots of your uniform beginning to melt away from his close proximity.
Brian.
This is how it ends. And it's nothing like prom, or being part of the Pink Posse, or the explosion at Babylon. You're going to die, and Nacht will destroy everything, starting with New York City.
The air is getting thin, but you keep pushing until your tendons feel like they're snapping and breaking apart, your muscles howling in agony. You clench your teeth and use the last of your energy to burst through an invisible barrier.
Brian.
There are stars. There are distant planets.
But most importantly, there is the sun.
You breathe it in, and smile.
Brian.
9.
Nacht lunges, and you release a flare so bright that the people on earth walk around with spots in their vision for four days.
10.
It's a beautiful day, and you walk among the streets, smiling at passersby who don't even spare a passing glance for you. It doesn't matter. People will always be ungrateful, but they're alive to be ungrateful, and that's all that matters.
You enter your apartment and freeze with your hand on the doorknob.
Brian stands there, half-obscured by the shadows your blinds cast over him, holding the mask of The Solar Flare. He says nothing, but he doesn't have to. His face says it all.
I was going to tell you-- You begin, but he throws your mask to the floor and hisses for you to shut the fuck up.
'Busy', huh? Yeah, I guess you have been.
Brian--
And in an instant he's across the room and wrapping you in his arms, breathing hoarsely into your hair.
One day you won't come back. You can't keep doing this.
You coil your arms around his back and let a few tears fall. I have to.
11.
At the very edge of dawn the next morning, you drag Brian up to the roof to watch the sun rise. He stares out at the city, your city, for a long time. You fidget at his side, the silence an uncomfortable reminder that you are no longer on the same plane as Brian. Once he could kill you with a word or a look. Now you can actually kill him with a misplaced thought and a flash of white.
You want to show him that he will never lose you. You want to give him all there is of you, and if that means giving him the other you, the one who could end his life without any effort at all, then you will.
So you take his hand without a word and lead him into the sky.
12.
Unsurprisingly, he wants to fly with you every morning. Says he used to dream about flying as a kid. You do it as often as you can, but there are days when all you want to do is sleep in his arms. That's where you used to dream about flying as a kid. With him tethering you to this imperfect world.
When are you going back to Pittsburgh? You ask, gazing up at him from where your head is resting on his chest.
I'm going to open a Kinnetic office here. Make an obscene amount of money in this city.
You're staring in shock. He grins.
What's Superman without Luthor?
You fuck after that. In mid-air.
13.
It's not as if you asked for this. It's definitely not the career opportunity you had in mind when you moved to New York, the center of all that is happening and breeding grounds for the worst kinds of evil.
Brian opens Kinnetic New York, and it's a huge fucking success. He buys a beautiful loft in Soho that has a lot of natural light, perfect for when you find the time to paint. Because there isn't much of it these days. Evil never sleeps.
You come home from the grocery store down the street, a half-gallon of milk tucked under your arm, and find Brian in front of the television, watching the news.
… is a hostage situation on top of the Empire State Building, one of New York's biggest tourist attractions. Police are trying to negotiate with the…
Brian shuts it off and doesn't turn around.
Go.
You close your eyes and sigh. He'll never get used to it. Under your Tori Amos tee-shirt is the soft black-and-white spandex uniform New York has come to revere. In your pocket, the mask.
Sometimes, you think you'll never get used to it, either.
You put the milk away and leave the rest of the non-perishables out on one of the counters before walking to the balcony doors. You pause as you open them and glance back at him, trying not to read into the frightened look in his eyes, the defeated posture he wears.
You smile at him. Get dinner started. I'll be back.
And you will be back.
mclachlanQaF US, Justin (Brian/Justin)
Post Season 5
Summary: It's not as if you asked for this.
It's not as if you asked for this.
1.
It's definitely not the career opportunity you had in mind when you moved to New York, the center of all that is happening and breeding grounds for the worst kinds of evil.
The canvas is half-finished, drying in the sun that pours over the roof of your apartment building. You breathe it in, that warmth, and enjoy the feeling of being topped off to the brim with flashes of white. Something clicks, as if all the pieces of your life have fallen into place. Perhaps it's the great epiphany everyone strives to have.
You're floating four feet off the ground.
Perhaps not.
2.
You spend the entire day panicking in your apartment, wondering what's happening to you, hoping the burning sensation that rocks your insides will subside sometime soon, because it's unnerving and, hello, burning. The sun disappears behind ominous-looking clouds. Four hours pass before you get the hang of the floating thing, another three hours turns the floating into flying. Flying. Your apartment isn't ideal for that kind of experimentation, so you return to the roof and continue to try. It isn't long before you're buzzing around like a pro.
It's everything you dreamed it could be.
You pull into the sky and the clouds part to gild you with light.
3.
You pretty much figure out what's going to happen with this the day you wish the burning would just leave you. And it does. Setting your easel on fire.
It's easy to open your sketchpad and know what you want to create, but you're a picky queen and it has to be just right. And that sort of creation always ties in with a name. You make it come to life on paper, and the next day you ask your old roommate, Leena -- with two E's -- if she can do it.
Your uniform (not a costume, never a costume), is ready by the end of the week.
4.
You're given a name by the public after the first time you thwart -- thwart, that never fails to make you laugh -- a bank robbery. There are five guys altogether, dressed in black with ski masks. It's almost ridiculous. Hollywood claims five more.
They have guns, and once upon a time that would've frightened you, but no longer. However, that same confidence is not carried by the hostages, the poor people who came to deposit and withdraw, lying on their stomachs and praying to make it out alive.
You end the situation with a brilliant flare of white flame.
And he left in a flash, a witness claimed, like a solar flare!
The New York Observer dubs you The Solar Flare. It catches on overnight.
It all comes back to the sun.
5.
By the beginning of April, you're a household name. You're Spiderman. You're Superman. Batman. Captain fucking America. Michael calls you excitedly to see if you've been able to catch a glimpse of The Solar Flare, and you can't answer without lying and you're horrible at lying, so you evade the question by asking a few of your own, how's JR? Have you heard from the girls? How're Ben and Hunter? How's Brian?
You haven't called?
I've been a little busy, you think at the phone. Saving the world and all.
It's a lighthearted conversation, and you're surprised at how happy you are to hear from Michael. You've missed him. You've missed them all.
Being a superhero is a lonely business.
You wish Brian would call.
6.
You lost.
It's the only thing that enters your mind as you sit on the toilet in your little bathroom and try to staunch the bleeding. It's all over the floor and in the sink. Staining the already stained white red.
You lost.
It began with a string of horrible deaths, and the culprit leaving a little piece of himself behind. A small pile of black acid. While the city of New York panicked, demanding that The Solar Flare save them, you tracked him down (those stalker days came in handy after all) and got your ass kicked.
He calls himself Nacht.
7.
When Brian does call, he offers no excuses. Nothing. And you're exhausted. It's been raining for days, which for some reason fucks with your system, and you're still recovering from your encounter with Nacht.
What the hell is your problem? You sound like a zombie.
You want to tell him. You've never wanted to tell him anything so badly in your life. It would be so easy to just let it slip -- you know that superhero, The Solar Flare? Yeah, well, guess what I've been doing in my spare time. -- but you won't. You can't. No one can know who you are, and it's taken this thing with Nacht to make that absolutely clear to you.
If he knew who you are, he would find them. All he would have to do is put Brian, or Debbie, or Michael, Emmett, Ted, your mother, Molly -- anyone -- in a cage. And you would come for them.
Been busy, is what you tell him.
7.5.
Your half-finished canvas from that fateful afternoon sells for over ten-thousand dollars, purchased by some wealthy woman with a real mink coat who talks your ear off at the gallery opening and calls you darling. Your family shows up and smothers you in love, and you revel in it after having been remiss from it for so long. Michael watches you all evening, brooding (which isn't a good look for him), waiting for the perfect moment to corner you.
Justin--
I know. Brian's on a business trip in Detroit--
That cut on your chin…
I nicked it while carrying the canvas.
I was watching the news, and The Solar Flare had a cut like that in that same spot.
And what can you say to that? You say nothing, and Michael takes it for what it is. He surprises you with a long hug and whispers shakily, you were always one of my biggest heroes, costume or no costume.
It's a uniform, you whisper back.
8.
You're flying, and this time it's not for the joy of it. It's a means of escape. You can barely stay aloft, the everlasting rain keeping you down. He's following you, unhindered by the downpours, and you can feel the black boots of your uniform beginning to melt away from his close proximity.
Brian.
This is how it ends. And it's nothing like prom, or being part of the Pink Posse, or the explosion at Babylon. You're going to die, and Nacht will destroy everything, starting with New York City.
The air is getting thin, but you keep pushing until your tendons feel like they're snapping and breaking apart, your muscles howling in agony. You clench your teeth and use the last of your energy to burst through an invisible barrier.
Brian.
There are stars. There are distant planets.
But most importantly, there is the sun.
You breathe it in, and smile.
Brian.
9.
Nacht lunges, and you release a flare so bright that the people on earth walk around with spots in their vision for four days.
10.
It's a beautiful day, and you walk among the streets, smiling at passersby who don't even spare a passing glance for you. It doesn't matter. People will always be ungrateful, but they're alive to be ungrateful, and that's all that matters.
You enter your apartment and freeze with your hand on the doorknob.
Brian stands there, half-obscured by the shadows your blinds cast over him, holding the mask of The Solar Flare. He says nothing, but he doesn't have to. His face says it all.
I was going to tell you-- You begin, but he throws your mask to the floor and hisses for you to shut the fuck up.
'Busy', huh? Yeah, I guess you have been.
Brian--
And in an instant he's across the room and wrapping you in his arms, breathing hoarsely into your hair.
One day you won't come back. You can't keep doing this.
You coil your arms around his back and let a few tears fall. I have to.
11.
At the very edge of dawn the next morning, you drag Brian up to the roof to watch the sun rise. He stares out at the city, your city, for a long time. You fidget at his side, the silence an uncomfortable reminder that you are no longer on the same plane as Brian. Once he could kill you with a word or a look. Now you can actually kill him with a misplaced thought and a flash of white.
You want to show him that he will never lose you. You want to give him all there is of you, and if that means giving him the other you, the one who could end his life without any effort at all, then you will.
So you take his hand without a word and lead him into the sky.
12.
Unsurprisingly, he wants to fly with you every morning. Says he used to dream about flying as a kid. You do it as often as you can, but there are days when all you want to do is sleep in his arms. That's where you used to dream about flying as a kid. With him tethering you to this imperfect world.
When are you going back to Pittsburgh? You ask, gazing up at him from where your head is resting on his chest.
I'm going to open a Kinnetic office here. Make an obscene amount of money in this city.
You're staring in shock. He grins.
What's Superman without Luthor?
You fuck after that. In mid-air.
13.
It's not as if you asked for this. It's definitely not the career opportunity you had in mind when you moved to New York, the center of all that is happening and breeding grounds for the worst kinds of evil.
Brian opens Kinnetic New York, and it's a huge fucking success. He buys a beautiful loft in Soho that has a lot of natural light, perfect for when you find the time to paint. Because there isn't much of it these days. Evil never sleeps.
You come home from the grocery store down the street, a half-gallon of milk tucked under your arm, and find Brian in front of the television, watching the news.
… is a hostage situation on top of the Empire State Building, one of New York's biggest tourist attractions. Police are trying to negotiate with the…
Brian shuts it off and doesn't turn around.
Go.
You close your eyes and sigh. He'll never get used to it. Under your Tori Amos tee-shirt is the soft black-and-white spandex uniform New York has come to revere. In your pocket, the mask.
Sometimes, you think you'll never get used to it, either.
You put the milk away and leave the rest of the non-perishables out on one of the counters before walking to the balcony doors. You pause as you open them and glance back at him, trying not to read into the frightened look in his eyes, the defeated posture he wears.
You smile at him. Get dinner started. I'll be back.
And you will be back.
