Title: Gray Areas
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk belongs to Showtime, Cowlip, and whoever else is lucky enough to own it.
Summary: Brian gets his first gray hair.
Warnings: Aside from being insanely silly, there's some language, probably some OOC-ness
A/N: My first QAF fanfic, so go easy on me. ;)
Timeline: A few years after S5, B/J are married and live in a house.
Justin paced the floor in front of the window, annoyance and exasperation chipping away at his last remaining nerve. Really, it wasn't as though Brian were deathly ill or anything like that. Hell, he'd made less of a fuss after being diagnosed with cancer. And for a person who usually went out of his way to prove he had no vulnerabilities, Brian sure was a drama queen when it came to a trivial thing like the single, insignificant gray hair he'd found amongst the auburn of his head.
The man hadn't been out of bed in three days. He hadn't showered. Had barely eaten. And after trying everything he could think of, including but not limited to hiring a hunky professional stripper, threatening to cut the sleeves off of every precious Armani suit the brunette owned, and a highly provocative (yet disappointedly unsuccessful) strip tease of his own, Justin had finally reached the end of his rope, giving up on ever getting the stubborn man to see reason on his own.
So, having tried everything he could think of with no success, he had turned to his last resort.
A sharp knock at the door pierced the silence, and Justin gratefully went to answer it. And odd mixture between relief and deviousness washed over his features. Glancing over his shoulder in the general direction of the bedroom, where his husband lay in miserable, self-pitying, self-imposed seclusion, he opened the door wider to allow his visitors inside.
"Where is he?" asked Michael, his eyes sweeping the room cautiously, as though expecting Brian to pop up out of the blue, slinging an arm around his shoulders, perhaps with his usual smirk and greeting of "Hey, Mikey!" Needless to say, it didn't happen.
"The bedroom," Justin rolled his eyes. "Where he's been pathetically existing in miserable self-pity for the last three days."
"He won't come out at all?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew from some of the stories he'd heard from Michael that Brian had a tendency to...well, overreact to some things... but he'd never seen someone get so upset over such a tiny thing as a gray hair. No wonderJustin got so exasperated with him.
"Talk about a fucking drama queen," Debbie muttered, stepping into the house after her son and his husband.
"That's our Brian," Ted rolled his eyes. Emmett followed at his heels, looking considerably amused.
Once they were inside, and Melanie and Lindsay had joined them after a small pit stop due to Gus having downed an entire large soda from McDonald's, Justin figured it was only fair that he give them a decent warning.
"All right, first of all, thanks for coming over here so fast," he began. "I just didn't know what to do. I've tried everything I know. I don't know how to help him." Justin paused to take a deep breath and to harness all his remaining patience. "Second of all, what you are about to see is not pretty. Lindsay, Mel, it may be best to leave Gus and J.R. out here for the time being. We don't want to frighten them."
Lindsay and Melanie nodded solemnly. Gus, all too happy to be dismissed, immediately ran off to the kitchen to get himself something else to drink, and J.R. broke free from her mother's grasp on her hand and quickly followed at his heels.
"Okay. Let's go." The gang all followed Justin cautiously toward the spacious bedroom at the back of the house. Justin held his breath as he slowly opened the door.
It was pitch-black inside. The shades were drawn, the lights were off, and it was completely silent. Guided somewhat by the light pouring in from the hallway, the group of friends crept inside. After a few moments, their eyes began to adjust, and they could see the outline of a large bed in the center of the room. More importantly, they could see the silhouette of a figure huddled beneath the covers of said large bed.
Justin was the first to reach the bed. He sat down gingerly on one edge. Everyone watched with baited breath as the blond tentatively reached out to gently prod the figure in the center of a mass of tangled covers. A gruff, barely audible groan broke the fragile silence.
"Mmhm."
"Brian, your friends are here to see you," Justin said, not bothering with any type of delicate tone, and sounding merely impatient. The others hung back, unsure. "You remember your friends, right? You know, the people who love you even though you're a fucking drama princess?"
Another groan. "S-Sunshine? Is that you?" Brian croaked. A hand somehow managed to untangle itself from the blankets, and shakily reached out toward Justin. Though Brian couldn't see it in the dark, Justin rolled his eyes. He'd had enough of his husband's behavior these last couple of days since he'd found that damned gray hair.
"Who the fuck else?" Justin snapped.
"Brian? It's me, Michael," the Italian spoke up, deciding to intervene before Justin strangled his best friend. "Listen, a gray hair is nothing to be this upset over. It's like I said before, you will always be young, and you will always be beautiful," he said, going for the gentle tone Justin had forgone.
There was a muffled wail. "Except when I'm old and gray and... dead! I won't be fucking beautiful when my brains are half-eaten by worms!"
Michael looked surprised. He looked uncertainly around at the rest of them for help. Ted decided to give it a try himself.
"Brian, take it from me. A gray hair doesn't mean a thing. I already have a few of them, and you don't see me hiding out in my room for days at a time. Trust me, Bri, gray hairs are nothing to be ashamed of," he assured Brian.
"Oh my God! I'm becoming Theodore! My life is over!"
Justin glared at Ted. "What the hell made you think that would make him feel better?" he hissed at him.
Ted looked helpless. "Sorry, I- you know you could still get any guy you wanted, Brian," he tried to repair what damage he had done, speaking over what sounded suspiciously like desperate sobs originating from the lump that was Brian.
"Excuse me?" Justin shot at him, raising his eyebrows.
Ted winced. "No, I didn't mean... uh... just that...you know... if..." seeming to realize he was only digging himself into a deeper hole, Ted slowly backed toward the door. "I think I'm going to go check on Gus and J.R." Justin's glare following him all the way out of the room, Ted slipped back through the door and into the hallway. Silence settled around them once again, broken only by the occasional dry sob coming from Brian's general direction.
Deciding that what he really needed was a woman's touch...for once...Lindsay slowly detached herself from the group and made her way to Brian's side, opposite Justin.
"Brian," she cooed, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Brian, come on. It's not the end of the world. Nor is it the end of your life, whatever you may think," she added as an afterthought. "It's one tiny, meaningless gray hair. That's all. It doesn't mean anything."
The group of friends had to strain their ears to catch Brian's response. "It means everything! It's the beginning of the end!"
Lindsay looked surprised. "The end of what?"
"Oh, just fucking face it, already! This is how it starts! It's one hair now...then tomorrow, it's two hairs! Then three! Then, before you know it, it's every last fucking hair on your head! And then... there's wrinkles! And aches and pains and-- and all kinds of shit. It's all downhill from here!" he cried hysterically.
"Jesus, what a fucking drama queen," Melanie muttered.
"Yeah, I think that's been established, Mel," Emmett whispered.
"Mel? Melanie? You're here?" Brian rasped.
"Yeah, Brian, unfortunately, my wife actually likes you, for reasons beyond my comprehension."
"In that case, I've got a question for you."
Melanie's dull, bored expression faltered for just a moment. "What?"
"Well, I just figure... you're old and unattractive... mind telling me what it's like? Ow!"
"Asshole." Their was a loud, decisive bang as Melanie slammed the door shut upon her exit.
"That hurt, Linds! I know you're a dyke, but, Christ..." Brian's voice trailed off.
"Serves you right!" Lindsay said. "Must you two insult each other at every available opportunity? How about showing a little maturity and acting like adults for once?"
"This coming from the 'adult' that just practically dislocated my shoulder? Gus told me last week he got into trouble at school for hitting a kid. Nice to know you've matured so much since the age of ten."
"I'm going to check on Melanie and the kids."
"Make sure Melanie's not sitting on my couch. I don't want her smell all over it."
Those remaining rolled their eyes as Lindsay followed after Melanie.
"Nice to know some things never change," muttered Michael.
"Exactly. Which is why a little gray hair is not going to change anything, Brian," said Ben, bringing them all back to the reason that they were there in the first place.
Brian raised his head up off his pillow. "Weren't you telling me the other day that one of your students called you an old geezer?"
Ben spluttered for a moment, racking his brain for words that would provide some assistance in maintaining his dignity. "Well, yes... but I didn't react. I just calmly--and in a dignified manner-- accepted the fact that I'm no longer as young as I used to be," he explained. "And age is only a number, really. So, you're forty. Big deal."
"I'm thirty-nine."
Ben flushed. "Really?" he asked, his voice oddly high-pitched. He glanced at Michael, who, looking pained, nodded.
"Well, still," he tried to continue as though he hadn't blundered. If there was one thing you could do to assure a spot on Brian's bad side, it was mistake his age. "Age is only a measure of how long-- of how much— are you sure you're thirty-nine?" he interrupted himself, unable to help it. He could have sworn Brian had already had a fortieth birthday. He vaguely remembered him throwing a fit, getting drunk, and sulking around in his loft in a moody, drunken haze, refusing phone calls and not answering his door. Then again, that might very well have just been any given Tuesday...
"I'm thirty-nine years old. And I've got fucking gray hair already! This is all your fault, Michael."
"My fault!? Exactly how the fuck is it my fault? If anything, I should have gray hairs from all these years worrying about you, you asshole."
"Besides, you don't have gray hair, Brian. It's only one gray hair," Ben pointed out. Brian snapped.
"That's it. I want the Professor removed from my room. Now," he barked.
"What?" said Ben in disbelief.
"Uh, Ben, maybe you'd better go," Justin said quietly. "He's a little touchy at the moment."
"Uh, he's sitting right here!" Brian said waspishly.
"Yeah, you know what? I think I hear Ted calling me..." and with that, Ben hurriedly made for the door.
"Good job, Brian, you've now managed to scare off four people who wanted to do nothing but help you," said Michael accusingly. "Well, three. Melanie only came along because Lindsay forced her."
Another derisive snort.
"If you're all finished with the fucking 'cheer Brian up' committee meeting, I'd like to be left alone," Brian snapped again. "One last thing...send Gus in. I want to say good-bye to my son."
"Okay, even I'm not this much of a queen," said Emmett under his breath. Next to him, Debbie gave a slight jerk of her head in agreement.
"You know, Bri, if you wanted, I could give you a little make-over," suggested Emmett. "It'd be so much fun. I'll teach you to embrace your age. Not run from it."
Justin shot a warning look at Michael, who immediately understood, and ushered Emmett out of the room.
"I was just trying to help!" Emmett shouted through the door as Debbie shut it in his face.
"Okay, Brian, it's just us now," said Michael soothingly. "What's this really about?"
"It's about the beginning of the end of my life! I wouldn't expect any of you to understand."
"And, why's that?" asked Justin, confused.
"Well, you're fucking twenty-seven. Debbie, you're already old. And Michael...you're just fucking strange. You're one of those--"
"Don't say stepford fags!"
"You're one of those stepford queers who actually wants to grow old with your husband and family and all that other shit."
"So what, you don't want to grow old with me?" Justin asked accusingly.
"I don't want to grow old period."
"Brian, you're being ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous."
"You are. So, obviously, no matter how old you get physically or chronologically, you'll always be the same perpetual immaturity case on the inside," said Michael cheerfully.
"Go fucking join your husband."
Debbie, who had so far kept silent, decided to speak up, having heard just about enough. "Would you stop being so fucking dramatic already? Get your ass out of bed, take a shower, and get on with your life."
"There's nowhere left to go in my life. It's all over."
"It's going to be over if you don't get your ass in gear, now."
There was no reply, and Brian didn't move a muscle.
"Pathetic," Michael grumbled.
"That's it, Brian, I didn't want to have to go here... but you leave me no choice. What you need now is a mother's tough love," Debbie said importantly, straightening up to her full hight.
"Hey, Mikey, while you're here, bring me something to drink, won't you? Preferably something strong. Justin stopped bringing me booze two days ago."
"Come on, you two," ordered Debbie, pulling open the door and gesturing for Michael and Justin to walk out ahead of her. Justin pushed himself off the bed and followed Michael out the door. When the three of them got back to the living room, it was to find the rest of the gang all seated in a circle.
"We're trying to think of a way to help him," explained Ted, looking up from his seat on the sofa next to Ben.
"They're trying to think of a way to help him. I say, let the asshole stew," said Melanie. "If he wants to drown himself in alcohol and self-pity, let him."
Justin looked about two seconds away from agreeing with her.
"Someone get me the phone," instructed Debbie. "We're going to get him out of that God-damned room, one way or another."
A soft knock disturbed the peaceful silence of the bedroom.
"Brian? Someone's here to see you."
Brian ignored Lindsay's announcement, burying his head further into his comfortable assortment of pillows and sheets, all of which were of the highest thread count, of course. Brian Kinney only sulked in topmost comfort and style, after all.
The door opened a crack. "Brian?" a voice spoke tentatively into the darkness.
Brian froze. He felt icy fear run through his veins at the sound of that voice. Surely, they hadn't...
"Brian, I'm coming in."
The door opened a little wider, and light footsteps padded across the floor to where he lay in the mass of tangled blankets.
"Brian, that woman, Debbie Novotney... she called me and said you were having some problems."
Well, if he hadn't had problems before, he sure as hell did now.
"Brian, I think you should tell me about them. We could pray together for a solution..."
Brian slowly, cautiously, began to scoot toward the other side of the bed. Maybe if he moved slowly enough, she wouldn't see him...
"I'm sure that whatever challenge God has bestowed upon you can come to a peaceful conclusion..."
There. He'd made it to the other side. He stretched his feet out from beneath the covers, reaching for the floor...
"We will confide in the Lord together. I know you must feel ashamed to ask for His help, but the Lord forgives sinner's... He will forgive you..."
Made it. Steeling himself for what he knew he must do, Brian grabbed a handful of blankets, took a deep breath, then threw them back, bolting out of bed and racing for the door. He couldn't stop. Couldn't look back now. He just had to keep running. He flew out of the room at top speed, skidding along the hallway and just managing to stop in the doorway to the living room, before taking off again for the front door.
Justin, Michael, Lindsay, Debbie, Melanie, Ted, Emmett, Gus, and Jenny Rebbecca watched, barely able to muffle snorts of laughter, as they watched Brian peel out of the room faster than they'd ever seen him move. The front door banged open, and the tan-ish blur that was Brian Kinney high-tailed it out of there, desperate to flee the devastating, unspeakably horrifying presence that was his own mother. Justin's was one of the last snickers to finally die away. Terrified, fleeing-the-country Brian was certainly a nice change from the moody, sullen one he'd been subject to the last few days. Wiping away tears of laughter, turning to thank and congratulate Debbie for her master plan, he made a mental note to casually remark to Brian tomorrow that he sure could run pretty fast for an old man.
Review, please :)