Disclaimer: You know the drill ... clearly it's not mine because, if I did own QAF, I wouldn't be publishing little fics on the internet i'd be out in the world writing a bloody Movie!! You heard me Cowlip! Tell Gale, Randy and Hal to stop hating each other and then GET ON IT!! =D *rant over*

A/N: OneShot from an angry girl who will never be satisfied by the amount of QAF in the world ... Hope you enjoy!

Brian looked over the shoulder of his mirrored reflection to see his best man holding a tux that looked like he'd just pulled it out of the bargain bucket at the Big Q.

"No," Brian said shortly, before pulling at the jacket he was currently wearing and doing a sort of half twist so he could see it from a slightly different angle.

"Well that one's nice too," Michael said, placing his chosen tux carefully back on the rack.

"It's horrible," Brian said, still checking it from the back. "It looks cheap and tacky."

"It looks just like all the others," Michael protested, gesturing around at the many suits Brian had discarded in the last hour.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," Brian said condescendingly as he placed his hands on Michael's shoulders and leant forward so their heads were level. "Have I taught you nothing about fashion? Every one of these suits is different and," he sighed, letting go of his friend and turning back to the mirror, "every one of them is wrong."

He pulled the jacket off and threw it vaguely in the direction of a chair. It missed and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Michael immediately found himself rushing to pick it up and straightening it out. It was almost eighteen hundred dollars worth of tux and okay Brian may have that kind of money to throw about, literally, but Michael certainly didn't.

"Why didn't you bring someone else with to choose your wedding suit then?"

"Like…"

"I don't know, Emmet, he knows about fashion."

"If it was up to Emmet I'd probably end up in an orange suit with a green tie."

"Fine then, Ted or Lindsey?"

"Lindsey? Everyone knows dykes have terrible sense of style and getting an opinion out of Ted is only just less difficult than digging to china." He went over to a rack, took another jacket down and slipped it around his shoulders. "Anyway," he added, "I know what I'm looking for, you just have to tell me whether I look hot." He walked over to stand in front of the mirror again, his head tilting to the left and his lips disappearing into his mouth as he judged the jacket.

After a moment of two he asked, "what do you think of this one?"

Michael walked up behind him and pushed himself onto his tiptoes so he could rest his chin on his friend's shoulder and wrap his arms around his waste.

"You look hot," Michael smiled.

Brian laughed a bit through his nose and then scrunching his face up he said, "I think I might actually like this one. Classy but understated, looks expensive and probably is. Check the label Mikey." Michael did as his friend asked and spluttered as soon as he read the price.

"Excellent," Brian grinned at the reaction. "I'll take it."

"Brian!" exclaimed his best friend. "That suit is worth more than I make in four months!"

"So?" Brian shrugged, "It's my wedding, I'm allowed to get myself something," he ran his hands over the suit, "extra special." He smiled smugly. "Anyway, if Justin's getting Golden fucking Gardenia's then I can have a Brioni tux, especially as I'm paying."

"But…."

"Mikey, shut up," he said, beckoning over the shop assistant who'd been staring at them for a while now. Brian handed the young twink the jacket, telling him it was the one he wanted to take home.

"Is there anything else you'd like to, er, take home … sir," the assistant asked with the look in his eye that Brian not only knew well but was almost getting sick of. It was strange, it was only a few months ago that that look was what he'd lived for but now, since he'd decided he wanted to get married, the look made him hate the person who was giving it, even if that person was hot.

"There's nothing else here that interests me," Brian said cuttingly.

"Oh. Sorry, sir. I thought you were somebody else."

Brian raised an eyebrow totally confused, that was a strange thing to say when you're rejected.

"You just look like this guy," the assistant explained, "Brian Kinney."

Brian's other eyebrow shot up and he turned to look at Michael, who was sniggering to himself.

"A lot of people say that, don't they, honey?" Brian said to Michael, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"They certainly do, dear," Michael joined in immediately, walking over so he was pressed against Brian's side. "But we're getting married next week and this Brian Kinney just sounds like a slut … and an asshole. The kind of man who'd never settle down, who'd just fuck everything in site and who…"

"That's enough, honey," Brian growled under his breath, his eyes making all sorts of silent promises to get Michael back later.

"Well apparently," the assistant said, "he's the hottest fuck ever."

"I've heard that too," Brian smiled back smugly, nudging Michael with his elbow.

"Well, congratulations on your wedding, I'll go and get this ready for you."

Brian just nodded and he and Michael watched as the assistant walked away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Michael creased up with laughter.

"Shut the fuck up," Brian growled.

"That was brilliant," Michael smiled, bumping his head against Brian's shoulder and chuckling a little.

"I said shut up."

Michael grinned and looked at their reflection in the mirror. Somehow, Brian had slid an arm around his shoulders and suddenly he felt like he was transported back in time twenty years and they were fifteen again. He could remember the first time he saw Brian, he'd strolled into the class with a leather jacket and sunglasses on. Michael had thought it was love at first sight, though perhaps it were just the beginning of over fifteen years worth of infatuation or if he was honest with himself, over twenty years worth because, even though he loved Ben, Brian would always hold a special place in his heart. He was his first love, his only love, for such a long time.

Michael remembered it had taken almost two days for them to actually talk to each other, Brian had strolled over and yanked Michael's comic out of his hands as he stood next to his locker reading it nervously.

"Captain Astro," he'd mused, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Cool."

"Really?" Michael had beamed and Brian had began to walk off. Just as he'd been about to round the corner of the corridor, he'd called over his shoulder,

"Come on, let's go to your house." And that had been the start of a beautiful and somewhat turbulent friendship and a love that seemed to have the ability to over come anything.

"You know, I thought it was going to be you," Brian said in a strange almost emotionless tone, breaking through Michael's internal trip down memory lane.

"What was?"

"The man I'd end up with," Brian answered in the same tone. He had a strange expression on his face too, like he was in a trance and Michael knew he'd only seen it a couple of times before. The first time had been when they were eighteen and he'd finally told Michael about what his parents were really like. And of course there was the time just over four years ago when he'd explained what had happened the night Justin got bashed. It seemed to be the stance he took when he was speaking about his emotions, strangely robotic and a little terrifying.

"End up with?" Michael chuckled a little. "You sound like you'd be settling for me."

"Well …" Brian left the confirmation unsaid. "I just thought that when we'd both got bored of the thumpa, thumpa of Babylon and when the hot guys would no longer look at us and we were getting, god forbid, grey hairs," he shuddered at the thought, "then we'd still be there for each other and, you know, settle down."

Michael nodded. He understood. He'd thought the same thing for a long, long time, though in his version it was more of a lightning moment of realisation on Brian's part as he suddenly realised he'd always loved Michael.

"So when did you realise that wasn't going to happen?"

"When you married Ben," Brian smirked. "I thought 'shit, there goes my only chance at pseudo-hetero married life'."

Michael smiled a little at the way Brian turned to sarcasm so easily but he kept pressing regardless.

"Seriously," he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. "When did you know he was the one?"

"Christ Michael," Brian said in the tone you'd expect to hear if someone had just said something really crude or inappropriate. He was squirming now, it was obvious he still wasn't comfortable with all this emotional stuff however far he'd come in the last few months.

"What? You must know."

"Well, I don't, okay? Now, can you just leave it alone?" Brian walked over to the pile of clothes he'd worn in to the shop.

Apparently Michael could not leave it alone. "But you don't even look nervous."

"Well, I'm pretty good at dressing myself now Mikey, I've been doing it for over thirty years," Brian scorned, pulling on his jeans.

"Over thirty five years," Michael pointed out gleefully but, seeing his friend's scowl, he steered the conversation quickly away from age. "I meant nervous about getting married."

"Why would I be nervous?"

"You're about to spend your whole life with the same person. You're only gonna fuck one guy ever again."

"Are you trying to stop be getting married?" Brian grinned.

"No it's just so…."

"Unlike me?"

"Well, yeah. You're about to give up a massive part of what makes you, Brian Kinney and you don't even look phased."

"Look Mikey," Brian sighed buttoning up his sleeveless shirt, "the only reason anyone would have to be nervous about getting married is if they thought they were marrying the wrong person. And I, fortunately, don't have that to worry about." He smiled, giving Michael's cheek a gentle slap.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Coz I've had everyone worth having in this state," Brian shrugged. "And I never had the urge to marry anyone else or even fuck anyone else more than once."

Michael smiled a little and squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"Come on, lets go home."

--

The assistant smiled as he saw Brian and Michael walking towards him."Ah, you're finished. Was there anything else you wanted?"

"No … thanks," Brian said.

"Okay, how will you be paying?"

"Cheque."

Brian wrote out the cheque and handed it to the assistant, who took it and passed over the suit, saying,

"Thanks for shopping with us, Mr … er," he looked down at the name on the cheque and then up at the man ahead of him, a picture of utter horror on his face.

"Kinney," Brian read, pointing his name out on the check, "Brian Kinney." Then, holding his hand out to the assistant, he smiled, "it's always nice to meet a fan."

The assistant went a deep shade of red and swore sharply under his breath. Brian just laughed, took his suit and dragged Michael away, leaving the assistant babbling nonsensical apologies after them.