Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Queer as Folk are properties of Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and others. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Love you," Brian said casually one morning, dropping a kiss on Justin's eyebrow
as he levered himself out of bed.
"Love you, too, Brian," Justin said back, startled out of a leisurely waking, and watched Brian disappear into the bathroom. He lay in bed a moment longer, looking at the ceiling for clues.
He woke the second time to a suited Brian yanking the covers off of him on his way down the stairs. Not bizarro world, then. Good to know.
Justin took his own shower, got dressed, and wandered out to the kitchen, a little wary of what he'd find. Coffee had been brewed, and Brian was standing at the counter, reading the paper with a steaming cup beside him. Still normal.
Carefully, Justin made cereal and seated himself, watching Brian the entire time, like a bomb about to explode.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
The words startled Justin, made him realize how very not subtle he was being, and he had to do some fast chewing to avoid a messy accident before speaking. "No problem." He reconsidered. "You're okay, right? Not suicidal or anything?"
Amused eyes deigned to look at him, and Brian smirked. "Nooooo. Not unless I'm trapped in a Bill Murray movie. Am I?"
"That's what I'm wondering," Justin muttered around a mouthful of cereal. He took another bite and waved his spoon, spattering milk droplets on the paper. "You shed," Justin swallowed and tried again, "you said the L-word."
"The L-word? What the fuck is the L-word." Brian scowled at him.
Love, Justin mouthed back, rolling his eyes.
Snorting, Brian looked down at his paper and turned a page, scanning it quickly. "I say love all the time. You are so fucking twelve years old, sometimes."
Indignantly defending himself, Justin retorted, "You do not! You say it to Mikey, or about the White Party, or really good Sushi places, but you've said it to me exactly twice."
Brian took a sip of coffee and gazed at Justin, in a way that would be deep and meaningful from someone else. Then he drank more coffee and closed his paper, meticulously folding it and putting in the briefcase on his other side.
Leaning forward across the counter, Brian pecked Justin on the head, again. "I say it all the time. Not my problem if you're not listening." He grabbed his briefcase and headed out, turning as he closed the loft door behind him. "Later."
Justin sat at the counter and slowly finished his breakfast, thinking hard. He shook himself out of his reverie and gathered his own belongings; he had to get the cover art for the new issue to Michael.