Title: Puffs of Smoke
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Summary: Since Justin went to New York, that’s how he measured time at night. In cigarettes and puffs of smoke. Everything is alright.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Brian had been lying in bed for god knows how long. Three of four cigarettes, maybe? Since Justin went to New York, that’s how he measured time at night. In cigarettes and puffs of smoke.
For the last couple of nights he had refused to call Justin, and rushed through calls that the blond initiated. He feared his partner might sense the desperate tone his voice was taking on when they spoke. Urgent longing dripping from every word.
He wouldn’t let Justin feel guilty. And fuck if he would let him know much he needed him.
But he should have known, of course he should have known when Justin’s voice started to take on that tone, all soft and knowing. He would tell Brian he missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him. Perhaps he thought he was making Brian feel better. He didn’t have the heart to tell him he was only making it worse.
He should have known, what with the sighs and the soft ‘Oh Brian’ he would let out every so often. But still, he was surprised when there was a knock on the loft door at around five cigarettes into the night.
He padded across the loft tentatively, his cigarette dangling from lazy fingertips. The door slid across its tracks and blue eyes stared back at him, happy and unsure.
Brian’s breath caught in his throat, smoke burning harshly in his lungs before he remembered to exhale. Smoke curled around him, rolling off his lips with a slight cough.
Speechless was the only word that came to mind.
Before he could try to think of anything to say, Justin was in his arms, soft lips kissing his skin. Brian’s arms wound their way around Justin’s slim torso, fingertips gliding as if to make sure it was real. Once he was sure his mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke on him, he lifted Justin off of the floor, and their lips met in a searing kiss.
He was home.