Disclaimer - CowLip/Showtime own them, etc, yadda, woe woe.

This was originally written for the next qaf_challenges challenge, but I didn't want to wait six weeks to post it and started writing another one *g* (new fic is at almost 2000 words so far. Yay!).

Brian/Justin, humour, silliness, AU. Rated R for language. The premise: what if...Rage *did* get turned into a movie? Spoilers for season four.

Feedback would be fabulous :)

*

It went without saying - and in fact, it frequently did - that Brian was proud of Justin. Practically still a teenager, and already the comic Justin had created with Mikey had been turned into a movie.

Not that Brian had appreciated the fact that Justin had been away for six months helping to make the fucking thing. In fact, when it became clear that Justin was where he was supposed to be, Brian had blocked Justin's cell number, his e-mail address, and changed the lock on the loft door.

Two days later Justin arrived at Kinnetik to rip him a new asshole.

"Christ," Justin panted later, when they'd knocked the bowl of apples onto the floor and scared most of the employees out of the office (either that, or said employees had taken pictures), "you are such a drama queen." He gloated later on that Brian hadn't been trying to push him away for his own good; instead it'd been a desperate cry for attention because he'd been missing Justin so much.

Brian had just rolled his eyes and fucked the annoying twat again until he stopped saying anything that wasn't 'fuck, yeah, or Brian!'

Now Justin was home, and Brian had access to his ass on an even more regular basis than usual, since Justin had taken him up on his offer from all those months ago and moved in.

"You offered," Justin told him the day he came back, making Brian wince as the wheels on his suitcase screeched across the polished wooden floor, "you can't take it back now."

At first, living with Justin had been okay. Not bad, even. They were both eager to make up for lost time after being apart for six months - despite the occasional fuck-visit - so for weeks there was fucking and sleeping and fucking and dancing and fucking and working and fucking. And on those rare occasions where they were at the loft and weren't fucking, Justin was a good conversationalist (yeah, sometimes he talked too fucking much, but then all of Brian's friends seemed to be afflicted with that condition). They could actually have some really fucking interesting discussions, though he'd deny it if anyone ever asked.

But then it started getting weird. They often didn't see each other during the day, but Justin was otherwise around all the fucking time. When Brian got up, got home, took a shower, took a dump, drank breakfast in the form of a glass of guava juice - Justin was never more than a few feet away. It was starting to make his skin crawl, and he found it harder and harder to bite back the harsh words that wanted to come spilling out of his mouth. Even when Justin wasn't there, his sneakers were by the bed, his easel was by the window, his fucking high-sugar, high-calorie snacks were in the cupboard - and the less said about the soda in the fridge, the better. The fact that Justin still had any teeth left at all was a miracle.

Salvation came a few days later in the form of a conversation.

"I told you all about it," Justin said, packing a bag, "*Michael* told you all about it. We, Connor and Brett are all going to a comic convention to promote the movie. We're doing a panel, autographs, and probably some photographs with the fans."

Right, Brian had known about that, but how the fuck had it got here so quickly?

"My itinerary’s on the computer. I'll be back Monday morning," Justin continued, folding a shirt then ruining his efforts by scrunching it into a ball and shoving it into the bag. Brian shuddered.

He'd never been so glad for the existence of geeks in his entire fucking life.

When he got home from work that night, he was greeted with blessed silence. There was no noise; Justin's sneakers weren't by the bed, and...okay, so the easel was still there, but either way it was a decided improvement. The weekend loomed before him and Brian smiled at the prospect of being able to do anything he fucking wanted, without interruption.

He opted not to go out to Babylon the first night - just simply enjoy the freedom of having the loft all to himself. Showering, he changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and ordered from their favourite Thai place.

But when the food arrived, he realised he'd ordered all of Justin's favourite dishes. And when he lounged back on the sofa to watch a DVD, Justin wasn't there to talk about the movie, or not shut up when Brian told him to, or laugh at Brian's Brando impression.

Cursing, he stopped the DVD and turned off the television, heading straight for the computer. He could always arrange for someone to come over but, even though Justin hadn't asked or said anything about it, Brian hadn't been fucking other guys in the loft lately. Not that he was becoming monogamous or shit like that, but even he knew that Justin moving in because they both wanted it this time was a big deal, and it seemed like a good idea not to fuck other guys where they lived.

In the end, he jerked off to some depressingly bad internet porn and went to bed alone, reminded of too many nights spent the same way when Justin was in LA.

Monday morning Brian called into work, letting Cynthia know he was going to be late and picked Justin up at the airport.

Looking decidedly bleary-eyed but still hot as fuck, Justin grinned widely in surprise when he saw Brian waiting for him in the arrivals area.

"I didn't think you'd be here. You came!" Justin exclaimed, dropping his bag, throwing his arms around Brian and causing a build-up of traffic behind him.

Brian didn't give a fuck. "Not quite yet," he smirked, quickly hustling Justin towards the nearest toilet cubicle where they indulged in a hearty reunion fuck.

It was a great deal more satisfying than jerking off to internet porn, and when Brian got home from work that night he discovered that Justin wasn't nearly as irritating as he remembered.

*

Things started getting weird in a different way when Justin became famous. He'd already been 'famous' in some ways, but only in geek circles - which, as far as Brian was concerned, wasn't famous at all. And it wasn't like Justin was movie star famous, with paparazzi trying to snap his picture wherever he went.

He'd done the occasional interview before but only for specialist magazines; people interested in the comic. Now he was being interviewed for mainstream movie magazines. Gay magazines. Publications that Brian had actually heard of and even bought, on occasion. He wasn't the star of the movie, but he was one half of the team that created the comic, and he'd worked as creative consultant on the movie. Not to mention the fact he was fucking the guy who was the inspiration for Rage.

And then Brian started getting requests for interviews. He turned them all down - this was Justin's thing, not his. The Rage publicity machine was rolling along at full speed, buzz about the movie was at an all-time high, and snippets about them started turning up in gossip columns. No doubt Brett was loving that shit, as it had to be helping the movie. Brian figured that normally no one would care about the creative consultant of a movie, but the media seemed fascinated with anything gay and, though he mocked it sometimes, the movie was clearly breaking a lot of boundaries.

Most of the 'news' was about how Rage's sexual exploits in the movie were very much true to life but now the real life Rage had been 'tamed', and Brian wondered just how many pissed-off tricks had called the gossip rags.

Debbie loved it, pining up every article in the diner that even mentioned Justin, or them. Brian hid every article about Justin in a folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet, and never told anyone about it.

Mikey teased him about the whole situation mercilessly. Whenever Brian walked into the diner, or the store, or the gym, Mikey would grin and start talking, imitating one of the articles: "Brian Kinney, *thirty-four*..."

Inevitably Brian would tell him fuck off, and then they'd talk the way they always did.

Curious one day, Brian googled Justin. He got the link to the site they sold the comic on, of course - that'd been up for years. But now there was also an imdb listing. Most of the interviews Justin had given were also on the magazine's websites - and then there were pictures.

Some were also from the interviews - sometimes Justin had his photograph taken for them - but mostly they were from the comic convention he'd attended. Of course, there were a lot more pictures of Connor at the convention since he was the star of the movie, but there were several pictures of Justin as well. A number of fans had even publicly posted pictures they'd had taken with Justin - who looked good in every single one, of course. Disturbingly, most of the fans seemed to be women.

Overall, it hadn't been too horrific an experience - although the convention had apparently been a bigger deal than he'd realised - and just as he was about to close the browser Brian decided to do a quick search for both of their names together.

There wasn't all that much. Some of the interviews popped up again - the subject of Brian frequently came up in interviews, but Justin never gave much away, explaining that Brian preferred his privacy (Brian thought it was a little late for that, now that they'd made a multi-million dollar movie that was essentially about him). A few online gossip columns mentioned them in passing but, again, nothing new.

And then he found this place, some kind of forum, where someone had taken the picture of Brian from the Kinnetik website and posted it there. They were all saying how lucky Justin was, how much he looked like Rage, and that he probably fucked like Rage, too. Brian wasn't entirely hating the experience until he realised they were all women, whereupon he promptly shut down the browser and vowed never to do anything like that ever again.

"I don't know how it doesn't bother you," Brian muttered later that night, when the TV was muted and Justin was sketching at the other end of the sofa.

"What?" Justin asked, not looking up.

"That most of your...fans...are women." Straight women, apparently.

He just chuckled. "It's not like I'm going to fuck them."

That was an extremely good point.

"Besides, I don't know if that's true or not," he finally looked up and prodded Brian with his right foot. "They did research and polling of the comic's fans to help with the movie publicity. From the numbers it does seem like a majority of our readers are men. I don't know - maybe women are more likely to go the conventions. Or," he shrugged, "maybe it was just blind chance." Pausing, he stared at Brian intently. "What makes you think that most of our fans are women, anyway?"

Fuck.

Ignoring the comment, Brian turned the sound on the television back on.

Stretching for it, Justin grabbed the remote out of his hand and muted the sound once again.

Brian was just deciding that now would be a good time to get up off the sofa, when Justin straddled his lap. "Been doing some research?" Justin grinned smugly.

Brian stared back at him as impassively as he could. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Fine," Justin arched his eyebrows, then began to shift off. "But I'm sure if I go on the computer and look at the browser history, it'll show me exactly where you've-"

Grabbing his arms, Brian held Justin there before he could leave completely.

Justin somehow managed to look innocent and smug at the same time. "Yes?"

"I was looking because I'm proud of you, you little shit."

Predictably, Justin got all gooey - not in the good way - but then he decided to suck Brian's cock so it worked out for the best anyway.

As Justin slowly undid the buttons on his jeans, Brian made a mental note to delete the browser history whenever he used the fucking computer. And then he made a mental note to concentrate on the blowjob he was getting.

*

Justin made up for all the weirdness of the past few months when the two of them stepped out onto the red carpet for the LA premiere of Rage: The Movie. Now there were paparazzi, and though none of them had come specifically for pictures of him and Justin, Brian knew they both looked fucking good and cameras flashed repeatedly as they walked by.

"You're in your element, aren't you?" Justin asked, grinning.

Brian smirked back at him. "How could you tell?"

Dressed in an expensive suit, with a hot guy on his arm and being treated like some kind of superstar - yeah, Brian could get used to this.

As they made their way along the carpet, a few fans behind the crowd barrier stuck their copies of Rage out, clearly knowing who Justin was and hoping for a signature. Being a sentimental little twat, Justin of course stopped to talk to them and personalise their autographs. Further down the carpet someone with a camera asked Justin a question, which he answered happily. A few people even tried to ask Brian something but he ignored them, as always, keeping the focus on Justin. Besides, acting like a stoic asshole would probably help the movie.

Michael and Ben were right behind them - Mikey looking permanently dazed - and they got flagged down by a couple of people in the crowd, too. Mikey excitedly signed autographs, laughed a lot and waved at a camera, yelling a hello to Deb (try as they might, they hadn't been able to get her a seat), and Brian was really fucking glad this'd all happened.

Finally they moved away from the barrier and closer to the movie theatre, and Justin was grinning possibly wider than he ever had - which was really saying something.

"Holy shit!" He enthused, grabbing Brian's hand and smiling brightly at him, surrounded by a crowd and flashing cameras and some of the biggest names in Hollywood. "Can you believe this?"

Brian could believe in fucking anything where Justin was concerned, and he squeezed his hand, tugging him closer towards the building.

"Come on," he said, as the cameras started flashing even faster at the other end of the carpet - Connor and his beard had arrived, and Brian and Justin were forgotten. Letting go of Justin's hand, he threw an arm around his shoulder instead and the two of them strolled inside, both grinning stupidly for some reason Brian wasn't really sure of and didn't fucking care about. "Let's go watch our doubles fuck on the big screen."

~FINIS

leave a comment // e-mail // qaf fic