[personal profile] moongirl24
My second Brian/Justin fanfiction is finally finished! This time it's a season 4 story, and like my first one, this one is also pretty fluffy, lol.


Title: All That Matters
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: Post 409
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 3,586 words
Warnings: None
Summary: Justin takes care of a sick Brian
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these characters

Author's Notes: I rewatched season 4 lately, and I realized I would have loved to see more scenes where Justin was there for Brian when he had cancer. So I wrote this little story. I guess you could call it a gapfiller of sorts, set between episodes 409 and 410. It follows canon, but there might be a couple of things that could be considered slightly AU.

Thank you to Tes ([livejournal.com profile] naleyangel) for the support and for convincing me once more that my writing doesn't completely suck :)


Sometimes something happens that makes you look at everything from a different perspective. Maybe you loose everything in a fire. Maybe you are badly injured in a car accident. Maybe you’re bashed in the head by fucking Chris Hobbs. Or maybe you find out that your boyfriend has cancer.

Suddenly everything is different, and you realize what’s really important. That what matters is what you have, here and now. That all those little trifles you spend so much time working yourself up over, really don’t matter.

That’s what happened when I found out that Brian has cancer.

Suddenly it doesn’t matter that Brian never says “I love you” or that he fucks other guys. It doesn’t matter that he acts like a complete asshole sometimes, or that there are times when I just don’t get him. Suddenly everything that matters is that he’s here, that he’s alive and that we’re together.

Suddenly everything I can think about is being there for him, and make sure that nothing happens to him.


It’s late afternoon when I finally run up the stairs to the loft, too impatient to wait for the elevator. I have a bag over my shoulder and in my hand I’m carrying a couple of DVDs. Suddenly I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu, and for a moment I remember the last time I brought home DVDs for Brian. It’s only a week ago, and I’d just found out about Brian’s cancer and was trying not to let on that I knew. That is one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I was fucking terrified, and I couldn’t even ask Brian whether he was okay or not. I mean, of course he wasn’t okay, but I had all these questions I wanted to ask him, things I wanted to say. I wanted to ask him about his treatment, how he was feeling, what the doctors said and all the things you want know when you’ve just found out that your partner has cancer. I wanted to hear him say that he would be okay. I wanted to tell him that we’ll get through this together.

But I kept quiet, pretended that I didn’t know a thing. I did it for Brian, because he obviously didn’t want me to know. At the time I didn’t understand why. It isn’t always easy to make sense of the things that Brian does. But I decided to respect his wishes – until Michael, the one who convinced me to keep quiet in the first place, had to open his big mouth and tell Brian that we knew.

Brian and I had a big fight, and Brian kicked me out of the loft. Now I know he kept the whole thing from me because he was scared I’d leave him if I knew about the cancer. Sometimes I really don’t understand how his mind works – did he honestly think I would never find out?

I made it clear though that I intend to stay with him no matter how much he tries to push me away. That I’m going to help him through this. To me, it isn’t even a choice. It’s what you do when the person you love more than anything and anyone else, gets sick.

And if Brian thought I wouldn’t love him anymore because he was no longer “perfect”, he was wrong. If possible, I think I love him even more now.

I search the pocket of my jacket for the keys, and after I’ve found them I unlock the loft door and slide it open. I know Brian was at the hospital for his radiation treatment earlier today, and I feel bad about leaving him alone this long. But I had an early shift at the diner, and then a couple of classes at school that Brian insisted I’d go to even though I wanted to skip them so I could stay with him.

After the fight we had last week, things have been pretty good between us. Obviously it’s hard: Brian is suffering from a serious disease, and has to undergo a treatment that makes him sick a lot of the time. Even though his chances are very good, we’re both scared. Brian hardly ever shows it, but I know that he is. He’s trying to be strong, and he is, but sometimes, when we’re alone, his mask slips, and I can see the fear in his eyes.

But apart from the obvious, things have been as good as they can be.

Unfortunately, a sick Brian often makes for a grumpy Brian, and a grumpy Brian isn’t always the easiest person to handle. But at least he lets me help him. He has allowed me to come here every day, to cook for him, to sleep with him at night, and comfort him after his nightmares. As long as I’m not making a big deal out of it he hasn’t tried to stop me. Hopefully, after the chicken soup incident last week, he’s realized I’m here to stay. And I am. All that matters to me right now, is to make sure Brian gets well again. He has always been there for me when I’ve needed him, and now it’s my turn to be there for him.

It’s quiet inside the loft. Brian is probably sleeping, so I close the metal door as silently as I can and place my bag on one of the stools and the DVDs on the counter. I take off my jacket, and move quietly over to the bedroom to take a look inside. Sure enough. Brian is on the bed, sleeping. He is lying on his side, facing me, still almost fully dressed. He’s kicked off his shoes, and his jacket is in a pile next to them on the floor.

I move up the stairs to the bedroom, and pick up Brian’s jacket from the floor. He doesn’t like his clothes lying around like this, so I take out a hanger from the closet and put the jacket back to it’s place next to the rest of Brian’s clothes. He must have felt pretty sick to leave his jacket on the floor like this. I take another look at him, and realize that he’s still wearing the same clothes he left for work in this morning.

After taking Brian’s shoes and placing them neatly next to the closet, I walk over the bed and kneel down next to the sleeping figure on it.

I take some time to study Brian’s face. He’s pale, but he seems to be sleeping pretty peacefully. The nightmares he’s been having lately have made it difficult for him to sleep at night so I’m just happy for every peaceful moment of sleep he gets.

I’ve stayed at the loft every night since I found out about Brian’s cancer. Before this happened, I would occasionally sleep back at Daphne’s place, which technically is my home now even though I spend most of my time at the loft. But after learning about the cancer, I have refused to let Brian sleep alone. Because I know him. He thinks that he doesn’t need anyone, that he can do it all by himself. And he probably could, but he doesn’t have to. I won’t let him.

Every night I wake up by Brian tossing, turning and moaning next to me. It’s obvious he has nightmares, and usually I gently try waking him up because I can’t bear to see him like that. When I do he opens his eyes and just stares at me wildly for a moment before he seems to remember where he is, and eventually he calms down. He usually pulls me closer to him then, and holds me tightly in his arms. Sometimes he drops a kiss to my forehead or moves his fingers slowly through my hair. And I snuggle as close to him as I can come, glad that he seems to find some comfort in my being there.

Then the morning comes, and we both pretend that nothing has happened. He’s never told me what his dreams are about and I haven’t asked him. I know that most likely he doesn’t want to talk about them, and if he does, he will do it when he’s ready.

Slowly I lift my arm and reach over to brush my fingers through his ruffled hair. Once again I’m struck by how beautiful he is, even when he’s sick and pale, like now. I don’t want to wake him when he’s so sound asleep, but I can’t stop myself from leaning close and drop kisses, first on his forehead, then on his nose, and finally on his mouth, my lips barely touching his.

He starts moving then, and his eyes flutter open. When I see him start to focus on me, I lean over and kiss him once more, firmer this time, my hands cupping his face as I do.

“Hey”, I whisper after I’ve pulled back from him slowly, smiling at him.

“Hey”, he whispers back, his voice hoarse after sleeping.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”, I say, letting my hand rest on his upper arm. I constantly find myself wanting to touch him these days. It’s like I have to make sure that he’s really here, that this disease isn’t taking him away from me. Ever since I found out about the cancer I’ve been scared shitless, worried that something will happen to him. It’s cancer for fuck’s sake. Not just a harmless flu that goes away by itself.

Cancer. I hate that fucking word.

“It’s okay”, he says, and his eyes locks with mine. For a moment we just stay like that, in silence, not moving. Then he reaches out his arm and grabs me by the shoulder, pulling me close to him, his eyes still on mine. I bury my face in him, smelling his scent, my arm tightly around him.

Sometimes the two of us do our best communicating without any words at all.


“Are you hungry?” I call out from the kitchen to Brian, who’s still in the bedroom. The answer I get is a growling sound I think is supposed to be a “no”. I open the refrigerator and look at the groceries I brought home from the store yesterday. It doesn’t take me long to discover that none of them have been touched while I was gone. Brian obviously hasn’t eaten anything all day. I doubt that he picked up anything on his way to the hospital and back, and I know for sure he didn’t eat any breakfast this morning. Brian never eats much in the morning, and today he didn’t eat anything at all, claiming he wasn’t feeling too good.

I heard Brian vomit in the bathroom a few minutes ago, and he probably doesn’t feel like eating. But somehow, I have to get him to eat something. His body is struggling enough as it is, and he has to keep his strength up.

I decide to try the chicken soup again. He ate quite a bit of it last week, and Debbie once told me that she used to cook it for Vic when he was feeling sick. I’ve been making home cooked meals for Brian every day the last week, apart from the days when Debbie has been over with a casserole or sent something with me home from the diner. Somehow the two of us seem to have some sort of silent agreement that home cooked food is better for Brian than take-out right now.

I’m taking the ingredients I need for the soup out of the refrigerator when Brian comes out of the bedroom. He’s changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt now, and his face has taken on a greyish kind of color. He looks as if he’s about to vomit again any second, and I want to tell him to go back to bed until the food is finished. But stop myself. If there is one thing Brian hates, it’s when people are trying to tell him what to do.

“I’ll just check my e-mail”, he says, almost like he’s answering a question I haven’t even asked.

I just nod. When he’s passing me in the kitchen on the way to his desk, he stops and looks at the ingredients spread out on the counter and the casserole I’ve placed on the stove.

“I thought I said I wasn’t hungry”, he says, glaring sideways at me.

“I know, but I still have to eat”, I say as I watch him reaching his desk and sink down in the chair in front of the computer. “If you change your mind there will probably be enough for you too.”

I only receive a grunt from him, and I smile to myself. I know Brian well enough to know that he’ll eat some dinner today as well. Sometimes, when dealing with Brian Kinney, you have to step carefully, but when you know the tricks it’s actually all quite easy.


By the time the soup is finished, Brian is sprawled on the couch. I carry soup bowls, cutlery and two bottles of water over to the coffee table, hoping that Brian will agree to us eating our dinner there tonight. Usually he insists we keep all kinds of food away from the couch, worried that we’ll get stains on it.

“Here, I brought a bowl for you too”, I say, nodding towards the soup bowl I’ve placed on the table in front of him. “You really should try eating a little. I read on the internet that small and frequent meals can help reduce the nausea you’re feeling.”

He glares at me, but grabs the spoon reluctantly, and takes a spoonful of soup from his bowl.

“And lots of water probably isn’t a bad idea either”, I continue, ignoring his glare. “I read that it’s important to drink a lot when you undergo radiation treatment.”

“Yes, Dr. Taylor”, he mumbles, throwing me a weird glance, but as more and more soup disappear from his bowl I can see a smile threatening to break out on his face. After a while all his soup is gone, and he doesn’t even protest when I go to the kitchen and fill up his bowl once more.

While we eat, I notice that he looks over at me from time to time. One time I look up and meet his eyes across the table. For a second we look at each other, but I’m not able to read what I see in his eyes. A small smile is playing on his lips and I can feel myself smiling back. Usually I can read him pretty well, but sometimes I still wish that he would say the words from time to time. That is, until he gives me one of those breathtaking, all-consuming kisses that tells me everything I need to know, and I think to myself that I don’t care about the words as long as he never stops kissing me like that.


Brian seems to be feeling a little better after we have eaten, so he agrees to watch one of the DVDs I brought home. I go to the kitchen to clean up after our dinner before putting the DVD into the DVD-player. I sit down next to Brian on the couch, letting myself sink down in the comfortable softness, feeling tired after another long day.

“Come over here”, he says after a moment, not happy with the small distance between us. I smile and move over to him, never letting an opportunity to be close to him pass me by. He puts his left arm around my shoulders, and I snuggle up to him, enjoying the closeness and the warmth I’m feeling whenever I’m in his arms like this. I let out a content sigh and rest my head against his shoulder.

Twenty minutes into the movie I feel the need to reposition myself, so I lay down on the couch instead, my head resting in Brian’s lap. His hand is in my hair instantly, running through it, as much as that’s possible with the short length it has these days. I want to let it grow out again, and I know Brian wants to see it longer too. I could tell that he was disappointed when I cut it, even though he never said it or showed it. He has always liked it long, I think it’s because it gives him something to play with, something to grab. Brian has always had this strange obsession with my hair, for some reason.

I reach out my hand, searching for his, and he grabs it with the hand not in my hair. Silently we let our fingers entwine, and I can’t stop myself from letting out another sigh of pure contentment. I love moments like this. These special moments where everything is perfect and I can feel that special bond we share fill the air between us. The bond that none of us are quite able to define, or want to define, in Brian’s case. The bond that is there nonetheless. Invisible, electric, unbreakable – something strong and special that forever links us together.

I treasure these moments more than anything else. I keep them locked up and hidden deep inside my heart to take out again and replay in my mind whenever Brian is being an asshole and I start to wonder why I even bother. These are the moments that remind me of what I have and why I love this man and why I’m never, ever letting him go again.


I must have fallen asleep at some point. Suddenly I’m lifted up off the couch, and then I’m in Brian’s arms as he moves across the floor. I just rest my head back against him as he walks up the stairs to the bedroom, enjoying being carried by his strong arms. He gently puts me down on the bed, and I open my eyes as he rests his hand on my cheek for a moment. He turns to go back to the living room, but I grab his wrist to stop him before he can move too far.

“What time is it?” I ask, yawning. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep.

“It’s only nine thirty”, he says, watching me as I stretch a bit. “But you should go back to sleep. You look exhausted, and I know you have the early shift at the diner again tomorrow.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, and try to study his face even though I can barely keep my eyes open.

“Stop worrying about me, Sunshine. I’m fine, let me take care of you for a change.”

I guess I can live with that. But I want Brian with me.

“Stay”, I whisper, pulling at his hand to get him to come closer. I look up at him, and after just a moment’s hesitation he climbs into bed, and lies down next to me. I curl up against him, as close as I can come, touching as much of him as I can with my body. He closes his arms around me, and I enjoy the feeling of being home, of being where I belong.

My eyes are getting heavier again and I yawn once more, but before I’m letting sleep take me away again, I turn my head so I can look at Brian’s face. His eyes are on me, and he has that look again, the same look he had during dinner. The one I can’t quite make out. Or maybe I can, only I’m a bit scared to do it. Because what I see there is almost too big, too intense to really comprehend. Too much to take in.

I want to stay like this forever. Forget about the world, and the people in it, forget about cancer and radiation treatments. And more than that, I want Brian to forget about it too, just for a little while. I want him to think about something else than the next radiation treatment, or the one after that, and to not have the word ‘cancer’ constant ringing in his mind.

This is what matters. Us. Together. Here and now. I close my eyes thinking that I’m going to make sure it stays like this for a very long time.

I smile a bit, imagining what Brian would say if he could read my mind. Maybe he would tell me the same thing he sometimes tells Michael. You are so pathetic, Sunshine. Or maybe he would do what he sometimes does when I tell him I love him. Just look at me for a moment, and then pull me in for a hug, or a kiss that is so tender that it takes me completely by surprise.

I’m halfway into dreamland, Brian so close to me that I can feel his breath against my hair, when I hear the words.

“Love you.”

It’s just a whisper, like a breath of wind, gone again before you know it, and it’s so soft and so gentle that I’m not sure it’s even real. Maybe I’m already dreaming. But I can feel a small smile on my lips, and as I feel the warmth from the familiar body next to me, I let sleep embrace me and carry me away to faraway places.


And of course, feedback is very much appreciated! :)
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January 2014


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