Gift # 9 of 42
Dec. 30th, 2011 09:54 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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To:
frantic_quest (aka
delvalmom)
From:
mander3_swish
Beta:
later2nite, Thanks so much!! The last few hundred words are unbeta'd, so any and all remaining mistakes are mine or intentional.
Title: And the World Turns Over
Word Count: ~2000
Gift Request: one shot fic or drabble series. post-513 hurt/comfort. Brian/Justin. I'd prefer Brian being the one who needs the comforting, but whatever inspires you. But no major character death or permanent damage. Angst is welcome as long as they are happy in the end.
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From:
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Beta:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Title: And the World Turns Over
Word Count: ~2000
Gift Request: one shot fic or drabble series. post-513 hurt/comfort. Brian/Justin. I'd prefer Brian being the one who needs the comforting, but whatever inspires you. But no major character death or permanent damage. Angst is welcome as long as they are happy in the end.
**********************
My hand rests over Brian's, holding onto the gear shift in the Jeep. After spending one last night at Britin, we're on our way back into Pittsburgh. Owning the estate for about a year, it has finally sold. It's sad to see it go, but really, it doesn't fit into our life at this point in the game.
My thoughts are lost in the night we just had, lying by the fireplace, watching the spring snowstorm dump way too much snow everywhere to be legal this time of year.
I feel Brian's hand tense beneath mine as he downshifts, slowing the Jeep. We were already moving at a snail's pace, (well, at least by Brian's standards) yet I see the road looks icier and much more treacherous now that we're back on the main highway.
"Shit! It doesn't look like any of the road crews have even been out yet! We should have stayed at the house 'til we could have confirmed the road conditions," he says, a slight note of worry in his voice.
"Yes, but we have to get into town. Molly's counting on me to be at her volleyball team's final game. I've missed so much of being her big brother. I don't want to miss out on this, too."
Brian just smiles and nods, being in complete agreement. While his interaction with his own sister is nonexistent, he knows I want to be there for mine, no matter what.
Moments later, I notice we're quickly catching up to a very slow-moving car in front of us, and I can't help but hold my breath.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. As Brian attempts to decelerate yet again, the tires slip on the ice-packed road and we begin to turn one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Facing the wrong direction on the highway, we're still sliding... towards the snow-filled ditch.
Grasping for my hand, Brian somehow calmly says, "We're going in."
The Jeep enters the ditch slowly and smoothly. Phew! That was close, I think.
Then, at the last second, the tires on my side sink into the slushy bottom of the ditch. Tipping over, the Jeep tumbles onto its roof. Bracing myself, I watch the world turn upside down. The front window shatters as the roof crunches down, sending fine particles of glass inwards. Hearing Brian cough, I really start to worry.
Hanging upside down, suspended from my seat belt, I try to open my window. I start to panic when I can't find the button. Brian notices what I'm trying to do and opens my window using the controls on his side. Carefully unbuckling my seat belt, I drop out of my seat, quickly righting myself. Hastily crawling out of the Jeep, I grab my messenger bag on the way.
What's taking Brian so long? I think, my legs sinking into the wet snow. Bending down, I peer into the Jeep. "Are you okay?"
"I think I'm stuck."
Shit. Deep calming breath.
I can see that his side of the Jeep is flush with snow, against the upside of the ditch. His only way out is through the passenger window. "No, you're not, Brian. Just undo the belt and shimmy on out this way."
With a lot of cursing and coughing, he manges to extricate himself. When he stands up, I pull him into a hug because- thank fucking God!
Pulling away, he looks at me closely. I suspect he's checking to making sure I don't have any major head wounds. I know he'd never ever forgive himself if this had all turned out worse than it already has.
Shivering in the cold, my feet are soaked and my jeans are too, all the way up to my knees. "We need to call a tow truck, or somebody," I reason, digging around in my pockets, searching for my cell phone. "Shit! Where is it?"
I could have sworn I'd had it the pocket of my hoody. Diving back towards the Jeep, I hope it's on the ceiling, but it's not. I notice a dark shadow at the bottom the puddle next to where I'd crawled out. Reaching in, I find... my cell phone. "Double shit. Brian, where's your phone? Mine's fucked."
Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, Brian presses a few buttons, then hits the side of it. "Looks like I sat in a puddle, myself. It won't turn on," he calmly tells me, slipping it back into his pocket.
What the fuck are we going to do, Brian?! We're miles from anywhere, and by the time we might be lucky enough for someone to drive by, we'll probably already have frostbite and hypothermia! That's what I'm thinking, on the verge of letting it tumble out of my mouth instead of remaining calm, when a car stops along the side of the road and two men get out.
Slipping and sliding down the embankment, one of them asks, "Are you okay?" when they near us.
"We seem to be fine... considering," Brian replies.
"Are you sure you're okay?" the one in the tan overcoat asks me, directly.
"Huh?" I so eloquently question.
"Your hand," the guy in the red jacket says, gesturing towards it.
Inspecting it more closely, I now see blood trickling out of a few tiny scratches on my right hand, most likely caused from the broken windshield. "It's fine. Just some scratches. I just wish I had a tissue, or something, to stop the bleeding," I say, mostly to myself.
Brian's coughing again. "Brian, what happened? What's with all the coughing."
"I think I inhaled a little bit of the windshield," he says. "But, really, it's just a sore throat. I should be okay."
The men who stopped give each other a look. "How about we give you two a lift into town?" one of them asks. "To a hospital, perhaps?"
"No. I don't need a hospital," I quickly reply. I have a complete and utter distaste for hospitals- for obvious reasons, of course. "I just need to get to my sister. I promised her, upon pain of death," (Brian snorts at the near truth) "that I'd be there for her today. While I'm sure she'd understand why, I just can't let her down, yet again."
"Uh, sure. Let's all get in the car and go then, before our balls fucking freeze off," the guy who'll be doing the driving says. "I'm Matt and that's Tom," he introduces himself and his buddy.
"Brian. Justin," I say, pointing to each of us. "Thank you ever so much for helping us out. I thought we'd be stranded forever on this road."
The drive into the city is painfully slow because of all the ice. We do NOT need to end up in a ditch again. I feel anxious and nervous the entire ride, repeatedly seeing the accident in my head; the way the world just turned over in front of my eyes.
To distract myself, I inspect my hand again. It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Luckily, Matt had some tissues in the car that I used to stem the flow of blood.
Brian is still coughing off and on. I'm so fucking worried it's something serious. Everyone knows how impossibly stubborn he is. It'll be nearly impossible to get him to a doctor, but I'm bound and determined to do it- right after we see Molly.
Remembering I have a mostly-full water bottle in my bag, I pass it to him. "Go on, Brian, take it. It might help your coughing."
Taking a sip, he looks at me in way I can't describe. I don't think I've ever seen so much emotion on his face. It's a completely different look (or maybe just more complex) from the one he wore after the Babylon bombing.
It scares me a little to see him so vulnerable because who's gonna be there for me if I break down in the wake of what's just happened? That sounds so incredibly selfish, I realize. I have to promise myself not to fall apart, if only to deal with the aftermath of this, in case Brian needs me. He just might trust me enough to think I'll be able to support both of us.
Reaching my left hand out toward him, I place it on the back of his neck. Stroking my thumb up and down, I try to provide him with some small bit of comfort. All I can do in this moment is let Brian know I'm with him, and that I don't blame him in the slightest for what's happened. If anything, he's saved me, once again. That crash could have been oh-so-much worse. I shudder to think what might have been.
Brian sighs, leaning his head back onto the headrest, closing his eyes. My hand stays on his neck, stroking through the soft hairs. I think the connection of that touch manages to distract both of us just enough for the remainder of the ride into town.
My thoughts are lost in the night we just had, lying by the fireplace, watching the spring snowstorm dump way too much snow everywhere to be legal this time of year.
I feel Brian's hand tense beneath mine as he downshifts, slowing the Jeep. We were already moving at a snail's pace, (well, at least by Brian's standards) yet I see the road looks icier and much more treacherous now that we're back on the main highway.
"Shit! It doesn't look like any of the road crews have even been out yet! We should have stayed at the house 'til we could have confirmed the road conditions," he says, a slight note of worry in his voice.
"Yes, but we have to get into town. Molly's counting on me to be at her volleyball team's final game. I've missed so much of being her big brother. I don't want to miss out on this, too."
Brian just smiles and nods, being in complete agreement. While his interaction with his own sister is nonexistent, he knows I want to be there for mine, no matter what.
Moments later, I notice we're quickly catching up to a very slow-moving car in front of us, and I can't help but hold my breath.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. As Brian attempts to decelerate yet again, the tires slip on the ice-packed road and we begin to turn one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Facing the wrong direction on the highway, we're still sliding... towards the snow-filled ditch.
Grasping for my hand, Brian somehow calmly says, "We're going in."
The Jeep enters the ditch slowly and smoothly. Phew! That was close, I think.
Then, at the last second, the tires on my side sink into the slushy bottom of the ditch. Tipping over, the Jeep tumbles onto its roof. Bracing myself, I watch the world turn upside down. The front window shatters as the roof crunches down, sending fine particles of glass inwards. Hearing Brian cough, I really start to worry.
Hanging upside down, suspended from my seat belt, I try to open my window. I start to panic when I can't find the button. Brian notices what I'm trying to do and opens my window using the controls on his side. Carefully unbuckling my seat belt, I drop out of my seat, quickly righting myself. Hastily crawling out of the Jeep, I grab my messenger bag on the way.
What's taking Brian so long? I think, my legs sinking into the wet snow. Bending down, I peer into the Jeep. "Are you okay?"
"I think I'm stuck."
Shit. Deep calming breath.
I can see that his side of the Jeep is flush with snow, against the upside of the ditch. His only way out is through the passenger window. "No, you're not, Brian. Just undo the belt and shimmy on out this way."
With a lot of cursing and coughing, he manges to extricate himself. When he stands up, I pull him into a hug because- thank fucking God!
Pulling away, he looks at me closely. I suspect he's checking to making sure I don't have any major head wounds. I know he'd never ever forgive himself if this had all turned out worse than it already has.
Shivering in the cold, my feet are soaked and my jeans are too, all the way up to my knees. "We need to call a tow truck, or somebody," I reason, digging around in my pockets, searching for my cell phone. "Shit! Where is it?"
I could have sworn I'd had it the pocket of my hoody. Diving back towards the Jeep, I hope it's on the ceiling, but it's not. I notice a dark shadow at the bottom the puddle next to where I'd crawled out. Reaching in, I find... my cell phone. "Double shit. Brian, where's your phone? Mine's fucked."
Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, Brian presses a few buttons, then hits the side of it. "Looks like I sat in a puddle, myself. It won't turn on," he calmly tells me, slipping it back into his pocket.
What the fuck are we going to do, Brian?! We're miles from anywhere, and by the time we might be lucky enough for someone to drive by, we'll probably already have frostbite and hypothermia! That's what I'm thinking, on the verge of letting it tumble out of my mouth instead of remaining calm, when a car stops along the side of the road and two men get out.
Slipping and sliding down the embankment, one of them asks, "Are you okay?" when they near us.
"We seem to be fine... considering," Brian replies.
"Are you sure you're okay?" the one in the tan overcoat asks me, directly.
"Huh?" I so eloquently question.
"Your hand," the guy in the red jacket says, gesturing towards it.
Inspecting it more closely, I now see blood trickling out of a few tiny scratches on my right hand, most likely caused from the broken windshield. "It's fine. Just some scratches. I just wish I had a tissue, or something, to stop the bleeding," I say, mostly to myself.
Brian's coughing again. "Brian, what happened? What's with all the coughing."
"I think I inhaled a little bit of the windshield," he says. "But, really, it's just a sore throat. I should be okay."
The men who stopped give each other a look. "How about we give you two a lift into town?" one of them asks. "To a hospital, perhaps?"
"No. I don't need a hospital," I quickly reply. I have a complete and utter distaste for hospitals- for obvious reasons, of course. "I just need to get to my sister. I promised her, upon pain of death," (Brian snorts at the near truth) "that I'd be there for her today. While I'm sure she'd understand why, I just can't let her down, yet again."
"Uh, sure. Let's all get in the car and go then, before our balls fucking freeze off," the guy who'll be doing the driving says. "I'm Matt and that's Tom," he introduces himself and his buddy.
"Brian. Justin," I say, pointing to each of us. "Thank you ever so much for helping us out. I thought we'd be stranded forever on this road."
The drive into the city is painfully slow because of all the ice. We do NOT need to end up in a ditch again. I feel anxious and nervous the entire ride, repeatedly seeing the accident in my head; the way the world just turned over in front of my eyes.
To distract myself, I inspect my hand again. It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Luckily, Matt had some tissues in the car that I used to stem the flow of blood.
Brian is still coughing off and on. I'm so fucking worried it's something serious. Everyone knows how impossibly stubborn he is. It'll be nearly impossible to get him to a doctor, but I'm bound and determined to do it- right after we see Molly.
Remembering I have a mostly-full water bottle in my bag, I pass it to him. "Go on, Brian, take it. It might help your coughing."
Taking a sip, he looks at me in way I can't describe. I don't think I've ever seen so much emotion on his face. It's a completely different look (or maybe just more complex) from the one he wore after the Babylon bombing.
It scares me a little to see him so vulnerable because who's gonna be there for me if I break down in the wake of what's just happened? That sounds so incredibly selfish, I realize. I have to promise myself not to fall apart, if only to deal with the aftermath of this, in case Brian needs me. He just might trust me enough to think I'll be able to support both of us.
Reaching my left hand out toward him, I place it on the back of his neck. Stroking my thumb up and down, I try to provide him with some small bit of comfort. All I can do in this moment is let Brian know I'm with him, and that I don't blame him in the slightest for what's happened. If anything, he's saved me, once again. That crash could have been oh-so-much worse. I shudder to think what might have been.
Brian sighs, leaning his head back onto the headrest, closing his eyes. My hand stays on his neck, stroking through the soft hairs. I think the connection of that touch manages to distract both of us just enough for the remainder of the ride into town.
**********************
It turns out that nothing is too terribly wrong, physically, with either of us. When we get to the gym and explain what happened, Mom practically forces Brian to let Tucker take him to the emergency room.
I should go too, but Brian pushes me to stay. I promise him I'll go to the walk-in clinic to get checked out later in the afternoon, just to make sure I don't have a concussion or whiplash.
Molly strides victoriously off the court, only to hear all about our mishap. Berating me for being so dumb, she says she totally would have understood had we just stayed home.
Of course she would have.
Mom drops us off at the loft after I receive a clean bill of health from the doctor. We're both still numb, and I pull Brian into the bathroom, strip off our clothes, and enter the hot, steaming shower. The chilling ache in my bones starts to dissipate. Brian softly runs his fingers through my hair, washing it with my favorite shampoo. Sliding his hands down to rest on my shoulders, he gently massages them. "I've noticed you've been rubbing your right shoulder and neck all afternoon," he whispers into my ear.
"I'm just a little tense from the accident, I guess. But that's certainly helping," I moan. "Don't ever stop."
"Never."
Tears start to trickle down my face and mingle with the spray from the shower. I want to turn around, to be enveloped in Brian's arms, but I don't want to chance him seeing my face. He's always there for me, and now i want to- need to -be there for him. In all of the things that have happened to me, to us, over the years, this is actually the only time when any teensy bit of blame could be placed on him because he was the one driving, after all. I feel I need to show him- in the way in which we best communicate -that I don't actually blame him myself or, if I do, that I forgive him.
I turn and grab the back of his neck, bringing his lips closer to mine. He deepens the kiss and brings our bodies flush together. My tongue slides against his, and I moan into his mouth, needing this so much.
We're soon both out of breath, and we just stand there under the spray, letting the water wash away some of the anxiety this day has brought.
I should go too, but Brian pushes me to stay. I promise him I'll go to the walk-in clinic to get checked out later in the afternoon, just to make sure I don't have a concussion or whiplash.
Molly strides victoriously off the court, only to hear all about our mishap. Berating me for being so dumb, she says she totally would have understood had we just stayed home.
Of course she would have.
Mom drops us off at the loft after I receive a clean bill of health from the doctor. We're both still numb, and I pull Brian into the bathroom, strip off our clothes, and enter the hot, steaming shower. The chilling ache in my bones starts to dissipate. Brian softly runs his fingers through my hair, washing it with my favorite shampoo. Sliding his hands down to rest on my shoulders, he gently massages them. "I've noticed you've been rubbing your right shoulder and neck all afternoon," he whispers into my ear.
"I'm just a little tense from the accident, I guess. But that's certainly helping," I moan. "Don't ever stop."
"Never."
Tears start to trickle down my face and mingle with the spray from the shower. I want to turn around, to be enveloped in Brian's arms, but I don't want to chance him seeing my face. He's always there for me, and now i want to- need to -be there for him. In all of the things that have happened to me, to us, over the years, this is actually the only time when any teensy bit of blame could be placed on him because he was the one driving, after all. I feel I need to show him- in the way in which we best communicate -that I don't actually blame him myself or, if I do, that I forgive him.
I turn and grab the back of his neck, bringing his lips closer to mine. He deepens the kiss and brings our bodies flush together. My tongue slides against his, and I moan into his mouth, needing this so much.
We're soon both out of breath, and we just stand there under the spray, letting the water wash away some of the anxiety this day has brought.
**********************
EpilogueIn the moment I wasn't scared, but in the aftermath, thinking about the accident, I imagine what could have been. I'm tense and paranoid anytime I have to be a passenger these days. Brian must be feeling something in the after-effects of the accident as he has been letting me drive more often than not. He is also vigilant about checking the weather and road reports before we go anywhere. God, I hope in time our fears go away or at least lessen to immeasurable levels.
The end.
**********************
A/N: The working title for this fic was "exorcising demons"... those demons are my own, as I was involved in a very similar car accident back in April. Also, I've never written hurt/comfort in any real way before (nor anything so angsty), so I hope it's okay, Fran! And by happy at the end, you meant a little bit steamy, right?