The Suffering Of Fools (IJ Fanfic, Sal Vulcano X Brian Quinn)

Part 14

The song 'F for effort' started blaring as they packed up the recording for the podcast, and both sat motionless with their heads in their hands. As the tune petered off and the tape ended, Q stood: moving towards the fridge.

"d'you want a drink, buddy?" he asked, opening the door and sparking the artificial, yet comforting yellow glow.
"Sure, why not. What've you got?" Sal replied, perking up a little. "I'm parched"
"well, it's either tap water or beer," was Brian's grinning reply, picking out a can and tossing it into his free hand, "and I know what I'm having."

~~~~~

They were both stretched out on the couch, laughing in their slightly tipsy states. The empty cans littered the table in the kitchen and (although fairly few in number) most belonged to Q. Sal still had his wits about him slightly more so than Brian; and even though neither was drunk, neither could be mistaken for being sober.

"I wish she was still here though, instead of just leaving me" Sal said in almost normal tones, betrayed only by his gentle slurring of his final clause.

Leaning completely on the opposite arm of the sofa, Q sat up a little and said in a joyful way
"Sal," he looked him in the eye, without breaking contact. "You are a strong, independent woman who don't need no man, even if she's a woman and the love of your life."
He broke out in chuckles, as Sal merely gained conviction.

"You" he started, pointing at Q and smiling, "are a genius."

Spreading his arms wide and closing his eyes, Q raised his voice a little. "Preach, Sally! Let it all out!"

"I don't need her. I mean who the fuck does she think she is?" he said, raising his voice to Brian's tipsy cheers of encouragement: now standing on the couch. "No, actually, no." the cheers faltered, and Brian looked confused for a moment. "Not her, she's cool. Fuck that nephew: man, I hate that guy. He sounds like such a whiney little bitch - who does he think he is, stealing my girl like that?"

Q was silent for a moment, then suddenly racked with laughter; sliding onto the floor and sitting, bunched up, until tears ran down his face and nestled in his beard. Still standing, Sal looked down. "What?" he shouted with mock anger. "What's so funny?"

Through his laughter, Q struggled out his words. "You got cockblocked by a twelve year old"

And with that, both their laughs resounded in their blood, amplified by alcohol, until both were on the floor: wheezing for air.

They stopped as their eyes met, faces unusually close. In that moment, something changed. The air around them became still in anticipation, and nothing existed but them. They knew what was happening, but neither stopped it.

They gazed into one another's deep eyes, and Sal leant forward. Their eyes fluttered shut like the fall of butterfly's wings, and their lips met.

Sal leant into it more, sliding his hand up Q's arm, resting it on his shoulder, and pressing his plump lips against those of the other man. He felt the soft bristles of his beard against his chin, and breathed deeply - engulfed in the kiss he should never have shared. It felt so wrong, and yet so very right as he slid his arms around Brian's neck.

Suddenly, the kiss was broken off, and Sal scampered back from the edge of ecstasy into reality to realise Q's averted gaze. His face betrayed his shame in a way words never could, as they sat together in silence. Without looking at him, Brian whispered ever so gently,

"get out."