Um... QAF fic, very false start

So Dani and I are finally back, alive with minimal references to bears. We wrote many a goodfic (er, assuming massive beta jobs, hee) and they will be forthcoming.

In the meantime, I offer a co-written fic from six months ago. It hasn't been beta'd and was written during a time when we were both lacking sleep, so just read it for entertainment value. :o) Try to guess when Dani took over (for the last time) while I was in the bathroom.


“So, you’ve been keeping busy?” Craig said, cautiously. He never knew what would set Justin off these days; it seemed every word he said was a mortal offense.

“Yeah. My art is going well,” Justin answered, a challenging tone evident in his voice. Another moment of awkward silence passed between them. Craig eyed his menu and wished the waiter would come so that he wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy for Justin and his “career”, if you could call drawing such a thing. The silence continued, a sure sign that they had nearly exhausted their usual list of safe topics for discussion.

Craig made another attempt at bringing some sense to his son. Making eye contact, he said, “You remember your mother’s friend, Diane?”

Justin nodded slowly, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“Her son, Jacob, is applying to Haas School of Business over in California; he’s asked me for a reference,” Craig said. “He’s a bright boy.”

Justin’s eyes suddenly dropped from Craig’s to the tablecloth. He bit his lip in an attempt to control the rage that Craig’s implication had evoked. What had Brian said before Justin had left to this torture session? Oh yes, “Play nicely.” This in mind, Justin forced himself to look back to his father and respond, “Really? That’s nice for him.”

Craig saw the dismissal for what it was and tried a more blunt approach. “There’s a lot of money in business and a lot of responsibility, too. It’s a real man’s job, one I had hoped you might take up at some point. But…”

Justin took a drink of his scotch (it was only just now that Craig realized his underage son had been given the drink without so much as an ID check… a very odd thing). He bit back, “Yes, but because I’m a fag, I really can’t handle a real man’s job, now can I? Your son, the sissy artist.”

Craig flinched visibly. “Justin, that’s not what I-”

“But you thought it,” Justin countered. “It’s alright. Think whatever you’d like to, but I didn’t take an easy out. I’m working two jobs, taking a class on the side, and continuing my art. You’ve no idea how hard I had to work to reach this point.”

Craig was about to respond, but their waitress appeared by the table at that moment. Their waitress, a younger woman with the terrible misfortune of interrupting the palpable tension between the men, cleared her throat and asked if they had decided what to eat or not. Craig slipped into his social businessman face and ordered his meal. Justin, still pissed at his father, randomly picked a dish and asked for another drink on the side. Craig’s look of disapproval did not register with the waitress and she took off with a bright smile at Justin to retrieve his drink.

Effectively distracted from their previous conversation, Craig asked, “Since when do you drink?”

Justin blinked. “Drink?” Comprehension registered on his face and he apologized, “Oh, sorry. Drink. Um, for a while… just a few drinks here and there. I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Craig looked disdainfully at the retreating form of the waitress and said, “I’m surprised that they haven’t gotten written up yet, giving liquor to minors without asking for identification.”

“They usually don’t, it’s just that they, er… know me here.”

“Know you here…” Craig repeated slowly.

“Yeah, Brian and I come here a bit…”

[We’re not sure how this jumped. Someone obviously got bored. Or died.]
…..

“I’m, uh, being featured at—” Justin began, but he was interrupted by the appearance of a well dressed businessman at his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” the man said dismissively to Craig. “Taylor, I didn’t know you came here! Did Kinney introduce you to this place? It’s got a great wine list…”

“Hey, Anderson. Actually, my father suggested this place,” Justin answered casually, indicating to Craig, who looked a bit confused as per how his artistic son knew this man. “We’re still on for Monday, right?”

“Bright and early!” Anderson answered, before nodding to Craig and Justin and returning to his table.

Craig leaned forward. “So, Justin, how do you know—”

“Hey, Justin!” A small man came up to their table with an entourage of briefcase-toting acquaintances. “How’veyoubeen? Listen, I was hoping to get a meeting with—”

“I’m sorry, I doubt I could do much. If he says he won’t do it, he means it.” Justin smiled brightly, hoping the scouts would leave him alone. “I’ll see you on Monday, though.”

As they walked away, talking quickly to one another, Craig couldn’t help but wonder what his son, who wanted nothing to do with business, was doing with associates like them.

[We were temporarily Eliminated. Sorry.]
…….

The most bizarre episode of the night occurred shortly before their desserts were served. Justin had excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Craig to mull over the night’s earlier events alone. His thoughts were interrupted when a familiar man in a gray business suit coughed a self-important cough and tapped an Italian-loafer-clad foot on the ground while waiting for Craig’s recognition. Craig gathered his patience (which had diminished during the night) and stood to shake hands with the man.

The man smirked. “Ah, Craig Taylor. I didn’t expect to see you at a place like this, what with the troubles I hear your firm has been having.”

Craig smiled tightly. “Paul Fortney. I see you’ve landed back on your feet.”

“Oh, better than that,” the man said, his smirk widening. “This year, it’s been predicted that our revenues will have doubled at the year’s end. I’m already scouting out places to take my bonus vacation.”

“Really?” Craig inquired. “The last I had heard, your firm was still having problems regarding your advertising department.”

For the first time that night, the man faltered. He said, “Oh, um… we’ve had numerous meetings about that and have decided to find a private company to handle that [for] us. We’ve selected an up and coming agency to handle all of our advertising issues. Some of our predictions incorporated this adjustment.”

At this moment, Justin returned to the table and cast an odd glance at the man with whom his father was speaking. Justin shook the surprise off of his face and extended his hand. “Fortney.”

Craig’s eyes widened. He never realized that Justin had been paying attention all the times he had come back home, ranting about the latest gambit that Paul Fortney and his drones had committed against Craig’s firm. Perhaps there was still some common ground between him and his son after all.

“Mr. Taylor! I didn’t realize that you would be here tonight. What are the odds, eh?” Paul asked lightly. He rubbed his hands down the sides of his pants in an attempt to rid them of the sudden layer of sweat they had acquired.

Justin gave a half smile, unimpressed, and replied, “Yes. What are the odds?”

Paul laughed self-consciously and pressed onward. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Is that an Armani? Fall collection?”

Justin glanced down at his suit. “Oh, ah… it’s actually not from a collection. Tom Ford designed it, and I’m pretty sure it’s one of a kind.”

Craig hadn’t the slightest clue as to who Tom Ford was, but apparently this name meant something to Paul, who opened and shut his mouth several times without producing a coherent sound. Craig let a genuine smile slip onto his face.

To Craig’s amusement, Justin sighed with irritation. Leaning his chin on his hand, Justin asked, “Was there something you needed to talk about?”

It was at this point that Craig finally noticed something odd about their exchanges. First of all, they were doing just that, exchanging. He couldn’t remember ever introducing his business rival to his son, and he couldn’t see a reason for Paul’s persistence. He appeared determined to make some sort of headway with Justin—perhaps in an effort to appease Craig? His firm was superior, after all.

“Mr. Taylor, I was wondering if you knew about any developments in the negotiations of our account…”

Justin calmly said, “No, Fortney. It’s the weekend and I’m supposed to be eating dinner at the moment. If you want to talk business, set up an appointment with Cynthia for Monday.”

For the first time during this encounter, Fortney seemed to notice Craig’s presence. In fact, he nearly jumped as if being slapped when he looked from Justin to Craig. His eyes narrowed and he snapped, “I see. So you won’t talk business with me on the weekend, but meeting with a different client is just fine? Let me assure you, Mr. Taylor, our firm is a hundred times more efficient than his, we have the budget to spend on advertising, and our company will still be around long after his has collapsed.”

Craig had never realized how much his arch rival reminded him of a betrayed house wife.

Justin blinked at the man before him. He hedged, “Really, I already told you that I’m not doing business on the weekend.”

Fortney’s eyes grew desperate. He pleaded, “If this is about the commission costs, we’re willing to add in another ten percent bonus!”

Justin glared at Craig’s rival. “I’m hungry and I really don’t think you’d appreciate the developments in negotiations were I to tell Brian how you hounded me at a restaurant while I tried to eat with my father.”

Fortney’s eyes widened and he mumbled, “Your… father?”

Justin nodded, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Fortney attempted to backpedal. He apologized, “Mr. Taylor, I didn’t realize…. This is…. Wow, sort of awkward.” The man chuckled self-consciously. He tried again, “Sometimes when businessmen joke around, we can say things that-”

Justin glared. Fortney took the hint and quickly excused himself from the table, but not before making a final apology for anything he had said to Craig and making one last effort to cast his firm in a good light.

“Your account is mincemeat, fuckstick. Roll over and die. I will fuck your carcass to horrify my father, here. :>!” Justin cackled maniacally, his expensive suit remaining perfectly in place, his pretty blond hair falling beautifully to just above his shoulders. Paul drooled.

*froth* <--him drooling.

Overcome by Justin’s hotness, Paul shouted, “Oh, yes!!1111 Give it 2 me plz!!!” Justin smiled wickedly in response.

Craig fled quickly.


ETA: New and improved... new! Un-friends-locked so that anyone may now witness the embarrassment that is our false start. Be very afraid.