


Debbie's Palace

by liorubae



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2014-11-10 15:05:16
Rating: K+
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,939
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6774774/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2758134/liorubae
Summary: Au where Bian and Justin are cousins and work together. Based on a real story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Some background on the story:**

**Justin is 17 and is working at his aunt's hotel, **_**Debbie Palace Hotel,**_** during summer. His main job is to take care of the hotel's mini market, but he is basically doing everything else as well.**

**Brian is the son of the owner (Debbie) and cousin of Justin and is also working there fulltime as a manager of sorts.**

**Lindsay is Brian's best friend and receptionist at the hotel.**

**Michael is Brian's brother who is working there mainly as a bartender.**

**Debbie is also around, taking care of everything and everyone, as a good owner should do.**

**The whole story is from Justin's POV but I don't promise it will stay that way.**

**Oh and, by the way, it's based on a true story.**

"Good morning Sunshine!" Justin looked at his aunt and responded to her ritualistic greeting with a smile. It was 9:30 am for god's sake; he wasn't about to start talking before 11. He is not a morning person.

"Hey, Justin, you need to run to the basement for the order that just came in." Lindsay, always at her post, always reliable, informed him about his chore without waiting for a reply. Justin liked Lindsay.

Justin didn't like mornings; especially those mornings. Summer mornings at the hotel. His favorite cousin was still fast asleep, recovering from his bartending services and wouldn't be up till after noon. Similarly, his _other_ cousin, not his favorite in terms of personality and friendship, but definitely, absolutely, inarguably favorite in term of hotness, would not leave his room till after 11 am.

Morning passed quickly, what with deliveries being sorted, inventory in the mini market, fixing a toilet or two up in the rooms. The usual stuff. Justin tasted disappointment when his hot cousin, Brian, didn't make his appearance on his usual time. He was probably too exhausted from fucking that chick from 354. He's been fucking her every night for over week now, didn't he get enough already? During lunch, he casually mentioned him to Michael, his favorite cousin, to see if the other had any idea what Brian was up to all night.

"God knows what he's been doing all night" Michael couldn't be more indifferent.

"Or who." Crap. Justin shouldn't allow any bitterness to slip through his façade.

"That's right, who! Although I didn't notice him cornering any hot girl last night at the bar". That would be a first.

Later that day Justin was doing his homework at his usual place in the mini market. The day was still very hot and humid, and the view of the pool didn't help one bit in his attempt to focus on algebra. He was starting to get restless over Brian's absence. Sure, he always came down from his room late, but never after noon. Should he worry? Nah. He's a big boy. In many ways.

As he sat there, his mind drifted away from algebra and landed on its favorite subject: his crush on his cousin. Justin knew that it was probably moronic, sinful and pointless to experience sexual attraction towards his own cousin, but what could he do? It wasn't his fault that one of the hottest men alive happened to be related to him by blood.

In any case, Justin knew that no matter what he thought and how he felt, Brian would never be his. Brian Kinney was advertising himself as straight as it goes, if the continuous casual fucks with female guests of the hotel mean anything. Not only that, but Justin was sure that Brian despised him. Actually despised him. As far as he could remember, he was always nothing but kind, generous and non-judgmental towards Brian. But the look of disgust he got almost every time their eyes met was unmistakable and could only mean one thing. Brian knew. He knew that Justin was gay and, even worse, he knew that Justin was in love with him. He might even know that the only reason Justin had been working at the hotel for the past three years was so that he could be in close proximity with Brian.

Ah, well. It's not like there is anything Justin can do about it.

Admittedly, working here had other huge advantages as well. Firstly, his aunt was more than generous with his wages. He reckoned he made more than most of the common employees of the hotel. He was always Debbie's favorite nephew (thank god she has no idea of his feelings towards her son).

Secondly, he got to practice his German and Italian, since there were many guests from these respective countries.

Thirdly, he got to interact with numerous hot men, although not nearly as hot as Brian. He would spend endless hours sitting there, watching hot men at the pool, having lunch, drinking and partying, and he never, ever, made any move.

He didn't know what was stopping him. _One of those days_ he would tell himself. The days would become weeks, the weeks months, and the months the whole freaking Summer.

As he was pondering all that, his mind registered something weird. At first he couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something was off. A few minutes ago, one of the hot Italians came down the stairs. That didn't directly mean anything, because people were going up and down constantly. But wait a minute. The Italian's room was 339, at the other side of the complex. What was he doing on those stairs, the ones that lead to the part of the complex that included Brian's room?

Justin's stomach gave a nudge and he felt butterflies. Could it be that Brian and the Italian spent the whole night having sex? He immediately started fantasizing about that. Needless to say that he got a boner instantly. Thank goodness for his nice and cozy seat behind the mini market counter.

"Justin!"

"Huh? Yes, Linds, what up"

"Have you been daydreaming again sweetheart?"

"What? No, of course not. I'm stuck here with these trigonometric identities, that's all"

"Anyway. Could you do me a favor? I can't find Mike or Deb to stay in the reception and Brian asked for this iron" She showed an iron to him.

"What? Brian needs an iron? Since when does he do his own ironing? I thought one of the maids did that."

"You're right but apparently none of the maids did it this time so he has to _do this just as everything else by himself_, as he yelled through the phone a few minutes ago."

"Got it. Sure, I'll be happy to help you Linds." Happy? Justin was ecstatic. "Just make sure someone checks on me if I'm not back in, say, 10 minutes."

"Oh come on, give the man some credit. You know he would never kill you! I will check on you in ten minutes however."

As Justin climbed the stairs, he couldn't believe his luck. He would go to Brian's room. Not that he'd never been there before, of course. But never with Brian there as well. He was battling to keep a straight face while he knocked the door.

"Who is it!" Yup. Brian was in a horrible mood.

"Brian, it's me. I brought the iron."

"I asked Lindsay to bring it, not you!"

Justin didn't reply to that, he just waited.

After a few seconds, Brian answered the door. That twat. He was wearing a white T-shirt and had a towel around his waist. Would it kill him to be less shy? Justin knew he had a body to die for, since he has observed it over his clothes innumerable times.

"Hey, here's the iron."

"Thanks Justin. Tell Linds that she is a moron and I want HER to come up here. I have no fucking clue how to use that thing and I need my shirt and my pants RIGHT NOW!"

"What? You don't know how to iron a shirt? Seriously?"

"Will you please shut the fuck up and go do what I asked you to do? God, why do I have to put up with morons every single day?"

"Lindsay cannot leave the reception desk, there's no one there to replace her."

"Oh, that's just great." Brian started closing the door, as Justin had an idea.

"Um, I know, you know."

"What?" Brian looked at Justin through the half closed door.

"I know how to use the iron. I have had to iron my clothes many times, you know how busy my mom can be."

"So…"

"So, if you want, I can iron your shirt and pants for you. It won't be a problem for me at all."

Brian stood there, his face expressionless. Justin could feel his heart racing, and his palms getting sweaty.

"OK, come on in. Only be quick, I need to go to the restaurant and check tonight's menu ASAP.

Justin was trying not to think. He was afraid that the smallest thing could set off a sensitive balance and he would find himself thrown out. Although the actual procedure of Brian grabbing him and throwing out, and the physical intimacy it required, didn't exactly repulse him. No. Focus. Finish the ironing, and get out. This is a great opportunity to fix your relationship with Brian, Justin told himself. He didn't listen, of course.

"So what happened." Fuck. He couldn't control himself.

As Brian looked at him, his face a huge, gorgeous, question mark, Justin explained:

"What happened last night. You are not that late usually."  
"That's none of your fucking business."

"I'm just making conversation."

Brian ignored him. What the hell, this was the greatest opportunity ever presented to Justin and he was going to grab it by the balls.

"I just saw that Italian from 339 coming down the stairs. It's weird; his room is nowhere near this place. What do you think?"

"I think you should shut up and focus on my shirt."

"Well I think he visited a room up here. Probably had sex with some guy."

"What? What makes you think he had sex with a guy. Why not a woman."

"Oh please, he is as gay as it goes."

"You would know."

Justin became redder than mature beets. Why did Brian say that? Even if he knew of his sexual orientation, he also knew that Justin never discussed about it and kept it a secret.

"Yes, I suppose I would." There. Two of us can be shockingly honest.

"You can tell then. Can you tell for others as well?"

"Of course. Right now, we have 9 homosexual men in the hotel."

Brian didn't say anything. He sat down on his bed, apparently deep in thought. After a few minutes, while Justin was finishing up his pants, he talked to Justin again.

"How about me."

"What about you." Things are starting to get interesting here.

"What can you tell about me."

"Brian, there is nothing I can tell about you. Your hundreds of casual fucks with female guests speak for themselves."

"Yes, but other than that, what can you tell."  
"I don't know." Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. That was the truth, however. He never managed to bring himself and say that Brian is straight if he looked at him objectively.

"Fuck you, you fucking faggot! Who do you think you are and can talk to me like this!"  
"Brian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, I was just taken by surprise…"

"Fucking surprise my ass! Get out! Give me that!"

"Brian, wait, the iron is still hot…"

The next few minutes evolved as if in slow motion. Justin saw his cousin grab the hot iron from his hand and try to jerk it away. Somehow, it slipped and started flying through the air out of control. The last image Justin had was one of the bottom of the iron reaching his face. After that, it was pure pain and agony.


	2. Chapter 2

**OK, let me get one thing straight. This story is based on real facts, but it is NOT an accurate narration. Drama levels have to go up for the purposes of the story and that's all. Thanks for reading/reviewing **

A few days later, Justin wasn't able to recall much of what happened in his cousin's room. What he did recall was waking up to a hospital bed. His mother was there and so was Debbie and Michael. They were talking in hushed voices and didn't notice him coming about.

"Mom?" Justin was shocked to hear this alien croaked voice leave his mouth.

"Justin? Oh my god, honey, you're awake! How are you feeling?" His mother's face was a white mask of worry.

"Um, I'm OK. What happened."

"There was an accident in Brian's room Sunshine, the iron fell on your face. Lindsay told us she asked you to take the iron up to Brian." Debbie was calmer than his mom. Thank god at least someone kept their heads straight.

Justin reached with his hand to touch his face. Instead of the smooth skin he was used to, he felt a rough material, probably gauge. Under that he could feel his skin responding with pain to his touch.

He was exhausted. He drifted back to sleep almost immediately. The realization of his accident was simply too much for his mind to bear.

_Two weeks later._

"Mom, I told you I'm fine!" Justin was growing less and less patient with his mom's overprotective attitude.

"Honey, are you sure you want to go back to work? You know you don't have to. You can take the rest of the summer off to rest and study. School is more important." Justin's mom was apparently worried sick. And Justin was getting sick of that situation.

"I want to DO something. I can't sit in here all summer staring at the walls. I need to be productive." Now fuck off. Justin made sure that last bit stayed inside the confines of his head. No need to upset his mom even more.

It was true, though. He needed, desperately needed, to be doing something. Sitting home, catching up with his homework wasn't going to cut it.

But most of all, he needed to see Brian. He couldn't stop thinking about him. Even though Brian never called and came to visit only once, Justin knew that he cared. He has to.

As he was approaching the reception desk on his first day back at work, he was surprised not to find Lindsay in her usual spot. Instead, Brian was there talking with a customer.

Justin went next to him and waited till the customer went _the fuck_ away. Fuck, he smelled better than he rememberd.

"Good morning Brian."

"'Morning"

"So, how are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks. Here's the key to the super market. The fridge needs to be stocked and the register is probably empty, you'll need change." Brian was as cool as ice. The tone of his voice and the formality that he dressed his words with were as good as a punch to Justin's face. Worse. They were as good as the iron that…

"Thanks. Later." Fuck Brian. He OBVIOUSLY didn't give a shit for Justin. That's why he never called or visited more than once. No guilt, no worry, nothing. He didn't even _look_ at Justin while he was talking.

'I must look more hideous that I thought.' Justin couldn't help his own thoughts. If before he was the annoying, queer, outcast yet handsome cousin, now he was all that minus handsome.

After he finished with his work, he run to the restroom, to have a look at his face. The right side of his neck was covered with gauge, but his face was OK. Luckily, the iron's surface didn't make much contact with his face so he got off with minor burns that were barely visible.

His neck and shoulder weren't that lucky, however. He got third degree burns all over his right shoulder and a vein or whatever got churned that lead to extensive bleeding. That together with the severe concussion from the fall resulted in a good four days of blackness.

'Fuck, Justin, will you shut the fuck up already' he told himself. 'No need think about all that right now, just make sure no red flesh is showing and remember to apply the ointment after lunch.'

He would have to apply an ointment on his sore skin three times a day. That wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, what with the procedure hurting like a mother fucker son of a bitch asshole.

When he went back in the mini market and took his seat, sudden exhaustion washed over him. He hadn't even noticed the extra strain he had to put in his movements in order not to move the sore parts and avoid unnecessary pain.

He sat there in his seat for a few minutes, relaxing and enjoying the quiet that usually preceded lunch. But not for long.

"OH MY GOD SUNSHINE!" When Justin turned his head (painfully) to see where this familiar shriek came from, he saw his aunt Debbie running towards him, arms over head, a huge smile plastered on her face. He couldn't help himself and he shot her one of his trademark sunshine smiles himself.

Debbie reached him, hugged him, kissed him, hugged him again, kissed him again and finally let go of him.

"I'm so glad to see you honey!" Debbie's smile extended beyond eye's reach.

"Yeah, good to see you too, aunt. Although we DID see each other yesterday. And the day before. And the one before that."

"OK, first things first." Debbie smacked him on the head.

"Ow! What was that all about!"

"That's for calling me aunt. DEBBIE. The name is Debbie. OK now that we are done with that, tell me, how are you feeling."

"I'm OK, I finished the work here and was about to go get some lunch.

"Well let's go then. I hear the chef made a pan of moussaka, I can't wait!"

During lunch, she asked him everything that she already knew, and she was constantly trying to make conversation and fill in the empty spaces. Justin knew perfectly well that Debbie was feeling extremely guilty for what happened to her nephew in her hotel, in her own son's room.

Which reminded Justin.

"I saw Brian at the reception this morning. That was a first." Casual. Appear casual.

"Yeah, he will have to leave early today so he decided to take an early shift. Listen, Justin, I hope you don't mind, but I asked him to take you home when he leaves. It's you first day back, I want you to take it easy, OK?"

Justin's first reaction to that was one of anger, but he talked some sense in him eventually. If Brian was going away, what was the point of staying here anyway.

Damn. He hated himself. One minute he hated Brian for being so fucking indifferent and inconsiderate, and the next he was secretly obsessing over him.

"OK _Debbie_, I have to go. It's time to apply the ointment. I'll use your office as we discussed, are the bandages there?"

"Yes honey, I put them there yesterday. Will you need any help with that?"

"No, I'm good. I've already done it four hundred and sixty two times already." Justin smiled at his aunt and left the kitchen.

After getting the ointment from his backpack, he went straight to the reception desk, greeted Lindsay, and went in his aunt's office.

When he entered the small room, his jaw fell on the floor. Brian was there, kissing a guest. Justin didn't recognize her; she must have arrived while he was away. While he was in the hospital and Brian Kinney never showed any interest or concern. While he was recovering from the damage caused by the iron that left Brian's hand. While Brian, obviously, kept himself busy choosing the next casual fuck for a few weeks.

"Justin! What the hell are you doing in here!" Brian eyed the ointment in Justin's hand and comprehension appeared on his face.

"Oh, sorry, come on in, we'll just go."

"Fuck you, Brian." Justin finally managed to close his mouth and use it to express his feelings to his cousin. He run out of the office and on his way out, he asked Lindsay to give him the keys to Debbie's room.

If almost anyone else had asked for the keys to Debbie's room, Lindsay would have required a reason. But not for Justin. She knew better and that's one of the reasons Justin liked her. Plus, she must have realized his distress from his expression and tone so she wisely decided to simply comply.

In Debbie's room Justin made himself calm down first. He was being ridiculous. He knew Brian and his business, and he had even witnessed worse than that in the past.

He took the bandages off and started applying the ointment. His touch, more shaky than usual, was painful and he couldn't be more thankful when he finally finished.

"Oh, FUCK." He had forgotten the fresh bandages. They were in Debbie's office, where she put them for him. There was NO way he would go downstairs, shirtless, his skin red as a baboon's bottom and covered in white shit. He called Lindsay and asked her to bring some bandages up for him.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. He answered it, and there he was. Brian. With the bandages. Looking, no, make that staring, at him. Great.

"What the hell is wrong with Lindsay, why does she always have to send the wrong people do her work." Justin's anger was back in no time.

"Theirs is nothing wrong with her, I was on my way here anyway."

"What for."

"I don't know. To check on you? Make sure you are OK? Ask why the hell you told me to go fuck myself?"

"Wow, you have some balls." Justin grabbed the bandage off Brian's hands and made to close the door.

He wasn't successful; Brian used his foot to keep the door open.

"Whatever." Justin turned around and went back in. He settled on the bed and started covering his wounds. As soon as the bandage touched his skin, he winced in spite of his effort to keep a straight face.

Almost immediately, the bandage was snatched from his hands and Justin saw Brian sitting next to him.

"You're doing it wrong. I'll do it. Stay still."

"The fuck _you_ know."

"I know better than you. Seriously, after all this time and you still don't know how to use a bandage?"

"Fuck off Brian. If you are so smart and better at this, why didn't you come and teach me how to do it. You never came."

"That's not true, I came."

"Once."

"Enough to see that you were fine and would be fine as well."

"Ouch. Watch it, will you?" It didn't hurt that bad. Brian was better than Justin at this.

"Will you shut up and stop being a princess, thanks."

"I'm not being a princess. I'm just stating the obvious. You don't give a fuck and that's why you didn't visit. Why the interest now."

"I don't know."

They were silent for a few minutes after that, while Brian was finishing his work.

"There. Good as knew."

"Barely. The doctor said if the iron stayed on my shoulder for one more second, it would have burned the vein completely and I would be dead."

Brian was speechless and that made Justin happy. That asshole would pay for his indifference one way or the other.

"I think I'm gonna head down now. I won't be leaving early after all, but I will leave around 10pm. I can drop you home then if you want."

The day went on as usual. Same things to do, same boring hours in the mini market. Justin did spend a couple of hours with Michael though, talking and playing cards. He loved Michael. Why couldn't Brian be more like him? No, no that wouldn't do. Justin knew that if Brian was anything like his brother, he would never have fallen for him.

When he closed the minimarket at 9:30, he still had another thirty minutes before leaving. He decided to go down to the pool. There was this quiet place with a recliner that was out of sight and Justin used to go there and sit by himself sometimes.

He would take the ointment and the bandages (don't forget the bandages this time, prick) and apply it there.

As soon as he sat down and stripped his shirt off, however, he heard footsteps. And laughter.

Two seconds later, Brian showed up with the same slut hanging from his side.

He didin't notice Justin at first, but he eventually spotted him and exclaimed "Fuck".

Justin was calm this time, and he managed to keep his head cool.

"I'm not running away this time." He informed Brian.

"We're really sorry, um Justin, is it?, we will just go someplace else." How did the slut even DARE talk to him? Has he given her permission to address him? Has he given her permission to be in his presence? To fuck with Brian? Has he given her permission to _exist_?

Justin shot a cold glance to Brian, who was surprisingly dumbfounded. He obviously didn't know what to do, but he took a decision fast enough.

"Listen, Tina" Hmph. Tina. My cat has a cooler name than that. "why don't you get back to the bar and I'll meet you there in a while." Brian was looking at Justin while he was talking to _Tina_.

"But Briiiii, I want to… see you!" Bitch.

Brian turned and faced her "Just go, please."

With that, she left. Justin didn't move and neither did Brian.

"So. I didn't know you were having your casual fucks under a schedule. One that apparently fits my ointment schedule." Justin could taste the bitterness of his words. What was wrong with him. What happened to the Sunshine, always smiling, always calm.

"Need any help?" Brian chose to ignore his words.

"No, thanks. I'm a big boy."

"Maybe, but I doubt that you gained any experience since this afternoon."

"Really, Brian? You want to help me again? Why."

"I don't know, I just want to help you. Do I need a reason to be nice?"

"OK, who the fuck are you and what did you do with my Br… cousin."

Brian's eyebrows went up, showing Justin that he didn't miss what he almost said: _my Brian._

"Can we just do this and get going? I told you, I have to be somewhere tonight."

Justin didn't reply, he just turned around and waited.

Brian sat himself next to his cousin and started taking the bandages slowly off. His breath was caught midway when he spotted the damaged skin. Earlier that day, the already applied ointment hid all the sore spots and Brian didn't really see the damage. Justin noticed his lost breath.

"You don't have to look at my hideous shoulder if you don't want to, you know."

Brian didn't say anything. Instead, he caressed the red skin with his fingers, sending small electroshocks through Justin's body.

It was now Justin's turn to miss a breath, and Brian immediately removed his fingers.

"Sorry, did that hurt?"

"Not in a bad way."

Justin had no idea what his cousin was thinking, he couldn't even see his face.

Suddenly, he felt Brian leaning down and softly, very softly, placing his lips on Justin's shoulder, feeling the roughness of the skin.

Justin almost lost consciousness. Brian had just _kissed_ his shoulder. His mind was at a loss interpreting Brian's gesture. His heart and breath rhythms, however, were very confident that this was something exciting and they showed it.

He turned around to face Brian. Even in the dim light, he could see that Brian was distressed. He was staring at Justin's face, the few marks left from the less severe burns. Brian leaned in and kissed Justin's cheek, right on top of the most obvious mark. He started whispering while his lips were still pressed against Justin's cheek.

"Justin. I'm really, really sorry for what happened. It was all my fault. I will never forgive myself. I'm sorry."

Justin was speechless. He wouldn't be able to talk if he wanted to; the shock of Brian's kiss left him practically paralyzed.

Brian sat back up and cleared his throat. His voice returned to normal.

"OK, so where is the fucking ointment; I don't have all night."


End file.
