Title: Terms of Endearment

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk belongs to Showtime and Cowlip, I don't own it. Would love to. Don't.

"Brian?" Justin glanced up from his latest and, if he did say so himself, hottest... digital drawing of Rage and JT yet, which he'd been studiously laboring over for the past half an hour.

"Hmm?" Brian replied absently. He, on the other hand, didn't take his eyes off the computer screen he was poured over. He had involved himself with the meticulous, tedious task of browsing through web pages, trying to decide which imported sofa would look best in his living room. "What do you think of beige?" he asked, before Justin had time to say anything else.

Justin shrugged. "I think an off-white to cream-colored shade would complement the carpet better. Beige might work, though," he tilted his head thoughtfully to the side, frowning slightly as he considered it. He shook his head. "Anyway, what do you think of 'Prince'?"

"I think that whole 'symbol as a name' thing was fucking ridiculous."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Not 'Prince' Prince. Prince. As in a nickname," he clarified.

Brian still didn't look up from the screen, but raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "A nickname for who?"

"JT."

"JT is changing his name to a symbol?"

"No, it's--" the younger man sighed in frustration. "What do you think of Rage calling JT his Prince?" he asked slowly and deliberately.

"Why would Rage do that?"

"Because it's sweet."

Brian looked revolted at the very mention of the word 'sweet'. Finally, he glanced over at the blond, who was studying the drawing of Rage and JT, thoughtfully chewing on his lower lip. "It's your...thing. Do whatever you want."

Justin didn't appear the least bit satisfied. "So you don't think it's a good idea?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you do like it?"

"I didn't say that either."

Justin sighed heavily again, then his lips curved to one side of his mouth, forming a lopsided, thoughtful expression as he drummed his fingers against the coffee table on which he was working. When he spoke, he sounded cautious, timid.

"Maybe... maybe we could have nicknames for each other," he suggested slowly, avoiding looking at Brian and instead keeping his eyes fixed on Rage's left bicep. It could use a little more muscle to it.

Brian laughed. Then, with another quick glance over at his lover, he realized that Justin wasn't kidding.

"Are you fucking serious? You want us to have nicknames for each other?" he asked, as though making absolutely certain he had heard right. "Like every sappy, sickening, deeply-in-bullshit hetero couple out there who are convinced it means something special if they call each other some ridiculous, sugary name like boo, or...sweetie-pie?" Brian's face was scrunched up, he looked as though he might be sick.

Okay, so Justin had expected that general reaction. "I'm not suggesting anything like 'shmoo--' or... or 'sweetie-bear', or anything like that. Just something that's—ours."

Brian was still smirking. "And what'd you have in mind?"

Justin considered this. "I don't know," he said finally.

Brian tapped a few keys over at his computer. Hmm...leather. He never thought the material could look so good without erotically adorning (barely) a rock-hard body. So there were other uses for it. He had to make a note of that.

"Look, we don't need new nicknames. I've already got plenty for you."

"'Fucking Twat' and 'Little Shit' don't count," said Justin gruffly, beginning to get annoyed.

Brian's grin widened devilishly. "How about... 'Tight-Ass Taylor'? Does that one count?"

Justin scowled at him. "As long as I get to borrow 'Heartless Shit', as Ted so fondly christened you, or maybe 'Asshole' from Debbie..."

The brunette's expression faltered for just a second. "Well, you should know better than anyone about my asshole..."

"What about just something... common, but endearing? Like 'honey' or 'sweetie'?" suggested Justin.

Brian looked as though his lover had just suggested he turn straight. "We're not lesbians, so I'm going to go ahead and say... no fucking way."

Justin very nearly actually growled in annoyance. Giving up on the nickname front for the time being, he pulled his computer closer to him, carefully filling out Rage's bicep as his arms curled around JT's own muscular, bare form. He and Brian worked in silence for a while, each absorbed with their own project.

Finally, Brian sighed loudly, stretching as he stood up from the desk. "You coming to bed, Sunshine?"

Justin glanced up. It wasn't the question that had startled him, it was...

"Sunshine?"

Justin looked up at his lover, wide-eyed, as though he had never heard the name before.

"Um... yeah?" said Brian. "Don't look so surprised. I've only been calling you that for how many years now? I thought you liked it."

Justin smiled and shook his head. "No, I do... it's just, I never really... is that my nickname?" he asked suddenly.

Brian pretended to consider this carefully. "Well, it's an affectionate term that people close to you use that's not your real name... so, yeah. That kind of makes it your nickname," he pointed out.

At that moment Justin proved exactly how fitting the name really was. He beamed, and Brian made a mental note never to make him smile like that again without the necessary precaution of sunglasses. It was bad for your eyes, after all, to look directly into the sun.

"I always just kind of thought it was... well, I figured that you only ever meant it in a sarcastic kind of way. Like when you called me a 'Damn Twink' or 'Twat' and whatever the fuck else," he explained. "So, you mean it in a... as a term of endearment kind of thing?" Justin couldn't quite keep the thought of how much it made them sound like a real couple out of his head. Brian Kinney and real, endearing nicknames... who would have thought.

Brian simply raised his eyebrows, wondering how Justin had never figured out the names, even 'Twink', had all, really, been meant in the best possible way. He wasn't quite sure how he could take 'Sunshine' as a sarcastic remark... but then, Brian had a tendency to make even a grocery list sound cynical.

"You coming to bed, Sunshine?" he repeated.

"Yeah, in a minute, sugar-pie."

Justin was obviously trying not to laugh at his own clever wit as he quickly saved his 'Rage' drawing on his computer, and stood to join Brian. He scampered on past his older lover into the bedroom, obviously pleased. He turned to look back at Brian, still smirking, just challenging him to protest the name.

"You know you just cost yourself a blow-job, you little shit," Brian said, stripping himself of his shirt as he neared the bed, revealing a perfectly sculpted body.

Justin's face blanched, then he quickly rearranged his features into a look of haughty pride. "Well, you just lost yourself a night with 'Tight-Ass Taylor', so I guess we're even."

Oh, fuck it. Brian reached over and pulled Justin, the Damn Twink/Twat/Little Shit/Whatever the Fuck else he was, closer to him, kissing him hard.

"Come to bed, Sunshine."