"Night-night, Daddy," Gus giggled in farewell as the munchers guided him toward the stairs at stupid o'clock in the morning. "Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Tired beyond belief, Brian croaked, "Night, Sonnyboy." His kid was the only one with any energy left-

Kids, Brian amended when a sprightly "Night-night, Gus-Gus," came from his blond partner. 

Fucking twelve-year age difference. But who cared? He had the edge where it mattered: sex. Experience counted; he always outlasted his younger partner.

Gus giggled again. "Night-night, Jus-Jus. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Fucking sofa bed better not have bedbugs, Brian thought sourly, transferring his attention to the thinly padded, pullout mattress. As the girls vanished from sight with his son, he dragged off his jeans and T-shirt and dropped them on the floor, thinking he should go to the bathroom - he needed to piss like a racehorse - but fuck it. A full bladder wasn't going to stop him from sleeping.

Nothing was going to keep him from sleeping, he determined as he face-planted on the sofa. Not a full bladder, not this torture rack masquerading as a sofa bed, not minuscule biting insects, not even the opportunity for a fuck. He was too fucking tired.

The bulldyke was a slave driver, and working under her for hours had drained Brian of his last drop of energy. Melanie was a fucking tyrant, he mused with distant admiration as he started to doze off.

The only one she hadn't been able to control was a hyped-up Gus. The little boy was so wired by the impending move that he'd bounced back up to rejoin the adults minutes after being put to bed for the night. That had sent Mel into even more of a frenzy as she ordered everyone around.

Never mind, contrary to what Mel might think, that the lezzies would've been totally lost without him. And Justin, Brian acknowledged. But Brian had been the one to decide what was essential and what could wait for the moving company. Just like with their wedding, they couldn't pull it off without a fag's help. Even with his advice, it had taken until four in the morning to finish up.

Fortunately, his memories soon morphed into something much better. Fingers, callused from holding paintbrushes and pencils, drifted across the sensitive skin near his hole and made Brian writhe.

It was strange how that was such a turn-on. Brian had been fingered by some fucking talented tricks, who did everything from play football to work construction to walk a beat. They'd all known what to do with hands, teeth and tongue. But none of them had ever deliberately used callused fingers and palms to enhance his pleasure. Only Justin.

His thoughts unraveled completely as Justin's tongue joined his fingers in torturing him.

Long, hazy minutes passed, with Brian drifting on a sea of pleasure.

Slowly though, a sense of urgency began to build. Tantalizing flicks of a tongue and fingers stroking across his skin weren't enough. He bucked up, seeking more... needing more. He could come from a masterful rimjob, like the one he was currently getting, but it wasn't what he truly wanted. 

He was more than ready for Justin to fuck him. He didn't care if the lezzies came trooping downstairs and caught them. No harm in showing them what good sex looked like, he distantly thought.

When Justin rolled him over, Brian still wasn't bothered. Face to face was fine by him. He just wanted cock. Nothing else mattered. It had better be now though, or he was gonna come too soon and embarrass himself.

Rather than Justin sliding into him, what Brian got was his lover swallowing him down to the root and sucking. Justin attacked Brian's cock hard and fast, like it was the best fucking thing he'd ever tasted.

Fuck. Brian could already feel himself starting to lose control. Even so, the onrushing orgasm took him by surprise. With a breathy, high-pitched groan, he abruptly spilled down Justin's throat.

"Nngh," Brian moaned his appreciation as Justin sat up, smiling happily and licking his lips.

From beneath heavy eyelids, Brian could see a purplish-red dick sticking out from Justin's groin. He'd have to do something about that after he gathered his wits.

Instead of reciprocating, Brian passed out.

 

Brian didn't stay asleep long, the pressure from his full bladder waking him up. Slitting open bleary eyes, he squirmed out from under the blond, pushing Justin over onto his back. Then, disentangling himself from the sheet, Brian rolled off the couch, the springs squeaking in protest, and staggered around in search of the bathroom. It wasn't where he expected because, in his sleep-deprived state, he thought he was at the girls' house in Pittsburgh.

After walking into the linen closet and stubbing his foot against the dining table, he seriously considered peeing in the kitchen sink for a minute before he finally stumbled into the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

Brian was shaking off the last drops, feeling much better, when a voice squeaked, "You got a big pee-pee, Daddy."

Brian didn't mind that Gus had walked in on him urinating, but ‘pee-pee'? What the fuck were the munchers teaching his son? The bulldyke must be responsible for this travesty. It would be just like Melanie to pretend ‘cock' didn't exist; in fact, Brian doubted she'd ever seen one other than Gus'. 

His son was going on five years old; he'd never make it through kindergarten if anyone heard him say ‘pee-pee.' Biting back the caustic remark on the tip of his tongue, Brian smiled at the boy. "It's a cock, Sonnyboy," he informed Gus. 

Gus frowned in puzzlement, looking down at his own crotch as if searching for answers. "Mama said it's a pee-pee."

Yep. There was his confirmation of who'd taught Gus that ridiculous word.

"That's a babyish word." 

Gus' eyes rounded in horror. "I didn't know, Daddy. Mama doesn't either! I got to tell Mama."

Maintaining a straight face with difficulty, Brian nodded. He hoped he'd be around when his sonnyboy taught his mother the ‘correct' term.

"You got a big cock, Daddy," Gus pursued the point he'd been making.

That would be a compliment from a trick, or of course, Justin. But it was... awkward hearing it from his kid. Fortunately, he had an answer that should satisfy the tyke.

"It's in proportion."

"Proportion?" Gus echoed, looking more perplexed than before.

Dumb way to start, Kinney, Brian castigated himself. "That means it fits my grown-up body," he did his best to explain. "Your cock is the right size for your five-year-old body."

Gus smiled, delighting in being acknowledged as five years old, even if it was still a couple months short of his birthday.

"When you grow up," Brian went on, "your cock will be as big as mine."

"Okay." Gus smiled up at him, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

"Uh, you need to go?" Brian gestured at the toilet, hoping Gus would say no since he wasn't sure whether his kid had completed potty training. Or what he should do to help him use the toilet. Fuck the dykes for taking off with his son, he thought, getting pissed off for the umpteenth time.

"Nuh-uh. I went upstairs. Mommy got me a stepstool so's I can stand up and pee in the big boy toilet. I don't like sittin' down."

Linds was using her brain when it came to potty-training their son, Brian noted approvingly.

"You want some water or something?" Brian cast about for what had brought Gus downstairs.

"Nuh-uh," Gus said again. "I just..." 

"Just what?" Brian prompted.

"I sleep better with you and Jus." 

Brian arched a mental eyebrow, doubtful of his son's claim. Gus had only slept with them a couple times back in the Burgh, and he'd been restless both times.

But when Gus turned big blue eyes on him, Brian could feel himself weakening.

"Can I sleep with you?"

Unable to resist the hopeful expression on his son's countenance, Brian caved. Maybe the impending move to Canada was what had made Gus so restless back in Pittsburgh. Besides, Brian was so fucking tired right now that the boy could kick like an elephant, and he wouldn't feel a thing.

Pumping a bit of liquid soap, Brian quickly washed his hands. "You gotta be quiet, okay?" he cautioned. "Don't wake Justin."

Gus nodded enthusiastically, taking his dad by the hand and dragging him back to the couch. It was pretty much a straight line from one spot to the next, which had Brian frowning in consternation. This place was a shoebox compared to the girls' old house. Why the fuck had it been so difficult to find the bathroom?

It must've been the dim lighting, he reasoned, looking around. The lurid pink Batgirl night light that had provided a bit of illumination was now blocked by boxes. Good riddance, Brian thought, snorting.

"Why's Jus' cock stickin' up like that?" Gus asked, diverting Brian's attention.

Following Gus' gaze to the sofa, Brian realized he must've pulled the sheet off his partner when he got up. Brian would've foregone the sheet - it was sweltering in Toronto - but Justin always wanted something on top of him. So did Brian, but he preferred that something to be Justin.

Not that the sheet would've done much good to disguise the erection Justin was sporting, thought Brian wryly. They probably should've kept their briefs on, but they never wore anything to bed. And they'd been working each other into a frenzy with sexual innuendo and flirty touches for hours, meaning they couldn't shuck their clothes fast enough.

Then he'd gone and wiped out - like a fucking old man - after he had been serviced, Brian remembered. Fuck.

Thank fuck Gus hadn't come traipsing down the stairs an hour ago. Justin would've been mortified. Never mind the damage control that would be needed if the she-devil found out... 

"Daddy?" Gus prompted.

Shuddering at the thought of having to explain how the bulldyke's son had gotten an eyeful and an early start on his sex education, it took Brian a second to remember what his sonnyboy had asked.

"Uh, it's because Justin needs to pee," Brian lamely replied.

"Really?" Gus' eyes widened in fascination. "Does yours get all big like that when you needa pee, Daddy? Mine doesn't."

Brian groaned to himself. Only when he was both turned on and needed to take a leak. 

"Sometimes," Brian allowed. 

He wasn't up to explaining a stiffy. Besides, after all the beer and water they'd guzzled while packing, Justin had to be ready to explode. Even if that wasn't the reason for Justin's woody.

"You'll find out when you're older," Brian tacked on.

Gus pouted for a moment before clambering onto the bed and curling up next to Justin.

Brian winced at the cop-out - it sounded like something Gus' moms would've said - but he was too muzzy-headed to come up with anything better.

He slid onto the mattress next to Gus, outstretching his arm across both of his boys. When Brian's hand came to rest on Justin's flank, the blond slitted an eye open and grinned at him.

Brian's mind whirred in suspicion. The little shit. Brian could've used some help with Gus.

 

Brian groaned when he opened his eyes a bit later. It was still dark, so he couldn't have slept more than an hour or two.

Fuck. He needed more shut-eye. Thankfully, the girls hadn't quibbled when Brian suggested getting a later start than originally planned. They'd pull out midmorning, which dovetailed nicely with the time the movers were due to arrive.

Now if he could just get comfortable - a nearly impossible task on the thin mattress, with a spring that had sprung on the side where he was sleeping - Brian should be able to snooze for a few more hours. He carefully rolled over, not wanting to rouse either of his companions, and waited for sleep to reclaim him. No such luck.

This trip had turned into a major pain in the ass - not in a good way - he reflected. All Brian wanted was to get the fuck out of Toronto. 

Lindsay and Mel had taken to venting to Justin - he called them three times a week, without fail, to speak to Gus - about what a disaster their move to the Great White North was. Somehow - Brian was still in awe - Justin had slowly played on their dissatisfaction until they decided to return home.

Because they didn't want to have egg on their faces - the bulldyke in particular - the lezzies had hemmed and hawed for months about moving back to the Burgh. That meant Brian had to seize the moment and call around as soon as Melanie gave in to Lindsay's urging. One of the moving companies had had an unexpected cancellation; they could pack and store everything until the girls were ready to have it shipped.

That suited Brian just fine: anything that decreased the likelihood of Mel changing her mind and opting to stay in Mountie Country. A small firm that served American expats had apparently been making noises about helping the ball-busting lawyer get a visa if she agreed to work for them. The one saving grace was that Melanie didn't have enough money to buy in as a partner and would have to be the low man on the totem pole, stuck with all the grunt work.

Combined with the fact that Linds couldn't find a job - art history degrees with a minor in fine art were a dime a dozen, and there were plenty of qualified Canadians to fill any openings - that had sealed the deal in Pittsburgh's favor. Melanie hadn't even complained - much - about Brian picking up the tab for the move.

Brian'd had to scramble for a flight for him and Justin, who, fortuitously, was already on his way from New York to the Pitts. He'd met Justin at the airport, and they dashed to the international terminal, making it just in time for their flight to Toronto.

With no business class seats available, they ended up in sardine class, where he couldn't stretch out his legs and Justin had to lean against him - not that Brian minded - to get away from the fat broad in the aisle seat. Any notion Brian might have had of a handjob withered in the uncomfortable conditions, his legs jammed up under his chin.

To make matters worse, they hit turbulence and the fucking inexperienced pilot didn't know how to compensate for it. Fat Broad missed the barf bag and Justin's falling-apart sneakers - instead decorating Brian's Hilfiger jeans and Louboutin loafers. Brian was certain she'd done it deliberately. He wouldn't normally care about the Hilfiger that he'd dug out from the bottom of a drawer, but they were the only clean pair of jeans he had available. His Louboutin shoes were another matter entirely.

It took forever to deplane from third class and then claim their luggage. Cranky, sweaty and feeling totally gross, Brian's dick didn't so much as twitch when Justin raised a blond eyebrow inquiringly as they passed a men's room.

By the time they got to the Hertz counter, all they had left was a rental car that was way too small. Rather than have his legs braced against the steering wheel, Brian tossed the keys to Justin. He pushed back the passenger seat and laid it as flat as it would go, resting his vomited-encrusted loafers on the dash.

The hotels were overcrowded because of some damn convention for Gay as Blazes, with half the female population of the United States apparently decamping to Canuck Land to schmooze with their favorite leading men. Which was how they'd ended up here with the lesbians instead of in a proper hotel. On their sofa sleeper. After two nights, Brian didn't think his back would ever be the same.

He'd planned to take Justin to Church Street and Fly so the lad could enjoy his first fuck in another country. Brian had also wanted to check out Babylon's northern competition and persuade Justin to top him in public; the urge to experience that again was nearly overwhelming. One time at the Cock wasn't enough, and an opportunity at another New York club had been derailed when two of Pittsburgh's finest, partners on and off the job, and regulars in Babylon's backroom, showed up. They'd clearly been on vacation and whooping it up, but Brian still cursed them for visiting New York that weekend. He'd prefer that rumors about him bottoming not start spreading before he was ready - and it wasn't as if cops were more likely than any other fag to keep it quiet about what they'd seen. It would be too juicy a tidbit.

There was always a slight chance that someone else would recognize him, but it wasn't very likely and just added a bit of spice.

Thankfully, Justin'd had no clue what Brian had in mind and readily bottomed for him. The sex was fantastic. Like always. But Brian had been disappointed. Not just that he hadn't gotten his needs met but because he'd been such a pussy.

Late yesterday, when Brian had still been holding out hope for a visit to Church Street, Mel mocked him for being a pussy. Brian had wondered if she was reading his mind - he'd just been thinking about his first time at the Cock - but then she laughed, teasing him for not being fit despite all the time he spent at the gym.

All because he was huffing and puffing after helping Melanie move the heavy-as-sin oak filing cabinet she'd inherited from her grandfather and refused to leave behind, even temporarily.

Like manual labor was his idea of a workout. Ript, with guys ogling him and Justin, the two of them vying to be the first to pick up a trick: that was Brian's style. 

He'd bitten his tongue, literally, to keep from refuting her accusation that Ript was a fag gossip central. Mel just wanted to rile him up, Brian knew, and he'd felt oddly sympathetic toward the dyke. Brian remembered how his ‘fuck deal' with Kennedy and Collins falling through had affected him. 

Haring off to another country, sans work visa, in response to homophobic violence wasn't the same thing, but his spur-of-the-moment acceptance of a job in New York, without a signed contract, wasn't much smarter. It would have been immeasurably worse if Brian had gone to New York and then found out he'd been relegated to the lowest rung of the advertising ladder.

Shrugging off that unlikelihood - he was one helluva adman - Brian looked around at what was left to be done this morning. Not much, thank fuck, at least until the movers got here.

The moving company had agreed to deliver and load a small U-Haul truck with the things the girls claimed they couldn't do without, aka the stuff he and Justin had been coerced into helping pack and the truck they would be driving. 

"Daddy, I wanna get up," Gus piped up, interrupting Brian's morose thoughts.

"You need to pee," Brian surmised, stifling another groan. It figured. It was some kind of law that kids always had to go after you'd asked them, when it was way less convenient.

"Nuh-uh," Gus countered. "It's time to get up. I'm gonna have a cat bath. Mommy said it's good 'nough for today. No plastic toys inna tub. Those are dumb."

Brian grinned at how excited his son was about the novelty of a cat bath. He doubted Gus had outgrown the bath toys yet; his discontent doubtless stemmed from Jenny playing with his toys. His grin broadened as he recalled both his boys playing with the yellow ducky that had somehow made its way into the loft bathroom. Gus would never be disdainful of a toy that his beloved ‘Jus-Jus' liked.

It took Brian a moment to recall how fuckin' early it was. "Isn't it too early?" he asked his son. "It's not like you've gotta get ready for kindergarten."

Gus' eyes lit up at the mention of school. He'd been jabbering away for months about leaving nursery school behind and joining the big kids in kindergarten. It was mostly because he wanted to get away from his baby sister, who'd still be at the nursery school, Brian reckoned. 

"Nuh-uh," he denied, his lower lip sticking out. "Not till we get back home. But then I go to big boy school." Gus' usual smile overtook his face at that thought.

"Just couldn't sleep, huh, Sonnyboy?"

"You're silly, Daddy. It's time to get up so's we can go back to the Burgh."

"But it's only-" Brian glanced at the watch he'd left on the arm of the sofa, stunned to see that it was after eleven. "Time to get up," he modified what he'd been going to say to Gus.

Christ, the movers were going to be here soon. They'd all better get a move on.

"Okay, Sonnyboy." Brian lifted the boy off the couch, swung him around and sent him toward the stairs with a pat on his rear end.

Gus giggled and trotted for the stairs, quickly making his way up and disappearing from view.

Glancing through the Venetian blinds, Brian winced at the thick, dark clouds building up overhead. It looked like they'd be heading out in a thunderstorm. If the halfway decent accommodations weren't chock-full, Brian would put all of them up in a hotel, wait for the weather to improve and fit in a visit to Church Street.

His eyes flickering to the blond on the sofa bed, Brian smiled. His hopes for Fly might've evaporated, but he wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

Flipping the sheet off his lover, Brian paused, drinking in the view. Justin's cock jutted up from his stomach, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

Fucking finally, Brian thought. There should be enough time for him to suck Justin off and get his morning protein. Before his son returned or one of the munchers came traipsing through the living room. 

He might not have cared when Justin was rimming and blowing him last night - Brian had been too far gone and nothing was going to keep him from coming - but he didn't want the lesbians to walk in on them now. Mel would be horrified and sarcastic, while Linds would be titillated, giggling and pretending to cover her eyes. If he had to choose, Brian would take Mel's honest, scathing reaction. But knowing Justin, it would kill the blond's hard-on. 

Brian definitely didn't want that, so he'd have to be quick.

"Mmm," Justin hmmed, giving Brian a sleepy smile and spreading his legs.

Brian smiled back. Kneeling between Justin's legs, he leaned down, taking a deep whiff of the musky aroma.

Then, right as he stuck out his tongue to taste the pre-come pearling at the tip of Justin's cock, the doorbell rang.

Justin groaned in disappointment, but then his eyes flew all the way open. "Is that the movers?" he asked. He looked frantic as he rolled off the sofa and searched around on the floor for something to put on.

"Assholes," Brian growled, sitting back on his haunches. "They're early." Couldn't they have waited five fucking minutes?

He got off the mattress, kicking his clothes out of the way. Fuck the movers if they objected to his nudity. Brian staggered over to the door and wrenched it open, ready to ream the assholes out, only to be confronted by Michael.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His eyes dropping to Brian's crotch, Michael gobbled something that Brian didn't listen to. Fucker. His so-called friend had the worst fucking timing ever; you'd think Michael had planned this.

Relieving Michael of the Starbucks containers he was holding - a tray from which the aroma of coffee wafted, and a box that probably held pastries - Brian slammed the door in his face.

Brian had avoided both the Starbucks and the Gap down the block, dragging Justin back into the house when he took a step toward the clothing store. The kid didn't need any more cargo pants.

Brian looked down in distaste at the containers he was holding before carrying them over to Justin. If he wasn't in desperate need of something to drink, Brian wouldn't even consider quaffing the pathetic stuff Starbucks passed off as coffee. But he needed the caffeine if he was going to wake up before the movers arrived.

"Briaaan!" came an outraged cry.

"Michael?" Justin mouthed, his jaw dropping.

From the head of the stairs, Melanie called out, "You had coffee and pastries delivered?"

Brian would have if he'd thought of it. From a place that brewed palatable coffee.

As she descended the stairs, a banging of knuckles against wood led Melanie to quip, "What, a full frontal wasn't enough of a tip?"

Both Brian and Justin burst out laughing.

Brian waggled his eyebrows at the bulldyke.

"He wanted more," Justin gasped.

That set Brian off again. Chuckling, he looked around for his underwear. Except for Justin, there was no one around he wanted to flash. That wasn't going to do him any good right now, so he might as well put something on.

Unsure where his briefs had ended up, Brian swiped his jeans off the floor and slid them on over his legs.

Mel snatched one of the cups and knocked back a slug of caffeine. "Thank fuck you're such a queen."

Brian shrugged, accepting the implied compliment. "I-" he started, only to be cut off by more banging and a shrill "Briaaan!" this one at a higher decibel.

Melanie frowned. "That's not-"

Brian nodded.

"Jesus fuck," Mel spit out. "What's Michael doing here?"

Brian shrugged again. "How the fuck would I know? Ask him."

Appearing less than enthusiastic, Mel did just that. Swinging the door open, she growled, "What the fuck are you doing here, Michael?"

"Uh." Michael gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I, uh, I missed my honeybun," he stammered. "So I decided to drop in for a visit. You know, surprise everyone," he finished, his voice rising to an excited pitch.

"Surprise," Mel said flatly. Plainly less than pleased for Michael to be here, she nevertheless took a step back and motioned him in.

Michael sidled around Mel and glanced around the living room, his face falling when he located Brian.

Rather than consider what had caused the hangdog expression, Brian observed, "You look like shit." The beard stubble and mussed, stained clothing made Michael resemble a street bum. The worst of all the stains, front and center on the T-shirt Mikey was wearing, was a slimy green something that appeared to drip from Rage's nose.

Michael looked down at himself, nose wrinkling in distaste. "I couldn't get a cheap flight-"

Brian lifted a mental eyebrow at that. While less than desirable, his and Justin's tickets hadn't cost all that much. Were the professor and Mikey having money problems? He'd have to find out, and if so, figure out a way to help.

"-so I took the Greyhound. It took for-fucking-ever to get here," Michael grumbled. "A day and a sixteenth. Or something like that." His brow furrowed in concentration.

Brian could see the wheels turning as Mikey calculated. His friend never was very good at math, which was why he'd always copied off of Brian. 

"A quarter?" Michael guessed before immediately noting, "No, that can't be right. How much of twenty-four is four?"

Melanie snorted coffee out her nose.

Brian, who was just stirring sugar into one of the coffees, was grateful he hadn't taken a drink yet. 

"One sixth," Justin deadpanned.

Jesus. The secondhand embarrassment stung. Mikey wasn't normally this bad - he could do basic division - but fractions always threw him.

"Mikey, sweetie," Lindsay greeted Michael as she descended the stairs, JR in her arms.

"Linds." Michael sighed, clearly grateful to get off the math hook.

Lindsay bussed Michael on the cheek, and he returned the favor before taking JR from her.

"Didn't we agree on a visitation schedule?" Linds asked in her sweetly reasonable, ‘I'm sure we can figure this out' voice.

"At least that you'd call before you came," Melanie threw in.

Justin giggled into his cup of joe.

Melanie snickered but didn't turn away from Michael, lifting her eyebrows in question.

"Well, yeah," Michael acknowledged sheepishly. He squeezed Jenny, which caused the toddler to let out a loud burp. "But I just couldn't wait. I missed my little snuggle-buggle."

Brian sighed. It looked like he was in for hours of puke-inducing, cutesy names.

"Where's Ben?" asked Lindsay.

"Uh, he couldn't get away. He's prepping for the fall semester. Mandatory faculty meetings." He squeezed JR again, and this time everyone was treated to a revolting aroma.

Michael immediately held his daughter out for Lindsay to take back.

"No." Linds shook her head. "I just changed her. You can do it this time, Michael."

"But I don't know-" Michael began, when Lindsay interrupted him.

"I'll show you," Linds interrupted, "where we have everything."

Michael took a step toward Lindsay, then blinked, looked around and blinked again. "Wait," he said, taking in all the boxes and the furniture that had been pushed aside. "What's going on?" He turned to Brian. "Why're you and Boy Wonder here?"

"They were invited," Melanie said, stressing the last word.

"But I wasn't?" Michael kvetched, voice rising.

"We wanted to surprise you and the rest of the family," Lindsay worked on pacifying Michael. "We're moving back to Pittsburgh."

Struck dumb, Michael stared at her and then at everyone else in the room. "B- but-" he spluttered.

"Come on," Lindsay urged, guiding Michael toward the stairs. "We can fill you in after you've changed Jenny's diaper."

The doorbell rang for the second time that morning, right as Justin opened the box of pastries.

"Mmm, éclairs," Justin hummed. 

Melanie opened the door and waved the movers in.

Justin sucked down an éclair in one go.

That was his move, thought Brian, a little irritated at having Justin upstage him.

Slack-jawed, Melanie stared at Justin. And she wasn't the only one.

 

"Christ, this thing's heavy," the burliest of the movers groaned a little later, tipping up the filing cabinet so his redheaded coworker could stick a dolly under it.

Brian smirked at Melanie as the two men wheeled the cabinet out to the U-Haul truck, which looked like a tinker toy beside the big freight hauler it was parked next to.

The bulldyke didn't look in the least abashed, muttering, "Pussies," under her breath.

"Okay, folks, you're all set," Redhead announced a couple minutes later. "Everything you wanted is in the U-Haul."

They all trooped out of the house, leaving everything else for the movers to load and store. Michael yelled, "I call shotgun!" as he skipped down the pavement next to Brian.

Jesus. Brian shook his head, his ears ringing.

"Are you nuts?" Melanie demanded. "That's Lindsay's spot."

Michael shot a ‘duh' look at Mel. "I meant with Brian. Keep a lookout out for him like I always-"

Brian curtly noted, "That's my spot."

Michael beamed at him and made a beeline for the driver's side. "You want me to drive? It'll be like old times."

"Fuck no," Brian nixed that idea. "Justin's driving. He's been driving a cargo van around in the Big Apple for ArTrove. This'll be a piece of cake for him."

Michael turned big brown eyes on Justin. "Don't you want to sit with Gus? I know you've missed-"

"We've saved that spot for you," Lindsay cut in smoothly. "You can sit in the back with Gus and Jenny. It'll give you loads of father-daughter time. That's why you came all this way to visit, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Michael acknowledged a little begrudgingly. "To be with my honeybun." He brightened up. "Maybe Greyhound'll refund half my ticket."

"A whole ten dollars?" Brian snarked.

"Twenty-one!" Michael corrected him. "It cost forty-two dollars for a round-trip ticket!"

Brian fished out his wallet, extracted forty bucks and inserted the money into Michael's jeans. "There. Now you don't have to go to the Greyhound depot, Mikey."

"But-" Michael started to protest.

He didn't get far before Gus drowned him out. 

"I wanna sit with you and Jus, Daddy!" the boy cried, stamping his foot.

Brian felt kind of bad for his son. It wouldn't have been much fun for Gus to sit next to his sister for the long drive, and now they'd have an adult crammed into the back seat with them. 

Justin squatted down in front of Gus. "I'm afraid you can't, Gus-Gus. There's no back seat in the U-Haul. But we can sit together when we stop for something to eat, and maybe you can stay overnight with me and your dad tonight. Celebrate your first night back in the Burgh."

Frustrated, Brian narrowed his eyes. When in the fuck were they gonna fuck if Gus was with them? He could hardly object now that Justin had made the offer; it would disappoint Gus and likely set off a hissy fit.

Fuck it. Brian would just have to create some fucking opportunities: he could do that.

Justin glanced over at Mel and Linds, who quickly nodded. They doubtless wanted to head off a tantrum as much as the other adults, especially Mikey, who'd backed away from the cranky boy.

"Promise?" asked Gus, a smile overcoming incipient tears.

"Pinky swear," Justin promised, hooking his little finger through Gus'. "Now why don't you get in the car?"

Gus peered around Justin at Brian.

Smart kid, thought Brian proudly. He knew he needed his old man's okay. "Promise," Brian seconded his lover. 

Gus nodded. "Okay."

"You got some action figures in your backpack?" Justin asked.

Gus nodded again.

"I bet your uncle Michael'll play with you," Justin suggested.

"You bet," Mikey eagerly agreed. "Whatcha got?"

Fat raindrops began splashing down as Gus was enumerating which toys he had in the backpack that was already stowed in the back seat.

Lindsay hastened the boys into the car, next to where JR had already been secured, while Brian and Justin clambered into the U-Haul.

Justin promptly moved his seat forward so he could reach the pedals.

Brian pushed his seat in the opposite direction, away from the dash. Thank fuck the U-Haul was equipped with bucket seats instead of a bench seat, or his knees would be under his chin again, just like on the United flight.

"Michael doesn't look very happy," Justin noted, his tone slyly amused.

Looking up from wrestling with his seatbelt, which didn't want to extend, Brian peered through the windshield at the girls' station wagon. Michael was flinging his arms around, obviously upset.

"Bet he didn't know he'd have to ride the hump," Justin continued.

Brian snorted. Gus' booster seat and Jenny's car seat had to go behind the front seats, so it wasn't like there was any other spot available. He didn't have much sympathy for his oldest friend; Mikey had brought this predicament on himself, showing up without calling beforehand. Besides, being stuck in the middle between their kids still beat the fucking Greyhound.

While Brian watched, Gus handed Michael something. It must have been one of his action figures since Michael dropped his arms, bent his head toward Gus' and seemingly engaged in an earnest conversation.

Melanie eased the station wagon away from the curb, and Justin smoothly pulled out after her. They'd agreed to follow the girls in case they had any trouble with their old car.

Brian snorted again. What good they'd be if there was a problem, he didn't know. There was no Emmett around if a tire blew, and Brian didn't have a joint on him to make the experience more palatable. 

Then again, Mel was bound to know how to change a tire, and Brian and Justin could neck while she took care of things. It was almost enough to have Brian hoping for a breakdown...

 

"Wanna see if there's anything good on the radio?" Justin asked as they reached the outskirts of Toronto. He was focused on the road, maneuvering the truck through a heavy downpour. 

Brian did his best to stifle another jaw-cracking yawn. It seemed like he'd done nothing but yawn since getting into the cab of the U-Haul, but fuck, he was tired. 

He stretched out a hand and twirled the dial, getting nothing but staticky reception. "Shit," Brian cursed. "Shoulda raided the munchers' music collection when we were helping them pack."

Darting a quick glance at the old music console, Justin noted, "I doubt they have much on cassette."

"Yeah." Brian sighed, turning the knob again. "They probably just have lezzie claptrap anyway. Fucking thing." He thumped the heel of his hand against the dash beneath the radio, pressing the cassette eject button by mistake.

That didn't improve the radio reception any, but a tape came shooting out at him. It wasn't labeled, but it had to be better than static. Brian stuck the cassette back in.

"What the fuck?" was Justin's appalled reaction moments later as some kind of weird Christian music - it sounded like part of a church service - blared out of the speakers.

"Jesus Christ!" Brian concurred, jabbing his thumb at the button in an unsuccessful attempt to eject the tape.

Justin started giggling when a command to ‘Praise the Lord!' followed on the heels of Brian's complaint.

Brian chuckled darkly. "You'd think the warden was here with us." He finally got the tape to stop playing but wasn't able to make the eject button work. Fuck it. Whoever rented the U-Haul next could deal with it.

"The warden?" asked Justin softly.

"My mom." Brian stared hard at the radio as he fiddled with it. "That's what Pop always called her."

Thankfully, Justin didn't press for details. Instead, he suggested, "You could always sing to me."

Christ. Hadn't Justin figured out why Brian never participated in karaoke night - unless he was stoned out of his mind? Scoffing, he assured Justin, "You don't want me to do that."

"Then why don't you push your seat back and catch a few winks? I've got the route memorized." Justin shrugged one shoulder, downshifting smoothly as he took the onramp to the QEW. "It's not like there's much to it. All I've gotta do now is follow this all the way to the Peace Bridge."

God. That brought on another massive yawn. Brian couldn't help feeling guilty about napping though. It had to be fucking boring to drive without music or anything, and it wasn't like Justin had gotten a lot of sleep either.

"You sure?" he asked. "You don't need me to help you stay awake?"

"Nah. I'm good. I can just plan out my next painting while I'm driving. And I can sing to myself... as long as it won't keep you awake."

Brian didn't think anything would keep him awake at this point, not even Justin warbling a Moby song off-key. He glanced out at the choppy blue expanse next to them, grouching, "You've seen one Great Lake, you've seen 'em all." It was far too reminiscent of the Liberty Ride. He'd seen more than enough lakes and woods back then. He was a city boy; who needed the great outdoors?

He finally succeeded in forcing the wonky mechanism for the back of the seat to cooperate, pushed it as flat as he could and reclined. It was hardly the best resting place ever, but it beat the fucking sofa sleeper in the back of the U-Haul.

Justin chuckled. "There's always Lake Erie if you miss Lake Ontario."

"Joy," Brian mumbled sarcastically as he dozed off.

 

A cacophony of honking horns had Brian jerking awake sometime later. "Wha?" he muzzily inquired, reaching up to scrub a hand across his face. 

Gross, he thought when he encountered moisture. His mouth must've been hanging open, allowing drool to escape.

"We're at the border," Justin informed him. "Some jackass was weaving through traffic, trying to get a few cars ahead."

Brian grunted in acknowledgment of the stupidity of that maneuver. It didn't usually get you to your destination any faster. And at the border? Talk about dumb. You were likely to get pulled over and scrutinized.

"Pissed off the Mercedes he just cut in front of," Justin reported, "so the guy laid on his horn, and it set off a chain reaction."

Brian shifted around in his seat, fumbling for the latch to bring the backrest into an upright position. "Fuck," he grumbled.

"The latch sticking?" Justin guessed, inching closer to the booth in his lane.

"Fucking thin padding," Brian clarified. "My ass is numb."

"We can stop and stretch once we're through the crossing," Justin offered, edging the U-Haul forward. "Get some duty free if there's anything you want."

"Maybe," Brian allowed. "Some of the Canadian whiskeys aren't half bad. We could pick up a bottle of Blanton's or Canadian Club if they've got any in stock."

His seat finally restored to its original position, Brian looked around for the girls' Ford. They were one lane over, a couple cars ahead of the U-Haul.

The rain had stopped while Brian was napping, and now a bit of weak sun pierced the clouds. Maybe the weather wouldn't be as godawful as forecast. Pick up some decent whiskey, and this trip would be looking up. All Brian would need then was a bit of time alone with-

"Please pull into the inspection area to the right," a grating voice interrupted Brian's daydream, "and get out of the U-Haul."

Christ. Now Brian couldn't even fantasize about a blowjob? He glared at the border patrol guard, who was pointing to the spot where he wanted Justin.

What the fuck was the guard's problem anyhow? He and Justin didn't exactly look like terrorists. Brian had even shaved this morning, instead of being lazy and going with a stubbly look.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Justin asked in the polite, WASPy tone he must've imbibed at Jen's breast.

"We just need to check the contents of your U-Haul," the paunchy, balding border guard replied. "Make sure you aren't smuggling firearms or illegal goods."

Brian stared in disbelief. There were doubtless morons who'd traffic arms from the US to Canada. But the reverse? Hardly, when it was so fuckin' easy to acquire anything from a handgun to an assault rifle in the lower forty-eight.

Seeming as flabbergasted as Brian, Justin moved the U-Haul over to the indicated area.

The customs agent flipped open the passports Justin had handed him at the toll booth and glanced between the photos and the two of them. Grunting in apparent satisfaction, he waved over one of his colleagues, a skinny beanpole.

Paunchy then scanned the traveler entry forms everyone entering the States was required to fill out. Brian was grateful that Justin had recommended printing those out so they could complete them ahead of time. Not that it took very long, but still.

"You leave room for us to take a look?" Paunchy asked Justin, motioning at the U-Haul.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, the agent looked like he expected anything besides an affirmative answer.

What he got was an enthusiastic nod from Justin. "King's Transfer Van Lines packed the U-Haul," Justin informed the border guard. "They left space in case you wanted to inspect the contents."

"Huh." Paunchy's lips twitched in what might've been a smile. "Well then, you must have the manifest." He stretched out a hand for the paperwork.

Fuck, thought Brian. Mel had claimed the inventory, sliding it into her briefcase before putting the satchel into the station wagon, next to Lindsay.

"Er-" Justin stammered.

"It's right here," the bulldyke yelled, charging over from where she'd parked the station wagon.

Brian, who'd been envisioning having to take everything out of the U-Haul so the agents could inspect it piece by piece, exhaled in relief. He'd been concentrating so hard on fixing the snafu and getting back underway that he hadn't even noticed the girls' beater pulling up nearby. Melanie must've doubled back when they didn't make it through the checkpoint.

"Sorry, Officer-" Mel paused and then, catching sight of the man's name tag, finished, "Butz."

What the fuck? Brian hadn't taken a good look at the customs agent until now - why waste time on a balding, overweight, middle-aged guy? - but now his head snapped around.

Un-fucking-believable. It was the same jerk who'd harassed Mikey and Ben during the Liberty Ride. He'd had a fit because they'd filled out a joint entry form instead of separate ones. Butz' satisfaction in citing the book about how homosexual marriage wasn't recognized in the US had been palpable.

It was just as well, Brian mused, a tinge of regret coloring the thought, that he and Justin weren't married. They'd avoided the pitfall of completing one entry form for both of them.

Despite the glint of amusement in her eyes, Melanie's voice didn't waver, as she repeated the border guard's name. "My mistake, Officer Butz," Mel apologized again, her manner unusually restrained. "These are our goods." She nodded at the station wagon. "Our... friends are helping us move everything."

There was the barest hesitation before ‘friends,' making Brian wonder what the dyke might've wanted to say. Our baby daddies? Michael was in the car with the girls, so that wouldn't wash.

"King's Transfer is storing the rest of our goods until they have an opening to ship everything to us," Mel concluded.

"Huh," Butz grunted, handing the manifest to his tall, reed-thin colleague. While Beanpole opened the back of the U-Haul and climbed inside, easing his way through the stacked goods, Butz slitted his eyes and studied the girls' car.

Lindsay, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears, was visible through the side window. Michael and Gus knelt on the back seat, holding up a couple of action figures and waving at Justin and Brian. Only the top of JR's head could be seen in the rear-facing child seat.

Mikey, thankfully, didn't come tearing out of the Ford to read Butz the riot act. No thanks to Deb, who'd never stopped bitching about the border guard, amping up the complaints when the Liberty Ride rolled around each year. 

"Those both your sons?" Butz asked Melanie, snickering as he pointed at Michael and Gus.

There was no way Brian could keep a straight face. It was funny enough to picture Mikey as the fourteen-year-old he'd once been. But having Mel look old enough to have a teenager? That was fuckin' hilarious.

Brian turned to the side and coughed into his hand in an effort to contain his amusement. He assiduously avoided looking at Justin, who'd been unable to hold back a giggle.

"Sometimes," Mel deadpanned a belated response to Butz' question.

Justin gave up the fight, holding his ribs as he giggled madly.

Brian had to hand it to the dyke; that was a heckuva comeback.

Butz scowled but before he could spit out another witticism, Beanpole clambered out of the U-Haul.

"Looks good, folks," Beanpole said with a friendly smile. "Exactly as described." He handed the manifest back to Melanie and lowered the roll-up door, making sure the latch was firmly in place.

Butz shrugged in acceptance and walked back toward the toll booths.

"Mr- er, Officer Butz?" Justin called after him.

What the heck? Brian wanted to get out of here while the getting was good, not draw the homophobic agent's attention to them.

"Yeah?" Butz half turned around, eyeing Justin with disfavor.

"Our passports?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," Butz begrudgingly apologized. After removing the entry forms, he handed the blue booklets over to Justin.

As Butz trudged back to his booth, Beanpole recommended, "Be sure to drive carefully. There's a tornado alert, and there's likely to be hail even if there's no twister."

"You good to keep going?" Brian asked Melanie. 

Melanie nodded. "No tornado's gonna stop me."

"You need to change Jenny or anything?" Justin chimed in.

"Nah, she should still be good for a bit." Melanie grinned wryly. "She hasn't turned red in the face or started hollering." She paused. "Yet."

"Duty free?" Justin checked with Brian.

Furthest thing from Brian's mind at this point. He shook his head. "No, let's just get out of here." If he wanted Canadian whiskey, he'd have Ted stock it for him at Babylon.

"Oh, Mel?" he called after the bulldyke, who was already on her way back to the station wagon.

Mel looked over her shoulder.

"Tell Mikey Butz says hello."

With that quip, Brian strode back to the U-Haul's cab, ready to get on with the next leg of the journey. A giant crab displayed on the driver's side of the truck brought him up short. ‘We've got crabs! Call us!' the bright orange text beneath the crustacean blared at him.

He'd totally missed the hideous advertisement in his hurry to get into the truck and beat the rain when they left the girls' house. If he'd seen the crab, Brian would've insisted on waiting for a different U-Haul to be delivered and the girls' possessions transferred. Anything rather than ride around in a truck with that plastered on the side.

Which was probably why Justin hadn't mentioned it, Brian reckoned, glaring at the blond as he opened the driver's door. The little shit gave him an innocent smile in return.

Heaving a sigh - there was nothing he could do about it now - Brian turned his head away from Godzilla the crab and trudged around the U-Haul to the thankfully ad-free side. Jesus, the adman who'd come up with that should've been sacked.

 

Forty minutes later, they were making their way along I-90, far enough inland that they could no longer see Lake Erie.

The sky had gotten darker, the clouds looking like dark bruises, but more rain hadn't yet materialized. The view totally sucked: trees and more trees, with the interstate unspooling in front of them.

"Lift me up, lift me up," Justin warbled, looking unfazed as thunder rumbled overhead.

Brian shook his head. How the fuck could Justin possibly be so upbeat?

"Higher, now I'm up," the blond twat chorused, providing a counterpoint to the hailstones that began pinging off the U-Haul.

Brian's head thunked against the headrest.

"Push me up, lift me up!"

He'd like to lift the kid up and push into him. The Moby lyrics no longer grating on him quite as much, Brian decided this had the makings of a good fantasy. His eyes sliding to half-mast, he envisioned a naked Justin braced against one of the support columns in the loft, legs wrapped around Brian's waist.

He was just about to slip inside the boy, when Justin suddenly groaned, "Stop!"

Brian ignored his lover. He obviously didn't mean it, not with the way he was clutching Brian to him.

"Brian, dammit! Stop!" Justin snapped, much louder than before.

Something wasn't right. Brian shook his head, confused, and blinked his eyes open all the way.

Shit. He was with Justin alright, but they were on the fucking interstate, not in the loft.

"Huh?" he intelligently asked when he didn't see anything amiss, other than the lousy weather - which Justin was coping with just fine. 

"Brian!" Justin yelped.

For fuck's sake. He couldn't even enjoy a fantasy now? "What's up?" he snarked.

"I am. Stop that!"

Stop what? Brian looked at Justin who was glaring at the road. The blond jerked his chin toward his own groin, and his gaze drifting down, Brian realized his left hand was running up and down Justin's thigh. He grinned. He might not remember putting his hand there, but considering what he'd been fantasizing about, he wasn't surprised.

His smile widened when he noticed the tenting of the material at Justin's groin. Brian was rather proud of eliciting that response with just a hand to the thigh.

"Stop!" Justin gasped for the fourth time. "I can't concentrate."

"Sure you can," Brian quipped. "Just think cock."

"Ha ha," Justin half laughed, half groaned. "Please, Bri. Not now."

Brian would have liked to unzip Justin and release his favorite toy, but he'd have to wait. Stymied, Brian silently acknowledged that this wasn't the right moment for a handjob. Maybe once they were on I-79, they could pull over for a few moments. Just ten fucking minutes. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

Trying to come up with something to occupy his time, Brian absently drummed his fingers on Justin's thigh.

"Briaaan," Justin remonstrated.

Well fuck. It wasn't his fault if he couldn't keep his hands off Justin.

Brian ostentatiously lifted his hand off Justin's leg and fiddled with the radio. He was startled when klezmer music suddenly came through loud and clear.

"What the fuck!" Justin complained.

Again recalling the Liberty Ride, Brian started laughing. "You were expecting Tommy Dorsey?"

Justin shook his head in bafflement, which just made Brian laugh harder.

 

Hours later, the heavy wind and hail had eased off and they were on the home stretch. Thank fuck for long summer days: they'd reach the Burgh while it was still light out.

"Fuck, yeah," sighed Justin, when the Ford's blinker went on and the station wagon slowed as they approached a rest area. Flicking on the U-Haul's turn signal, he followed the girls' car.

"I need a cup of joe and to stretch my legs-"

"I can help with that." Brian gave his eyebrows a salacious wiggle when Justin glanced at him. All those hours behind the wheel of the U-Haul: the blond had earned a Kinney special. And so had he, thought Brian, after such a long abstinence. Brian had manfully resisted the urge to have Justin pull over at one of the many turnouts along the freeway; now he deserved his reward.

Justin must've come to the same conclusion because he licked his lips and parked the U-Haul at the far end of the lot, well away from the slot Melanie had just pulled up into.

"I'm all yours," said Justin, turning off the engine, unhooking his seatbelt and pushing the seat back.

Music to his ears. Brian reached for Justin's fly before the seat had even stopped moving.

"Ah." Justin let out a little puff of air as Brian released his already half-hard cock.

Brian bent over but was pulled up short. Fuck, he'd forgotten to release his seatbelt. His eyes fixed on the prize awaiting him, he fumbled for the latch with his left hand while slowly pumping Justin to full hardness with his right.

The latch snicked open, and Brian leaned down, coming nose to dick, and inhaled deeply.

He'd just stuck his tongue out for a taste when the passenger door was wrenched open. 

Justin's head thudded against the headrest.

"What're you doing?" Michael spluttered.

"Can't you tell?" Brian snarked.

Mikey didn't take the hint. "That's why I couldn't see you!" he accused. "I kept turning around to check on you, you know."

Maybe because it was fucking hailing and darker than shit for a while. Never mind that Justin wasn't so stupid as to ride the girls' bumper. 

Brian didn't bother to say he hadn't actually gone down on Justin while they were driving; Mikey would never believe him. "Get lost," was what he settled for.

"Briaaan," Michael protested.

People across the parking lot turned to look.

If there was one thing he could change about his longtime friend, Brian reflected, it would be that ear-splitting screech.

He reached for the door, ready to shut it on Mikey if he didn't get the fuck out of the way. This was his one chance-

"Daddy! Jus-Jus!"

"Jesus," muttered Brian, lifting his hand away from Justin's crotch. "Who isn't cockblocking me?"

Gus wormed his way in between Michael and Brian. His eyes went wide when he saw that Justin's zipper was down, skin exposed.

"Didja catch your cock in the zipper, Jus?" Gus shook his head in commiseration. "Owie."

Michael started cackling like a hyena.

Justin hastily stuffed himself back into his jeans, and a hand carefully positioned between flesh and fly, zipped up.

"It's not funny, Uncle Mikey," Gus objected. "That hurts."

Another gulping laugh tore out of Brian's idiot friend.

"I'm okay, Gus," a red-faced Justin eked out. "Just gimme a minute, okay?"

"You should kiss Jus, Daddy," Gus said seriously. "It'll make him feel better."

Not what he really wanted to kiss, but better than nothing. Cupping his hand around Justin's neck, Brian drew him closer and softly kissed him on the lips. 

Mmm. Far better than nothing. Even without tongue. Kissing Justin never got old. Brian had always liked to kiss, but the kisses he'd once shared with tricks paled in comparison to kissing his lover. His lips pressed to Justin's, he deepened the kiss, reluctant to have it end.

"Daddy! Jus!"

Justin drew back. "Coming, Gus."

Brian scoffed. "You owe me," he growled at Justin.

Justin laughed. "Only you would figure that."