Chapter 1 - It Begins!

This wasn't HIS place. It was all wrong. The walls were white, not the pretty brown and green he was used to. There were no glowing things over his bed. It didn't even smell right here - the sheets smelled wrong, not the same as his warm comfy sheets that smelled like flowers and the yellow one's shirts and the good smelling one's skin.

Kevan didn't like this new place. It wasn't easy being barely six weeks old. It was really hard to learn what was to be expected and what was wrong. It had taken him a long time to equate the green and brown room with comfort and safety, even when his favorite people things were nowhere to be seen. And just when he'd seemed settled in that place, they go and change everything, leaving him in this white place that just felt wrong. What was Kevan supposed to think of all this.

It was time to take action. Kevan's brain had early on determined that the only way to get his people things to come when he wanted them was to make lots of noise. It had never failed him yet. He opened his perfect little bowed lips wide, screwed up his will and pushed out enough air through his mouth to make that noise he knew was certain to get his people there fast. *Wwwwwaaaaaa!*

Kevan hoped that the good smelling dark one would be the first one to come. The dark one was yummy and would make his tummy feel warm and full. He could almost always get that one to give him whatever he needed: warm milk for his empty tummy, dry diapers, endless attention. The dark one was so much easier than the yellow one, even though Kevan loved them both. But sometimes the yellow one didn't give him what he wanted right away. And that other one - the one who always talked in that silly high-pitched goofy voice that was soooooo annoying - well, he was impossible. Kevan had been trying to train that one for a long time now but he just didn't seem to get it. Kevan thought the goofy one was nice enough, but talk about slow . . .

Well, that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Kevan didn't like this place and wanted to be taken immediately back to HIS place. He wasn't about to be deterred, even if it was the goofy one that came when he made his noises. Kevan wasn't about to stop until he was home!

Fuck! It felt so amazingly good to screw in the shower again! The steamy air enveloped their bodies as Brian pressed Justin's face into the glass wall of the shower and watched with ultimate satisfaction as his dick slid home inside that gloriously welcoming bubble butt.

It had been far too long since Brian and Justin had fucked in the shower. What had it been - at least four months, maybe more? After Brian had become too pregnant to make it workable . . . well, their shower time had still been pleasant but it was nothing like this. And even though he'd had no objection to letting Justin drive for a great deal of that time, the blond teen was simply too short to make fucking in the shower feasible. No matter how hard they'd tried to make it work - and they HAD tried, many times, in different positions and with endless props - it had proved physically impossible.

Brian had truly missed shower fucks.

Now, however, everything was back as it should be. Brian's belly was no longer an entity all its own. He could once again see his own dick and he had been cleared by the powers that be for any and all full-contact sports.

It felt so fucking good to be able to stick his needy dick into that perfectly willing hole, well slicked with Brian's favorite shower gel, while the endless cascades of almost-too-hot water poured down over them both. Brian loved the way the beads of water would pearl up and run across the beautiful porcelain skin of his lover. The tiny rivulets of water would creep slowly across the long white expanses of skin, two drops meeting and combining to create a little stream, and eventually joining up with other runnels forming rivers of sudsy water all draining down Justin's spine into the perfect canyon of his ass. Then, as Brian's rock hard cock cleaved through that lovely waterfall, driving forward to pierce into the tight knot of super-sensitive muscles, the river would again split into two separate channels, running to the left and right over the voluptuous curves of that enticing bubble butt and disappearing down the strong but slender thighs. The pattern of the swirling waters was almost as mesmerizing as the sight of his dick sinking over and over again into Justin's ass.

But this particular shower experience was even better than any he'd remembered. This fuck was different. This was the first time in Brian's entire life that he'd ever fucked someone in a shower raw.

That fact alone was more than enough to scare the shit out of Brian. Well, except that it felt so unbelievably good, the way his bare skin slid past the taut outer folds, the tight warmth caressing the delicate surfaces of the crown of his dick until his full length was encompassed in the snug velvet depths. If it hadn't felt so surpassingly indescribable, Brian might have actually had the leisure to think about exactly how frightened these good feelings made him.

Okay, so pretty much everything that had happened to Brian over the past year had been frightening, unprecedented, unusual and unnerving. He'd been living on the brink of 'scared-shitless' for so long now he was almost inured to the fear. Brian had been forced through so much change in such a short time, he wasn't sure he'd even recognize the old Brian Kinney if he saw him. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

See, Brian Kinney had once been the Ultimate Stud. He'd been the King of Liberty Avenue. The indisputable top of all tops. The most ruthless predator ever known to the populaces that frequented Woody's, Babylon and the Liberty Baths. No one had dared to question Brian's position. Nobody would dare reject his advances. Brian was THE epitome of macho gay studs the world over. At least up until he'd given into a nagging little itch he'd been unable to shake and decided to let an inexperienced eighteen year old twink fuck him.

Since then Brian Kinney's life had forever changed.

Somehow, in the period of one short year, everything Brian had thought he'd known, everything he thought he was, every belief he'd thought was unquestionable, had simply melted away. The man who refused to believe in love, who steadily maintained that commitment was impossible and all relationships doomed, who didn't trust words like 'family' or 'partner', and who'd never envisioned a future for himself outside the lonely cold existence he already lived, was now a father, a lover, a partner and fully enmeshed in a committed relationship. It was almost incomprehensible how much Brian Kinney had changed in such a small span of time.

And it was all because of a tiny, eight-and-a-half pound scrap of humanity named Kevan Donaugh Taylor-Kinney, who had forever changed Brian Kinney's world.

Brian realized, for about the tenth time, that his attention was again wandering off to dwell on the baby. This was the first time since Kevan was born that Brian and Justin had had the whole house to themselves, and he didn't want to waste it. But, try as he might, even in the middle of such a perfect fuck, Brian found his mind kept drifting off to think about little Kevan.

Intellectually, he knew that the baby would be fine. He was staying with Grandma Jenn and Aunt Molly and Brian knew they'd take good care of their beloved grandson and nephew. Of course, that didn't stop Brian from irrationally worrying about whether or not the baby was okay; was Kevan scared being away from home overnight for the first time, did Jenn remember to put 'OX' into the crib with him, had he sent along enough expressed milk, what if they ran out and tried to give the baby formula and he had some kind of bad reaction, what if . . .

"Brian? Brian! Stop worrying about Kevan and fuck me already," Justin harshly interrupted his partner's musings and demanded attention. "He'll be just fine with Mom. But if you don't stop worrying about the baby and start pounding my ass, right now, you'll be the one in big trouble. I want to be fucked! Fucked well, thoroughly and repeatedly before they return and we have to go back to being fathers again. So get your dick moving, Stud!"

Brian didn't bother to reply. He just pressed Justin's shoulders more firmly against the glass wall of the shower and thrust his cock as hard as he could into his complaining partner's hot, tight ass, eliciting a contented moan.

After their successful and much anticipated shower fuck, Brian took his prize twink back to their large king-sized bed, ready to move on to even more delicious heights of sexual pleasure. However Brian hadn't planned on his partner's automatic reaction to being back in bed. See, about twenty-five seconds after Justin's head hit that pillow, he was sound asleep and snoring happily while Brian was still raring to go. The boy actually fell asleep while Brian was kissing and nibbling down his chest, happily heading towards that promised land down under, and leaving the Stud actually doubting his performance.

"Sunshine," Brian coaxed, trying to wake his sleeping beauty gently. "Come on, Pretty Boy. I'm not finished with you yet.

"So tired, Brian," Justin mumbled, half asleep and resisting being awakened with all his might. "Your turn with Kevan . . ."

"Fuck!" Brian huffed out a half-hearted complaint as Justin turned over and started snoring even more loudly. "So much for our one unhindered night of crazy wild monkey sex, I guess. Remind me again why I agreed to this parenthood bullshit," Brian wondered aloud. "Oh, yeah. I never really agreed to it, did I? You knocked me up, Sunshine. And now you're copping out on me at the first possible opportunity? Fuck! It's not fair!"

Brian collapsed back dejectedly onto his side of the bed. How exactly did he get to this point? How is it that Brian 'Fucking' Kinney had ended up virtually married, with two kids to provide for and an exhausted eighteen-year-old brat passed out in his bed? He laid back, once again contemplating the vagaries of life and trying to pinpoint precisely where he'd gone wrong.

Well, at least he now had plenty of opportunity to get fully reacquainted with his now visible-again dick. Fuck, it was so nice to be easily able to play with the old fellow again. Brian and his dick had long had a very special and warm relationship. They simply understood each other. It had been hell for the few months when he'd been too fat to see his little buddy. It had been even worse when he'd got so Prego that he'd barely even been able to reach around the heft of his belly to grasp his cock, let alone grasp it fully enough to get himself off without a gargantuan effort. But luckily all was back to normal now. Brian could not only see his dick again but he could stroke it, squeeze it, play with it and generally jerk off to his heart's content.

And so he did!

Fuck the sleepy twink! At least Brian had Mr. Cock back. And it didn't take too long for him to satisfy himself. As a sort of extra 'Fuck You' he even managed to direct the tip so that the streams of cum that erupted with his orgasm landed in perfect ribbons across the twink's backside.

'There! That'll serve him right - falling asleep on me! Now Justin will get the dubious pleasure of waking up with an ass crack full of dried cum. And I'll be fresh as a daisy!' Brian internally crowed even as his own heavy eyelids started to droop and flutter closed.

In less than sixty seconds Brian had drifted off to sleep along with his bedmate. Their combined snores floated up from the bed. Their bodies naturally gravitated towards each other into their favorite spooning sleep position. Brian was too far gone to even realize that he'd just smeared all that cooling cum off Justin's ass and into his own pubes.

Oh well! So much for the stamina of the legendary Stud and his always eager Twink!

Justin woke up from the first full night's rest he'd got since they brought Kevan home and smiled. He felt so much better, even after only one night of unbroken sleep. Justin adored his son and truly loved Brian, but after six weeks of being woken up every three to fours hours during the night - and that on top of starting college and dealing with running the household including every detail from childcare down to groceries on a day-to-day basis - well, let's just say that Justin had been worn pretty fucking thin already.

The rejuvenated youth stretched and yawned widely, noting with pride the pinching ache in his ass engendered by last night's activities. Hell, it felt so incredibly good! There was absolutely nothing - NOTHING - in the world as wonderful as getting fucked up the ass by Brian Kinney! And it had been so long since he'd felt that familiar ache! Now that it was back, Justin felt comforted - like he'd just returned home after a long absence. It was so good to be back!

And speaking of the incomparable Mr. Kinney . . . Justin rolled so that he could stare into the handsome countenance of his partner.

The man was just too beautiful for words. The messy, baby-fine auburn locks were splashed every which way across Brian's pillow, perfectly framing the sleepy-innocence of his lover's chiseled features. The expressive hazel eyes were covered now by lids edged with the longest dark-brown lashes Justin had ever seen. The long straight aquiline nose. The perfect crushed-cranberry lips, composed in a slack half smile, which seemed to indicate that their owner was enjoying some happy dream at the moment. All the usual cares and stress were wiped away from Brian's face as he slept. It gave him the appearance of being ten years younger, letting Justin catch a glimpse of the lovely youth Brian must once have been.

Now, if only the sight of a sleeping beauty Brian didn't always make him want to immediately wake the man so he could fucking ravish him!

Justin shook his head in order to physically dispel that thought. Just this once he'd restrain himself. He would hold off on jumping those sexy bones for a bit longer and let his exhausted baby-daddy get a tad more sleep. It was a terrible sacrifice - or at least that's what Justin's morning woody was trying to tell him - but the young man would suffer through it for the sake of the man he loved.

Instead, he'd follow the advice of all those parenting books he'd been reading and take whatever sleep he could get whenever and wherever he could get it. Wriggling back under the covers deeper, Justin curled his body against the warmth of Brian's side. He let his head find the spot where it fit just perfectly into the hollow of Brian's shoulder and sighed as his 'pillow' put a long arm across his chest to hold him tightly into place. This was exactly where he belonged. It was home.

And with that incredibly domestic sentiment, Justin drifted back to sleep in the arms of his man.

*Mmmmmm* was there anything better than waking up with the scent of sleep warmed blond twink pervading all your senses? Brian didn't think so. Unless, of course, that warm Twinkie smell also came with just a hint of sweat, sex and . . . Was that coffee? Fuck! The perfect way to wake up.

Brian rolled onto his back just as the bed beside him dipped under the weight of his own particular warm-blooded Twinkie crawling back under the covers. The mug of coffee he'd smelled was sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. The rumpled sheets of the bed were what was supplying the aroma of sex left over from the night before. Yes, this had to be the perfect way to wake up!

"Good morning, Stud!" whispered the welcome twink as his long-fingered, artist's hands crawled down Brian's chest underneath the duvet. "Mind if I ravish you repeatedly while you're lying there looking so beautiful?"

"No. Not at all," Brian smiled at not only the prospect of being ravished first thing in the morning, but also because he was secretly pleased at Justin describing him as beautiful. "I think that's actually a brilliant plan for this morning. You can start immediately." Brian even toasted the twink's idea by raising his coffee mug in one hand, right before he shoved Justin's head down closer to his crotch with the other.

Justin's giggle was almost as much of a turn on as the way the young blond nuzzled his face into Brian's thick patch of pubic fuzz. Brian sighed happily as his cock sprang almost instantly to life. Settling himself back into the pile of pillows behind him and sipping at the delicious mugful of coffee, Brian relaxed and prepared himself for the pleasure he knew would come along with Justin's lips getting anywhere near his dick.

Which was probably why the shrill ringing of the phone a moment later startled him so much that he spilled his coffee, scalded the poor Twink's pretty porcelain rear end and almost got his dick bitten off when the boy involuntarily jerked at the touch of the burning hot liquid.

"Fuck! Owwww! Damn it to fucking hell . . ." Brian's grumbling complaints continued on well past the moment he picked up the phone and hit the button to accept the call in order to stop the incessant ringing. "Whoever this is, you'd better be calling to warn me of the onset of the apocalypse or something equally as dire. Otherwise I'm gonna rip out your gonads and force feed them to you for interrupting my morning blow job!" Brian finally screeched into the phone in lieu of a more standard greeting.

"Good morning to you too, Brian," returned the dulcet tones of Brian's always competent assistant, Cynthia. "It's such a pleasure to talk to you first thing in the morning, you know. God, I LOVE my job!" Cynthia chuckled and Brian continued to grump, albeit less vocally.

"What?" Was Brian's slightly less rude reply.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt your morning exercises, Brian, but Miss Scarlet from GQ called. There was a mix up with the photographer for the follow up piece you were supposed to do next week. She needs you there today instead. I'll text you the address for the location where they want to do the shoot. She said her editor agreed to use the stills of Kevan you already forwarded, though, so at least you won't need to subject the baby to all that. Can you be there by 11:00?" Cynthia plowed on with her job even though she could feel her boss' annoyance with the whole thing growing.

"Shit! This is NOT the way I wanted to spend my Saturday, Cyn!" Brian whined. "Isn't there any way to get out of this?"

"Not if you want to make the deadline for the next issue. And you did committ to this interview already, Brian. Plus, it should go a long way towards getting all your fans off your back for at least a little while, Mr. Celebrity!" Cynthia teased.

"Fine! Whatever! Tell Scarlet I'll be there. But I refuse to be happy about it and I won't be smiling in any of the photos," Brian conceded with poor grace.

Brian slammed the phone back into its charging cradle on the side table. "Sorry about the interruption, Sunshine," Brian griped. "I have to go do that stupid GQ photo thing today. Which means you'll have to get a move on with that blow job or I'll be late. Better start sucking, Dear," Brian directed, with an imperative little shove.

"Whatever you say, Honey!" Justin grinned compliantly, lifting up the covers with the obvious intention of returning to his duties without delay.

Which was precisely when the buzzer on the driveway gate went off, telling them that somebody had accessed the gate codes and was driving into the property. Within seconds the two men could hear the crunch of gravel under car tires on the back drive. Since the only two people who had the gate access codes were Jennifer Taylor and Emmett Honeycutt, both of whom also had a house key as they were the baby's most frequent sitters, it was pretty much a given that the boys' peaceful, relaxing, private morning was now over.

This suspicion was immediately confirmed when they heard the back door open, immediately followed by the sound of Jennifer calling out a too-cheery 'Hello'. About ten seconds later the jarring noise of a baby's cry added to the series of unwelcome interruptions. You could tell from the exasperated tone of Jenn's voice as she tried to reassure the crying infant that Grandma had already had a trying morning herself. Attentive papa that he was, Justin immediately popped out of bed, pulled on the first bit of clothing he could find and rushed out of the bedroom to minister to the poor unhappy tyke. Brian was left lying there alone on the bed without a second thought.

Unfortunately, it just didn't seem like Brian's dick was going to be serviced this morning and that was definitely NOT the way the big brunet stud had wanted to start his day.

Chapter 2 - Proud Papa, Distracted Daddy!

Well, it was about time!

Kevan was so upset. He had made lots and lots of noise but it hadn’t worked. He’d waved his arms around and kicked until all the blankets were gone, but it hadn’t done anything. Neither the yellow one or the good smelling one had come no matter how loud his noises got. Not even the big goofy one had come. Kevan had cried and cried and cried for a very long time. He had actually yelled and made so much noise for so long that now his tummy kind of hurt. Which, of course, just made Kevan cry even more loudly.

After a long time, Kevan had started to think that he might never see his favorite people things ever again. He had done his infant best to let the silly singing woman know that he was unhappy and wanted to leave the ugly, scary white place and go back to his green and brown room, but she hadn’t listened. All the silly woman did was sing him another song and jiggle him around and basically just annoy Kevan even more.

Now, finally, after Kevan had made noise for so long he almost forgot what it was like to NOT make noise, the silly singing woman had brought him back to a place he remembered. It wasn’t his happy, comfortable green and brown room but it was at least familiar. And, then, OH JOY! Kevan heard the noises made by the yellow person thing.

Kevan redoubled his noise making efforts, trying in the only way a six week old baby knows to express his utter displeasure with everything that had been happening to him recently.

When the yellow one took him out of the silly singing woman’s arms and held him tight, Kevan was so happy. Okay, he was still upset that the yellow one hadn’t come to get him a LOT earlier, but he knew in his little baby brain that everything would soon be better. Unfortunately, he had been making unhappy noises for so long now and had been so incredibly upset for longer than he could remember that now he couldn’t quite think of how to stop making the noises. He really wanted to stop with the noise. At this point even his own noises were making him annoyed. But it seemed impossible to stop.

The nice yellow one was holding him tight and making the low rumbly noises that Kevan usually liked. He was walking around, carrying Kevan and occasionally the yellow one would touch Kevan’s cheek or nose with his lips. It felt comforting. If only Kevan could recall how to stop making the upset noises.

“What the hell is going on out here!”

Yay! It was the good smelling person thing! Kevan wailed even louder, trying with all his infant might to get the big, warm, good smelling one to come to him and make it all better. He knew that this one would manage it. The good smelling one always made him feel better.

And, of course, it worked perfectly. The good smelling person thing wrested Kevan out of the yellow one’s arms, held him loosely in his big, safe hands and bent down to lightly press his soft lips against Kevan’s cheek. Kevan whimpered and sniffled one last time - mostly in gratitude that all the torment was now over - and then settled back as he felt all the tension and fear instantly leave his tiny body.

Very soon thereafter, Kevan found himself tucked up under the sheltering arm of the good smelling one. It was his favorite place in the whole world. Then he felt the warm familiar touch of the good smelling one’s skin next to his face. Kevan turned his head and latched onto the waiting nipple. Almost immediately his mouth was filled with the yummy warm sweetness he loved and his nauseated tummy began to calm and fill with happy warm milk.

All Kevan could think was that it was about time!

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something”, Jennifer apologized as she handed the wailing infant off to Justin. “But Kevan really didn’t seem to enjoy his first sleepover. Except for brief periods when he had completely exhausted himself, the poor thing pretty much cried the entire time. I thought it might help to get him back home.”

“Oh, poor sweetie,” Justin cooed and kissed his son over and over again. “Shh, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay now. You’re home. Shhhhhh.” The concerned Papa held the baby tightly, talking quietly and bouncing him just a bit as he paced back and forth in a way that had always quieted the baby before. Unfortunately, Justin’s technique didn’t seen to be working this time.

“I’m afraid he might be developing a touch of colic, Justin,” the experienced Grandmother announced with authority. “Didn't you tell me he’d been difficult to settle recently and had seemed to be crying a lot more than usual?”

“Yeah. The poor thing. He’s been really difficult for the past week or two,” Justin confirmed wearily. “It’s like he’s hungry all the time but when you try to feed him he really doesn’t drink much. And then he’s crying again in another half hour. The other night he was crying for almost three hours and I couldn’t get him to settle. Thankfully Brian got home just when I was about to start screaming right along with Kevan and the baby finally calmed down after Brian fed him.”

“Yep. Sounds like colic, I’m sorry to say,” Jennifer replied with evident sympathy as an unhappy Kevan continued to cry no matter what Justin tried.

“What the hell is going on out here!” Brian, now dressed in his typical casual yet still designer weekend attire, came stomping out of the bedroom. “What did you do to my son? Give him to me!”

Before either Jennifer or Justin could voice their innocence, Brian had wrested the wailing baby out of Justin’s hands. Instead of hugging the boy tightly the way Justin had been, Brian let the infant lie loosely in his big steady hands and then lightly brushed his lips against the ultra-soft little cheek. There was something so amazingly comforting in just holding his son in his hands and breathing in that indescribable clean ‘baby’ smell. Brian felt a tension he hadn’t even known was there melt away the moment he had his little boy back.

The relief in his Daddy’s previously tense muscles instantly translated to the angry, scared little tyke, and the baby relaxed as well. Jennifer and Justin stood by and shook their collective heads at the almost miraculous way that Father and Son managed to calm each other with their mere touch. It was even clearer how the two comforted each other when Brian took the baby into the nursery, sat in the big overstuffed armchair and tucked the infant under his left arm in a football hold. You could almost see the waves of comfort and solace radiating off the pair. When Brian pulled up his t-shirt, exposing his pec, the baby instantly latched on and started to suckle, making even the last shreds of uneasiness disappear from both.

Justin nudged his mother and unobtrusively hustled her out the door. He knew that Brian was still MORE than uncomfortable with anyone at all watching him while he breastfed the baby. He could barely stand it when Justin watched him. He was sure to feel awkward if he knew Jennifer was observing him. If it hadn’t been for Kevan acting so over-the-top upset and Brian reacting without thinking, he knew Brian would have been more circumspect even now. Breastfeeding simply did not fit Brian’s self-imposed image no matter how many times Justin tried to tell him it was a beautiful sight.

“He’s really an amazing father,” Jennifer said with a touch of awe as she followed Justin down the hallway and out towards the kitchen. “I know that I didn’t exactly make your relationship with Brian easy in the beginning, Justin, and I’m really sorry about that now. I guess that I just never really saw THIS Brian - the gentle and protective Brian - at least not until after the pregnancy. But you must have seen it from the very start, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did. From the very first night I met him,” Justin confirmed with a secret smile while he remembered that first magical night he’d spent in Brian’s arms. “And you’re absolutely right - Brian is an amazing father. Which makes me the luckiest man on the planet, since I have the greatest partner and the cutest baby in humanity!”

*Hehehehe* Jennifer couldn’t help but laugh indulgently at her son’s overly enthusiastic statement. “Well, lets just hope you still feel that way in a couple weeks if Kevan really does have colic. I remember those days well. You had colic for about two months and I can truthfully say it was the longest ten years of my life. Anyway, I’m off. Good luck, dear. Call me if you start feeling too desperate!” Jennifer chuckled at the worried look her comments left on Justin’s face.

Justin shook off the mild sense of foreboding his mother’s comments had brought up and turned his attention to making coffee. About ten minutes later, Brian emerged from the back of the house and handed off the receiver unit for the baby monitor to Kevan’s other father. The stately brunet looked refreshed and contented after his brief time with the baby and that, in turn, made Justin happy too.

“Thanks,” Brian said as he accepted a travel mug full of coffee, doctored for him just the way he liked - black with plenty of sugar. “I don’t know how long this GQ photo shoot is going to last, but if I get done early enough I thought it was high time I got back to the gym. I feel like I’m never going to get my abs back the way they should be. Maybe I can set up something with one of the trainers or something.” Brian took a long sip of his perfect coffee, claimed Justin’s perfect lips for a long, wet open-mouthed kiss and then smiled his perfect smile before picking up his keys and heading for the door. “Later,” Justin heard the words echoing off the walls of the back hall and smiled.

“Now, if only Kevan will stay asleep for an hour or two, maybe I can finally get some painting done,” Justin announced to the fates as he grabbed an untoasted bagel and headed up the stairs to his former church choir studio space.

Brian was thoroughly enjoying being pampered.

From the moment he’d showed up at the studio where they were doing the photo shoot for the GQ follow up article on him and his son, people had been bending over backwards to do anything and everything he wanted. As soon as he was seated in the back room where he would change and have his hair and face done, food and fresh coffee had appeared. He managed to eat a bit - just a small bit though since he was still trying to get rid of those persistent last five pounds of baby weight - and drink his latte with one hand while a rather attractive looking young redhead manicured the nails on his other hand. Meanwhile the stylist they’d brought in was raving about his hair and how perfect it was without her doing anything at all. A few minutes later a makeup artist came in and touched up his face with just a bit of concealer - just enough to hide the dark circles that proved he was a parent who got woken in the night more often than he’d like. As soon as all that pampering was completed, Brian was led to a rack full of designer clothing already perfectly tailored to fit him. The photographer had stepped into the room and the two of them briefly discussed what look they both wanted before Brian was left to get himself dressed.

When Brian finally emerged, clad in well-cut black slacks and a sexy black silk shirt with a velvet-like texture to it, he even got a smattering of approving applause. The photographer unbuttoned the shirt down to the middle of his chest, ruffled up Brian’s hair a bit and then pronounced him to be perfect. Brian didn’t even mind the next hour or so while he was posed in various positions with all sorts of different backdrops. He was actually eating up all the attention. Everything seemed relaxed and easy and he could tell that everyone around found him attractive. It was just the ego stroking he needed after enduring the indignities of his crazy, unplanned pregnancy.

Strangely enough, Brian didn’t even really feel like he missed Kevan all that much. Usually when he was at work or out somewhere without the baby, he felt slightly uncomfortable. It was like something was always missing. But today, in spite of the fact that the whole basis of the article GQ was doing on him was the fact that he was this genetic rarity - the man who could bear children - not one person at the photo shoot had said anything at all about the baby. It had all been about Brian. And for a change, Brian really appreciated that fact. It had been a really long time since his life had been about him alone. It felt familiar. It felt good.

“Hey, Brian,” the red-haired manicurist, who had finally been convinced after spending the better part of three hours with the model to drop the ‘Mr. Kinney’ shit, approached shyly. “Several of us are heading to the cafe next door for a cup of coffee and maybe some lunch. Would you like to join us?”

The young man’s face was suffused with absolute fawning adoration as he shyly gazed up at Brian. Brian was . . . well, flattered was probably the best word to describe what he was feeling. It really had been far too long since Brian had felt this attractive, this desirable, not to mention this thin.

It took Brian all of three seconds to dismiss any random thoughts of his absent baby and partner before he agreed to join the small group.

Back at Britin’s Chapel, things were not so congenial. Brian hadn’t been gone more than half an hour before Justin’s painting was interrupted by the sounds of Kevan waking up from his brief nap. With a frustrated groan, Justin dumped his paint brush into the glass of cleaning solution and trudged down the stairs to rescue his fussy offspring.

Kevan, who hadn’t gotten much rest the night before due to his all night crying jag, was even crankier than usual when he woke this time. When Justin picked the baby up out of his crib, he noted unhappily that the baby’s diaper was even fouler smelling than usual. Justin laid the boy on top of the tall changing table and resignedly started the process of pulling off the smelly diaper full of greenish-yellow pasty baby shit. After six weeks of this, Justin was getting pretty good at the quick change, though. While holding Kevan’s legs with one hand so that his dirty rear didn’t touch anything, he rapidly rolled up the soiled diaper with the other hand, tossed it into the diaper genie contraption near his feet and then efficiently wiped all the remaining mess away with a wet baby wipe. As soon as he was clean, Justin pulled out a fresh diaper, shoved it under the cute and now clean tushy and lowered the baby’s legs. With a final practiced move, Justin quickly pulled the front of the diaper up and used the built in adhesive tabs to secure it. Altogether the process took less than two minutes and made practically no mess at all.

Next, with Kevan cradled firmly in his left arm, Justin hurried to the kitchen and popped a bottle of freshly expressed breast milk into the microwave for a minute. Justin chattered amiably to his son as he moved about. He was trying to follow the advice of all the baby books which said that talking to an infant - not baby talk but regular adult speech - helped stimulate its later verbal and reading abilities. Kevan was almost as used to this process as Justin and really enjoyed hearing his father’s low, calm, tenor voice. He watched what was going on around him as best he could with his inexperienced eyes, listened to everything and generally kept quiet, offering only the intermittent burble in response to Justin’s running commentary.

When the bell on the microwave dinged, Justin took both the baby and the bottle over to the nearby sofa and made them both comfortable with the nearby pillows. Kevan appeared eager at first to get to the bottle. His perfect little bowed lips started in with a sucking motion before Justin was even settled into the couch. As soon as the bottle was close enough, the baby greedily flailed his little hands at it. And there was no delay at all in the baby starting to feed once the bottle touched his lips.

However the boy only sucked at the bottle for two or three minutes before he used his tongue to spit out the nipple and started to make little fussy, pre-crying noises. Justin was at a loss what to do. Up until now the baby had been pretty easy to deal with: he woke up, Justin changed his diaper, fed him, rocked and burped him and then he would almost immediately fall back to sleep. This refusing to take a bottle and being awake for longer periods without falling asleep right away was new. Justin didn’t think he liked it any more than Kevan seemed to.

Justin knew he had to do something before Kevan worked himself up into a full-out wail. He tried walking around and talking to the baby. No deal. He tried holding up brightly colored toys for the baby to look at. Didn’t work. He tried bouncing the little baby on his knee which definitely didn’t work and made the infant’s face start to screw up in that horrible way which presaged another crying bout. Justin halted that action right away. He tried a couple of times to get Kevan to take the bottle again. No luck.

Not knowing what else to try, Justin headed back to the nursery and tried putting the baby back in the crib. Maybe he was just tired? Justin pulled the shades closed to darken the room and then turned on the switch which lit up the Japanese lanterns over the bed. He even wound up the fancy little silver Vera Wang music box that the Armani people had sent as a baby gift when Kevan was born, hoping that the tinny music would help coax the lad off to sleep.

Unfortunately not even a designer music box kept Kevan’s attention for long. Justin wasn’t even all the way down the hall when the baby monitor in his hand emitted the first sounds of Kevan’s continued displeasure. Before the proud but harried Papa could make it back into the nursery, Kevan had already worked himself up to full wail.

Justin murmured a private complaint about crying, fussy, colicky babies under his breath as he turned around and made his way back to the nursery. He could already tell he wasn’t likely to get any of his homework done today. This was NOT going to be a good day.

Brian/Gus gif by: http://liberum-imaginari.tumblr.com/post/97000895732

Chapter 3 - Getting Back to Normal?

Kevan’s tummy hurt. It really hurt a lot. He was not a happy little baby at this point.

His tummy hurt. Nobody had closed the blinds in the pretty green and brown room and the sunlight was streaming into his eyes. It was too bright. Kevan was also tired but with his tummy not feeling good and too much light he couldn't sleep. He really was not happy.

And on top of everything else Kevan was bored, annoyed at his tiny world and generally pissed off at everything and everyone. Which was really confusing because these were all new feelings that the infant hadn't experienced before and didn't really understand. Up until this point, Kevan had only experienced pure basic instinctual needs: hunger, fatigue, bodily discomfort, pain. These new feelings were more emotional. Emotions were highly confusing when you were only six weeks old.

'Sometimes growing up is a bitch,' Kevan thought to himself, or at least the infant version of that sentiment.

His tummy gurgled again unpleasantly. Luckily his bowels opened up right then and he filled his diaper. This relieved some of the discomfort in his tummy. But it also meant he was now wearing an unpleasantly wet and mushy diaper, the acidic contents of which were rapidly cooling and irritating his tender skin.

Where were Kevan's people things? Somebody needed to get in here and fix all this! Right now!

Kevan, who was now pretty much an expert at noise making, opened up his pretty little bowed lips and let out a rather un-pretty bawling wail.

'That ought to do it,' Kevan thought.

Only it didn't work as quickly as little Kevan would have liked. So the smart little tyke ramped up his game and upped the noise level a couple of decibels. He also tried modulating the tone of the wailing - a new discovery he'd made recently - temporarily amused by the range of sounds he was learning to make.

Cool - when he screwed up his mouth just right and put a little more air into it he could make this high-pitched shrieking cry that was completely new. That was pretty entertaining! Now that's the kind of noise that should get some real action.

Kevan, that brilliant baby, was of course correct. Within twenty seconds after he'd started on this new improved more frantic wailing, the door to the nursery opened and the tall goofy person came running in looking a tad frazzled but ready to do Kevan's bidding. Kevan found himself scooped up, his soiled diaper changed in no time and his boredom alleviated for the moment as the big goofy one talked to him and cuddled him.

Hmmm, that particular noise seemed very effective. Kevan would have to make a note of that for future use. Good to know, really.

"Uuurrrgggghhhh!" Justin was NOT encouraged by the fact that he could hear Kevan crying from outside the back door. "If I turn around and quickly tiptoe back to the car, maybe Emmett won't even notice I was home," Justin proposed aloud to himself, ready to try almost anything if it would allow him to escape from the incredible wailing wonder for a few more hours.

"Don't even THINK about running, Baby," Justin's escape plans were rudely interrupted when Emmett appeared in person at the door, unhappy screaming infant in his arms. "Our darling little Kevan has been a total drama princess all day. Ungrateful little wretch didn't seem to want anything to do with his Auntie Em. So I say it's high time for Papa to take over."

Emmett deftly pulled Justin's messenger bag off the younger man's shoulder and then promptly handed him the still tearful bundle of baby. Justin's parenting instincts overcame his reluctance at dealing with fussy infants and he hugged the slightly soggy bundle tightly. Kevan's cries trickled off pretty quickly as soon as he felt his father's presence.

"Oh! Thank heavens! That's much better!" a relieved Em announced as he herded the daddy and now quiet baby into the house.

"So, I take it, today was NOT a good day," Justin asked once they were seated together in the Greatroom.

"That would be the understatement of the year, Honey," Em replied, the stress of the day clearly evinced through his tone. "Our little Prince was a handful today. He was fussy all day. He only slept a couple of hours total, he didn't finish a single bottle and his diapers - well, let's just say I've never seen that exact shade of green anywhere else in nature! He's definitely got some tummy troubles going on in there. I think he's got a spot or two of diaper rash too, unfortunately, which I'm sure doesn't help matters much. Poor thing."

"Damn! Mom said the other day that it sounded like colic to her. Which really sucks because from everything I've read there's absolutely nothing you can do for colic except try to live through it until its gone," Justin moaned. "And, fuck, Em - I'm not sure that's possible. I don't think I've had more than four hours of sleep total all week. I'm exhausted!"

"Sorry, Sweetie!" Em commiserated. "Does it make me a bad person to say that I'm glad I'm just the daytime manny?"

"Yes. It does, you bitch," Justin replied, trying to maintain a tiny bit of his sense of humor.

"Well, what about Brian? Couldn't he take a few more of the night shifts so you get a bit more sleep? I mean, you look like you're about to collapse, Honey"

"Oh, well . . . Brian's not really very good at the late night stuff," Justin knew he was making excuses but was too tired to analyze his own motives.

"What? Don't you guys take turns with the night time feelings and such? Justin? Brian does help out, right?" Emmett was a bit surprised that Justin wasn't making Brian pull his own weight more. "Honey, that's just not right and you know it."

"I know, Em. But Brian's got so much on his plate right now what with work and all . . . And he's a bear to wake up at night. It's just easier most of the time if I deal with Kevan myself, you know."

"Mm hmm. I know, Baby, but I also know that you are wearing yourself out and that this can't keep up much longer," Emmett was concerned for his tired looking friend.

"Now, my advice - for what it's worth - is to tell Brian he's gonna have to get off his pretty little GQ ass and help out around here a bit more. It took both of you to get yourselves into this mess and it shouldn't be your responsibility alone to deal with it now. Besides, I've seen the doting Daddy - he adores his little Kevan - and I don't think he'd really mind an excuse to spend more time with his spawn. He just needs a bit of a push sometimes, you know. Remind him that he's a daddy too. Don't give him the excuses he's looking for to opt out of the tough parts of parenting. We both know Brian will take the easiest way out if you let him, but that wouldn't be fair to you or Kevan or Brian himself for that matter."

When Justin didn't respond right away, avoiding looking directly into Emmett's eyes, the big southern queen huffed out a sigh. Once again his good advice was going to go unheeded, it seemed. Oh well! They'd just have to fight their way through their troubles on their own.

"But that's just silly old me, I guess," Emmett graciously let Justin off the hook. "So, now that his Papa seems to have soothed Prince Kevan off to sleep again, why don't I put him to bed for you. And you can can get in a quick nap before he's back up again."

"Thanks, Em," the sleep deprived young man replied gratefully as his friend took the baby out of his arms and headed back to the nursery.

By the time Emmett got back to the Greatroom five minutes later, the exhausted blond was already sound asleep on the couch.

“Yummmmm.”

Justin awoke to the feeling of his pants being unzipped and then roughly yanked down off his hips. Immediately thereafter he felt a warm, wet tongue trailing a line of saliva across his belly, dipping into his belly button briefly and then curling around to follow the line of his groin down to even more sensitive areas. But it wasn’t until that same tongue licked up his stiffening shaft that Justin came fully awake with a happy sigh.

“I come home for dinner, and what do I find? None other than a scrumptious looking blond boy asleep on my couch looking ready to serve! So, what else can I do? I just have to take a nibble or two. Maybe eat your ass as an appetizer? What do you say, Pretty Boy?” Brian crooned lustily right before burying his face back into the musky depths of his lover’s crotch.

Justin might have been awake, but his brain wasn’t working enough yet to get out actual words. All he managed was a contented gurgle as Brian moved lower and sucked on his balls. It didn’t help matters at all that Brian was making the most adorable happy slurpy noises while he feasted on his favorite blond boy. Justin’s dick went from relatively flaccid to harder than a steel rod in approximately 5.3 seconds.

“Fuck! You taste so incredible, Sunshine,” Brian raved as soon as he came up for air. “To hell with dinner. I think I’ll just eat you all night! Roll over!”

Justin struggled to comply with his favorite Stud’s request seeing as the Stud in question was lying on top of him and pinning the smaller man into the couch cushions. With a little wriggling, however, the lithe youth managed to extricate himself enough to flip over onto his stomach. His hips naturally pushed themselves up so that his ass was immediately available to the desires of the man kneeling behind him. Brian, who thoroughly approved of his lover’s alacrity, gave each plump butt cheek an affectionate little slap and then dove back into his favorite feast.

Spreading the lovely pale globes apart with his big hands, Brian delighted in the sight of the delicious and delicate pink folds of muscle he found waiting for him. He loved Justin’s taste - always had - and indulged himself in the treat of rimming his sweet boy as often as he could. With an anticipatory sigh, Brian took his first long, slow swipe across the tightly closed entrance with his tongue and relished the intricate sensations. The taste, the smell, the happy little noises Justin made in response to every single one of Brian’s motions. It was a treat that the well-experienced man could never pass up.

With a pointed tongue, he quickly moved on, probing into the moist depths and savoring the earthy flavors he found there. His saliva quickly lubricated the area while his movements helped to stretch the constricting ring of muscles. The more he worked at it, the deeper his questing tongue was able to explore, until he finally managed to reach the node of nerve endings that was hidden within. Brian tickled the spot with the tip of his tongue until he felt the youthful body in front of him begin to squirm, telling him it was high time to move on to even more pleasurable things.

With a last long swipe across the boy’s now relaxed opening, Brian sat up on his haunches and accepted the tube of lube his accommodating lover had already located. Brian was always thrilled to be reminded of just how in tune his lover always was with his own appetites. He loved that Sunshine was always just as ready to fuck as he was. No wonder this boy was the only one who’d ever tempted him into coming back for more again and again and again.

Brian squirted out a large portion of lube into his palm and used it to lubricate his bare cock. Not having to use condoms had so many advantages - not the least of which was not having to take the time to find one when you were in the mood for a fast fuck and didn’t really want to get off the couch. In mere seconds he was ready and gleefully sliding into his Sunshine’s depths with his usual abandon.

“Briannnnn! Yes, yes, yes!” The ecstatic little blond nympho under him was chanting as Brian thrust deeper and deeper, driving the boy’s head down into the sofa cushions as he went. ‘Fuck, this felt so perfect, every single time,’ Brian thought even as the tendrils of electrifying friction caressed the lengths of his achingly hard cock. Every movement, every minuscule flex of a muscle, added to the growing accumulation of pleasure. The ultra-sensitive head of his dick slid slowly in and out of the velvety depths and ignited a myriad of tiny electrical fires along the way. The tingling, the burning pleasure, the pulsing of each heartbeat of blood flowing under each man’s skin, all combined and built and grew to unspeakable heights.

Without even realizing he was doing it, Brian’s hand reached out for Justin’s. Their fingers laced together automatically. It was the only way to anchor themselves to the earth before their passion expelled them out of the planet’s gravity well. Brian could feel the blood pounding in his cock, the ridges and crevices within his lover caressing him and the divine pressure building in his balls. If only this feeling could go on forever. If only he never had to leave his sweet blond lover’s body.

Shit! It was so good to be back on top!

Both Brian and Justin were so far into the euphoria of their pending orgasm that it took a couple of minutes before either one registered the unhappy, whimpering sounds that had begun to trickle out of the baby monitor resting on the nearby coffee table. When the whimpers turned into a full out plaintive cry, it snapped Justin out of his lust-filled daze. The poor lad, who up till that moment had been actively shoving back into his partner as hard as brian had been ramming him forward, let out his own whimper and collapsed over the arm of the sofa.

Brian, of course, hadn't lost a single beat in his rhythm. When Justin collapsed, he simply shuffled forward on his knees a bit in order to maintain the proper thrusting angle. Not much could throw Brian when he was this close to his release.

"Brian. Brian, stop," Justin ordered, tapping at his lover's thigh in an attempt to get the man's attention. "Brian, the baby . . ."

". . . Can fucking hold out for five more minutes, Justin," Brian retorted, not letting up on his pounding for even a beat. "I, on the other hand, need your complete and immediate attention right. This. Fucking. Second. Aaaaahhhhh!" Brian moaned out his bliss as hot pulses of cum began flooding Justin's interior.

As he pumped into Justin with his last few thrusts, Brian considerately reached around, grabbed his partner's dick and very capably jerked Justin off to completion as well. Meanwhile, Kevan kept up his very vocal complaint over how long he was being made to wait for attention. The usual pleasant post-coital recovery period, when the two men would loll about panting and enjoying the aftershocks of pleasure until they'd caught their breath again, would regrettably have to be skipped this time.

"Damn baby monitors . . ." Brian groused as he rather too abruptly pulled out of a still gasping Justin and got to his feet. He gave the receiver unit a displeased look, cringing a bit at the howling crescendo of his son's complaints, and bent to pick up his pants off the floor. "Don't get your diapers in a twist, Sonnyboy. I'm on my way," Brian muttered.

Justin rolled over just enough to admire the view as Brian strutted off down the hall, his pants draped over one shoulder but otherwise butt naked. Through the monitor Justin clearly heard the sound of the nursery door opening. Kevan's sobbing let up almost instantly. The next sound Justin heard was Brian cooing and talking to the baby as he picked up his little boy and started to do the whole responsible daddy thing. Kevan's keening turned into happy gurgles. There were a few more mysterious bumps and knocks before Justin distinguished the sound of Brian settling into the big plush armchair, ostensibly with Kevan in his arms, as Daddy and Sonnyboy made themselves comfortable. And finally, above the slurpy noises of a suckling baby, there came the low pleasing baritone rumble of the big bad Studliest Stud of all time singing an old irish lullaby to his now contented son.

"Fuck! I love that man so much it hurts!" Justin declared to no one in particular as he snuggled back against the couch cushions and enjoyed listening to his little family.

Brian and Justin were finally able to sit down to their own dinner about an hour later. Even with Brian’s magical touch, it took quite a while to get Kevan settled and back to sleep tonight. The only promising sign was that he had nursed for a long time, for a change, and that full belly boded well for keeping the baby asleep for a more lengthy period of time. At least that was what Justin was hoping. He was floundering under far too much unfinished homework and desperately needed a few uninterrupted hours of study time. But, at the very least, it seemed like the two daddies would get enough peace and quiet that they could enjoy having a real dinner together for once.

Emmett, that angel disguised as a big nelly queen, had prepared a roast chicken with baked potatoes and left it warming in the oven. While Brian checked his emails, set the table and tidied up around the house - grumbling over Justin’s shoes always being in the wrong place, no matter where the boy left them - Justin put together a quick salad and sliced up some crusty Italian bread. It was an almost nauseatingly domestic scene, but Justin wisely didn’t mention that fact and Brian seemed to be in too good a mood tonight to notice.

“So, I’ve got a bit of news, Sunshine,” Brian announced with a pleased-as-punch smile after he’d managed a bite or two of his supper. “It seems that you’re not the only one who wants my ass. Looks like the nice folks at Armani want it back as well.”

“Armani? Really? They want you to do another ad? Even though you’re no longer the ‘Prego Stud’ and back to being just a normal, run-of-the-mill Stud?” Justin teased his gorgeous and always vain partner.

“I’ll have you know there’s nothing run-of-the-mill about this ass, Sunshine. It may not be as plump as your behind, but it has it’s own pleasing aesthetics,” Brian took the ribbing and shot back his own zinger. “And it seems like the people at Armani like it well enough to offer yours truly an exclusive one-year contract to model for them.” Brian declared with a smug smile that revealed just how excited he was about this development.

“No shit? Wow. That’s incredible, Brian,” Justin congratulated his handsome partner. “Of course, I always knew you were the most gorgeous man on the face of the earth, but it’s nice to hear that everyone else agrees with me now.”

“Yeah, well, it seems that the response to the campaign I did when I was prego was so overwhelming that they want me to keep doing more ads for them. They've already got tentative shoot dates set up for the spring and summer lines. I'm having the legal department at work look over the contracts first, of course, but it's virtually a done deal. This time I'll even get paid for my modeling services, not just my marketing skills. And the best part of all is that I get to keep all the clothes I model!" Brian's eyes glittered at the mere thought of all that free Armani swag.

"Knowing you, my dear label queen addict, you'd probably agree to pose for free as long as they threw in the clothes," Justin and Brian both laughed but the style-hungry older man didn't try to deny it. "How the hell are you going to model for Armani and still work for Ryder, though? You’re not quitting your job are you?”

"Fuck no! I doubt this modeling gig will last all that long. They're more interested in me because I'm still a bit of a sensation than for my looks. Plus, there's no way I'm giving up my career for a mere modeling gig. Mikey might think that I'll always be young and beautiful because I'm Brian Fucking Kinney, but I'm not THAT stupid," Brian stated wisely. "In the meantime, though, Marty's agreed to be flexible with my schedule. I mean, he can hardly object when the company's still getting the revenue for running the campaigns that I'll be modeling for, right? Hopefully it won't take up too much time."

"I don't know, Brian. Don't they do on-location photo shoots for most of their ads - especially the spring and summer ones since they need to go somewhere warm to showcase the clothing? That means travel. And I'm sure you'll be expected to give interviews and attend campaign related events, which will probably happen in places other than glorious Pittsburgh. I'm afraid you'll be busier than you think," Justin answered, sounding more and more worried himself as he detailed all the time his co-parent would be spending away from home.

"Maybe," Brian seemed unconcerned with the potential time constraints. "We'll see. I'm sure Ryder won't mind either way."

"In the meantime," Brian quickly changed the subject, "I really need to start hitting the gym hard. I’ve still got more than five pounds of fucking baby weight to get rid of and I lost a shitload of muscle tone especially around my gut. I've got to get that taken care of before the first Armani shoot. I already talked with Zeke at Ript Gym about setting up an intensive training program. Which means I won't be home before eight or so for the foreseeable future."

"I don't think you're supposed to diet or exercise like that yet, Brian," Justin tried to intervene. "All the books say that heavy dieting and exercise are dangerous this early postpartum. It's especially bad if you're breast feeding. Maybe we should talk to Chiefy first . . ."

"That's bullshit, Sunshine," Brian dismissed his live-in worrywart's concerns with a flip of one wrist. "If it were such a big problem, then how come you see these celebrity moms doing bikini ads two months later? If they can fucking do it, I sure as hell can too."

'Famous last words,' Justin thought, but since he wasn't ready for an argument, he decided to wait and see.

Brian frequently didn't bother to worry about what was best for himself. That had always been Justin's job - at least it had been throughout Brian's pregnancy. If Justin had to keep playing health monitor for his baby daddy even after the baby was born, he would. Of course, Justin was smart enough that he'd figure out a way to make Brian amenable to whatever needed to be done. AND he'd do it in a way that meant Brian wouldn't even mind. All it took was a plan and a lot of tenacity.

By tomorrow morning, Justin would have both!

Chapter 4 - The Crying Games.

‘Would you PLEASE stop bouncing and jiggling me and quit shoving those stupid rattling things in my face!’ Kevan wanted to scream.

Well, at least that’s what he would have wanted to scream if he could speak and understood the concepts of ‘bouncing’, ‘jiggling’ and ‘rattling’ or grasped the idea of language at all. But, since he didn’t get any of that, he was just really, really pissed off and wanted the yellow one to make him feel better. The bouncing, jiggling, pacing, babbling and attempts to distract him by wiggling toys and rattles in Kevan’s face weren’t exactly helping. If anything, all the additional annoyances were making the poor boy feel even worse.

At this point, poor Kevan was becoming discouraged. He'd been feeling bad forever (at least in baby time it seemed like forever, but in more linear concepts of time it had probably only been a week or two). The people things should have fixed this by now. He'd been communicating his distress as best he knew how - hence the almost constant screaming, wailing, waving of his fists and kicking of his legs - but nobody seemed to care! Why didn't they DO something already?

Kevan was starting to develop serious trust issues with his people things.

"Blah blah blah, Kevan. Blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. Papa blah blah, Kevan. Blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah! Blah blah! Blah, Kevan. Blah, Kevan, blah blah blah Papa. Blah!"

The yellow one had been babbling at Kevan with his noises for a long time now but it didn't seem like he planned to do anything else. 'Kevan' and 'Papa' seemed to be the two noises that were repeated the most, but for the life of him Kevan had no clue what those noises or any of the yellow one's other noises meant. Even the sound of the yellow one's voice - which at one time had seemed soothing to him - was grating on the baby's nerves at this point.

That was the exact moment that Kevan decided to just give up. His tummy hurt. He was exhausted and he simply couldn't handle any more stimulation of any kind. If the yellow one couldn't or wouldn't make his tummy feel better, he should just leave already!

Kevan broke out into his newest and most piercing scream to date and just had himself a good cry.

The yellow one sat down in the big brown chair, balancing Kevan loosely on his bony knees, and set off into his own version of wailing.

The two boys sat like that, together on the big chair, both of them crying their eyes out for a good long while. Kevan finally cried himself to sleep. As his little eyelids shut, he could still see the yellow one sobbing away.

"Sunshine?"

Brian was worried when he came home from the gym late on Saturday afternoon and couldn't seem to find Justin anywhere. The house was dark - not a single light was turned on inside. There was no sign of dinner having been started or food preparation of any kind having taken place despite the fact that it was after five pm. There were dirty clothes strewn about in the bedroom, dirty dishes piled up in the sink and general untidiness everywhere.

Brian had called out a couple times already but there was no answer. He was sure that Justin's car - Brian's old jeep - was parked in the garage. And since it was dark out already, Brian didn't think Justin would have ventured outside with the baby for a walk. So where the fuck were they?

Systematically opening every door and scanning every room thoroughly, Brian moved from the Greatroom in the front of the house towards the bedrooms in the rear. Finally, when he got to the nursery, the last room in the house, Brian heard the first stirrings of life.

Opening the door slowly since he wasn't sure exactly what he'd find, Brian carefully peeked around the doorframe. The room was pitch dark. Not even the night light or the glowing Japanese lanterns over the crib were lit. It was impossible to see anything inside. Nevertheless, Brian could sense movement and he heard a muted, breathy huffing noise that didn't sound at all good to him.

Reaching around to the wall switch, Brian flicked on the large overhead light. What he saw made him think that a tornado or some other natural disaster had blown through the tiny room. Baby paraphernalia was tossed everywhere all over the floor and any other horizontal surfaces: There were random scattered toys all over, both soiled and clean onesies and other baby clothes were wadded up in piles on the changing table, the diaper genie had fallen over and several reeking diapers were overflowing onto the carpet, and to top it all off, at least one bottle of breastmilk had apparently been spilled on the floor next to the diaper pail - the dirty bottle with the congealed remains of milk was lying on its side next to the greasy puddle of liquid.

Apparently hurricane Kevan had struck!

The most pathetic sight in that disastrous room however, was the apparently heartbroken blond teen sitting in the big comfy armchair. His hair was a mess. There were bright yellow stains of an indeterminate nature running down the front of his t-shirt. His eyes were an unattractive puffy red and the rest of his face was covered with tear tracks and snot. On his lap was an equally unkempt, but thankfully sleeping, baby boy.

As soon as the light was turned on and the blond youth realized he'd been found out, the muted sniffling turned into full-fledged sobbing.

Truly, Brian didn't think he'd ever seen a more pathetic sight in his entire life. This couldn't possibly be the same strong, capable young man he knew as Justin Taylor. Could it? What on earth could reduce his bright, always optimistic Sunshine to this sniveling, crying mess? Maybe this was some incompetent imposter?

"Sunshine," Brian asked again, his voice unsure, as if he couldn't really believe what he was seeing.

The crying man looked up at Brian and then broke out into an even louder wail of misery.

"Justin," Brian said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing in case this unpredictable mirage was easily scared or enraged. "What the fuck happened, Justin?"

"The Baaaaaaabbbbbbbyyyyy," the snot-nosed apparition moaned with another freshet of tears dribbling down his already drenched and splotchy face.

Brian looked down at the seven week old infant lying so peacefully in Justin's lap. What the hell? How could such a little angel cause this much havoc?

Then, out of the blue, a truly horrible thought popped into Brian's mind and he almost panicked. Justin couldn't mean . . . No! The baby had to be all right! Had the baby been hurt. Or worse? Fuck! No! It just couldn't be! But from the way that Justin was crying his eyes out and the stillness of the infant in his lap, Brian momentarily thought the worst.

Brian quickly knelt next to Justin's knees and reached over for his son, frantically feeling the tiny neck to confirm that the little bundle had a pulse and was still breathing. To Brian's relief, the rough jerking movement triggered a typical 'startle response' from the sleeping infant. Brian's heart started beating normally once again at the sight of the little arms raising into the air and he breathed out a tension filled sigh.

"Fuck you, Justin! You just fucking scared the holy shit out of me. With you crying like that and all, I thought . . . Hell!" Brian broke off into a stream of curses, sank back on his heels and then wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of one hand. "What the fuck happened in here? It looks like world war three started in this room."

"I c-c-c-can't . . . c-c-can't d-d-do this, Brian! I can't! He won't eat. He just shits all the time and cries and c-c-cries and I don't know how to make him stop. He never fucking s-s-sleeps. It's fucking impossible. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing! I can't do it! I CAN'T! I just fucking can't do it anymore."

At that point Justin was overcome with another debilitating bout of tears that prevented any further explanations. Brian decided the best thing was to just leave him be for a few minutes. He picked up the baby - who, by the way, seemed to be sleeping just fine - and deposited him in the crib. Then Brian spent five minutes or so clearing up the worst of the clutter. He replaced the bag in the diaper pail and carried the full one to the trash can out back. He even picked up the baby bottle and put a towel down over the wet spot, although he'd have to come back later to really get it cleaned.

By the time the room was sufficiently tidied up, Justin's crying had subsided. The occasional sniffle was all that remained. Swallowing his trepidation, Brian carefully approached the possibly unhinged young man. He was reassured when Justin didn't make any threatening movements. Taking heart from this positive sign, Brian dared to reach out and touch the boy's shoulder in a reassuring manner. That also went well. Justin continued to just sit there with a dazed and slightly confused expression on his still tear stained face.

Brian felt a little braver at the lack of any overtly frightening behavior and decided to try and guide the exhausted looking young man out of the nursery and across the hall to the master bedroom. Hopefully, whatever was wrong with the lad would remedy itself provided the subject was kept quiet in a relatively stress-free environment. It seemed likely that a nap might help, too. Justin didn't put up any resistance. He followed Brian over to the big King sized bed, crawled under the covers when Brian held them up, and was sound asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow.

When Justin finally woke up it was daylight outside. He rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table, noting in passing that he still had on all the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, and was surprised to find that it was already after ten am. Brian wasn’t in the bed next to him, which meant that he was probably up with the Hell Child, aka Kevan.

Justin felt better rested than he’d been in almost two months now. He knew he probably should get up and go see if Brian needed help with the Sobbing Spawn of Satan, but the bed felt so damn comfortable and it was so incredibly peaceful here that he simply couldn’t force himself to move. And, even with one full night of sleep under his belt, he was still suffering from the effects of a huge built up sleep deficit. The softness of the bed and the warmth of the thick duvet began to lull him back to sleep almost at once.

“Time to ‘Rise and Shine’ Sleeping Beauty,” an annoyingly cheerful voice jarred Justin out of his serene almost-back-to-sleep state. “You’ve been sleeping for like fifteen hours, Sunshine, which means it’s more than time for you to get up and move around a little before you start to develop bed sores or some shit like that.”

“Don’t want to,” Justin huffed like the recalcitrant teenager he was. “Go away!”

“Nope. I’m not that easy to get rid of little boy. Besides, if you get up I’ll feed you . . .” Brian teased, and then turned with a sexy wink over his shoulder and strode out of the room, confident that food would get the boy out of bed even if nothing else could stir him.

“Not fair . . . You know I can’t resist food,” Justin yelled after the sexy retreating back of his man.

Brian’s laughter drifting down the hall was the only response Justin received.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and almost completely coherent, Justin finally ventured into the kitchen to see if Brian had been telling the truth and really did have something edible for him. He was gratified to find a large platter piled high with flakey, buttery croissants, palmier pastries and lemon-poppyseed muffins. The carafe of coffee nearby was still hot and smelled delicious. There was even a pitcher of orange juice on the counter along with a selection of various jams for use with the pastries. Justin naturally assumed he’d died in his sleep and this was Nirvana.

By the time Brian walked into the room carrying a seemingly happy and gurgling Kevan on his hip, Justin had the majority of one jelly-coated croissant stuffed in his mouth and was buttering up a second.

“Whoa! Better slow down there, Sunshine. There’s only so many pastries you can cram into that bubble butt of yours,” Brian kidded but smiled at the sign of his Sunshine’s revitalization.

“I’m fucking ravenous!” Justin replied, disdaining Brian’s advice. “I feel like I could eat this entire plate of pastries, then go back to bed for another twelve hours of sleep. Even then I don’t think I’d be completely myself, thanks to your obnoxious offspring over there.” Justin stuck his tongue out at Baby Kevan, although his anger and frustration over dealing with the baby the day before had almost completely disappeared now that he’d got some sleep and was being fed. Mostly he was just embarrassed by his meltdown at this point.

“He’s your offspring too, Sunshine,” Brian reminded him.

“Not when he’s being a little Drama Princess, pooping on me, screaming in my ear and refusing to sleep, he’s not. Then he’s all yours!”

“Over-react much?” Brian shook his head at the vitriolic speech directed at his angelic little boy. “Kevan’s been a perfect little man for me today. Okay, so he DID wake up four times last night, which I agree is a little excessive, but he doesn’t have any control over that. And this morning he’s been a little trooper. We got up early, walked over to the bakery and got your breakfast supplies. Then we popped into this running store we happened across, where I found a great jogging stroller,” Brian pointed towards the sleek, black, aerodynamically designed contraption now waiting by the front door. “When we got back, you were still sleeping, so I put Kevan in the new stroller and we went for a two mile run. He seemed to love the movement and the fresh air and slept pretty much the whole time. Then we came home and woke you up, Princess, and he hasn’t cried once all morning!”

“Of course he hasn’t - the little traitor! Not for Daddy Dearest. Not for the perfect, magical, can-do-no-wrong Brian Kinney - able to charm any man, woman or infant with just one smile . . . Well, just don’t get too complacent, SuperDad! That little baby over there may look harmless, but just wait until you’ve been the one to stay up with him every night for weeks on end. Wait until he cries for three hours straight until you wish you could tear your ears off just to get a little, tiny bit of quiet. Wait until you’ve changed thirty or forty slimey green and yellow diapers that are completely unnatural and smell like something you never wanted to know about died in them. Then we’ll talk, Mr. Kinney.”

Brian watched the surly twink throughout the preceding rant with an indulgent grin on his beautiful lips. He obviously thought Justin was exaggerating. Kevan never seemed that bad when he was around. Maybe Justin wasn’t as good around kids as Brian had always thought he’d be?

“Whatever, Justin. I still think you’re over-reacting. Anyway, now that you’re up, you can take over,” Brian intentionally let the subject drop and moved on to something much more interesting to him - himself.

“I set up a workout date for this afternoon with Ben Bruckner - you remember him from the CK Launch? I ran into him the other day at the gym. He offered to work out with me and help me get back into shape,” Justin turned back around till he was facing the counter at this point, seemingly disinterested. He made a show out of preparing a third pastry and a second glass of juice for himself while Brian continued to talk about his new workout buddy, detailing their entire new workout regime.

“I remember Ben,” Justin commented from behind his croissant. “He seemed nice and since he’s a college professor he must be pretty smart, I guess.”

“He’s okay. I think Ben will be a big help in my exercise program, though. He’s completely into all this health food stuff and naturopathic supplements and shit. It must work since he’s in great shape himself. He even turned me on to these meal supplement bars from Norway or Sweden or somewhere,” Brian walked over to the jogging stroller and pulled out a brightly wrapped pink and yellow packet of some kind, tossing it over so that Justin could examine it. “According to Ben, I can substitute one of these puppies for a meal and I’ll still get all the nutrition I need without any of the empty calories. They’re called ‘Kalteen Bars’. Ben’s going to get me a whole case of them. Hopefully that will solve my dieting woes AND you won’t have to worry your little blond head about me skipping meals or dying of starvation or whatever you were fretting about the other day.”

“I still don’t think you should be exercising too much or dieting without talking it over first with Chiefy or Doctor Dahl, Brian,” Justin insisted. “You don’t want to overdo it so soon after the C-Section or do anything that would hurt Kevan.”

“I’m a big boy, Justin. I’m sure I can take care of myself without a doctor’s supervision. And I would never hurt Kevan - you know that! I promise to eat these nutrition supplement bars so that you don’t have to worry. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Justin shrugged and turned his attention back to the remains of the platter of food. He was finally beginning to feel full. Maybe just one muffin? Definitely!

“So, anyway, I’ll just put Kevan in his crib, grab my gym bag and then I’m off to meet Ben,” Brian announced, already heading down the hall.

“No, no, nonono! No fucking way, Brian,” Justin dropped the uneaten portion of his muffin and zipped down the hall until he was blocking Brian’s way. “You are not leaving me with that crying nightmare child again today. No fucking way! I’ve got two midterms tomorrow and I haven’t been able to get ANY studying at all done for the past two weeks because of your progeny. I also have a painting due on Thursday and a ten page essay due Friday. I am heading to the library for the day and YOU are going to spend the day with your perfect little angel.” Justin dashed off towards the back door, pulling his school bag off the hook by the door and was halfway out the door before Brian realized what was happening.

“But, Justin, what about the gym. I’ve already got plans to work out with Ben,” Brian protested.

“Fuck your workout Brian! See ya!” Justin slammed the door behind him and literally ran for the Jeep.

“Shit!” Brian muttered, huffing an annoyed breath and contemplating ways to punish his blond brat once the boy did get home later. “Oh, well. Looks like it’s just you and me for the day, Sonnyboy,” Brian added with a smile as he entered the nursery and laid the little bundle of boy in the crib. “We’ll show your Papa how it’s done. Right?”

Justin was laughing to himself as he pulled the Jeep out onto the street and used the remote to close the gate behind him. Brian had NO idea what he was in for. It was about time for him to learn though. Operation ‘Educate Daddy Dearest’ was progressing nicely.

“Now, on to Operation ‘No Diet For Daddy,” Justin chuckled out loud as he looked over at the carton of ‘Kalteen Bars’ sitting on the passenger seat. “Step one, drop off these little goodies at Ben’s place. Step two, sit back and watch the fun! Fuck I’m good!”

Chapter 5 - Day with Daddy.

‘What the hell was the dark good smelling person doing?’ Kevan wondered for the third or fourth time.

The good smelling one was blah, blah, blahing at him, waving around this little blue thing and making the most ridiculous faces! Then he’d try and stick the blue thing in Kevan’s mouth. Gross! Kevan repeatedly spit the damn thing back out, but the good smelling one didn’t seem to get it. He’d just pick the thing up and shove it in Kevan again. What a dolt!

Now the good smelling one was putting the blue thing in his own mouth. Whatever. If the nutcase wanted the annoying blue thing, he could have it. Kevan didn’t want anything to do with it. It tasted really bad and smelled kinda funny too. Most importantly, the little blue thing did nothing to help his once again sore tummy.

Kevan was disappointed that the good smelling one was turning out to be almost as useless as the big goofy person thing and the yellow person thing. He’d hoped, now that the good smelling one seemed to have taken over, that action would be taken and the problem of his upset tummy would be resolved. But, based on the good smelling one’s silly antics so far this morning, it didn’t seem likely.

Why was it so hard to find good help these days? Training up person things in the proper manner with which to care for a Kevan was incredibly tedious. They didn’t seem very smart and had a huge learning curve. Kevan was actually starting to feel bad for the poor, silly things.

With the infant equivalent to a big resigned sigh (which was manifested in the adult world as just a different type of cry - this one a little quieter and more breathy), Kevan resolved to keep trying no matter how difficult the person things seemed. He was a very determined infant. He didn’t dislike the person things. They were okay most of the time. He would just have to redouble his efforts to communicate with them.

Once more, Kevan opened his pretty little bowed lips and let forth his most expressive yowl.

“Oh, Sonnyboy! Blah blah blah. Daddy blah blah blah, Sonnyboy. Blah. Blah blah blah. Blah, Sonnyboy, blah,” the good smelling one babbled his useless noises at Kevan again.

Oh, bother!

Brian was willing to concede that Justin might be right about Kevan crying more than was strictly necessary.

The morning together with his son had gone so well and the baby had been easy to care for. Brian figured the rest of the day with his kid would be a piece of cake. Then, not twenty minutes after Justin had run screaming and laughing maniacally from the house, Kevan woke up from his nap and became another person altogether. Or maybe not a person at all - maybe, as Justin had hinted, he wasn't really a baby at all but some demonically possessed monster Hell bent on destroying Brian's hearing.

It wasn't just any old crying either. In the past when Kevan had cried it had only been minorly annoying - merely a signal to the parent that the baby needed something. These cries though we're different. It was as if the screaming howl the Little Devil Child was emitting now was scientifically engineered to the perfect frequency to pierce a human eardrum. If there were any crystal wine goblets nearby they would have long ago shattered. Dogs for blocks around would howl in sympathy at the sound. Bats flying in the vicinity were probably dying in droves as the sound of Kevan's wailing corrupted their ultrasonic navigation causing them to fly into buildings and walls. It's possible that the signal to radios in the neighborhood, as well local air traffic control radar, had been disrupted by the sound. Aliens flying through Earth's quadrant of the Milky Way had even changed course after intercepting the noise on their communications devices.

It was THAT bad!

After changing the grossest diaper he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing, Brian had tried to nurse Kevan but the baby was fussy and wouldn't latch on like he usually did. Brian had tried using a bottle even but that didn't work either. He'd tried singing Kevan's favorite lullaby. He'd tried singing disco tunes a la Babylon. He'd tried rocking the baby. He'd tried distracting Kevan with toys. Nothing stopped the fucking screech!

Now he was just trying to plug up the Little Devil Child's screech hole.

"Please, Sonnyboy. Please take the binky for Daddy! Please, please, please, Sonnyboy," Brian had found the little blue pacifier in the drawer in the nursery and was trying desperately to get the baby to suck on it. "See? Watch Daddy. See, you suck on it like this and it'll shut you up and Daddy won't go insane, Sonnyboy," Brian demonstrated by sticking the binky in his own mouth and sucking on it. "Now you, Sonnyboy! Come on! You can do it. Think titty! Think cock! Whatever gets you going. Please, Sonnyboy. Please!"

Kevan promptly spit the binky out every single time. After ten minutes of trying with the pacifier, the decibel level of the baby's cries impossibly increased several points and Brian gave up.

Brian stood there just glowering at the Little Devil Child. The LDC stared back at him, waved his baby arms and cried some more. It was a standoff that Brian couldn't possibly win. Kevan would win by mere attrition as soon as Brian collapsed with broken bleeding ears.

Brian wasn't willing to admit defeat yet. But he definitely needed reinforcements. If the LDC wanted to declare war on his father's sanity, Brian would give him a war. And it was time to amass his army.

Brian approached the gang's favorite booth in the Liberty Diner and dropped the baby carrier down on the table top. The sudden drop startled Kevan enough that he actually stopped crying momentarily. Brian was almost about to breath a sigh of relief when the LDC remembered where he'd left off and resumed his wailing. Brian collapsed onto the seat next to Michael.

"Anybody want a used kid," Brian tried to muster up a smile to prove to his listeners that he was only joking but gave it up as too much effort. "He may be slightly defective - his off switch doesn't work worth a damn - but I'd let you have him for cheap!"

"Brian! And my sweet little Kevan!" Debbie crooned as soon as she emerged from the kitchen and noted her new visitors.

Grandma Deb quickly stuffed her order pad in the pocket of her apron and scooped up her newest grandkid. Kevan was startled by the movement as well as the odd person who was now rudely blowing raspberries on his exposed tummy and making nonsense noises at him. At least the surprise shut up his crying and that made Brian happy.

"What's wrong, Stud," Debbie asked, immediately noting Brian's harried countenance. "Is my little angel here giving his daddy a workout? Huh? Not my precious little Kevan angel. No!"

"Sorry to break it to you, Deb, but your precious little angel is actually hell spawn bent on subjugating the human race," Brian quipped, scowling at the evil LDC.

"Welcome to full-time parenthood, Brian," Debbie replied, breaking into peals of laughter at her surrogate son's defeated look. "It's not as easy as it looks, is it?"

Brian wasn't about to admit anything. He just gave Debbie a snarky leer and then glared over at the peanut gallery in order to silence the expected teasing comments from the rest of his friends. Ted's mouth was open and he was just about to hit Brian with a real zinger, but the look caused him to stop and swallow his comment. He'd heard new parents were liable to snap unexpectedly and had been known to resort to violence.

"Well, you happen to be in luck, kiddo. I'm off in five minutes. And, if you're nice to me, I might be willing to give you a bit of a break," Deb offered, amused when she saw the sparkle in Brian's eye that the idea of a break, however short, gave rise to. "I'm heading home to start cooking for tonight's family dinner. How about I take this little sweetheart with me and you can pick him up tonight when you and Sunshine come to dinner for a change?"

The entire table laughed at the look of relief on Brian's face at Deb's generous offer.

As soon as Deb exited the Diner with a still sniffling Kevan in tow, Brian relaxed and became a completely different person. He seemed calm, self-confident and at ease. He joined in with the rest of the gang's banter, throwing back sarcastic comments and mild put downs just like back in the good old days. Somehow he even looked more like his old 'Studly' self.

"So where's the Boy Wonder today, Brian," Mikey asked with more than a hint of his old jealousy evident. "Did he just run off and abandon you with Kevan for the whole day? You really should make him take a bit more responsibility with the kid, Brian. It's not fair to put all the parenting crap on you."

"Mikey," Brian turned to his old friend with a warning in his eye. "You know how we talked about you opening your mouth when you really have no idea what the hell you're talking about? Well this is one of those times. I suggest you shut the fuck up before you end up eating your size ten Keds."

"But, Briannnn," Michael started to protest, unwilling to let such unfair treatment of his best friend go without even a comment.

"Shut it, Mikey!" Brian ordered.

"How is Justin, Brian," Emmett asked as soon as Michael looked like he'd take the advice and drop the subject. "He was definitely looking a bit dazed when I left Britin's Chapel on Friday. I know he's got just a ton of studying to do before his midterms. I hope he's okay."

"Justin's fine, Honeycutt," Brian responded, pausing to allow his friend to voice the usual admonishment - 'don't call me Honeycutt!' - before he continued. "He ran off to the library as soon as he woke up this morning. It sounds like the lad's got a ton on his plate this week for school. Which is why I got a turn at Daddy Duty for the Little Devil Child."

"Poor Brian. Forced to spend the day with your own evil offspring," Ted teased and got a french fry from off of Michael's plate thrown in his face as a result.

"Yeah, well, don't joke about it until you've tried it yourself, Theodore," Brian continued good naturedly. "I fucking thought Justin was completely overreacting about the crying shit until today. But, fuck it all, that baby's got lungs you wouldn't believe and stamina - it's fucking amazing how long he can cry."

"At one point, the LDC was laying on the bed while I was changing and just screeching away nonstop and for a minute I looked at the pillow lying next to him and actually thought about putting the damn pillow over his annoying little face. I mean, fuck, I'd never actually do it, but it's like the idea just popped into my head without my permission. I really had to think for a minute or two before it came to me why that would be a bad idea. Just the thought that I could ever do that shit scared the crap out of me," Brian confessed with more than a trace of actual apprehension apparent in his voice.

"Don't beat yourself up about that, Honey," Emmett was quick to reassure Brian. "I'm sure that every parent feels like that at least once. It's totally natural. Besides, we know you'd never actually do anything to hurt that baby. It's just hard when he's so inconsolable like he's been lately. I ought to know since I'm there every morning."

“Yeah, well, I'm just fucking grateful Deb was here or you never know," Brian admitted to his friends.

"Excuse me, Brian? I mean, Mr. Kinney," the discussion of infanticide was thankfully interrupted at this point by the approach of a shaggy haired twenty-something Twinkie who was holding a magazine in his hands.

"Not interested," Brian threw out his standard response to all Twink's except his one special blond.

"Oh, um, I-I-I wasn't hitting on you, Sir," the twink stammered. "I-I-I was hoping I could get your autograph." Here the Twink held out the magazine which just happened to be a copy of the GQ issue where Brian had come out about his pregnancy. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Brian. You're such an inspiration. It's just so fabulous to meet you in person and all."

Brian finally really looked at the kid. He was average height and build. Shaggy light brown hair with golden highlights. Goofy crooked smile. Not bad looking but nothing really special until you noticed his amazingly bright grey-blue eyes. Those eyes turned the kid from a nobody into a real looker. Brian approved - the kid was fuckable.

"Sure, kid," Brian conceded, flattered really that someone recognized him.

The twink was almost ecstatic by now. He handed over the magazine and dug a silver marker out of the big black oversized bag which was hanging off his shoulder. Brian turned to the inside cover where the Armani ad was and, on the picture of him seen from the side with his big Prego belly, he started to sign his initials.

"Could you write, 'To Taggart'? That's me," the boy twittered and smiled at Brian.

Brian compliantly added a 'To Taggart' above his scrawled 'BAK' and tossed it back to the waiting fan.

“Thank you so much, Brian. I CAN call you Brian, right? I mean, I feel like I know you. You’re just such an inspiration to me and all gay men,” the kid gushed, moving even closer to where Brian was sitting instead of taking his autograph and leaving. “The way you came out and announced to the world not only that you were gay but that you were having a baby and you didn’t care how anybody saw you because you knew you were the best man you could ever be . . .”

“Uh, yeah, kid. Whatever. But, you know I didn’t really have much of a choice. It’s not like I could have hid the fact that I’m some kind of mutant once I was eight months pregnant,” Brian tried to lighten up the conversation.

“Oh, no, Brian. Nobody thinks of you like that. I mean, you’re just perfect the way you are,” the boy jumped in to defend his new idol from himself.

“Not to be rude or anything,” Ted broke into the conversation at this point, “but we are trying to have a meal and a conversation here. So, now that you have your autograph, if you wouldn’t mind . . .” Ted made a shooing motion with his hands in the boy’s direction.

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry, Brian. Thanks again for the autograph,” Taggart repeated obsequiously as he slowly backed away, seemingly reluctant to even take his eyes off of Brian.

“Can’t say as I think much of your fanclub, Brian, especially if that’s an example,” Emmett commented as soon as the boy was out of earshot.

Brian just ignored the comment, not even bothering to shrug off Em’s disdain. He guessed it was a bit flattering and all, but he didn’t really need any more annoying groupies bugging him. The minor little blip in the party was soon forgotten though and the guys turned their conversation back to the usual rounds of gossip, trash talk and rumor mongering. It felt really nice to be back on the Avenue . . .

Well, it did for at least for the next fifteen minutes, which was when the next Prego Stud Groupie showed up. After that, it seemed that open season had been declared on Brian’s autograph. At one point there was even a bit of a line stretching away from their booth towards the front of the Diner. Most of these people didn’t have a copy of GQ with them and so they were asking him to sign all sorts of crazy shit. Brian drew the line at signing one guy’s ass though. Not that he was opposed in general terms to leaving his mark on a guy’s ass, but he was getting just a bit pissed off at all the interruptions by then. So he declined, as politely as possible for Brian Kinney (which meant only that he didn’t outright tell the guy to ‘Fuck Off’).

“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” Brian declared as soon as ass autograph guy was dispatched.

“We should probably go too, Brian,” Michael immediately followed on his friends heels. “It’s almost time to head to Ma’s for dinner anyway. Can I bum a ride from you?’

“Shit! I guess I kinda do have to go, don’t I? So much for getting to the gym today,” Brian grumbled half-heartedly, torn between his urge to get some quiet time to himself and the gut-felt need to check up on his son. Brian pulled out his phone as he shepherded Michael in front of him and down the street to where he’d parked his new Audi.

“Hey, Sunshine! We’ve been summoned to the Novotny Residence for dinner,” Brian announced without any greeting when Justin answered. “You were ordered to make an appearance too, so get your ass in gear!”

The drive over to Debbie’s took less than ten minutes. For most people it took longer to find a parking space on the crowded street than it did to drive the short distance. Of course, Brian wasn’t most people and his innate Parking Karma meant he pulled right up to the spot directly in front of the Novotny house without any trouble at all. Therefore, Michael and Brian were inside the house and already seated with drinks in hand long before Ted and Emmett came through the front door.

“Hey Deb! So where’s the LDC?” was the first thing out of Brian’s mouth.

“He’s upstairs in the portable crib in Michael’s old room. By the way, that baby was just exhausted, Brian. What have you been doing to him? He was zonked out two seconds after I left the Diner.” Deb answered accusingly.

“What have WE been doing to HIM?” Brian’s back went up at that. “We haven’t done anything to him. He’s the one keeping everyone up all night and crying half the day. Poor Sunshine was fucking bawling his eyes out last night after spending the afternoon with the little screamer. I can’t believe he’s still sleeping for you. Maybe I should go check on him.”

“You just sit your ass down, Brian, and leave that baby be! He’s fine. If you go up there you’ll just wake him up and then he WILL start crying,” Debbie commanded, pushing Brian back down onto the couch with one imperious hand.

“You’re awful pushy for a sweet little old Grandma, Deb. But, whatever. Just give me the baby monitor then so I can hear if he wakes up or anything,” the protective papa capitulated.

“There’s no monitor. The door to the room is open and you really don’t need that crap,” Debbie, the expert parenting coach advised. “Trust me, honey, there ain’t nothing wrong with that kid’s lungs. When the baby wakes up and wants attention you’ll hear him all right. And in the meantime, you need to just chill out and relax. No need to jump to attention every time the kid makes a noise. You’ll wear yourself out like that and the baby will end up a nervous wreck too. Now, have a beer, relax and let Debbie take care of things.”

Brian reluctantly leaned back into the couch where he’d been ordered to sit. It just felt so wrong not to have a baby monitor so he could hear if Kevan needed him. Brian and Justin had always had the monitor on at home. Hell, Justin carried that thing around with him constantly. Brian was a little more relaxed about it - he only wanted the monitor on and the receiver somewhere in the same room with him - but still it was disconcerting not to be able to hear the baby at all. Brian didn’t want to alienate one of their best babysitters though, so he did as he was told, sat on the couch, drank his beer and said nothing.

Justin blew through the door about twenty minutes later - just before Deb started putting the food on the table, thankfully, or else he’d have been in trouble for being late. The boy seemed in much, much better spirits than he had been when he bailed from Britin’s Chapel earlier in the day. He even gave Brian one of his best sunshine smiles and a big, tongue-filled kiss as soon as he got near. It seemed that a day off of daddy duty had done the boy a world of good.

“Hey! Where’s your Sobbing Spawn of Satan?” was the first thing he asked as he scooted his chair up closer to the table.

“My Angel, Kevan, is asleep upstairs, Sunshine,” Deb answered for Brian. “And, just to head off where I already know this conversation is going, you are NOT going to go up there and check on him. There is NO baby monitor. He will be fine and if he wakes up for real we’ll hear just fine once he starts crying. Now, sit down, close your trap and eat before the Pasta Carbonara gets cold.”

Justin snapped his jaw closed with an audible clamping sound. He looked imploringly at Brian who mutely shook his head in a warning gesture, indicating that he shouldn’t ask. As soon as Deb was assured that she’d won this particular argument, she amiably handed the large pasta serving bowl to Justin and then moved on with her usual round of directions to everyone present about how to serve the food. Justin knew not to rock the boat and quietly munched on his pasta without further comment.

And, miracle of miracles, Kevan actually stayed asleep throughout the entirety of dinner. Or at least everyone assumed he was asleep upstairs since there was no outright screaming or wailing. Once the meal was over, the dishes washed and the leftovers were boxed up and parceled out to those Deb deemed in the greatest need of future meals, Justin was finally allowed to go upstairs and see his son. Since he’d been gone for the majority of the day, it was one of the longest spans of time he’d ever been away from his little man. The proud papa was definitely jonesing for some Kevan time.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly. Kevan was more complaisant than Justin or Emmett had seen him in weeks. He didn’t even seem to mind being passed around while everyone in the family took turns giving him cuddles. It was truly a miracle as far as Justin was concerned. He made a note to speak to Debbie later and see if he could wheedle her secret cure for colic out of her. But, in the meantime, Justin enjoyed his time hanging out with the family, playing with Gus and proudly watching everyone compliment his son.

It was an almost idyllic time. A time to look back on fondly. A time meant to lull the new fathers into an unwarranted sense of security and peace.  A time before the return of the LDC.

Chapter 6 - Trials and Tribulations!

‘What does a baby have to do to get some attention around here! Jeeze! What the doody is wrong with these people things, anyway? Don’t they get it? I’ve waved my arms till they’re numb and kicked my feet until I’m exhausted and sweaty. I’ve made every kind of noise I possibly could - as loud as I could - for as long as I could. I’ve even invented new noises I didn’t even know I could make. I couldn’t possibly say it any more clearly!’

‘MY TUMMY HURTS YOU MORONS! FIX IT!’

-Thoughts of Kevan Donough Taylor-Kinney, aged eight weeks.

Kevan's angelic mood lasted only as long as it took the Taylor-Kinney family to drive the few blocks from Debbie's house to Britin's Chapel. Before they'd even got the baby into the house, the colicky crying started up once again. This time Kevan had come up with a shrill caterwauling squall that grated on the adults' nerves worse than the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard.

Justin, citing his upcoming tests and piles of waiting homework, dodged Brian's attempt to hand off the baby carrier and escaped up the stairs to his choir studio. He promptly stuck the earbuds of his iPod in and disappeared into his art. Brian's reasoning mind told him it would be immature to flip him off or stick his tongue out at the youth, but he really wanted to. Instead, Brian unloaded the LDC from the baby carrier and did his best to comfort the little monster.

Monday.

According to Brian's calculations the baby had only slept a total of about an hour and a half the night before. Justin had gotten up with Kevan the first two or three times he'd cried, but then gave up and ordered Brian - since Daddy Stud was the one who had the working tits - to take over.

The only problem with that theory was that the LDC didn't seem to want to eat, or at least not much. He'd nurse fitfully for maybe ten minutes then start crying again. Twenty minutes later he'd seem interested in nursing again but not for long. In between these brief feedings the baby would doze off but never really fall deeply asleep. Every time Brian thought Kevan was finally out, he'd start to put the baby in his crib, and the movement itself would wake him up and the wailing would begin all over. This little farce went on pretty much all night.

The boys were so happy to escape to work and school by the time Emmett showed up that morning, Em barely saw their coat tails as the desperate daddies fled the scene. Justin fell asleep during two of his classes that morning - even drifting off in the middle of one of his mid-terms. Brian tried to stave off his exhaustion with coffee, drinking so much he gave himself stomach cramps.

Manny Emmett reported that the baby slept just fine most of the morning but had started to cry again about an hour before the guys returned home. Brian tried walking with the LDC while Justin struggled to pull together a dinner for them. Brian was too exhausted to raise his 'no carbs after 7:00' rule and simply ate the reheated pasta Deb had sent home for them the night before.

After dinner they traded off baby comforting time back and forth while each tried and failed to get some work done. Finally, Brian gave up, strapped the screaming meanie into the new jogging stroller and headed outside - he figured that if the kid was going to cry anyway, he might as well cry outside as in. Something in the fresh air or the motion helped a bit, and Kevan finally fell quiet. By the time Brian had hit the three mile mark, the LDC was asleep.

Tuesday.

The prior night was even worse. Brian would be surprised if the LDC had slept more than a half an hour. Nothing seemed to do any good. He wouldn't nurse. He wouldn't sleep. Talking, singing, rattling toys in his face - all these seemed to just make him cry louder. He seemed decidedly unfond of the pacifier. He spent most of his time waving his arms futilely, kicking his legs and crying so hard he actually worked up a sweat.

Around about three am, Brian brought the baby into the master bedroom, laid the screeching, wailing ball of unhappiness on the mattress between Justin and himself and just laid there helplessly, awake, listening to the baby cry until dawn. Brian heard Justin quietly sobbing right along with the baby for most of the night. Brian may have cried himself a time or two, but hoped he was less obvious about it than his tender-hearted blond.

Despite having studied between classes for his next mid term, Justin found that he couldn't remember most of what was on the test. He soon gave up trying, turned in an almost blank sheet of paper and ran out of the class room, again sobbing himself. While running, crying and trying to avoid other students who were trying to enter the lecture hall, Justin tripped over a small decorative planter next to the front door, stumbled across the breadth of the sidewalk and fell off the curb into a busy side street right in front of a car. Luckily the driver stopped in time, but Justin scraped up his left arm pretty badly and sprained his right ankle. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the student medical center having his ankle x-rayed.

Brian decided he needed to stop at Starbucks on the way to work since he didn't think he could make it even that far without an infusion of caffeine. When he was pulling out of the parking lot with a grande latte gripped between his knees, he somehow misjudged the turning ratio of the car and accidentally backed right into a cement post. To add insult to injury, the collision caused enough of a jolt that his entire cup full of steaming hot coffee spilled out across his lap scalding his groin and legs and - perhaps most upsetting - ruining his suit pants.

Wednesday.

Neither daddy bothered to keep track of how long, or even if, Kevan had slept. They just took turns holding the infant, trying to comfort him using whatever tricks came to mind. Both men were now too tired to bother speaking. When it was time to trade off caregiver duties, they just grunted at each other and shoved the baby into the other man's arms. The only other communication between the two men consisted of despairing looks and muttered curses.

Justin spent some of his time while on crying duty sifting through information on the internet trying his best to find help. Unfortunately, the 'experts' couldn't even seem to agree on what caused colic, let alone any way to treat it. Without much confidence that anything offered would help, Justin printed off a couple pages of information and tips.

Since several sites had suggested that swaddling might help, he determined to try that first. Following the directions he'd found, he used a lightweight baby blanket to tightly wrap up the baby so that he couldn't move his arms or legs - it was kind of like a straight jacket for infants. The idea was that the baby would feel consoled by the blankets hugging him so tightly. Kevan didn't seem to appreciate the gesture much, though. He just kept on wriggling his little body as hard as he could and repeatedly broke out of the restraints. Justin doggedly rewrapped the tiny captive every time, hoping that eventually Kevan might grow to like the swaddling.

Around two am, with the swaddled and irate Kevan still screaming, Justin had the brilliant idea that he could at least spend this time while he was forced to be awake by getting some household chores done. He'd noticed earlier that the laundry seemed to be piling up. So, with the bundled up baby in one arm and a bundle of dirty clothes in the other he hobbled on his sprained ankle into the small utility room.

Setting both the baby and the clothes down on top of the big front loading washer, he turned around briefly to grab the detergent. With his face practically splitting in half due to his incessant yawning, he blindly groped for the pile of laundry and shoved it into the washer. He measured out the soap, turned all the knobs to the right settings and then hit the button to start the load.

Then Justin reached out to once again pick up the baby, noting in passing that there was a heavenly break in the crying. It was so nice. So peaceful for that instant or two that there was silence. He knew it probably wouldn't last but he could at least relish the moment, couldn't he?

Within thirty seconds though, Justin realized that the bundle he was holding didn't seem right for some reason. He glanced down. His dazed, sleep deprived brain took longer than usual to register the fact that there wasn't any baby in that bundle. With his free hand, he frantically searched through the pile of cloth he was holding but found no baby. Then, with a scream, Justin realized the gargantuan mistake he'd just made and tore open the door of the washing machine, flooding the floor as the water poured out.

Kevan was lying in the bottom of the barrell of the washer with his head oriented towards the door. He was drenched and a little sudsy, but luckily the machine had been on a 'warm' only cycle and it had only been filling for ten seconds or so. And for once he wasn't even crying. ***

Justin fell to his knees, pulled the sopping baby out and proceeded to have a complete mental breakdown right there on the floor of the utility room.

Brian spent the rest of that night trying to comfort not only a colicky baby but also his apoplectic and guilt ridden partner. Justin's sobbing actually rivaled that of Kevan's for a good twenty minutes. Justin felt so bad for what he'd done that at one point he actually knelt on the ground at Brian's feet and begged him to call the police and turn him in for his horrendous actions. Brian eventually got the big drama princess calmed down but it wasn't easy.

Justin was still too upset to deal with school after that. Instead he huddled dejectedly under the blankets in bed and didn't even come out when Emmett arrived for the day. Emmett, who thought the whole story was a big hoot, kindly let the youth sleep undisturbed.

Thursday.

By Thursday morning the bruising on Justin’s face and arm was a lovely dark purple with green and black highlights. The dark circles under his eyes were almost as black. He still could barely walk with his sprained ankle despite having it wrapped up in an ace bandage. To Brian, it looked like his sweet teen lover had been tortured by the CIA for information in some secret army base for a few weeks on end.

Brian wasn't sure he looked much better. It was a good thing that the GQ photo shoot had happened before this colic stuff started or he'd have looked horrid in the article. He hoped to God things would be better long before the Armani job started. In the meantime he’d just have to put up with the dead looking eyes, dark circles and grey paunchy skin. Oh, and the burns on his thighs and crotch from yesterday's spilled coffee, which caused his trousers to rub painfully and forced him to walk a bit oddly, didn't help his image much either.

That evening, the guys decided to try another colic relief technique Justin had found on the Net - The Swinging and Shushing system. This little gem of parenting advice entailed swinging or bouncing the baby and convincing him to stop crying by hissing 'ssshhhh' close to baby's ear.

Brian took the lead with this particular treatment regime. And it DID work - sort of. "Sure your baby will stop crying if you wrap him like a mental patient in a straight jacket, rhythmically bouncing him in your arms while holding him like a martini shaker, and shushing him as loudly as possible directly in his ear," Brian explained when Justin started to enthuse over the immediate results. "But just see how long you can do that in the middle of the night without simultaneously tearing a rotator cuff and having a complete mental breakdown.”###

After more than four hours of tag team swinging and shushing, Brian's prophetic statement proved true. The boys collapsed into bed together with Kevan between them and gave up. The one good result of that system, was that all the activity wore the two men out so completely that they both managed to fall asleep - well, pass out - and got a couple hours shut eye in spite of the baby's fussing. It might not have been a deep refreshing sleep, but it was better than nothing.

Friday.

Justin crawled out of bed Friday morning about an hour after Kevan had finally stopped crying for the night. His head ached and his whole body felt all clammy. Since he'd pretty much had a nonstop headache for the past two weeks, he really didn't think anything about it. Unfortunately, by the time he was showered and dressed, his nose had started to run, his throat was scratchy and sore and he had started coughing as well.

"Fuck! I wasn't miserable enough?" the tired teen yelled at the fates playing with his life. "Really? You think I need a cold on top of everything else? Well, fuck you! Fuck! You! FUCK YOU!"

Brian walked by the clearly irrational young man on his way to take his own shower and didn't say a word.

Justin sneezed his way down the hall to the kitchen. Since neither he nor Brian had had the energy to do any grocery shopping in the past week, there was very little that was edible in the kitchen. Digging deep in the freezer, Justin managed to unearth a foil wrapped package of frozen lasagne that Deb had sent over at some distant time period P.C. (Pre-Colic). Justin pulled that out along with a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He didn't feel capable of any further activity, at least not where breakfast was concerned, so he just collapsed on a stool at the kitchen bar, unwrapped the hunk of frozen lasagne and started gnawing on it as it was. Every few bites, he'd add in a spoonful of ice cream.

Brian didn't even have the energy to comment when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later to find his partner eating a lasagne-sicle and mint ice cream.

To top off his crappy day, Justin had the misfortune to be the first one home that afternoon. He'd just got back the not altogether unexpected but still depressing results of the midterm he'd taken earlier in the week. He'd barely managed a 'D', which meant he wasn't in the best of moods even before he made it home.

Emmett had to leave right away because of some fabulous social event he'd been invited to. This fact compounded Justin's bad mood. At this point it didn't look like the teen would survive parenthood long enough to ever have a social life of his own again. Not that he wanted to go out or anything - all he wanted was to crawl into a hole and sleep for the rest of the winter, social life be damned.

Kevan started into his usual evening squalling just as Emmett's car was pulling out of the drive. There was no food in the house to use in preparing a dinner. Justin felt like shit and looked like shit too. His nose wouldn't stop running and he thought he probably now had a low-grade fever too. He was probably going to fail out of school at this rate. He hated his life, his baby, his partner, his family and the world in general. So was it any wonder that Justin unleashed his temper on the very next person he saw?

Brian walked into the house a couple hours later, put his briefcase down next to the door and turned to look over at his formerly Sunshiney lover. It was immediately apparent that the sun had now set and only storm clouds were on the horizon for the foreseeable future. If Brian hadn't been so slow and groggy due to lack of sleep he probably would have run for safety. As it was, he was doomed.

"This is all your fucking fault, Brian! I don't care how, but YOU have got to do something to make him stop! I don't care what, just fucking do SOMETHING! I can't take it anymore! I can't!"

"It's MY fault? Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on, Sunshine. You're the one who fucked me and started all this shit! I NEVER wanted this shit! You're the little Miss Sunshine who kept saying we could do this! And what the fuck do you expect me to do anyway? You're supposed to be the god damned little genius in the family. Why don't you fix it yourself?" Brian shot back, enjoying the small bit of release he got from letting loose of his temper.

"Fuck you, Brian! Fuck you and your God damned spawn of satan that never stops crying! Fuck everything! I can't stand it anymore. I'm going fucking insane! I’m almost flunking my classes and now I have this damn cold! We need more help!"

Next, Justin decided that yelling alone hadn't been sufficient to express the full extent of his anger. Time to move on to more aggressive forms of anger. Accordingly, he opted to start throwing things. The first thing that he could find, which happened to be the glass of water he'd been holding, seemed like a good projectile. And the loud shattering followed by the splash of liquid was very gratifying.

Brian was inspired by Justin's show of rage. He wanted to join in and throw things too. It felt like something he should do at this juncture. There weren't any more water glasses handy though, so Brian reached for the next available item - the toaster. It made a really satisfying clang when it hit the wall.

Justin followed with the stainless steel storage canister full of coffee beans. The staccato *plick, plick, plick* of the beans cascading to the wood floor was pleasing, especially when added to the metal crash of the canister.

Brian, not to be outdone, had already grabbed for the coffee maker. The machine was already raised above his head, ready to be launched, when he was distracted by the sound of a shocked gasp coming from beyond the kitchen.

"What the FUCK is going on here?" a flabbergasted Jennifer Taylor demanded as she reached up and forcibly removed the small appliance from Brian's hands.

Thus the great Taylor Kinney Kitchen War was ended before any casualties - other than some broken cookware - were incurred.

***Scene based on true story: http://www.cnn.com/2012/05/23/us/new-jersey-washer-baby.

### Quote from Babble.com blog: Our Son Got Over Colic, We Haven’t. http://www.babble.com/baby/colic-dealing-with-crying-baby-harm-to-parents/

Chapter 7 - It's A Snore!

*Snore*

-Thoughts of Kevan Donaugh Taylor-Kinney, age eight weeks, one day.

"Brian Kinney, you put that coffee maker down right this instant!" Jennifer ordered as soon as she had the attention of the two clearly insane men.

Brian cautiously lowered the coffee maker he'd been about to smash against the far wall. Jennifer walked up, glared at the much taller man like he was a naughty toddler, removed the appliance from Brian's hands and replaced it on the counter where it belonged. Neither Brian nor Justin said a single word. Jennifer spun around on the heel of her stylish low pumps and surveyed the surrounding destruction. With a disapproving huff she squared her slim but strong shoulders and mentally took charge.

"Justin, you go sit on the couch. Brian, you take the chair. If either of you move a muscle before I have a chance to sort this mess out I'll kick your pretty little asses with my size five Jimmy Choos," Jennifer threatened, obviously not emptily. Both men followed her orders without discussion and retreated to their assigned seats in the Greatroom. "I'm going to see to Kevan. I'll be back in five minutes and your asses better be where they are now. And NO talking either!"

Grandma Jenn gathered up the crying infant out of the baby carrier that had been awkwardly propped up on the end of the kitchen counter. The baby's howling abated a little into a slightly less shrill pitch. It was almost as if the baby could sense that things were finally about to turn around. He seemed a lot less frantic now that someone with real authority, who wasn't on the verge of a total emotional breakdown, had appeared and was taking charge.

Jenn carried the baby off to the nursery, made sure his diaper wasn't wet and then placed the overwrought infant into his crib. She pulled a soft baby blanket up over her grandson's tummy, turned off all the lights except for one small nightlight near the floor, unplugged the baby monitor and then shut the door behind her as she left. From outside the door, Jenn heard the panicky sobbing of the child slow and eventually quiet. With a satisfied nod of her head, she headed back down the hall, ready to deal with the other two babies.

"Okay. Now, who wants to go first," Jenn said as soon as she’d returned and seated herself on the spare couch. Neither man volunteered. Brian was staring at his shoes. Justin was quietly sobbing again and trying to wipe away his tears without it being too obvious.

"Fine. Then I'll choose," the authoritative woman stated. "Justin, tell me why you look like a refugee from a prisoner of war camp."

Justin accepted the tissue his mother held out to him and loudly blew his running nose before answering her question. Then, to the accompaniment of almost as many tears as Kevan was wont to show of an evening, Justin related the saga of their past week from hell. Interspersed among the stories of disaster after disaster, Justin consistently bemoaned his unworthiness as a parent and confessed that he just didn't seem cut out for fatherhood. About halfway through the recitation, Jennifer raised her hand to stop him. She figured she'd already got a pretty good picture of Justin's state of mind.

"Brian, did you want to add anything?" Jenn asked of the taciturn man sitting across from her who had yet to say a single word.

"Not really. I think Justin pretty much covered it . . . I feel ridiculously guilty over the fact that I now pretty much hate my son. Justin is annoying the hell out of me on a regular basis, too. And this whole experience feels like it's sucking my soul out. Other than that, though, there's not much to say," Brian tersely summed up what both men had been feeling over the past couple of weeks.

"So, if it's been that bad, why the hell didn't one of you call me? Huh? Or call Deb or some one else . . . ANYONE else?" Jenn's exasperation over the stubborn stupidity of the two men momentarily outweighed her sympathy for their predicament. "You aren't the first parents to ever have a colicky baby to deal with you know. And you've got a lot of people, family, friends, who wouldn't hesitate a moment to help you. But NOOOO . . . You two know-it-alls think you don't need help, hmm? Jeeze! You know, I should just leave you here wallowing in your misery as a lesson to you, but I won't do that to poor Kevan."

Both men sat hunched over, dejectedly taking their dressing down and feeling all kinds of stupid. Their only defense being that, in the middle of the night when you're exhausted past anything you ever dreamt of and confronted by a screaming infant, your logic skills kinda go down the crapper. Nevertheless, it did seem sort of ridiculous to have let things get as bad as they had. The trail of detritus from the earlier kitchen destruction episode, which could still be seen from where they were sitting, was pretty convincing evidence that they really hadn't been handling things well.

"All right," Jenn stood up so she could use her five foot five height to its best and most authoritative advantage. "This is what we're going to do. You two are leaving. Go sleep at the loft for tonight. I don't want to see either of you back here before ten tomorrow morning. I'll clean up your mess and stay with Kevan for the night. Tomorrow we'll get you some real help."

When both boys just continued to stare up at her looking dazed and confused, as if they doubted that real help had truly appeared, Jenn went over and physically pulled Brian to his feet. When he still didn't start to move, the frisky grandma actually swatted the big guy on his ass to get him started. Justin, who'd been watching in awe from his seat on the couch, let out a strangled giggle at his mother's liberties, earning him dirty looks from both Jenn and Brian. Jenn followed up with a finger pointed at her hysterical son, then crooked her finger to indicate he should follow his partner and get moving as well. With only a couple residual giggles, Justin trotted after Brian's retreating back.

It took them only a few minutes to throw some clothes and toiletries into an overnight bag and then Jennifer was practically shoving the two men out the back door. Justin followed Brian to the new Audi, hoping that the older man was awake enough to drive, since he was sure he couldn't. The short drive over to the loft - which they still hadn't decided what to do with - happened in complete silence.

Brian parked on the street right in front of the building, grabbed their bag and started shuffling toward the entrance. His usually graceful stride had been replaced with a tired hobble reminiscent of a ninety year old man. Justin, with his sprained ankle wrapped up tightly, followed in his own zombie-like halting gait. They made it through the main door and then stood together listlessly waiting for the elevator, still without saying a word. When the elevator stopped at the correct floor, they lumbered in tandem towards the loft door, and as soon as Brian unlocked it and pulled it open, trudged inside.

Justin headed straight for the couch, plopping down in a lump as soon as he reached it. Brian managed a short detour to the kitchen where he grabbed two bottles of water out of the almost empty fridge and then, as an after-thought, grabbed the bottle of scotch off the kitchen counter as well before heading off to join the blond.

Slumping down next to the other couch lump, Brian rumbled an inarticulate growl in Justin's general direction to get the boy's attention and then held up both drink offerings. Justin grunted a wordless 'thanks', grabbed the bottle of alcohol and chugged a good mouthful before passing it back to Brian. With a reciprocal grunt, the big brunet took his own swig from the bottle of whiskey and then sighed deeply.

"It's quiet," Brian commented in a neutral tone of voice that gave away no emotion.

"Yeah," was Justin's erudite response.

The silence was allowed to persist for several more minutes without further interruption. The peaceful quiet was almost disconcerting it was so all pervasive. Neither man had the energy to break the silence, even if they had known what to say at this point.

"Wanna fuck?" Brian offered when the utter lack of noise finally got to be too much for him.

"Sure. I guess," Justin replied a bit unenthusiastically for him.

"Here or the bed," Brian asked, just to be polite.

"Meh," Justin apparently really didn't have a preference.

"The lube's in the bedroom," Brian brought up the most salient point that came to mind.

*shrug* . . . *yawn*

And since Brian wasn't getting much input from Justin either way, he made an executive decision and decided to just stay where they were - it was easier and meant less unnecessary movement. Without any further preliminaries, he reached over and grabbed at the hem of Justin's tee, yanking it off over the boy's head. Justin returned the favor by loosening Brian's tie and then unbuttoning his dress shirt. Brian helped out with the last few buttons and then they were both naked from the waist up.

With a pale imitation of his usual sexy smirk, Brian pushed the yawning blond backwards so he was reclined across the couch cushions. Almost as if he was on autopilot, Brian shoved down his blond boy's loose jeans and bent over to steal a first taste of the treat he knew was nestled there in the thatch of thick dark blond pubes. The blond's half-hard cock twitched half-heartedly when Brian's tongue swiped a long swathe up its length with his tongue. Unimpressed, Brian determined a little more effort would be needed in order to get this party going. He opened wide and swallowed Justin's entire length in one fell swoop. Sucking hard, swirling his tongue and bobbing his head as needed, Brian employed several of his best tricks in an effort to get the youth interested in what would be coming up next.

*snore*

Brian was startled by the rude noise coming from the pile of cushions at the other end of the couch. He raised his head from what he now suspected was a futile attempt to rouse the beast. As Brian expected, the blond beauty he'd been trying to ravish was completely dead to the world. With his slack mouth emitting a series of snuffling snores, a trickle of drool already escaping the corner of his lips, Justin was very clearly out for the count!

"Shit!" A dissatisfied Brian cursed the only man who'd ever fallen asleep while Brian 'Fucking' Kinney had been trying to give him a blow job.

Grumbling about ungrateful twinks, Brian pulled a throw off the back of a nearby chair and covered the blond 'snorlax' haphazardly. Then he grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed off to bed by himself. After a therapeutic fifteen minutes of muttered complaints about being driven out of his own home by a sniveling infant and then being left unsatisfied by an annoying blond boy who had the temerity to fall asleep on him - HIM! - the not-so-studly-at-the-moment Daddy Stud finally drifted off to sleep himself.

*snore*

Parenting 101 class was now in session.

Brian and Justin were presently seated next to each other on the couch in their own home. They'd been set upon as soon as they'd stumbled in around noon after both sleeping more than fourteen hours in the quiet of the loft. Without benefit of even a morning shower fuck - which Brian was angrily maintaining Justin didn't deserve after falling asleep in the middle of a perfectly good blow job the night before - they had hastily rushed home, embarrassed now in the light of day at their parenting incompetence. They hadn't even made it as far as the nursery when they were rounded up by Jenn and marched straight off to begin their lessons.

Almost immediately, the new fathers were embroiled in a series of lectures on baby care being given by the family's greatest experts.

Jenn lectured them again on the importance of getting help when they needed it. 'It Takes A Village', and all that. There was no reason to wait until they felt completely overwhelmed before asking for family and friends to step in. She emphasized that just because they needed a hand now and then, it didn't mean they weren't good parents. But if they didn't ask for help when they needed it - and judging by the Kitchen War she'd walked in on the night before, they'd more than needed help by that point - they were just being stupid.

Then Daphne appeared with a stuffed bear and a book recommended by her biology professor, who just happened to have been a pediatrician for twenty five years before she retired and began teaching instead. The bear supposedly made sounds similar to those a baby would hear when it was still in the womb. The idea was that these familiar noises would help comfort a fussy baby and help him sleep better. Daphne had all sorts of research backing up these claims which she was eager to share with everyone, until Jenn elbowed the girl and suggested she move on.

Dex Baby Mommy Bear

The book - 'Babywise' - was supposed to provide step by step directions for getting a fussy or colicky baby onto a more parent-directed feeding schedule with the goal of relieving the colic. Daphne explained that it was sort of a happy in between approach to parenting - somewhere in the middle of the sometimes overwhelming, always-there attention of attachment parenting and the too-cold approach of strict scheduling. According to Daph's professor, the book offered practical advice and seemed like something Brian and Justin could actually handle.

On Becoming Baby Wise

Justin accepted both the bear and the book with overflowing gratitude.

Then it was Debbie's turn. With her usual no-nonsense approach, the experienced mother explained to them every single thing they'd been doing wrong so far.

First of all, Debbie had permanently confiscated their baby monitor. She berated them long and hard about how they needed to just back off a bit and let little Kevan be. Justin especially was wont to jump up and run to Kevan every single time the baby so much as whimpered in his sleep. All that did, according to Debbie, was disrupt the baby's sleep cycles and leave them with an overstimulated and cranky baby. She maintained that they'd hear the kid cry when he was really in need of attention and the rest of the time they should just leave him be.

Debbie also made it a point to impress upon them both that it was okay to actually let the baby cry sometimes. This sentiment was backed up strenuously by Jennifer. Both women told the new daddies repeatedly that they wouldn't be 'bad parents' if they sometimes just put Kevan in his room and let him cry himself out alone. As long as they'd assured that the baby wasn't hurt or in physical pain, and so long as he'd been fed, had a dry diaper and there was no other visible problem that might be causing him to cry, they were perfectly justified in simply leaving the baby alone in the nursery and shutting the door. Over time, the baby would figure out how to comfort himself. In fact, Daphne posited, in the long run it would probably help Kevan to develop a stronger sense of independence, learning to be a little self-sufficient so early on. And, as long as Kevan wasn't being neglected by being shut up alone in his room all the time, it was a great way for the stressed out daddies to get a temporary break from the colicky infant.

Finally, Debbie offered her own, uneducated but logical, explanation of colic. She said she suspected that it had a lot to do with the baby not getting a chance to fully digest its meals. When an infant cried, most parents just automatically assumed it was because the baby was hungry. So they'd feed the baby. But, because the baby's digestive system wasn't very sturdy yet, sometimes the milk from a prior meal wasn't fully digested quickly enough and he'd get gas. Either way, if he cried because of this pain, and the parents wrongly assumed it meant the baby was hungry again, they'd feed him even more. And just like an adult who eats too much, the baby would get indigestion, gas and just generally feel uncomfortable. So Deb's advice, which sounded perfectly reasonable to everyone present, was not to feed the baby too often or too much. She recommended spacing feedings out at least three to four hours apart unless the child's pediatrician advised differently or the baby seemed inordinately hungry.

About the time these parenting experts had finished their lectures, a distant uproar was heard from the back of the house, indicating that the subject of all this discussion was awake and needed some attention. Justin had to concede that he'd heard the kid just fine without the baby monitor. So, after clearing it with his mother and Deb, the young dad got up and went to see to his son.

Kevan seemed happy to see him, gurgling and smiling contentedly while dad changed his diaper and then carried the boy out to visit with their guests. As soon as he'd been sufficiently cooed over by the grandmothers and Aunt Daphne, Brian took the little one off to nurse, emerging about a half hour later looking calm and almost as content as Kevan. After a bit more socializing, the ladies recommended putting Kevan down for another nap. To everyone's approval, the infant fell peacefully asleep almost immediately and all the women departed soon thereafter with warnings to the boys that they'd be back to check up on everything very soon.

Both Brian and Justin looked around the tidy house which had been sorted out the night before by Jenn. With the baby sleeping quietly and all, they were momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Both were a bit surprised at how much they'd missed the baby the night before, even after the weeks of colic. And now, when they were home and well rested for a change, they wouldn't have minded a little more Kevan time. But, even so, they weren't stupid enough to wake him.

"Got homework?" Brian eventually broke through the silence.

"Always. You got stuff for work?" Justin asked in return.

"A bit. It could wait till tomorrow though," Brian wasn't really in the mood for work.

"So, uh, wanna fuck?" Justin asked with an impish grin.

"Not if you're gonna fall asleep on me again, Sunshine," Brian teased, his tongue in cheek smirk proving he wasn't really that angry.

"I can't help it if you've lost your touch, Brian," Justin joked right back while at the same time sidling away from his lover in expectation of the certain retribution.

"Lost my touch? Fuck you! I haven't lost my touch, you little twat," Brian said with mock outrage, standing up and starting after his annoying Twink who'd taken up a defensive position beyond the far end of the couch. "Come over here, little boy, and I'll show you whether or not I've lost my touch!"

*giggle* Justin stuck his tongue out playfully and darted around the couch so that Brian wouldn't catch him.

"Justin! Get that blond boy ass over here right now so I CAN touch it," Brian ordered making a feint to the right and almost catching Justin who tried to run around the left of the couch,

"You'll have to catch me first if you want to touch any parts of me, big guy," Justin taunted, scrunching up his little tuned-up nose adorably (not that Brian would admit to noticing any such thing, of course) before making a break for it and sprinting off down the hall towards the bedroom, laughing loudly.

And, with a chuckle of his own, Brian took off after his wayward blond. He'd show that naughty little boy he had NOT lost his touch. Even if it took All. Night. Long!

Chapter 8 - Things Suck (And NOT In a Positive, Life-affirming Way).

He could hear the loud raucous laughing noises the red one made long before her kind and soft face came into focus before his eyes. Kevan had come to really look forward to the times when the red one would come visit. She was very loud - which did tend to startle him sometimes - but he was getting more and more used to her and better at not crying every single time her booming voice scared him a little bit.

After you got over the red one's loud and dramatic entrances though, she was great. Kevan always felt calmer when the red one was there. She had this way about her: self-confident without being too uncaring. Sometimes the red one would come into the room when his yellow person thing was being exceptionally clingy and it felt like the entire atmosphere of the world just automatically relaxed. So, as far as Kevan was concerned, the red one was welcome even with her too-loud, too-exuberant noisy greetings.

Today, the red one had shooed out both the yellow person and the dark good-smelling one - they had both started to get on Kevan's nerves about an hour after his last nap. He loved his special people things but that didn't mean that he didn't sometimes need a break from them. Then Red had put the soft green blanket down on the floor in the big room, laid him down on his tummy and left some colorful, strange shaped things just in front of his face.

Well, this was new!

Kevan wasn't used to lying on his tummy much. Usually his people things put him down on his back. Lying on your back was good because it left you free to shake your arms and kick your feet up into the air. Lying as he was now, on his belly, felt quite different. He couldn't kick or wave his arms.

But, with a bit of effort, Kevan discovered that while lying in this position he could turn his head and lift it up a bit. When he did that, Kevan could focus on the bright colorful things lying in front of him. He could also see the surface he was lying on - which was new to him.

Wow! This new perspective on his world was AMAZING! He wasn't looking up at the ceiling and everything above him for once. He could see stuff below him. What a freaking trip! This was soooooooo cool!

Holding your head up was pretty tiring though. Kevan's thin little neck could only accomplish the feat for a minute or two at a time. Then his face would plummet back down onto the soft green blanket and all he'd see was green fuzz.

Green fuzz wasn't nearly as interesting though as those red, yellow and blue things that were just beyond his head. Kevan was super motivated to look up at them rather than down at the green fuzz. As soon as he could remember how to work the muscles to make his head come up again, he did so, and happily looked at the colorful things.

Kevan did this interesting thing - his gaze moving from green fuzz to colorful toys - several times before his baby neck muscles were just too tired. It had been quite the workout for the little one. He was even a bit sweaty from all the exercise. But the new position, the new perspective on his world, the bright new objects and even the new physical sensation of moving his head and neck in new ways was exactly what his hungry infant brain needed to stimulate new synaptic pathways. In the end Kevan was exhausted but infinitesimally smarter than he'd been just an hour before.

'Blah blah, Kevan! Yes! Blah blah! Gramma blah blah blah Kevan. Blah. Blah blah blah. Gramma's blah blah Kevan.'

Kevan smiled and gurgled up at the red one who had picked him up after he finally tired of the new head lifting game. Red was smiling back at him and making her usual silly noises. She would even scrunch up her face, wink at him and grin. Kevan had absolutely no idea why she was being so idiotic. But Red was nice, nonetheless.

He was feeling very accomplished and quite proud of himself this afternoon. With a contented sigh, Kevan reached up one little hand and managed a fairly well controlled pat on Red's soft round cheek. Then, blowing a couple of expert spit bubbles, he closed his eyes and drifted off for his late afternoon nap.

Justin was trying not to be an over-protective, over-reactive and overbearing father. Really! He WAS trying, but he often failed. It was just so damned hard to hear Kevan crying - to KNOW his little boy wasn't perfectly happy - and not immediately run to him.

Sometimes, like now, when Kevan was crying away inconsolably, alone in his nursery, it literally hurt Justin's heart to hear him.

The colic had gotten a little better in the past week or so since the family had forcibly  intervened. Their advice had proven, for the most part, to be fruitful. Once they'd stopped over-reacting to Kevan's every little whimper, the baby seemed to learn pretty quickly to calm himself. That led to calmer parents and a general increase of calmness everywhere. It was pretty much a miracle.

So Kevan was no longer screaming away the entire night. But he still had a bad hour or two most evenings - usually coinciding almost precisely with Brian's arrival home from work and Justin's dinner preparations. Which meant that tonight, like every other night this week, Justin was distracted, stressed out and already on-edge when Brian finally made it back to Britin's Chapel after a particularly long day.

Earlier that afternoon Debbie had come over and kicked both Brian and Justin out with explicit directions that they take a little parenting break. Since it was a Saturday, neither man had any plans. However, Justin really did need to use the time to run by the library and catch up on a little studying. Brian, meanwhile, decided to hit the gym - he was still desperately trying to shed the last of his baby weight. They were also in dire need of a little non-couply time. So, the two had gladly taken Gramma Debbie up on her offer and practically fled the scene.

By the time Justin had returned home, though, Kevan was already well into his evening colic episode, so any relaxation Justin had experienced by getting out of the house for the day was pretty much shot to hell as soon as he walked in the door and heard that plaintive wailing. Debbie would have gladly stayed and intervened if only she didn’t have the dinner shift at the Diner that evening. So, Justin tried to man up and deal with the depressing prospect of another evening of those nerve wracking, inconsolable cries from his poor little baby.

Justin didn’t know what to do with himself during these periods when Kevan was colicky. He couldn’t really think well enough to study - which is why he’d needed to visit the library today. It was too noisy to watch TV and he didn’t want to listen to music because he’d have to turn it up so loud that he would worry about not being able to hear the baby if he really was needed. He had tried to do a little sketching but was too distracted by the noise.  All his sketches ended up looking like Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’.

Finally giving in and admitting his own wimpiness, Justin caved. Running off to the nursery, he’d scooped a sobbing Kevan out of his crib into his arms. He just couldn’t bear to hear him crying like that. It felt so wrong to just leave his son alone to cry it out. If Kevan was going to be sad, he simply had to be there with him even if all the advice he’d been given told him there was nothing he could do about his child’s tears. Justin didn’t care. He HAD to try and comfort the baby.

As expected though, there was nothing that Papa Justin could do for little Kevan. After cuddling the baby, talking and holding him while he paced, even Justin had to concede that there was no hope. He pulled out the expensive new designer Baby Bjorn Bouncer Seat that Brian had bought the week before, propped it up on the kitchen counter and strapped Kevan into the harness. Then, with an occasional bounce to the baby, Justin focused his attention on starting dinner preparations while trying to ignore the ongoing colicky screeches.

Right when Kevan’s crying had reached that particularly ear-splitting frequency that made the prospect of listening to fingernails scraping against a chalkboard seem preferable, Brian walked into the kitchen. One look at his partner’s tense stance and Justin could tell that Brian hadn’t had a particularly relaxing afternoon either. It didn’t help much that Kevan belted out an extra-vociferous shriek just as his Daddy appeared. Justin would have laughed at the way Brian’s entire face scrunched up in pain at the noise, if he hadn’t felt just the same.

“Hey, Sonnyboy!” Brian greeted his caterwauling offspring with as much good will as he could muster. “I see you’ve started into your usual evening serenade already. Good to hear that your lungs are working just fine. But, how about you take a break for a minute or two, huh?” Brian picked up the binky that Justin had been trying to get the baby to accept earlier which had fallen to the countertop when he’d given up on that idea. “Why don’t you try sucking on this hilariously funny pacifier your Auntie Em got you? Come on, Kev! It’s really totally tacky, just like Emmett. You don’t want to be rude now and force me to tell him you don’t like his present, do you? Come on. Take the binky. Come on, Kevan. Just suck it . . .”

“Bet you’ve never before had to beg so hard to get a boy to suck something of yours,” Justin couldn’t help joking.

“Ha ha! Very witty, Sunshine. As you well know, though, the boys are usually the ones begging me to let them do a little sucking,” Brian retorted while continuing his efforts to get the baby to latch onto the pacifier. “I just wish the ‘volume dial’ on this thing actually worked. Then maybe I’d let you do a little sucking too.” Brian looked with longing at the nonfunctioning ‘Volume Dial’ that was imprinted on the front of the novelty binky that Em had given them earlier in the week.

Finally, with a lot more patience than anyone knew Brian Kinney had, the determined Daddy convinced his Sonnyboy to accept the pacifier. Once the baby was sucking away on the little plastic device, a blessed silence descended in the kitchen and both men literally sighed in relief. Brian turned away from the baby’s perch in the bouncer on the counter and wrapped his long, strong arms around Justin’s slighter frame. The two men clung to each other as if they’d just escaped from some dire fate. The balm of quiet started almost instantly to work on their tensed up bodies as each man allowed his taut, overstrung muscles to relax. What was it with a baby’s cries - the pitch must be at just the perfect frequency to cause it’s parents the utmost stress possible. When the momentary calm did come, the relief was immediately physically apparent.

“Hey,” Brian whispered into the silence, his lips following up the word with a soft little kiss deposited on Justin’s temple.

“Hey, yourself,” the stressed out blond replied, wrapping his arms around his taller partner’s waist and giving a grateful little squeeze.

“Now, as I was saying before, I’ve got something for you to suck on too, Little Boy,” Brian offered with a typical Kinney smirk, gently unwinding his blond boy’s arms from around his middle and pushing the man’s shoulders downward toward the big boy’s favorite pacifier.

“Yummy,” Justin enthusiastically replied, sinuously trailing down the bigger man’s body as he sank to his knees with happy expectations.

The long, adept artist’s fingers deftly unbuttoned the top button on Brian’s jeans. The mere anticipation of what was going to occur was enough to cause all the blood in the brunet’s body to redirect to his groin. When he felt the moist heat of Justin’s breath seeping through the material of his fly, he groaned with impatience.

Brian really needed this release after the crappy day - make that crappy week - he’d had. As if dealing with a colicky infant at home wasn’t enough, he’d been constantly frustrated all week long at work as well. There had been several delays with the CK Athletic Wear campaign he’d been trying to finalize - not the least of which was that Drew Boyd’s schedule was virtually impossible in the fall because of the various away games, training sessions and all the other obligations requisite to being the quarterback of a major football team. It hadn’t helped matters much that the in-house advertising team at Calvin Klein had changed their minds three times about the layouts and ended up wanting to go a completely different direction AFTER the initial campaign photo shoot. Because of their wishy-washy attitudes, Brian had been forced to cut his gym workout this afternoon short so that he could rush to the office and deal with yet another crisis.

He’d really been looking forward to a nice long workout, too. In spite of all his efforts to diet and bump up his exercise schedule, Brian was still struggling to lose all the baby weight from his pregnancy and it was driving him crazy. He’d taken to skipping lunch, and sometimes breakfast too, and replacing them with the diet bars Ben had recommended, but it just didn’t seem to help. And, because of his heavier than usual work schedule as well as all these sometimes tedious family obligations that came along with being a new parent, he hadn’t been able to get to the gym nearly as often as he wanted to.

Don’t get him wrong - Brian loved his son and most of the time he enjoyed spending time with the baby and his baby’s other daddy, but it was a BIG adjustment to the way he’d lived his life before. Sometimes the former devil-may-care Stud missed his freedom and carefree life so much. Shit, he would give almost anything for just one responsibility-free day . . .

But then, as soon as he caught himself thinking such things, he’d immediately feel intensely guilty about such reckless daydreams. He was a father now. He had silently promised both himself and his Sonnyboy that he would be the best father he could for his dear little boy. Brian would NEVER let himself turn into the kind of father he’d had to endure as a child. He loved Kevan so much and wanted his little boy to have everything he’d never had. So, when he caught himself wishing he could run away, even if it was just for a day or so, he always felt incredibly ashamed and scared that he could turn into someone like Jack Kinney. The pressure of trying to be the perfect daddy, though, sometimes made it even harder to get through his days.

Which brought his thoughts back to exactly why he really NEEDED a fucking blowjob right this instant. While his mind had been wandering, Justin had managed to get Brian’s jeans completely undone and the material was now drooping around his knees along with his undershorts. The first touch of the blond boy’s happy little pink tongue against the heated skin of his prick jolted Brian out of his rut of unhappy thoughts with alacrity. Brian moaned his approval. Justin smiled up at him with a sexy, mischievous little giggle and grabbed hold of his engorged cock with one hand while massaging the long muscles of his thigh with the other. When that perfect pink tongue lapped another stripe up the length of his cock, Brian finally felt the remaining tension of the day start to evaporate away. Yes! This was exactly what he needed.

Justin applied his expert cock sucking skills to the job in front of him with happy abandon. Within moments, he was alternating between long wet swipes of his tongue along the length of Brian’s turgid shaft and wet, sucking kisses to the crown of the head in order to taste the bubbling pre-cum that was tempting him. Brian was torn between the pleasure he got from the light almost teasing treatment he was receiving and his desire to just shove his dick between those plump coral pink lips all the way down the boy’s throat until his balls were knocking against the youth’s chin. He fucking wanted it all right now but he also didn’t want it to ever end. It was so pleasant to be tortured with such conflicting drives.

Luckily for Brian, Justin solved the man’s dilemma right then by moving on to the main event. With a happy gurgle from deep in his throat, Justin hoovered in the entirety of Brian’s needy cock, sucking away with vigor. Brian murmured his approval with inarticulate little whimpers of pleasure. Looking down on the image of his blond boy on his knees with a fat cock thrusting between his spit-glossed lips, Brian thoroughly approved of the sight. The perfect view - he always wanted it to be that way with his sweet little blond lover - added to the feelings engendered by the perfectly delicious sensations to double the building thrill. Shit, he’d really, really needed this . . .

*Pop*

*WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!*

Brian’s euphia was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the binky popping wetly out of little Kevan’s mouth followed by a god-awful wailing noise perfectly pitched to almost instantly deflate his hard on. Justin whimpered and his body sagged against Brian’s knees. Kevan’s now completely deflated daddy sagged himself back against the kitchen counter. He felt like crying now too. It just wasn’t FAIR! How could the little brat’s timing be any worse? Brian couldn’t control the animosity he was feeling at that exact moment towards his leaky and vexatious offspring, nor could he avoid the sudden guilt he felt as soon as he acknowledged that sentiment.

“Fuck!” Brian yelled, disgusted with not only the situation but also with himself. With a burst of violent anger that was atypical, he turned and swept his arm across the counter, knocking several bowls and a cutting board of veggies Justin had been working on earlier onto the floor. Then the usually controlled man slammed his fist into the nearest cupboard door, cracking the thin veneer and plywood and leaving an impression of his fist in the splintered remains. Justin, still kneeling at his feet, was frozen in place, unable to comprehend this severe mood swing in his admittedly volatile but usually pacific partner.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, fucking shit!” Brian complained as he cradled his hand, now smashed and bleeding from all the wood splinters, against his stomach.

Predictably, Brian’s yelling startled Kevan and led to the baby crying even louder. Justin didn’t know who to comfort first. In the end, he was prompted by the dripping blood splattering against the tile where he was kneeling to grab a kitchen towel and attend to Brian’s wounds first. The baby was safe and not harmed and would be just fine crying away in his bouncer seat for a few more minutes. Brian on the other hand was flailing around and causing more blood to fly through the air creating an even greater mess.

“Brian! HOLD STILL!” Justin ordered, his demand finally getting through to the injured man who paused in his pain-fueled tantrum. With the towel he’d grabbed, Justin wrapped up the bloody, pulpy mess of Brian’s hand, stopping the dripping blood. “Keep pressure on it here,” Justin directed shortly before he sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit and then ran back to the kitchen. “All right, let’s look at the damage,” Justin said as he moved them both to the sink where he started to unwrap the towel. “Ouch! You really did a fucking number on your knuckles, Brian,” Justin turned on the tap and ran cold water over the site of the injury as he carefully removed several small fragments of wood. “Hold still, please. I know it hurts, but I can’t get these splinters out if you’re jiggling around . . . there, I think that’s all of it. Now, just let me dry it off and I’ll put some analgesic ointment on there to dull the pain before I bandage it.”

Justin worked efficiently with the bandages. It took less than five minutes before Brian’s hand was well wrapped up. To help with the pain, he also filled up a plastic baggie with ice from the freezer and directed Brian to keep that on the injured area. Brian bore with the attentions until his hand was completely wrapped up, but Justin could tell that he was still fuming angrily just under the surface.

As soon as possible, Brian jerked his hand back, away from Justin’s grip. Justin stepped back, startled once again by Brian’s furious action. Unfortunately, the retreating blond accidentally stepped on one of the small metal bowls that Brian had tossed onto the floor, which slipped out from under his foot, clattering noisily against the stainless steel front of the built-in dishwasher. The additional racket seemed to elevate Brian’s fury even more. The big brunet proceeded to kick the offending bowl as hard as he could, causing it to sail out through the kitchen doorway and crash against the wall of the hallway. The noise level escalated even more when Kevan, sensing the distress radiating from his parents, let loose with another pitiful wail.

“Damn it to fucking hell! Can’t you keep the brat from screaming all the fucking time? I can’t take it anymore! All the fucking noise is driving me nuts! I’m fucking out of here,” Brian screeched at the top of his lungs, evidencing exactly where his son got his prodigious noise making abilities from, before stomping off to the back door and slamming it behind him.

“Okay . . . Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Justin declared, stymied by Brian’s outburst. He started to pick up the mess on the kitchen floor and added, “I think maybe we’ll just order a pizza for dinner tonight. What do you say to that, Kevan? Yeah, I’m definitely NOT in the mood to cook after all that.”

Meanwhile, about five miles away, Brian Kinney pulled off the highway onto a mostly deserted side street, let the car coast over to the shoulder and finally turned off the ignition. The coursing fury that had been rushing through his body had finally dissipated. In it’s wake he was left feeling empty, confused and drained. Overwhelmed, he let his head drop onto the steering wheel in front of him while he let himself totally fall apart.

‘What the HELL was that back there?’ he wondered. ‘Who the fuck was that man. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t like THAT. Never!’

Brian’s nerves were completely frazzled. He didn’t know what the hell had just happened back at the house or how he’d managed to get so out of control. His emotions were all over the place lately. He felt like he was losing it. This just wasn’t like him. He never acted like such a fucking caveman! He was embarrassed and so angry at himself for letting things get so completely out of control. He was also scared out of his fucking mind by his own acts of violence. He wondered again if somehow he was turning into his fucked up father.

‘How could he have acted like that in front of his son and Justin? How could he have yelled like that and called his son a brat? How could he punch the cabinet like that - like some madman - like his father on one of the man’s worst drunken sprees?’

“Shit! Fucking SHIT!” Brian screamed at himself, angrier now at himself than he’d ever been before.

Without even thinking about it, Brian slammed both his fists against the unyielding steel of the steering wheel over and over again until the pain broke through his anger and turned his angry cries to sobs. The sound of his own sobbing merely exacerbated his emotional upheaval and increased the outpouring of tears. And, before he knew what was happening, Brian found that he was crying harder and with more desperation than he had since he was a child.

Chapter 9 - Revenge of The Hormones.

Kevan was just over two months old and had already discovered the concept of being ‘worried’. Maybe he was genetically predisposed to it - his Daddy was always a worrier himself. Or maybe he was just so advanced that his little baby brain caught on to the fact that all was not right in his world a little sooner than most babies would have noticed. But, either way, Kevan was already worried about things.

It had been building up a little bit at a time. First, Kevan had noticed that the dark, good-smelling person had been acting very odd. Instead of being all calming like he used to be, the good-smelling one started yelling a lot. It was quite upsetting to a sensitive baby like Kevan. He didn’t like yelling at all. Especially since the yelling made the yellow one sad. And, with the yellow one sad and the good-smelling one yelling, Kevan’s whole world seemed topsy-turvy.

Tonight, things were even worse than usual. Kevan woke up hungry. It was very dark out and nobody had turned on the little lights over his crib that he liked to look at. He’d cried loudly because he didn’t want to be alone and hungry in the dark. Usually when he cried in the dark times, the good-smelling one would come to him and they would sit together in the big comfy chair and the man would make his tummy all warm and happy. While Kevan enjoyed his midnight snack, the good-smelling one would make his calming happy noises until Kevan would get sleepy again and drift off while still being held comfortably in the person thing’s arms. It was almost always a good time.

Tonight though the good-smelling one didn’t seem happy. He didn’t make any happy noises while Kevan nursed. He was actually making angry, unhappy noises and it was making Kevan uneasy. Tonight the good-smelling one’s noises sounded more like the noises Kevan made when his tummy was hurting. Kevan was still not all that familiar with the concepts of sad or happy, but if he’d understood more, he would have thought the sounds were sad.

“Daddy’s sorry, Kevan. Blah blah blah. Blah blah bad daddy. Blah blah blah. So, sorry, Sonnyboy. Blah blah blah blah . . . *sniffle* I’m sorry blah blah blah. I’m sorry blah blah blah blah. I’m sorry blah blah. Daddy blah blah blah, Sonnyboy. Blah blah. So blah blah sorry . . .”

That new noise - ‘sorry’ - kept repeating a lot tonight and Kevan didn’t think he liked that noise. The good-smelling one’s face would get all crumpled looking every time he made that noise. And usually the good-smelling one - who he was coming to think of as ‘Daddy’ since that was the one noise he made the most when they were together - would make a happy face when he said the ‘Kevan’ noise or the ‘Sonnyboy’ noise. But not this night. This night, the man made sad faces even when he said those things. It did not reassure Kevan.

Even when his tummy was all full and warm, Kevan didn’t drift happily off to sleep like he normally would. One of his most favorite persons was unhappy and he didn’t know what to do about it. Kevan reached one chubby little hand up towards the face he loved so much, patting the man’s cheek. He didn’t think it was a good thing that Daddy’s face was wet - that was something he hadn’t ever experienced before.

When Daddy put Kevan back into his bed, the boy lay awake for much longer than he had ever done before. He could hear that the good-smelling one - Daddy - hadn’t left the room yet. His baby vision still wasn’t very good, but when he turned his head a little to the left he could see a blurry outline in the dim light. It seemed like Daddy was still huddling on the big comfy chair, all curled up in a ball and he could hear more sad noises coming from that direction. Kevan knew that this wasn’t good.

Was it any wonder that Kevan had taken up worrying at such a young age.

“Daddy’s sorry, Kevan. I’m so sorry. I’m a bad daddy. I can’t help it, though. So fucking sorry, Sonnyboy. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. I just can’t do this shit, you know. I just don’t fucking know how. I had shitty role models for my own parents, but I want to do right by you. I really do. I love you so much . . . *sniffle* I’m sorry I’m so useless at this. I’m sorry I’m a complete fucking failure as a father. I’m sorry I’m letting you and Justin down. Your Daddy is so fucking useless, Sonnyboy. Big surprise, right? I know - I’m pathetic. I’m so fucking sorry . . .”

Justin had been worried about Brian for days now. Actually, to be honest, he’d been worried about his partner for almost two full weeks; ever since that day that Brian had lost it and slammed his fist into the cabinet in the kitchen. That kind of violent behavior was just so out of character for the man he thought he knew. But, if anything, things had been getting worse since then instead of getting better. At this point, he was frankly terrified at the changes he was seeing and completely at a loss as to what was happening. Justin was more than worried.

Tonight had seemed particularly bad. Brian had said less than a dozen words all evening. The grunts in response to his questions were not in the least reassuring. Neither was the fact that Brian had merely picked at his dinner - despite Justin having made one of Brian’s favorite high protein, low carb meals - and almost immediately thereafter declared that he was tired and was heading for bed. The biggest tell was that Brian hadn’t even made one single suggestion that Justin go with him to bed. In fact, Brian hadn’t make a single sexual advance towards him in more than four days.

FOUR FUCKING DAYS!

That was the clincher for Justin. Something was seriously wrong with his partner. Justin had always thought that the world could be ending and Brian Kinney would still be clamoring for sex. Even when he was nine months pregnant, the man had still been demanding sex several times a day. The fact that he hadn’t even mentioned sex for FOUR DAYS was just so wrong on so many levels. With his stomach roiling in fear, Justin followed Brian to bed before 8:00 pm only to lie there sleepless, brooding and worrying and clandestinely watching while his partner pretended to sleep.

When Kevan woke at around one in the morning, Brian crawled out of bed as usual to feed him. Even then Brian was moving so lethargically - his usually graceful, cat-like prowling movements all but gone - that Justin watched him with growing dread. Every moment that Brian was gone, Justin simply worried more. When it felt like he’d been gone far longer than usual, Justin crept out of bed himself and tip-toed down the hall. He paused outside the nursery door, intentionally eavesdropping, trying to discover some clue about what the fuck was going on with his man.

Which is when he overheard Brian’s conversation with baby Kevan.

Shit! It was worse than Justin had suspected. Brian was sobbing and apologizing to his son for being such a shitty father. This was not Brian Kinney. Not Justin’s version of Brian, at least. Something was very, very, very wrong here.

Eventually the quiet words stopped. A few minutes later Justin could hear a rustling and assumed that Brian was putting Kevan back in his crib. He was poised on his toes, ready to sprint back to the bedroom as fast as possible to ensure that Brian wouldn’t catch him listening in, but something held him back. Justin hesitated. He waited by the open doorway, listening intently to try to catch some hint about what was going on inside. When several minutes passed and Brian still hadn’t come out, he daringly peeked around the doorframe.

What Justin found in the little room was one of the saddest things he thought he’d ever seen. Poor little Kevan was lying awake in his crib, looking through the slats at his Daddy with worried wrinkles crossing his forehead. Brian was huddled in the armchair nearby, not making any sound. Justin could just make out, through the smattering of moonlight coming through the window, Brian’s heaving shoulders hiding the suppressed sobbing that must still be wracking the man. Kevan’s little hand was stretched out towards his father as if to reach out and comfort the man in his distress. Justin felt like the infant’s gestures were an entreaty to him, a plea that he somehow fix this and make his Daddy better.

Shit! Things were even worse than he’d expected if whatever was happening had reduced the imperturbable Brian Kinney to tears. Justin silently pulled away from the nursery door. The one thing he did know was that approaching Brian now, even to comfort him, would do more harm than good. Having to acknowledge that anyone had seen him in his moment of vulnerability would just further damage Brian’s faltering self-confidence. It had been a tricky enough thing simply dealing with Brian’s pregnancy without permanently harming the man’s dignity. Justin wasn’t about to undermine him now. No. He’d just have to come up with a plan to somehow find out what was wrong and fix it without Brian realizing he was being fixed.

When Justin heard a rustling noise and the creak of metal and wood that indicated the foot rest on the big armchair Brian used for nursing was being folded up, he quickly retreated back to the bedroom. By the time Brian made it back to bed, dragging his feet along in utter dejection, Justin was already under the covers and seemingly fast asleep. Brian got in on his usual side of the bed. The huge plaintive sigh when he laid his head on the pillow was almost enough to break Justin’s resolve, but not quite. Justin forced himself to lie still, even manufacturing a bit of a wheezy snore to help with his ruse.

Brian lay there in bed stiff and tense for what seemed like forever. If he peeked out from under his eyelids, Justin could almost see the miasma of evil, self-doubting thoughts circling over his lover’s beautiful and sad mien. Waves of anxiety virtually rained off the big brunet’s skin. It was going to be a very long night if Justin didn’t do something to derail the train of Brian’s apprehensions.

Still feigning sleep, Justin rolled over so that he was lying on his right side, his nose just brushing against Brian’s shoulder. He’d also managed to make it seem that his sleepy roll just happened to end with his left arm draped across Brian’s middle and his left leg curled around the larger man’s thigh. Seeing as his bedmate was ostensibly sleeping, Brian allowed himself to relax into the caring embrace. It didn’t count as cuddling if at least one of the parties was unconscious, did it?

Within fifteen minutes, Brian was finally asleep. Satisfied that the big lug was safe for the moment, Justin gently extricated himself from under his partner’s heavy, warm arms and crawled out of bed. He glided soundlessly out through the bedroom door and down the hall. He had a date with Brian’s laptop this evening. Justin was already well into ‘Research Mode’ and he wasn’t about to stop until he knew what was wrong and exactly how to help his stud.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!”

The piercing, heart-stopping, scream coming from the bedroom interrupted Justin’s research several hours later. Justin jumped and the laptop almost crashed to the floor before the youth grabbed ahold of it at the last minute. Shoving the computer aside, he took off at a run towards the back of the house, his panic filled mind already shying away from the horrors he thought he might see. His stocking clad feet slid on the hardwood floor as he tried to zip around the corner but he managed to prevent a fall by grappling onto the door jamb.

“Brian? What’s wrong? BRIAN!” Justin shot into the bedroom to find his devastated baby daddy standing in front of the mirror and staring into his hands with the most dejected look on his face that anyone had ever seen. “BRIAN? Are you hurt? I-I-I don’t know what to do . . . tell me what’s wrong . . .”

“It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s . . .” Brian didn’t seem able to complete even one sentence. He was just staring at his hands which were now lying limply on the top of the dresser in front of the big mirror. “I don’t understand. This CAN’T happen . . . It can’t . . . It can’t . . .”

A freaked out Justin looked down at the large supplicate hands and saw there was something twined around Brian’s fingers. Bending over slightly, Justin could see there were fine strands of auburn laced through his long, expressive fingers. From Brian’s expression, it was clear that there was far more auburn there in his hands than he’d expected or wanted.

“Whatever’s the matter, is it really worth pulling out your hair over, Brian?”

“I’m not pulling it out. It’s fucking falling out. My HAIR IS FUCKING FALLING OUT, JUSTIN! What the hell . . .” Brian moaned as he ran his hand across his scalp one more time and pulled it away with a few more strands of hair caught between his fingers. “Damn it to fucking hell! What the hell is happening to me, Justin? Why is this happening?”

For a man as egocentric as Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue, newly-signed Armani supermodel and worldwide celebrity thanks to Kevan, the prospect of something as momentous as losing his hair was simply devastating. The look of sheer horror on his face was telling. He just really could NOT handle such an eventuality. Of course Justin would never dare laugh at him, no matter how humorous he found the look on his lover's face.

“I don’t know why your hair is coming out, Brian. I’m sure it’s nothing serious though. Everybody loses a few strands of hair here and there,” Justin tried to calm him but his words had no obvious effect.

Brian swept all the hair that had accumulated on the dresser top into a neat, and admittedly rather substantial, pile. "This is NOT a few strands. Just look at this! What the fuck am I going to do? I don't think Armani wants a balding model for their Spring line. Especially not a fat balding model."

"You're not fat, Brian! You look great. Really. In fact, since you quit smoking, drinking like a fish, snarfing down drugs like they were candy and staying out all night, you look better than ever. I think you're probably in the best physical shape you've been in your whole life. The numbers on the scale don't mean anything," Justin tried again to placate the obsessing narcissist.

"Yeah, right, Sunshine. I'll believe THAT when The Ford Agency starts promoting the 'cheeseburger and milkshake' diet for all their top models." Brian replied in his bitchiest Queen voice, reminding Justin that his normally macho and studly boyfriend was still a true fag at heart.

Before Justin could rally and think up a more compelling way to reassure the big raving pile of insecurities, Brian reached his inner self-restraint limit. "FUCK THIS! I did NOT sign on for being perpetually fat and bald even after the damn parasite was out of me. This is just so fucking wrong, in so many ways. And I'm fucking out of here!" Brian announced regally and then stomped out of the room in a perfectly righteous, perfectly queenly, huff.

"BRIAN!" Justin yelled after the man's retreating back.

His only response was the slamming of the back door as Queen Brian left the building!

"Not schupposed to be like this, ya know! Not schupposed to turn into a whimpy little hausfrau. I'm Brian Fucking Kinney!" Brian loudly slurred out his latest string of complaints, wagging his index finger as if lecturing a recalcitrant audience even though it didn't look like anyone was listening to him anymore. "No 'pologies, no 'scuses, no egrets . . . No fucking egrets at all, hehehe. And no cranes or storks or fucking pidgeons either! Hah!" He cackled loudly at his drunken jest, startling the other bar patrons who were sitting nearby trying to ignore the loud drunk at the bar.

"It's s'all 'cause of the fucking hormones, ya know," Brian continued with his rant, completely unaware that not even the bar tender was listening to him any more. "Damned hormones. I don't fucking want 'em. You know, you know, you know . . . I'm done with s'em! All the damn 'mones: Hormones, pheromones, fuckin' moaning Myrtle - I don't care - I'm not doing any more damn 'mones! From here non out, the on'y 'mone I wanna hear 'bout is te Shunshine moans as I'm plowing into his tight hot ass. Now THOSE are my kinda fuckin' moans!"

"He moans so good too, ya know!" Brian segued easily away from the horrors of hormones and moved onto one of his favorite topics. "My Shunshine makes the best moans. 'Specially when I'm fuckin' him inta the damn mattress, hehehe. He's got the bescht ass! It's so fucking pretty. I love his ass! No, really, I fuckin' LOVE Shunshine's pretty ass! It's soooooo pretty it should be a piece of art, ya know? Like in a fuckin' museum or something. The Museum of Ass! I'd fuckin' go there! And Shunshine's ass would be like the star attrastion. The God damned Mona Lisa of asses. Peopl'd come from all round the world to worship his ass! On'y I'd be te on'y one who'd get to plow that perfect ass. Hehehe!"

While Brian was continuing his spiel in praise of his Sunshine's beautiful ass the front door to Woody's Bar was yanked open and a small blond man ran inside. He scanned the occupants, zeroing in on the big brunet pontificating to nobody while perched on a seat at the far end of the bar. Relieved that his quarry seemed safe for the moment, Justin heaved a big sigh of relief and ambled more sedately towards the bar.

"Hey, Justin," the bartender waved at him cheerily.

"Hey, Bryce. Thanks for calling me. I was starting to get worried," Justin beamed his gratitude at the bar keep along with his usual mega-watt smile.

"No problem, man," Bryce waved off Justin's gratitude. "He hasn't been too much trouble, although I don't remember Brian Kinney being such a lightweight. He'd only had three whiskeys before he started babbling shit about hormones and praising your tight hot ass. By the way, in case you didn't know it already, this guy REALLY likes your ass. He's been ranting about it off and on for the past two hours. I think the last I heard he was going to mount it in a museum, both literally and figuratively," Bryce announced, laughing as much at Justin's embarrassed blushing as he was at the content of Brian's ranting.

“Shit!” Justin muttered under his breath as he sidled down the bar closer to the still babbling, drunken brunet.

“Don’t worry, Justin. I’m sure that no more than, say, a hundred - maybe a hundred and fifty people - heard the great god Kinney rambling on about your perfect ass,” Bryce continued to razz the already flustered young blond who was trying to get the babbling brunet’s attention and hopefully shut him up before he did even more damage.

“Shunshine! You’re here!” Brian shrieked as soon as he managed to focus through his alcoholic haze on the blond youth. The big drunk draped his arms over the smaller man’s frame and practically enveloped him with smothering limbs and groping hands. “I was jussss shaying how much I wanted to PLOW your perfect ass, Shunshine! And now you’re here. Thass great! Did you bring your ass? ‘Cause you know, I really love your ass. Did I tell you how much I love Shunshine’s ass, Bryce?” Brian hollered his question over his shoulder as Justin towed him away towards the front door.

Chapter 10 - Swing, Brian, Swing.

The person Kevan thought of as 'the dark, good-smelling one' - or 'Daddy' as he was now coming to be known in the baby's rapidly maturing brain - didn't smell very good at all this morning.

In fact, the Daddy smelled really, really, really bad. Kevan didn't like the bitter, sweaty smell on the Daddy's skin. And when the Daddy bent down to kiss Kevan, his breath stunk worse than the box full of the disgusting wet sticky things his people took off his bottom whenever Kevan cried. Ick!

The bad smells completely threw Kevan off. The dark one was supposed to smell good and warm and milky. He was supposed to hold Kevan in his big arms and do that thing he always did that made Kevan's tummy warm and happy. He was supposed to make the 'Sonnyboy' sound and smile at Kevan. He wasn't supposed to smell like the dirty box, make angry sounds and then grab Kevan roughly.

This was a brand new experience in Kevan's world, and frankly, it wasn't something the baby approved of at all!

Finally, after what seemed like forever in Kevan's concept of time, the Daddy stopped making his angry sounds and sat up. Then the yellow one - who had come to get Kevan when he'd cried to let the people know he was awake and ready for his regular allotment of attention - laid Kevan down in the Daddy's arms. Kevan turned his little head into the Daddy's big warm chest and opened his mouth eagerly, expecting that, like always, the Daddy would do that wonderful thing that made his tummy happy.

However, as soon as Kevan had clamped his mouth closed, anticipating the usual yummy milky stuff, he discovered that the Daddy didn't TASTE right either. The milky stuff was icky. It tasted wrong. It tasted like how the dirty box - and the Daddy's breath today - smelled. Yuck!

Kevan did the most sensible thing he could and immediately spat it all back out onto the Daddy's chest. And he cried so that his people would understand that this icky tasting, bad smelling, gunk was unacceptable. He also hoped that the unhappy sounds he was making would communicate his suggestion that it was probably a good idea for the Daddy to go sit in the big plastic thing full of warm soapy water that the yellow one sometimes employed when Kevan was getting a bit smelly himself.

The stupid person things, though, were, as usual, a bit slow on the uptake. They kept trying to make Kevan turn his head back towards the Daddy and force him to drink the icky gunk. Kevan fought them. He screwed his perfect little bow of a mouth tightly closed. He wrinkled his cute little button nose up at the bad smell. Every time they tried to turn his head towards the Daddy's smelly chest, he turned back away. And he cried as loudly as he could in protest.

I don't know why he won't nurse, Brian!" Justin sniped back for the third time as his very grumpy and totally hungover partner tried futilely to get Kevan to latch on.

"Why is he fighting me? He's got to be fucking hungry. He didn't even get us up in the middle of the night for once," Brian said as he tried once again to reposition the baby into the usually comfortable 'football hold' he used when nursing the baby.

"Kevan was up right on schedule last night, Brian," Justin corrected. "You were just too busy being passed out drunk to notice. I gave him a bottle when it became clear I wouldn't be able to wake you up."

"Shit!" Brian barely caught himself before he could blurt out a lame-assed apology, but feeling bad about not being there for his son all the same. "Well, fuck this. You take him. He's not interested in nursing and I'm not going to sit here fussing with him all morning," Brian growled in frustration and handed the whimpering infant off to his other father.

"Ssshhhhh, Kevan, Sweetie. It's okay, baby. It's okay. We'll figure out what's wrong and fix it, Honey," Justin crooned as he patted and soothed the unhappy baby. "Do you think he's sick? Maybe he's coming down with something. I mean, why else would he refuse to nurse?"

That possibility hadn't occurred to Brian's fuzzy, morning-after mind, but now that Justin had brought it up, Brian was instantly concerned. "He doesn't feel hot, does he," Daddy Brian questioned, laying his hand on Kevan's tiny forehead. "Did you use formula when you fed him last night? Maybe he's having a bad reaction to that?"

"No, I used some expressed milk I keep in the freezer for emergencies," Justin assured. "Maybe I should call my Mom. Or Dr. Dahl?"

Before they could debate things further though, the house phone on the bedside table rang and interrupted them. Brian stalked over and picked up the receiver, not even trying to hide the irritation in his tone as he barked "What?" at whoever had the misfortune to call this morning. "Fuck! I totally forgot, Cynthia. Are the boards ready? Good . . . Yeah, just keep them entertained. I'll be there in a half hour." He hung up and turned apologetically towards Justin. "I'm late for a fucking huge presentation. If I don't get there soon, Ryder will have my ass in a sling, and not the fun kind, either."

Justin might have even been angry about Brian leaving him to deal with another baby crisis all on his own if he hadn't looked up and noted the lines of worry on the handsome face. For all his many faults, deep down Brian was a good father and an inherently kind-hearted man. Justin knew he was as concerned about Kevan as Justin was himself. It wouldn't make things any better if he made Brian feel bad about having to go into to work.

"It's okay, Brian. I'm sure it's nothing. We're probably just over-reacting again. You go on and do your advertising genius thing. I'll call you if Kevan or I need you."

"Thank you, Sunshine," Brian gave a little relieved smile and leaned in to kiss both his blond and his son. "I don't mean to bail on you with this, but I've got to get a quick shower and get the hell out of here before the Harrison Motors people get too twitchy," the big guy explained, reaching across the bed to grab the alarm clock and double check the time. "Jeeze! I fucking reek!" Brian whinged as he caught a whiff of his own armpit in the process.

"Come on, little guy. Let's go call Gramma Jenn and see if she's got any suggestions for getting you fed this morning," Justin whispered into baby Kevan's shell-like ear as he left Brian to finish washing the alcohol-infused sweat off his stinky, hungover body.

Two hours and half a dozen aspirin later Brian was shaking hands with the last of the departing Harrison Motors executives when Cynthia approached carrying a stack of pink phone message slips.

"Nice save, Boss," Cynthia congratulated him as she traded the messages for the signed contract Brian held out. "They were so pissed off at you for being late that I wasn't sure you could win them back."

"Nothing the Kinney charm couldn't handle," Brian smirked with well-earned pride. "Anything in this stack that I will actually care about?" he asked and paused right before tossing all the messages into the nearest trashcan.

"Probably not, except for the one from Justin saying that Kevan's fine, he finally took a bottle and all is once again peaceful at Britin's Chapel."

"Yeah, but for how long? I'm sure the next major disaster is already brewing on the horizon. Have I mentioned before that this fatherhood thing is fucking hard shit? I'm glad Sonnyboy's okay though," Brian joked with his longtime assistant and friend.

"Well, I'm glad it's you, not me, Brian," Cynthia goaded him on, all in the name of friendship. "I'm happy just being a doting Auntie for a while longer. Although, if I could be assured I'd get one as adorable as little Kevan, even I might be talked into joining the rest of you 'breeders'."

*hahaha* "I NEVER thought I'd become a 'breeder', that's for fucking sure," Brian laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. "I guess Kevan's worth it though. When he isn't crying, that is. And if he doesn't get over this colic shit soon, you can have him." Brian added, his voice giving away the fact that he wasn't at all serious. "But when he's being sweet and calm, lying in my arms and looking up at me . . . well, I wouldn't change a thing."

Cynthia sighed at the beautiful and sentimental look on her friend's face while he got caught up in memories of his son, reminded once again why she loved this man so much. All the other shit he put her through sometimes was worth it because she knew the real Brian Kinney. He really was just a big old softy, although she'd never admit it to anyone.

"Hey, Brian!" the calm moment of reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt by the unscheduled arrival of that overgrown puppy dog known as Michael Novotny.

"Mikey! To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?" Brian said with that fake smile he put on whenever dealing with unpleasant clients, charities begging for his money or family members that showed up at his work without invitation.

"I came by to see if you wanted to join me for lunch. I haven't seen you in, like, forever. I figured we could hang out at the Diner and catch up," Michael said with perfect predictability.

Brian briefly wondered if there was any way he could escape, but knew it was hopeless. "Sure, Mikey. Give me just a couple minutes though so I can get Cynthia what she needs to finalize things on our newest account."

Brian led them all back to his office, loosening his tie and taking off his suit jacket as they walked. He tossed the jacket over the back of a chair as they entered and went directly to his big glass-topped desk. Cynthia waited near the office door. Michael however trailed along, dogging Brian's every step, as the busy businessman gathered together several stacks of materials for his assistant.

"Here you go, Cynthia. Make sure 'Legal' gets the info for the copyrights immediately. We need those filed by the end of the day," Brian directed with authority. "I think the art department already has everything they need, but you'll have to keep on them or you and I both know they'll slack off and botch everything. And let me know as soon as Accounting has those publication costs."

Brian turned around, his hands full of files and his mind busy with the details of the account. Which is likely why he didn't immediately register the odd looks on both his friends' faces. It wasn't until he tried to hand off the files to an unresponsive Cynthia that he realized there was some problem. Between his Assistant's look of uncomfortable embarrassment and Michael's look of incredulous horror, Brian quickly keyed into the possibility that something was dreadfully wrong.

"What the fuck's wrong with you two?" Brian asked, not sure he even wanted to know the answer to his question.

"You . . . You . . . Your shirt," Michael finally stammered out, pointing an accusatory finger at the front of Brian's crisply starched white dress shirt.

Brian looked down and instantly noted, to his extreme mortification, two big wet spots on the material starting right below both of his nipples. And, even as they all stood there staring, he felt a new jolt of wetness against his skin and saw to his abject horror that the moist spots were growing, the dampness in the fabric now extending further down his front, dribbling on one side almost to the waistband of his slacks.

"Oh, fuck me," Brian mumbled under his breath.

Cynthia managed to pull herself together faster than anyone else. She strode over and took all the files out of Brian's hands without comment then walked away with a businesslike air as if she'd seen nothing out of the ordinary. "I'll get right on this for you, Brian," she stated as she pulled the door closed behind her.

"B-B-B-Brian? Why is your shirt all wet? What IS that?" Michael, unfortunately, was neither as considerate nor as tactful as Cynthia and proceeded to make a huge deal out of his best friend's condition.

"It's nothing, Michael," Brian cut off his friend, trying to stay ahead of the complete queen-out he knew was coming.

However, the more Brian tried to control his body, the more his tits leaked. His shirt was now totally drenched. If he didn't do something soon, the mess would leak down far enough to stain his slacks too. 'What a fucking nightmare,' he thought as he pulled off the already ruined shirt and tossed it to the floor next to his desk.

"What the fuck is going on, Brian!" Michael screeched, gaping at Brian's now bare chest. "Why-why-why are your tits leaking? Are you . . . Are you okay? Should we get a doctor?"

"Would you PLEASE calm the fuck down, Michael," Brian yelled at the panicky little man who was just making things worse with his constant whining. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine."

Then, as if on cue, a full-fledged and very obvious spray of milky white liquid spurted out of Brian's left tit right in front of Michael's disbelieving eyes.

"But-but-but-but-but," Michael continued even though he didn't have the words necessary to express the true horror of what he'd begun to suspect.

Brian meanwhile sat down in the big leather office chair behind his desk and pulled over a large black leather bag that had been resting inconspicuously on the floor near one of the large file cabinets. While trying to ignore Michael's ongoing stammering and staring, Brian unpacked the bag, setting out various pieces of plastic tubing and two small bottles on the desktop. After a little fiddling around with all the apparatus, he flicked a switch turning on a hushed motor and then leaned back in the chair. To Michael's utter incredulity, Brian proceeded to hold up the two bottles, now fitted with suction cup lids, to his nipples. Within seconds, Brian had relaxed into the big comfortable chair and spurts of thick whitish liquid were streaming out of his tits and into the plastic bottles.

"Ahhhhhh. Fuck, that feels so much better," Brian blew out a big breath of air and felt all the tension flow out of his body. He knew that his secret was out and there wasn't any reason to lie, so he quickly decided to try the 'shock and awe' tactic in order to quell Michael. "I missed Kevan's feeding last night and for some reason he was too fussy this morning to nurse, so my tits feel like they're ready to burst. I probably should have pumped earlier, but I was too busy in meetings all morning. Could you grab me a clean shirt out of the closet over there, Michael? I hope the cleaners can get the fucking breast milk out of that one - it's Hugo Boss and cost me $200."

Mutely, Michael went to the closet as directed, returning with a dry shirt. Brian indicated with a wave that he could drape it over the back of a nearby chair. Then, looking down at the almost full collecting bottles, Brian frowned.

"Jeeze! I WAS full. I guess that's what I get for not nursing Kevan on schedule. Oh well. I didn't bring any more clean bottles with me today, though. Damn! Well, at least that's relieved some of the pressure. Hopefully it's enough that I won't drench another shirt - at least for the rest of today." Brian disconnected the machine and efficiently packed all of the parts away, stowing the two little bottles in his office mini-fridge under the wet bar, and pulled on his clean shirt. "Now, Mikey, ready for that lunch you promised me?"

Michael got up and shuffled towards the door where Brian was waiting for him. "Brian?"

"Yesssss?"

"You've got tits? And they work?"

"Yep. They kinda go along with the whole pregnancy thing, Mikey."

Michael stood unmoving for several more seconds, apparently trying to wrap his reeling brain around this new concept. "That's REALLY freaky, Brian," he finally said with a quiet and sort-of-sad note of acceptance.

"Yeah. Tell me about it, Mikey!"

‘MMMMMMmmmmmm. I’m hooked on a feelling . . . I’m high on belivin’ . . . that you’re in LOVE with me . . . . Oooga chacka, Oooga Oooga Ooooga chacka . . .’

When Brian came through the door just before five o’clock he practically scared the pants off of Justin. Not only was he home early, but the normally taciturn and image conscious man was singing away at the top of his lungs. Singing a LOVE SONG nonetheless. A cheesy, old love song. He was even sort of dancing along to the melody he was humming whenever he came up to a part of the song where he didn’t know the lyrics.

Justin briefly considered that maybe his partner had been kidnapped by aliens and replaced by an honest to goodness pod person.

‘MMMMMMmmmmmm. When you hold me, in your arms so tight,’ Brian swept into the Greatroom where Justin had been sitting on the couch reading a textbook for class. The dancing queen swirled by the seated man, grabbing Justin’s wrist and pulling him up into an embrace as he passed and proceeded to dance the disbelieving blond across the vast open expanses of open hardwood floor. ‘You let me know, Everything’s all right . . . And, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-yiiiiii-yiiiii-yiiii . . . I’m hooked on a feeling . . .’

With a nervous chuckle, Justin decided to play along. Brian twirled the two of them around in circles to the music only he could hear in his mind, spun Justin under his arm and then ended by dipping his partner so far back that Justin’s hair trailed against the floorboards for a moment before Brian pulled him up and straight into a big sloppy kiss.

'MMMMMMmmmmmm . . . Lips as sweet as candy . . . His taste is on my mind . . . Boy you got me thirsty, for another cup of wine . . . gotta bug from you boy . . . but I don’t need no cure . . . I’ll just stay your victim . . . if I can, for sure! . . .’

Brian finished his big number by spinning Justin so hard that the younger man twirled right away, finally stopping himself after about five meters, and standing there in stunned amazement as Brian Kinney ran and then slid on his knees across the floor, coming to a stop in a pleading pose on his knees at Justin’s feet.

“Hey there, Sunshine! Glad to see me?” Brian asked with a sexy waggle of his brows as Justin stared down at him.

“Whoever you are,” Justin smiled down on his kneeling suitor and shook his head in sheer amazement, “you can stay as long as Brian doesn’t find out we’re having an affair.”

“Ha ha! Come on, Sunshine. After an entrance like that don’t I deserve more than a lame, lukewarm joke? How about you take me to bed and ravish me for hours instead?” Brian quipped with a pleading look, cupping his obviously swollen crotch in demonstration just in case Justin didn’t get the hint about what, exactly, he was proposing.

Justin looked over to the coffee table where he’d amassed a large pile of information - mostly printouts off of various medical web sites - as a result of his research last night and this morning, all discussing postpartum hormone level changes and mood swings. He’d planned to confront Brian with his findings as soon as the man came home. He would do anything, even beg, until his partner agreed to go to the doctor and get some help. Justin really didn’t want to see Brian crying in the nursery again. But . . . Well, the other side of the ‘down’ mood swing was the ‘up’ swing and it was pretty obvious that Brian was feeling ‘up’ right now in more ways than one.

When a mischievously grinning Brian began to unzip Justin’s jeans, the young blond rapidly decided that any discussions about doctors and other less pleasurable topics could probably wait.

Blue Swede - 'Hooked on A Feeling' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bo-qweh7nbQ

!!!!!!!KDTK!!!!!!!!

Chapter 11 - Celebrity Woes.

‘Well now, this is fascinating!’ Kevan thought as he continued to scrutinize the very, very small person thing who was standing in front of Kevan’s stroller and making strangely high-pitched noises with it’s mouth. Kevan vaguely remembered seeing another small person thing once or twice before, but never when he was this wide awake and sitting up so he could examine the creature thoroughly.

This particular creature was barely taller than the top of Kevan’s stroller. It had mounds of curly red hair that was bouncing around it’s face - which was very distracting to Kevan, who thought the bouncing stuff might be nice to grab hold of and put into his mouth for further analysis, but it bounced around so fast that he just couldn’t manage to grab any of it, so he gave up that idea. The noises the creature made were very shrill - even more so than those made by the big goofy person thing that would come play with him when it was light out some days. The noises were a little bit loud for Kevan’s liking but he was too interested in this new thing to get upset at the noise.

The small person was also poking at Kevan and trying to hold onto his hand. Kevan had been busy, before the small person thing came over, waving his hands about and watching the way they looked in the bright lights of the room where his stroller was sitting. Kevan wasn’t sure he wanted the little creature to hold onto his hand, especially since he still didn’t understand the nature of this new person thing. However, the Daddy, who was sitting in a chair next to Kevan’s stroller, didn’t seem to mind the small person thing. The Daddy was making mouth sounds right back at the small person thing and the sounds weren’t unhappy. Kevan decided that this new creature probably wasn’t something he should worry about.

When the small creature bent over and put it’s face very close to Kevan’s face, Kevan decided to try out a new trick he’d been practicing on his own people and see how the short person thing liked it. With a little bit of thought, and after a couple false starts, Kevan finally remembered how to make the edges of his mouth stretch and turn up so that his mouth was slightly open. He wasn’t sure why, but any time he did this little trick, his big people things made more happy noises and he usually got more hugs. Kevan had recently learned that he liked getting hugs so he’d been trying the trick out more and more often. Maybe if he tried it on this new creature, it would hug him too? That might be a nice way to get to know one another.

It didn’t work though. As soon as Kevan managed the new trick, the short creature with the bouncing hair poked it’s fat little fingers into Kevan’s mouth. The creature’s finger didn’t taste good at all and it really kinda startled Kevan.

‘Enough of that!’ Kevan thought as he opened his mouth even wider and let out a loud and very not happy cry.

Kevan decided that he didn’t care much for this short type of person thing.

Brian was sitting in the reception area of Chiefy’s office, trying to ignore all the whispers and stares directed at him from the other occupants of the office. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t have just gone to his regular - male - doctor for this shit. Justin had insisted, though, that only an OB would know the right way to treat the damn mood swings Brian had been suffering through. Brian conceded rather more easily than he would have normally - he was just so fucking tired of the weird shit his body was doing to him that he’d do ANYTHING to fix it. Even going back to see Chiefy one more time.

Of course, being here again meant that he was once again in the spotlight. After everything that had been in the media about him and Kevan in the past few months, he couldn’t really hope to stay inconspicuous. Especially not when he turned up again in the offices of his obstetrician. And, from all the staring and whispers going on amongst the women waiting with him in the reception area, it was clear that they’d been recognized the instant he’d walked in the door. At least there hadn't been a crowd waiting at the doors of the hospital and they weren’t all flocking over to talk to him. Only one really rude fat blonde woman in the corner had dared to take out her phone and snap a picture of him and Kevan. Brian tried to just ignore them all.

Brian fleetingly wished that Justin would hurry up checking them in at the reception counter. It wasn’t so much that he needed his small blond pitbull to protect him from the nosy women, but . . . well, okay, that was exactly what he wanted, although he’d never admit it out loud. Frankly, being mired in the midst of so many hormonally challenged women scared the shit out of Brian. What if they swarmed him? Justin better just get his ass back here fast!

“Hey, Mister,” an impish little girl with wild, unbrushed, red curls all over, tugged on Brian’s shirt sleeve in order to pull his attention away from the magazine he’d been trying to hide behind for protection. “Is that your baby?”

“Yes,” Brian answered and tried to return his attention to the magazine.

“My name’s ‘Bronnie’. I’m three and a half. I’m gonna be a big sister soon,” the undeterred little gamin announced, clearly not about to let Brian ignore her and go back to his reading.

“Nice to meet you, Bronnie. I’m Brian and this is Kevan,” Brian replied - he hadn’t really been interested in reading ‘Practical Parenting and Pregnancy’ anyway so he figured he might as well be polite to the kid.

“Is he a new baby? My momma’s got a new baby in her tummy. That’s how come I’m gonna be a big sister. I don’t know when it’s gonna ‘hatch’ though. I’ve been waiting for, like, forever for it to hatch. We had baby chicks hatch in my preschool, you know. That’s how come I know all about babies. Did Kevan hatch out of his momma? Was it like with baby chicks?”

“Well, actually, Kevan doesn’t have a mother. Just two daddies. He ‘hatched’ out of me instead,” Brian chuckled and tried to explain, using the child’s own terminology, as best he could.

The little redheaded doll screwed up her face and stared hard at Brian for a few seconds, her face tipped to the side as if whatever she was trying to wrap her head around was difficult to grasp. “Are you a boy or a girl? I thought only girls could make babies,” Bronnie finally announced.

“I’m a boy. But I’m a special kind of boy, so I got to have a baby of my very own,” Brian proudly explained, taking no offence at the child’s innocent confusion.

“That’s neat,’ Bronnie accepted Brian’s explanation without any struggle. “Kevan looks like a good baby. Oh look. He smiled at me!”

The fascinated little girl then proceeded to poke her pudgy index finger into poor Kevan’s smiling, wide-open mouth. Kevan, predictably, started wailing at the unwanted invasion. Bronnie’s mother immediately rushed over to see what mischief her little devil child had gotten into this time. Brian unstrapped Kevan from the stroller and picked him up to try and soothe him while a whole herd of well-intentioned but unwanted bystanders came over to offer assistance. And, generally, all at once, everything in the little reception waiting area went to hell.

Which was, thankfully, when Justin returned, taking control of everything, shooing off all the looky-loos and ushering Brian and Kevan back into the bowels of the office away from prying eyes and over-inquisitive preschoolers.

"How many fucking pills do I have to take everyday, Sunshine," Brian complained as Justin handed the relatively large paper bag full of prescription bottles to him.

"Just five, Brian," the harried young blond replied as he shouldered the diaper bag, kicked off the stroller brake and began herding his man and child away from the hospital pharmacy window. "You take one thyroid pill and one folic acid supplement a day, hormone pills twice a day and a new one-a-day vitamin supplemt. It's not that much, Brian, and it'll be worth it to get rid of the mood swings and have you back to your normal, cheerfully sarcastic self. Or did you enjoy the crying jags?"

"Yeah . . . No. Those I can live without. But I didn't mind the slightly manic episodes. I got a ton of shit done during the times I was feeling good," Brian smirked at the blond boy shaking his head at him in consternation.

"I think Kevan and I will be happier if you're just a happy medium all the time, thank you very much. We prefer our studly daddy more on the sane side regardless of how productive he is when he's doing the manic thing. Although . . . I DID enjoying being serenaded the other night," Justin winked at his man impishly, causing Brian to cringe at the incredibly lesbionic memory.

"How about I let you top tonight and we just forget that little scenario ever happened, huh?" Brian begged, only half-jokingly.

"Hmmmmm," Justin screwed his face up and tilted his head from side to side, as if he was seriously weighing that option. "Very, very tempting, Mr. Kinney," he finally answered now wearing a big Sunshine smile, "but I think that particular bit of blackmail will be worth far more if I wait a bit and let you stew over it some more."

"Damn, Sunshine! You might look like an innocent blond twink, but I'm beginning to suspect you have a hidden evil side to you," Brian retorted, causing both himself and the evil blond to chuckle a bit as they rounded the last corner before they entered the hospital's large entrance lobby area.

As soon as they stepped into the main lobby though, their casual banter and easy laughter died on their lips. The entire lobby was full of people milling around - far more people than either man had seen there before. Obviously, there were a lot more people than would normally have a reason to be waiting in the lobby. Brian immediately suspected that he might be the reason for the assembled multitudes. Here and there they spotted hospital staff and security guards trying unsuccessfully to sort through the masses, presumably trying to sort out who was legitimately supposed to be there and who wasn't. It was clear though that there were far too few security staff people to make much headway.

Brian and Justin had barely even stepped into the room when a cry went up from one of the nearest groups of bystanders and they were at once surrounded by a clamoring horde of people. Without having any prior warning or more than a few moments to prepare, the poor swarmed pair was too surprised to do anything other than huddle together. Justin did manage to move around to the front of the stroller so that he was, in effect, blocking Kevan with his body. Brian moved in behind the stroller as close as possible, using that prop as a shield of sorts. Nevertheless, surrounded as they were, there wasn't much else they could do.

"Brian! Brian! Can I get your autograph? Brian!" The words were being shouted at the beloved local celebrity from all sides while many hands shoved pads of paper and pens into his face. Brian might have even deigned to give out a few autographs if he hadn't been blinded by the flash bulbs going off in his face as several fans snapped photos.

And the worst part of all was that, unlike the professional media hounds who'd trailed Brian and Justin before Kevan was born, these were 'true fans'. They weren't going to be satisfied with a quick picture or two along with a short soundbite. These folks were groupies, rabid fangirls and obsessive devotees who longed to simply be near their idols. They wanted to show Justin, and especially Brian, their love. They wallowed in the fact that they were close enough to touch and talk to the beautiful men that they'd fallen in love with in their minds. They sorely wanted to see the beautiful miracle baby. They wanted to give the little family presents and tokens of their undying affections . . . You know - FANS!

About thirty seconds before it would have started getting ugly - Brian's fists were already balled up tightly, ready to strike the next person who grabbed his ass without permission, and Justin had just slapped away one set of hands reaching down far too close to the baby's stroller - a wedge of three hospital security officers shouldered their way through the rear of the crowd and circled around in front of the trapped couple.

"Everybody back the hell up! Move It! I said: BACK UP!" the largest of the three security guys bellowed at the top of his lungs, his large voice overwhelming even the babble of the throng of fans.

Once the muscle-bound lead guard had the group's attention he continued his shouted warning as the other two used their bulk to keep the crowd moving back farther away from Brian, Justin and Kevan. "This hospital is private property. If all of you don't vacate the premises immediately you will be arrested and removed by force if necessary. The police are already on their way so I suggest you either move the hell outside this building or prepare to spend the rest of your day in jail, folks."

The imposing threesome of guards, combined with the shouted warnings of possible police action, did help to move the worst of the pressing crowd back away from Brian and Justin by a few feet. However, the majority of the fans didn’t leave altogether. They were still hovering just outside the range of the security guards’ reach. And, while the little family now had at least enough room to breathe, they were still surrounded by a solid wall of people. There wasn’t any clear path of escape visible. Both Brian and Justin were teetering on the verge of panic.

“Brian! Over here, Brian. There’s an empty consultation room over here where you can wait until the crowds are gone.” Somehow an unknown voice managed to make itself heard over the roar of the rest of the crowd. At the same time a reassuring hand gripped lightly onto Brian’s upper arm. Without even turning to see who was speaking, Brian backed up, pulling the stroller after him. Justin followed along without question. Brian kept his eyes focused on the throng of people in front of them, making sure that no one was going to rush them. Meanwhile, the unknown savior gently guided the big brunet a few yards back and to the left until they all reached an opened door leading into a small but thankfully empty room. As quickly as possible, Brian pulled the stroller and his young blond into the room and slammed the door shut.

“Fuck! What the fuck was that, Brian?” Justin slumped into a chair, towing Kevan’s stroller closer to him so that he could make sure the baby had come through the ordeal without harm.

“I’m afraid, Sunshine, THAT would be our fucking fanclub,” Brian lamented as he flopped into the chair next to his partner. “Shit! Damned fucking nutcases! I thought maybe the uproar over my pregnancy and the baby would have died out by now. The damn media haven’t been bothering us much lately so why the fuck are all these other people here? And how the hell did they find us anyway? I wonder . . . Shit, I bet it was that fat blond cow in Chiefy’s office - she took a picture of me on her phone while I was waiting for you to check us in.”

“It doesn’t matter how they found us. What I’m worried about is how the fuck we get out of here and home without being mobbed,” Justin cut to the point, hopefully derailing Brian’s unproductive rant about the woman who’d snapped his photo. “Shhh, Kevan, shhhhhh. It’s okay, sweetie. I know the people were scary and noisy but it’s alright,” he whispered as he cuddled the baby in order to quell his crying. “If it weren’t for Kevan, I’d say we should just make a run for it. I’m sure we could make it to the car. But I’m not going to drag our son through that. He’s already scared from all the noise and the people. What the hell are we going to do, Brian?”

“Fuck if I know,” Brian conceded hopelessly.

“I’m sure that the hospital security guys will clear everybody out pretty soon. You’ll be okay as long as you stay in here until they’ve got things under control. Then I’m sure you’ll be able to arrange a way to get home,” announced the unknown young man standing next to the door - the one who’d ushered them into this little safe haven a few minutes earlier - whom Brian and Justin had both forgotten was even still there.

“And who the fuck are you?” Brian asked with his usual blunt tactlessness.

“I’m, uh . . . T-T-Taggart. I-I-I . . . We met before at the Liberty Diner . . . I-I-I was in the lobby when you got mobbed and I just happened to see this room and thought I could help you . . .” the young man stuttered out his explanation, daunted by the glowering and suspicious look that Brian was directing at him the whole time.

*Hhhhmmmph* Brian’s response was non-committal at best.

“Thank you, Taggart,” Justin’s manners rebelled at his partner’s rudeness to the young man who’d saved them from the mob. “We really appreciate you helping us out of that mess. I’m Justin, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the reticent young man replied with a nod to Justin before he focused a shy smile back onto Brian. “I’m just glad I could help. I could hear the baby crying and I didn’t want him to be scared. I know being shut up in this little room isn’t that much better, but at least there’s a door between you and that crowd.”

Nobody commented on that pronouncement. What was there to say? They really had no choice - it was either go out there into the swarm or allow themselves to be trapped in this little room. Justin concentrated first on calming Kevan. Luckily it had already been a very busy morning, so once the baby was quiet he quickly fell asleep - much to his Daddy’s relief. Justin strapped the infant back into the stroller where he could nap safely and then directed his attention to the other man-child he knew he would need to console.

Brian’s elbows were propped up on the top of the small conference table in the center of the room and his face was buried in his hands. Every so often his shoulders would shudder and Justin could hear a huffing through Brian’s splayed fingers. The occasional muttering was all that escaped through the physical and emotional barrier he’d set up. “What’s the fucking point . . . Just leave me the fuck alone already . . .”

Justin could tell that Brian was probably in the grips of yet another mood swing - there hadn’t been time to take even the first dosage of the medications Chiefy had prescribed, let alone time enough for them to start working, and this was exactly the type of situation that would trigger one of Brian’s more morose moods. Justin knew his stud was dangerously close to losing it. He was just about to stand and move around the small table so he could reassure the big man, when he was blocked by the slender yet solid form of their temporary roommate, Taggart, who had dashed over to Brian’s aid in Justin’s stead.

“It’s going to be okay, Brian. I’m sure that the security guys will have the hospital cleared soon. Then I’ll get you out of here, okay? Really. It’ll be fine,” Taggart crooned as he stroked Brian’s shoulder and arms with his hands.

Justin was left standing there, speechless and ineffectual, blocked from getting to Brian in the small space by the hovering form of their supposed savior leaning over the bulk of the table. Justin was pissed off as all hell at the proprietorial manner of this upstart newcomer. He just barely stopped himself from grabbing a hold of Taggart’s arm and throwing him bodily over his shoulder into the wall - the adrenaline running through Justin’s body at that moment would have been more than sufficient to give him the strength to do that and more, he thought, if he hadn’t restrained himself. However, there was no way Justin was going to just sit back and do nothing.

“EXCUSE ME!” Justin spat out in his most condemnatory and WASPish tone, getting both Brian and Taggart’s attention at once.

*Knock, knock*

The rapping on the door of their sanctuary interrupted the confrontation that Justin was prepping for.

“Brian? Justin? Thank goodness you’re okay,” the not-so-dulcet tones of Chiefy’s voice interrupted the soon-to-be-scene. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for this mess. The police and my security team are moving all these people out of the building now. It should be clear enough for you to leave in just a few minutes. I’ve arranged a car to take you to your home as well. Please, accept my apologies - we just had no idea that anything like this was going to happen  . . . again.” Chiefy insinuated her buxom self into the small, already crowded feeling room, and proceeded to spout off endless apologies and reassurances.

As soon as the physician saw Brian’s dejected countenance, she immediately knew what was wrong. With all her usual officiousness, Chiefy moved over to examine her patient - effectively bouncing Taggart out of the way with her plump posterior in the process. Justin was not only glad that Brian’s doctor was there for medical reasons, but was also more than happy to see Taggart physically separated from his partner. He took a lesson from Chiefy’s manner and also bodily shouldered his own way past the interfering young interloper.

By the time that Chiefy’s assistant knocked on the door and informed the occupants that the coast was now clear and they could leave, Justin was happy to note that Mr. ‘Taggart’ had been forgotten by almost all and was cringing in the far corner of the tiny room.

“Time to go, Brian,” Justin said with conviction, wrapping one arm around his partner’s shoulders and helping the larger man to stand. “Chiefy, can you have your assistant take over Kevan’s stroller while I help Brian?” Justin requested. “Come on, Brian. I’ve got you. I’ll get you out of here now,” Justin said with a not-so-nice smirk directed to the corner where Taggart was still hovering and watching over the proceedings.

Chapter 12 - Fansgiving.

'Oh, the NOISE! All the noise, noise, noise, noise! How do they expect a baby to think with all this noise?' Kevan wondered as he cringed away from yet another loud cackling sound that was far too close to his tiny eardrums for Kevan's taste.

Kevan had never in his short life heard quite so much noise. It seemed like there were hundreds of big people things everywhere he looked and all of them were babbling at the same time. Some were just making the usual mouth sounds he'd become accustomed to from big people things. But others were making loud happy sounds - really loud. Some were hollering really loudly. A couple were sitting in front of this big box in the corner that glowed with lights and colors and made other incomprehensible sounds and those people things were shouting loudly at the box. Closer to where Kevan was lying on the yellow one's lap, the big Red lady and the singing woman were babbling directly at his little face while they poked at him and the big goofy one hovered and talked in that annoyingly squeaky voice he sometimes used. There was even one little people thing crawling around on the floor and occasionally making the same loud unhappy sounds that Kevan always thought were his personal signature sounds.

Frankly, it was deafening and if Kevan thought he could get a sound in edgewise he'd be protesting loudly.

Only, every time Kevan thought it would be a good idea to voice his displeasure he got confused by another novel noise or a glimpse of some new people thing he didn't remember seeing before or he'd smell something he'd never experienced before or someone else would pick him up and jostle him.

Did they not understand just how distracting they were? It took a lot of concentration and effort to work up to a really good infant tantrum. Without a little peace and quiet and a minute or two for him to recall exactly how to kick and scream at the same time and at exactly the right pitch, Kevan didn't think he'd be able to work it.

'Oh, bother!' Kevan thought with the baby equivalent of an exasperated sigh - which sounded to most of the adults around him like a strangled gurgle.

It just wasn't worth the effort.

Kevan pursed his beautiful bowed lips, closed his dark blue eyes and drifted off to sleep in protest of all the disconcerting commotion.

Thanksgiving at Deb's house was Kevan's first big family gathering and Justin was pretty much a wreck after having been there only twenty minutes. Up until now they'd kept the almost three month old baby away from most large congregations of people. Between the infant's struggles with colic and Justin's fears of exposing him to germs, they'd always had good excuses to avoid most all social invitations so far. But at the last well baby checkup, Dr. Dahl had assured the nervous daddies that Kevan was a strong healthy little boy, confirmed that the colic seemed to be abating and promptly cleared him for any and all forms of socialization.

So much for Brian's ready made excuse to avoid any further Family Dinners.

Brian, Justin and Baby Kevan had arrived late - as was typical for Brian - but this time he couldn't blame it on having to fuck Justin into the mattress one more time before they left the house. Nope. Today they were late because apparently it took two full hours to get a baby ready to go to a simple family gathering. Not to mention that he'd had to dog Justin around the house for what seemed like forever, following the Twink's directions and packing practically everything Kevan owned into the Audi's trunk before Justin declared they were ready to go. Brian was amazed at how much shit one tiny baby apparently needed to have with him at all times. He was also thoroughly disgusted by the domesticality of the whole undertaking. I mean, really, Brian Kinney was NEVER meant to be reduced to packing and toting around a fucking diaper bag. Was he?

Needless to say, Brian was in a foul mood before the little family even arrived on the scene of the Thanksgiving Day Extravaganza.

Brian’s mood wasn’t improved much by the swarm of attention the trio received before they were even fully through the door of Debbie’s kitschy old house. There were just far too many people who thought it was somehow appropriate to hug, kiss or pat all three of them. Brian didn’t understand why his having had a baby automatically equated to permission for everyone he knew to now touch him whenever they saw him. Brian Kinney was NOT the hugging type. He thought these people knew that. So why the fuck were they all touching and hugging him like they hadn’t seem him in months?

On top of everything else, Brian was a bit peeved that the two Grandma’s - Deb and Jenn - swooped in and basically tore Kevan out of his arms before he’d even had a chance to catch his breath. This was the first big full-on family gathering he’d been to since having Kevan and he was, maybe, a little bit nervous about the experience himself. Not that he’d ever voice any such qualms. But, to have everyone descend on him all at once like that, stealing away his baby out of his arms and then subject him to all the family touchy-feely-ness all at once was more than a little disconcerting

Was it really any big surprise that Brian felt like growling at them, snatching his son back and then retreating as fast as possible?

Thankfully, Justin was as perceptive as ever when it came to his skittish man. While the new medications Chiefy had prescribed had gone a long way towards curbing Brian’s postpartum mood swings, Justin was still hyper-alert to anything that could set the man off. Accordingly, he promptly maneuvered Brian over to the far corner of the family room and had the big guy ensconced in Vic’s favorite armchair with a cold beer in his hand before the situation had deteriorated too much. Once he was safe away from the majority of the touchy-feely crowd and had a cold beer to help cool off his mood, Brian felt substantially better. After a few minutes he found he could even respond civilly to the more restrained greetings offered by the less aggressively friendly members of the old gang.

Justin heaved a relieved breath as soon as Brian started to relax and then hurried over to save his son from the overly-doting grandmothers, aunts and Emmett.

“I can’t believe Kevan is being so calm,” Lindsey commented for about the fifth time as she leaned over the back of the couch where Kevan was napping away in Justin’s lap while the new dad was flanked on each side by a devoted grandmother. “You’d think with all the chaos in here today, a newborn would be more startled. I don’t remember Gus being half this good during his first big family celebration. Hmmmm. I wonder . . . Have you had his hearing checked? You know that a lack of response to loud stimulus like this could indicate serious hearing problems. If I were you I would . . .”

Justin simply nodded politely to each of Lindsey’s suggestions and plastered a simpering little smile onto his face but said nothing. He still hadn’t completely forgiven Lindsey for the way she’d treated Brian before the baby was born. He couldn’t believe that the woman had the gall to sit there and act all concerned and caring now. And, while the last thing he wanted to do was be forced to listen to even more parenting advice from the likes of Lindsey Peterson, he was trying to hold in his temper so as not to ruin Thanksgiving before they’d even sat down to the table.

“In fact, I think hearing loss is a symptom of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,” Lindsey plathered on, seemingly oblivious to the way her unsolicited opinions were angering the young father they were directed at. “I know you said that Brian was careful with his drinking while he was pregnant, but . . . well, this IS Brian we’re talking about . . .”

“What exactly are you saying, Lindsey?” Justin shot back in a furious stage whisper before the meddlesome woman could even fully voice her accusations. “If you’re implying that Brian did ANYTHING that might have hurt Kevan, you’re way off base. Brian didn’t drink at ALL during his pregnancy. He’s a wonderful father and would NEVER do something that would hurt our son. The mere fact that you would think he could ever do something so reckless just proves you know nothing about Brian at all.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” Lindsey stood up and backed a few steps away, backtracking verbally as well.

Justin wasn’t willing to back down though. He handed Kevan off to his mother and jumped to his feet, rounding the end of the couch so he could confront the officious blonde nose to nose. “You didn’t mean to what? Stick your turned up nose in our business? Insinuate that Brian and I don’t know how to raise our son? Imply that Brian intentionally did something during his pregnancy that would have harmed our baby? Because that certainly seems like exactly what you’re doing Lindsey.”

“Well, I . . . I never said any of those things, Justin. Don’t you think you’re being a little over sensitive?” Lindsey pulled her self-righteousness around herself and bit back. “If Brian really was as cautious as you claim he was, then why are you overreacting so much, huh? I happen to have known Brian a hell of a lot longer than you and frankly I find it rather hard to believe that he didn’t have even a single drink for the nine whole months. Besides, all I was doing was offering a little bit of friendly advice as a concerned friend and seasoned parent. It can’t hurt to have Kevan’s hearing checked, you know. And I DON’T appreciate you rudely biting my head off like this, Justin! You’d think that now that you have a baby of your own you’d grow up and stop acting like such a brat yourself!”

“Fuck you, Lindsey!” Justin shot back, his anger seething out of every pore of his body at this point. “You don’t know SHIT about Brian anymore . . .”

By that point everyone else in the room had gone silent except for Gus, who had picked up on the tension and responded by tugging on his mother’s pant leg and whimpering. The rest of the Thanksgiving Day denizens were all staring, silent and gape-jawed, at the battle of the blonds. Even Brian was momentarily stunned at the vehemence of the argument over him. But when he saw Lindsey’s eyes narrow dangerously while her face got that pale white he knew signalled that she was about to get seriously vicious, Brian sprang out of his seat and rushed over. He shouldered his way in between the two, physically separating them with his body, and gently stroked Justin’s arm with his hand in order to calm him.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Debbie herself also intervened. “I will not have you two ruining my Thanksgiving. Now, BOTH of you need to shut the fuck up and go sit down in neutral corners.”

Debbie picked up the still sniffling Gus and handed him to Lindsey in order to give the woman something to concentrate on other than Justin. The ploy worked and Lindz moved off to the kitchen with Gus. Mel followed to show her support for her partner - as well as to make sure Lindsey stayed separated from Justin.

Jennifer followed Deb’s lead and carefully handed Kevan back to Justin, which served to almost immediately calm the rabid blond attack dog. Brian guided his boy back to the couch and then sat down protectively close in order to reassure himself as well as Justin that everything would be okay. As soon as everyone else saw that hostilities were at least temporarily halted the other conversations in the room gradually restarted as well. Vic, Ted, Ben and Michael returned to their heated discussion of the National Dog Show on the television - each arguing in favor of their favorite breed to win - while Debbie, Emmett and Jenn moved off to finish the feast preparations.

By the time that Deb called everyone to the table, it seemed that both blonds had cooled off sufficiently to sit at the same table together without bickering. Instead, they just sat across the table from one another and glared icily. Brian moved the baby carrier with a sleeping Kevan closer and then grabbed the chair next to Justin. If he wasn’t afraid of getting his own head bit off, he would have laughed at how territorial the other parents of his two sons were acting. He really DIDN’T want to encourage them, though, so he decided to sit quietly and say nothing.

As soon as everyone was seated around the very crowded table, Debbie enthusiastically began handing around serving platters and bowls full of every possible Thanksgiving staple ever invented. Besides the absolutely huge turkey that Vic had been put in charge of carving, there were bowls of wild rice stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, a big sauteuse full of roasted potatoes, yams and parsnips, homemade rolls, green bean casserole and baked acorn squash. The quantities of food were copious. It was easily conceivable that Deb could have fed three times the number of guests - which made Brian worried about the amounts of leftovers each of them would be saddled with.

Deb was completely in her element though. She was grinning from ear to ear and ordering various people to try a particular dish, foisting off extra large helpings and praising Vic’s carving prowess. Because of all this, it took her a few minutes before she noticed that Brian, who was sitting at the far end of the table, had been passing on every single dish without serving himself anything.

“Brian Kinney! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Why is your plate still empty?” Debbie admonished loudly enough that it interrupted everyone else’s conversations - again.

“I’m good, Deb,” Brian tried to deflect his surrogate Mom’s concern with his typical nonchalance, even though he knew it was probably futile.

“You’ll be ‘good’ when I see some food on your plate,” Deb insisted, her red-lacquered fingernail pointing directly at Brian’s head.

“I can’t eat all this shit, Deb. I’ll blow up like a fucking balloon,” Brian returned, trying to sound firm and not apologetic - showing any fear when talking with Debbie was always dangerous. When Deb’s expression didn’t show ANY sign of relenting, Brian felt compelled to explain. “You know I’ve got the photoshoot for the Armani ad next week and I’ve GOT to lose at least five pounds before then. I’m sick and tired of looking like a fucking whale.”

“Brian,” Justin interrupted in a hushed voice, “we’ve talked about this. You don’t look like a whale and you know it’s not healthy for you to skip meals. Both Chiefy and Dr. Dahl told you it would just take a little time . . .”

“Fuck that! I don’t HAVE any more time, Justin. The shoot is NEXT week. And, instead of losing the rest of the damn baby weight, I’ve actually gained back a couple pounds,” Brian whined back in spite of the embarrassing fact that the entire family was listening in by this point. “Besides, I’m not going to skip a meal. I brought my own,” Brian announced, holding up one of the Kalteen meal replacement bars he’d been living off of lately.

Debbie abruptly walked over behind Brian’s chair and snatched the Kalteen bar packet out of the man’s hand before he had any chance to protest. “Today is Thanksgiving, you little asshole. It’s not the time to be dieting and I WON’T have you replacing the delicious food I worked on preparing for the past two days with some pre-packaged, tasteless diet bar shit! The whole fucking point of Thanksgiving is that you sit down with your family, enjoy the bounty of the land and be thankful that you have food to eat, especially when some people have nothing. Now, if I don’t see some turkey and stuffing on that plate in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be ripping you a new one and stuffing the rest of your Thanksgiving dinner up it!”

“Fuck me . . .” Brian mumbled, pouting like a petulant five year old as he grudgingly let Justin serve him two slices of turkey and a good-sized spoonful of stuffing.

When Justin also started to add a healthy serving of potatos, Brian tried to pull his plate away, “Folic acid, Brian,” was all Justin said before Brian conceded, again with evident poor grace, and allowed the addition of the tubers of his plate after all.

The rest of the meal progressed with a lot less drama once Brian was force fed by Debbie. He even ate most of what he’d been served, but didn’t say much. Deb was just about to call Brian on his brooding, when Justin intercepted the woman’s criticizing look and, with a stern frown and intent gaze, shook his head expressly. Deb took the warning to heart and decided to back off of Brian for the rest of the meal. She didn’t want to have to take on both Brian and Justin at the same time - especially on what was supposed to be a happy, festive day.

After dinner, Brian retreated upstairs to see to Kevan - happy to be feeding and changing the infant away from all the prying and judgmental eyes of his pseudo-family for a time. Even Justin kept his distance for awhile, careful to let Brian have his space and leery of setting off another negative mood swing. But, when Brian reemerged with the baby in his arms a half-hour later, he seemed much calmer. For the rest of the evening he acted content to loll on the floor in the living room with Kevan and Gus together on his lap, refereeing the interaction between the happily babbling infant and the curious toddler who seemed intent on poking out the baby’s eyes.

Nobody even TRIED to get Brian to consume a piece of one of the three pies offered - apple, pecan and pumpkin - when the rest of the gang had their dessert.

The after Thanksgiving plan was for the parents to leave the children with Grandma Debbie and Grandma Jenn so that they could all enjoy a night of freedom and adult entertainment.

Most of the gang was already gone, headed over to Woody’s, before Brian finally managed to get an over-protective Justin to relinquish control over his offspring to the grandmothers. Granted, it WAS hard to leave the little tyke just when Kevan was doing this amazingly adorable new trick - little mini-pushups while lying on his tummy on the floor. Even Brian found himself gazing fondly at his son, smiling with pride every single time the baby lifted his head on the spindly little neck and then pushed with his tiny balled fists until he managed to raise his shoulders a few inches off the baby blanket that he was lying on. Brian blamed the sentimental feelings this little display engendered on the hormones again, which allowed him to indulge in a few moments of doting Kevan watching without feeling too guilty or lesbionic.

Eventually, though, both Brian and Justin pulled themselves away from their admittedly fascinating child and headed off to the bar to join their friends. The gang had already taken possession of one of the pool tables and an adjacent high-top table which had a half full pitcher of beer waiting on it. Brian immediately pulled up a stool next to the tall table and poured himself a tall, frosty pint. It felt good to be back on his old stomping grounds again. He had only been to Woody’s a couple of times since the baby was born - between work, his new celebrity status and having to adjust to being a ‘Family Man’ now, not to mention the fatigue, colic and mood swings he’d been fighting against, Brian hadn’t had much time over the past few months to just hang out and be a guy. It was so refreshing to be back on Liberty Avenue in familiar surroundings once again.

At least it felt good for the first fifteen minutes or so, right up until the first brazen fan approached him with his camera phone already snapping pics.

“Hey, man! Aren’t you that prego dude? Can I get your autograph?” the fawning twenty-something guy gushed as he invaded Brian’s personal space, jostling the arm he was holding his beer with at the same time and causing beer to slosh out all over Brian’s wrist. “Wow! This is so cool that I get to meet you. You know, you look totally normal, man. In fact, you look pretty hot. Nobody’d know you were, like, the prego guy, you know,” the annoying fan went on and on, touching Brian’s shoulder in an almost intimate manner.

Justin - who was just coming back over to join Brian after taking a minute to clandestinely arrange with Ben to have more of the Kalteen ‘diet’ bars delivered to Brian’s workout buddy so they could continue the necessary deception of the misguided dieter - instantly bristled at the sight of some random stranger groping at his baby-daddy. “FUCK OFF!” Justin stated emphatically, insinuating himself between the interloper and Brian with an almost feral snarl.

“Whoa, dude! Like, what’s your problem-o?’ the fan retorted, taking one small step back but not moving any further from Brian than he was forced to by Justin’s physical presence.

“My ‘problem-o’, DUDE, is that this is our table and you weren’t invited to join us. Now, get your greasy paws off my friend and go back to whatever rock you climbed out from under or you’re gonna lose one of your favorite appendages - and I’m not talking about an arm or leg, here, DUDE,” Justin demanded, his angry presence making him seem to tower over the interloper despite the fact that the newcomer was at least a couple of inches taller.

“Hey, chill, man,” the fanboy replied, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender as he slowly backed away from the prickly young blond bodyguard. “I’m going already. I’m going.”

“Way to scare off my fan base, Sunshine,” Brian snarked when Justin was finally satisfied with the fan’s increased distance and turned to take up his own beer from the high-top table.

“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood for your ‘fans’ tonight, Brian. Especially after the way they tried to fucking swarm us the other day at the hospital. I mean, asking for autographs is one thing, but no way am I gonna let some airhead fanboy manhandle you like that,” Justin asserted vehemently.

“I’ve never heard Brian complain about manhandling before,” Ted quipped back with a snarky little smile.

“Yeah, but that’s only when I’M the one doing the handling, Theodore,” Brian replied, all the while leering suggestively at another newcomer - this one tall, dark-haired and well built - who was eyeing him up from the next table over.

Brian’s eye fuck was interrupted at that point, however, when yet another camera flash went off less than five feet from his face as rabid fan number four snapped a quick pic on his cell phone

“Except that you won’t be manhandling anybody here tonight,” Ted responded, even as Justin shooed the newest shutterbug away from their table and simultaneously gave the trick Brian had been flirting with the evil eye.

Brian’s concentration on the tall dark trick wavered as soon as he heard Ted’s assertion, much to Justin’s secret relief.

When Ted noticed Brian looking at him with a confused expression, he went on to explain. “You’ve got to be a lot more careful now that you’re doing the Armani modeling gig, right? I mean, of course they know you’re gay and all, but I doubt the big wigs at Armani are gonna want to see a picture of you fucking some random backroom guy all over the tabloids. I’m sure your contract has some kind of celebrity indiscretion clause - you know, like those basketball players who lose their endorsements if they get caught with a prostitute and other shit like that?”

“You mean that Brian could lose his modeling job just for fucking someone? That’s totally bogus,” Michael complained, always the first to support his ‘Best Friend’s’ right to behave as wantonly and immaturely as possible.

“I haven’t actually read the contract, but I’d bet you good money there’s some type of indiscretion clause in there. And they usually word them so vaguely that, yeah, it could easily apply to Brian getting caught having casual sex somewhere," Ted continued explaining.

Unfortunately for the dark-haired, muscle-bound trick who chose that moment to approach, Brian realized that Ted was probably right. He remembered that contract provision - the lawyer at Ryder who had looked over the contract had specifically pointed it out to him - but he hadn’t really thought about it before in that light. Now that Ted pointed it out, though, Brian reluctantly agreed that even something that he thought was a non-issue, like fucking in public, might easily get made into a big deal by the type of corporate execs that ran Armani.

“Shit!” Brian shook his head and waved off the trick. “Not interested,” he added when the trick didn’t get the message at first and instead just stood there looking at him as if he’d just lost his winning lottery ticket.

Even then, it wasn’t until Sunshine gave the guy a facetious little wave and told him - very sweetly - to “Fuck Off”, that the guy finally got the revelation that his ass wasn’t needed at the moment.

Brian tried to hide the fact that he found Justin’s little show of possessiveness to be just a tiny bit endearing by turning his attention to the pitcher of beer on the table. Justin never made a big deal about that kind of shit for fear of antagonizing his skittish man, and simply moved on to his turn at the pool table. However, neither of them missed the unspoken fact that Justin wasn’t in the least bit upset that Brian’s blatant tricking was curtailed for the foreseeable future. Of course, Brian wasn’t really all that upset over the development either, seeing as he wasn’t in any hurry to have their ongoing raw sex opportunities shot to hell quite yet. Although, it did rankle a little that his freedom seemed curtailed at the same time. And he really shouldn’t encourage the little twat in his delusion of exclusivity - it wasn’t like they were married or anything, right?

All of which probably explained why Brian seemed so much more receptive when the next fanboy approached their table.

“Hey, Brian! Wow, it’s so great to see you out again. You’ve been pretty much MIA ever since the baby, you know. Liberty Avenue has really missed you lately,” the bubbly, smiling young man burbled as he literally bounced up to Brian’s side.

“Uh . . . right,” Brian seemed at a total loss for words after that boisterous greeting but still he didn’t tell the kid to get lost the way he normally would. “You’re the kid from the other day at the hospital . . . Tab, right?” Brian fumbled with the name for the kid who obviously hadn’t made any real lasting impression on him outside of the fact that the guy HAD managed to get him and Justin away from that mob of fans.

“Taggart. It’s Taggart,” the boy corrected Brian, his face falling for a brief time when he realized Brian didn’t remember his name. “It’s an Irish name, you know. Just like Brian. You know, I read somewhere that the name ‘Brian’ means ‘noble warrior’ - it so totally fits you too. I mean, how brave do you have to be to come out about being the first male pregnancy in North America. And to do it with such style too.”

Brian looked at the kid with a slightly bemused expression. This Taggart was even more enthusiastic about stupid trivial factoids than Justin, which was definitely a bit annoying. On the other hand, Brian couldn’t help but be a little flattered by the kid’s shameless hero-worship.

“Can we help you,” Justin, who was standing next to Brian’s chair, inserted himself into the conversation at that point, which was fine with Brian since he had no idea how to respond to Taggart’s last bold statement.

“Um . . . hey,” Taggart reluctantly replied to Justin’s overtly hostile greeting but almost immediately turned his full attention back to Brian. “So, Brian, where’s the adorable baby Kevan tonight? It must be tough leaving the little guy with a sitter - I bet you miss him like the dickens when you’re away from him. If I had such an amazing little boy like that I probably wouldn’t be able to leave him for even a minute. But then again, I’m sure that, what with you being a first time parent, you really need to get out and have a break every now and then. I’m sure Kevan is a perfect angel, but even then, a guy like you, Brian, probably needs time to let loose and have some adult fun too,” Taggart added with a sly, almost leer in Brian’s direction.

“Where OUR son is and whether or not Brian and I need parenting breaks really aren’t any of your concern,” Justin bristled through gritted teeth, looking at Taggart as if the kid possessed some communicable disease.

Taggart seemingly didn’t even hear Justin’s contemptuous words, though. He just beamed an even bigger smile at Brian, talking a mile a minute and waxing poetic about everything from the way Brian wore his hair, to how cool he thought it was that Brian still managed to keep his studly figure even after giving birth to little Kevan. Justin was glowering at the guy so intently that it was amazing his gaze hadn’t drilled holes in Taggart’s skull, but the clueless fan steadfastly ignored the irate blond.

Brian leaned his stool back on two legs with his back propped against the wall and simply looked on with amusement, prepared to enjoy himself while his two biggest fans battled for his attentions. There wasn’t any doubt in Brian’s mind who the winner of this battle royale would be - Taggart was cute enough, but Justin could undoubtedly take him - yeah this was going to be damned entertaining. At least until they got home and Brian had to deal with the great blond hurricane known as Justin Taylor.

By this time, the rest of the gang had circled around the spectacle of Brian, Justin and the new twink. Brian apparently wasn’t the only one who found the sour look on Justin’s face every time Taggart voiced yet another fawning compliment extolling Brian’s every perfection to be comical. Both Mikey and Ted were snickering behind their beers. Emmett was looking like he couldn’t decide between being amused or being just as proprietary and annoyed as Justin. Knowing these guys, it wouldn’t be long before they started placing bets on who would win.

However, all the fun was over before it had even truly begun. Sunshine had grown tired of this little whatever-the-fuck-he-was slobbering all over his man like he was the prime rib special at Papagano’s. When Taggart made the ultimate mistake of laying his hand on Brian’s shoulder and leaning in to seductively whisper a clearly improper proposition into the big stud’s ear, Justin’s pint glass full of beer conveniently slipped out of his hand and somehow ended up spilling over the top of Taggart’s head.

“Oh, my. Look at that. I’m such a klutz tonight,” Justin exclaimed without even a hint of an apology. Turning to a wide eyed, giggling Brian Kinney, Justin announced brusquely, “we’re leaving now, Brian.”  

Brian thought it wise not to say anything and to immediately comply with the pissed off blond’s directions.

Chapter 13 - The Shoot is Shot.

Where the doo-doo was The Daddy?

Poor little Kevan was sure he’d been abandoned by the nice big warm good-smelling person-thing that he called The Daddy. It had been FOREVER since he’d been there when Kevan woke up and needed to have his tummy filled with the warm yummy stuff that The Daddy used to give him. It’s not like Kevan was starving to death or anything - the Yellow One and the Silly One were still around, of course, and whenever he cried one of them would shove a hard plastic thing in his face that had warmish liquid in it that would soothe his tummy when he sucked hard on it - but it just wasn’t the same as having The Daddy.

The Daddy was really warm. Kevan liked the way the warm skin felt against his soft little cheek when The Daddy would hold him. He also really, really, really liked the way The Daddy smelled. The hard plastic thing with the liquid smelled really nasty and it was cold on the outside even when the stuff inside was warm. It didn’t taste all that great, either. Kevan also missed the deep, comforting rumbly sound of The Daddy’s voice and the way he’d always make the happy mouth sounds to him when Kevan was in his arms.

Neither the Yellow One nor the Silly One were quite the same as The Daddy.

Right then the Yellow One was joggling Kevan and making unhappy mouth sounds at him. “Blah, blah blah, Kevan. Blah. Papa blah blah, Kevan. Blah, Kevan, blah blah blah blah for Papa. Please, Kevan. Please.”

Obviously whatever the Yellow One was trying to do was only annoying Kevan further since the baby’s cries were only getting louder.

Why didn’t the Yellow One go get The Daddy? Kevan was tired of all the doo-doo. He wanted The Daddy and he wanted him right NOW! Stop with all the jiggling and the babbling and get The Daddy!

‘Why, oh why,’ Kevan wondered inside his brilliant little infant mind. ‘Why must all my people-things be so difficult to train. They just don’t listen!’

“Justin! Justin, blah blah blah!” the Silly One came running into Kevan’s lovely brown and green room holding a small black thing in it’s hand and wearing that silly look on it’s face that showed all its teeth, shouting out loud mouth sounds. “Blah blah blah, Brian! Here!”

The Silly One handed the small black thing to the Yellow One, who thankfully had stopped jiggling Kevan. Yellow One made his usual ‘blah blah blah’ sounds into the black thing for a minute or two - completely ignoring Kevan’s best screeching wails - and then he held the black thing up to the side of Kevan’s face.

It took Kevan a minute or two to figure out what was going on after that. But, slowly, the sounds coming out of the small black thing penetrated his completely upset crying jag. Kevan paused in his loud unhappy sounds to listen more clearly.

It sounded just like The Daddy! It was the same low rumbly happy sounds that The Daddy always made to Kevan! Kevan was ecstatic!

Several minutes later, Kevan finally started to feel sleepy again. He loved hearing The Daddy’s mouth sounds. It wasn’t as good as having The Daddy here with him and filling his tummy with the yummy warmness he wanted, but it at least reassured Kevan that he hadn’t been completely abandoned. As he dropped off into a happy, contented slumber, Kevan saw the Yellow One and the Silly One smiling at him and he gave them back a little baby version of the Yellow One’s special happy face smile.

‘Maybe these people-things were learning after all!’

Brian hit the button on his phone that ended the frantic call he’d got from Emmett. He snorted a little mirthless laugh and shook his head as he put the phone back away in his jacket pocket. He didn’t think it was possible for two men to be such overwrought drama queens. And, from what he’d heard, it must be contagious because Kevan sounded like he was in full queen-out too. Or would that be a ‘Prince-Out’? All Brian knew was that he was glad he wasn’t there at the moment because he really didn’t need all that drama.

It had been nice to hear Kevan’s little babbling noises though - well, at least it had been nice as soon as the little terror had ceased with the caterwauling. Brian was amazed that something he thought of as so minor, like just hearing his father’s voice, could have calmed the nipper down as easily as it seemed to. Remarkably, it seemed to calm him down just as much. Brian hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing his sonnyboy until now. ‘Sheesh, he really was at risk of turning into a lezbo’, he thought, briefly palming his dick to reassure himself it was still present and accounted for.

“Mr. Kinney?” Brian’s lesbian moment was thankfully interrupted by the entrance of the obsequious production assistant that had been trailing along behind him ever since he’d landed in L.A. for the Armani photoshoot two days before.

“Yeah, Peter, what’s up?” Brian acknowledged the skinny, pimple-faced kid who bustled into the small dressing room where he’d been waiting for over an hour now.

“It’s Piers, Mr. Kinney. And I got your skinny caramel latte for you, Mr. Kinney,” the boy juggled the myriad of items in his arms - which included a suit in a dry cleaning bag, a clipboard, a tablet computer and his phone -  sufficiently so that he could hand off a paperboard coffee cup. “Also, Mr. Marsh said to tell you that the lighting changes are almost finished so shooting should begin again in about fifteen minutes. Wallace will be back in to touch up your hair and makeup a couple of minutes beforehand.”

“Yeah, right. I believe that’s what you said forty-five minutes ago,” Brian was disgusted by the whole hurry up and wait process of the photoshoot. “Tell me, is there any reason - any valid reason, that is - why I have to stay holed up here in this stupid tiny room until they’re ready for me?”

“Of course not, Mr. Kinney,” the fawning toady replied with a tone that was just two shades too enthusiastic for Brian’s current mood. “The other models are all out in the Greatroom, I think. That’s the first setting the photographer wanted to use today anyway, so you might as well be there as anywhere else. Plus, there’s a television, internet setup and a craft services table with food in the kitchen out there as well. If you want to head out there, I’ll make sure to come round you up as soon as Wallace is ready for you.”

Brian was already halfway out the door, the grovelling assistant trailing at his heels like a puppy, before the man had even finished his statement. “Thanks, uh . . . Pedro. Just don’t bother me until they’re ACTUALLY ready for me - for real this time - okay.”

“Of course, Mr. Kinney. Whatever you say, Mr. Kinney. And, it’s Piers, Mr. Kinney,” the bootlicker’s voice faded almost as quickly as Brian’s attention as he headed towards the central rooms of the huge house.

Brian was still in awe of the sleek design and modern architecture of the Palm Springs house the Armani people had chosen for today’s shoot. It was only about 2 hours outside of LA proper, but it felt like he was in a whole different world. Not only was the desert scenery they’d driven through breathtaking, but the local architecture was phenomenal. The house they were in today was simply stunning. The main rooms were all located in a large domed area with the living room area in the center, and the kitchen, dining areas and other nooks radiating out around the walls. All the lines were clean and sleek and round making the whole feel like there wasn’t any wasted space. It was a room that Brian thoroughly approved of. The rest of the bedrooms, an office and sundry other rooms were all connected to the main dome with short hallways - each smaller room a dome of its own - so that the entire complex resembled a child’s model of some archaic molecule. It was fantastic. And even more amazing considering it had been built in the late 1950’s - the futuristic tone of the house belying its age. Brian loved it.

Brian made his way to the kitchen area of the Greatroom - set up on the south rim of the main dome. The table set up next to the wall was heaped with an extravagant array of gourmet food, treats and sweets as well as more substantial fare, along with various items that the crew might want to peruse during their downtime like industry magazines and newspapers. Brian popped a grape into his mouth and grabbed a copy of GQ as he passed by - noticing with a touch of smugness that it was his very own handsome mug gracing the cover of this month’s issue.

Off to one side of the craft services table, there was another sitting area, this one less formal, where several people were seated while they too cooled their heels. Brian nodded at a group of three men who he assumed were most likely fellow models. He figured he might as well join them, noting happily as he neared that at least two of them were deliciously underdressed compared to the rest of the crew and other lackies wandering around trying to look busy.

“Pull up a seat, mate,” said a tall, thin, scruffy bearded gentleman dressed in a casual suit, pointing with a hand already encumbered by a dangling, ashy cigarette towards a vacant chair nearby.

     
“Scruffy, Abs and The Package”

Brian nodded and took the seat. “They let you smoke in here?” Brian asked as the mere sight of Scruffy’s cigarette rekindled a craving that he’d thought his months of pregnancy and new parenthood should have squelched. Brian even found himself unconsciously patting his jacket pocket as if looking for his own pack before he realized what he was doing. Luckily, though, the guy distracted him by answering before Brian’s cigarette addiction had time to fully reassert itself.

“They let ME do anything I like, mate,” Scruffy announced petulantly with an exaggerated Aussie accent, staring at Brian with a snooty expression. “I’m booked out for the next two years. They were damn lucky I was even available for this shoot. I fucking HATE L.A. I wouldn’t even be here if my agent hadn’t insisted . . .”

While Brian normally applauded self-assurance, this guy was so fucking in love with himself that it made even Brian want to gag. As Scruffy went on about his busy schedule and all the upcoming photo shoots he would be attending all over the world, Brian intentionally tuned out the big windbag. Besides, he was far more interested in the two half-dressed beauties in robes that were sitting nearby.

The first one, a dark-haired adonis with smoldering bedroom eyes was dressed only in skimpy black briefs and a black silk robe that was hanging unfastened from his shoulders. This guy had abs that were fucking amazing. Talk about a washboard! Even just slouching on the couch, his stomach muscles were taut and rippling enough to make Brian drool. A delicious mental image of him stroking along each and every one of those tight abdominal ridges with his tongue popped into Brian’s head almost immediately - only to be almost as quickly quashed when Abs completely ignored him and instead continued to flirt with the trashy looking crew girl standing next to him. Brian shook his head at the disgusting hetero sight. The girl wasn’t even that attractive. And really, she HAD to know that a lacy purple bra did not, in and of itself, constitute a top even if it was accompanied by a little knit jacket that barely covered her shoulders let alone any part of her torso. If THAT was what Abs liked in a woman, Brian was almost glad the guy wasn’t gay.

Which left model number three - a beefy looking ash-blond who was sprawled sideways over the arm of the chair next to Brian’s in a way that made his plush terry-cloth robe gape open artistically, allowing Brian to admire the very nice package the guy was hiding in his white Armani Exchange briefs. The guy tilted his head to one side almost coquettishly when he noticed exactly where Brian’s eyes had fixated. Brian beamed him one of his old, sinfully decadent, obviously predatory smirks. The Package batted his long dark blond eyelashes back at him and allowed one corner of his full lips to tweak up into just a smidgen of a smile. If that look hadn’t been enough to let Brian know his unspoken offer had been willingly accepted, the way The Package shifted in his chair, making sure Brian got a good look at the way his rapidly lengthening cock was filling out the front of those now-tight briefs, would have clinched the deal.

And suddenly, Brian had a brilliant idea of how to idle away the remaining break time until the photographer was ready for him.

Approximately ninety-five seconds later, Brian found himself locked into the small guest bathroom closest to the kitchen of the photo shoot house with The Package on his knees at Brian’s feet. Brian leaned back against the door, his head back, eyes closed, enjoying the sensual way The Package was rubbing his big hands up and down Brian’s thighs and mouthing at his crotch through the black Armani Exchange jeans he’d been dressed in for the shoot. Brian let his right hand drift down and grab onto the back of the ash-blond head, his fist pulling at a handful of hair.

Shit! It felt so fucking good! So right! And it wasn’t just that he was about to be blown either. It was this long lost sense of freedom he got from simply letting himself act solely for his own pleasure.

It had been so long since he’d tricked - first because of the fucking pregnancy and then because of his domestic servitude to his fledgling family. Not that Brian didn’t adore his son or enjoy being with Justin, but all of that came along with so much obligation. Brian hadn’t really chosen the domesticity he’d fallen into. A year ago he never would have imagined himself as an upstanding family man with a house, a kid and a . . . well, whatever the fuck Justin was. But along with Kevan, Brian got himself a heaping fuck ton of responsibilities. His every action now had consequences for not just himself but also for his son. And all that responsibility was beginning to chafe.

Now he felt free again. The simple act of giving in to his pleasure was so refreshing. He finally felt like himself - picking up a trick, strong-arming him into the nearest semi-private location, ordering him to his knees with only a look, and not having to care about the guy or really even to think at all . . . It was so nice not to have to think. To just allow himself to enjoy a hot and willing body. Brian also felt a resurgence of the power and control tricking always gave him and that just enhanced his pleasure. He felt like his old Studly self. Finally!  

And for at least as long as it took The Package to get his belt undone, the zipper pulled down and his shirt untucked, Brian revelled in the anticipation of dirty, emotionless, anonymous sex.

Then things pretty much went to shit in a shopping cart.

Right as The Package pulled Brian’s jeans down, the guy made this funny little mewling sound and smacked his lips together in anticipation of the feast to come. It wasn’t really an unusual occurrence. Brian had been whimpered and moaned over by thousands of guys in the past. Most of the time the noises guys made didn’t even really register for him unless the trick was overly loud or too needy. But today, for some ungodly reason, the way this guy smacked his lips together reminded Brian of the way Kevan would do the same fucking thing right after he finished nursing. That simple sound instantly conjured up the most adorable image of the baby, lying in Brian’s arms, his perfect little bow shaped lips sleepily pursed together and his wonder-filled dark blue eyes gazing up at his Daddy’s face with pure love.

Those quiet, peaceful minutes with his son were Brian’s favorite moments of each day. The man who’d never wanted children and who always thought he’d suck as a father actually looked forward to those times with his child more than anything else he’d ever imagined. Those interludes always made him feel a serene and fervent joy that he had no words to describe but, now that he’d experienced the sensation, he couldn’t live without.

These thoughts of Kevan that popped into Brian’s mind unfortunately had a very unsexy effect. Not only did they distract Brian from the ministrations of The Package, but they also triggered a let down reflex. It was almost instantaneous. In less than ten seconds after the image of the baby appeared in his mind, Brian felt the first telltale beads of wetness moistening the front of his shirt just below his nipples.

He was simply mortified!

His first reaction was to freeze and hope that it would just stop. But, of course, as soon as he tried to will the completely natural process to stop, it just made the situation worse. He now really regretted the decision he’d made earlier in the day when he thought he’d skip pumping because he was just too rushed getting ready for the shoot. Maybe if he’d taken those ten minutes and subjected himself to the torture of the hated breast pump, he wouldn’t be in this position now.

As usual, regretting his lack of action didn’t really do squat to help him out right that instant.

So, in typical Brian Kinney fashion, the man resorted to the next most effective response - he turned on his ‘Asshole’ persona, roughly shoved The Package’s head away from his crotch with a murmured ‘Fuck Off!’ and practically ran out of the room. Brian didn’t even stop when he almost tripped over the ubiquitous production assistant who had just been on his way to get the model now that the photographer was once again ready.

“Fuck off, Piper!” Brian insisted once again as he bravely ran away, desperately looking for someplace he could ditch the now incriminating evidence of his wet, milk stained shirt.

“It’s Piers, Sir,” the sycophantic voice followed Brian down the hall and back to his dressing room.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Brian purred into the cell phone that he’d propped up on his pillow next to his ear.

“Hey! How was today’s shoot, Brian,” Justin’s soothing low tenor voice came through the phone speaker and did wonderfully relaxing things to Brian’s stressed out mind.

“It was incredibly tedious,” Brian let himself be momentarily distracted by Justin’s question - even though his primary goal for the call had been phone sex and not just friendly chit chat. “Don’t let anyone tell you modeling is a fucking glamorous life. It pretty much sucks - standing around all day waiting for some pretentious fuck to tell you how to hold your head and trying to make your body move into positions nature never intended.”

“I thought you could handle almost any position, Brian,” Justin teased. “Besides, I’m sure that you’ll look gorgeous, no matter how unnatural the position.”

“Well, that’s a given. I ALWAYS look gorgeous,” Brian replied, playing along and remembering just why he always found talking to Justin more pleasurable than most of the men he slept with - the boy had almost as raunchy a sense of humor as he had himself. “The positions I’m fantasizing about right now aren’t all that unnatural though, Sunshine. For instance, there’s the one where you’re on your hands and knees with your tight, sweet ass poking up into the air and just waiting for my dick . . .”

“Mmmmmm. I DO really like that position, Brian,” Justin moaned into the phone.

“Me too, Sunshine,” Brian agreed as he shifted against the pillows of his lonely hotel room bed so he was more comfortable. “Let’s start with that one and see where it gets us. Now, get the big bottle of lube off the nightstand - you’re going to need it - and get naked,” Brian ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Justin readily agreed.

What followed next did indeed involve a lot of lube on the part of both participants, along with much stroking, and fingers inserted in various convenient or not-so-convenient places, all accompanied by lots of grunting and groaning. In the end, excellent phone sex was had by all. The experience was almost sufficient to wipe away the memory of what had NOT happened with The Package earlier that day.

Almost.

However, as Brian was lying there enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss and using the cum pooled on his stomach to draw erotic doodles on his abs - which still weren’t quite as taut and toned as he would like - it reminded him of another distressing moment from earlier in the day.

“Hey, guess what, Sunshine. You know those meal supplement bars that I was getting from Ben? Well, it turns out that they’re horrible for you. I don’t know what Ben was thinking, but they’re definitely NOT gonna help anyone lose weight. They actually have about a million calories in each one.”

“Really? How did you find that out?” For some reason, Justin didn’t sound all that surprised at this revelation. In fact, he sounded just a tad annoyed for some unknown reason.

“After the shoot today I was working out at the hotel gym and one of the Lighting Techs from the shoot joined me,” Brian started to explain. “He’s this huge fucking blond gym bunny who just happens to be from Sweden. Anyway, we spotted each other on the weights for a while and then afterwards, as I was packing shit back into my gym bag, one of those Kalteen Bar things fell out and he saw it. Turns out HE used to use those back when he was a skinny-assed underweight teen. All that Swedish gobbledegook on the packaging actually says it’s supposed to make you GAIN WEIGHT! I’m going to give Ben a ton of shit about that when I get home.”

“Oh . . . You shouldn’t be too tough on him, Brian,” Justin interrupted before Brian could get a full head of steam behind his rant over Ben’s incompetence in suggesting the now hated diet bars. “It’s not Ben’s fault he doesn’t speak Swedish. I’m sure he meant well . . .”

“Fuck that,” Brian grumbled. “I don’t care what he meant. All I care about is finally getting my body back to normal. Between trying to lose the fucking weight and having my tits leaking all the damn time whenever I even think of Kevan, it’s a fucking nightmare. I actually had to go back to my dressing room and use that torture device you call a breast pump in between sets today. While all the other models were lounging around and relaxing I was fighting with that fucking pump thing. I don’t dare try to find someone to even suck me off what with all this shit going on. It’s just so fucking embarrassing, Justin!”

Brian heard an unidentified snorting noise coming from Justin’s end of the phone line. He suspected it was a hastily muffled chuckle and made a mental note to punish the little twat later for daring to laugh at his untenable predicament. Leaking tits really was NOT a laughing matter.

“Sorry, Brian,” Justin finally replied, although Brian was sure he heard a heavy note of sarcastic humor in there along with the faux-apology. “I guess you’ll just have to save up all your fucking and sucking for me. You know I don’t give a damn about your tits or your weight or any of that because I love my Baby Daddy just the way he is. And I promised to make it all better as soon as you get your gorgeous, studly ass home.”

“Fuck you, Sunshine,” Brian groused, although he was smiling when he said the words.

“And, don’t fucking starve yourself to death in the meantime, either,” Justin couldn’t help but lecture - his Kalteen Bar plan might have fallen through but he wasn’t giving up on his quest to keep Brian and Kevan safe and healthy. “Just because you found out about the Kalteen Bars, that doesn’t mean you can just quit eating. It’s not good for you or for Kevan while you’re still nursing.“

“Yeah, about that . . . how long do I have to keep doing this nursing shit?” Brian hesitantly asked, already knowing that his mere question would probably piss Justin off.

“Brian, we’ve already discussed this. You know that all the research shows a breastfed baby is healthier overall . . .” Brian tuned out the PSA before Justin had even finished his first sentence.

He’d already had the lecture - more than once - and really did NOT need to hear it again. Of course he didn’t want to do anything that might hurt his son, but breastfeeding? Was it really necessary? Really? Shit, he just wanted to get his body back. He wanted to be free to come and go without toting along the fucking pump. He wanted to be free to get sucked off whenever he wanted. He wanted to once again be able to fuck anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted, without having to worry about being humiliated by leaky tits or a bulging stomach. He missed being Brian ‘Fucking’ Kinney.

“Brian? Brian, are you even listening,” Justin’s voice finally penetrated his reverie.

“Yeah, I heard you. Breastfeeding is the bee’s knees. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever,” Brian mumbled.

“Just a few more months, okay,” Justin conceded. “For Kevan.”

“Fine,” Brian gave in again, even though he chafed at the ongoing weight of his domestication. “Now, can we please just talk about something other than babies and breastfeeding. I swear, if I hear one more word about babies or how I’m a fucking genetic freak of nature, my damn dick is going to permanently shrivel up and fall off. Can’t we just talk about normal shit like the hot guys at Woody’s last night or who’s fucking whom or something - anything - else!”

“Awwww, poor Brian,” Justin teased. “Okay, okay, I promise. No more babies or domestic shit. Only manly stuff like fucking and hot guys . . . Let’s see . . . Well, I did meet Emmett and Ted at Woody’s last night for a couple drinks - Mom offered to watch Kevan for a few hours so I could go out and celebrate finishing my last final for the semester - but I didn’t see any really notable hot guys. I didn’t really stay very long. I was really beat after studying all week for finals and Kevan hasn’t been sleeping really well since you’ve been gone. I think he misses his Daddy . . .”

“Justin. No more domestic shit, remember,” Brian stopped the loquacious teen before he devolved into more baby talk.

“Right! Sorry, Brian. Only hot guys. But, see, I didn’t really stay that long so I don’t remember anybody out of the ordinary . . . Oh, I did see that creepy Taggart guy, though. You remember the one who sort of saved us when we got mobbed at the hospital the last time? He was at the Diner when I came in with Daphne after class and then he turned up again at Woody’s later. He was kind of staring at me all night and it gave me the willies. That’s like the third or fourth time the guy has turned up when I’ve been out. Funny . . . I don’t remember ever seeing him before but the last few months he’s been everywhere . . .”

“Whatever, Justin. This isn’t really any more interesting than what you were saying before,” Brian interrupted. "So . . . Still got that bottle of lube handy? How about we try another position?"

And just like that Brian's mind was once more occupied with what he deemed a much more manly and appropriate topic.

Chapter 14 - Return of the Prodigal Stud.

The Daddy is home! The Daddy is home! Yum!

-Thoughts of Kevan Donagh Taylor-Kinney upon the return of his long-lost father.

The trip back from Palm Springs had been a fucking long one. He’d been stuck sitting on the plane at the Los Angeles airport for over an hour due to some mechanical problem. Once they did get off the ground the flight was bumpy as hell all the way over the rockies. Because of all that, he’d missed his connection in Chicago which meant he had to wait on Standby for another opening on a flight to Pittsburgh. Then, the greatest hardship of all, when he finally did get a seat out of Chicago, Brian was forced to fly coach. By the time he’d drug himself and his suitcase in through the back door of Britin’s Chapel it was after seven in the evening and he was tired, rumpled and grouchy.

No one came to greet him as he came inside. He knew Justin was home because he’d seen the Jeep parked in it’s usual spot outside the not-quite-finished garage that was still under construction behind the house. It appeared that their contractor was well on his way to finishing that little remodelling project though - the old garage that had been in place when they moved in had been woefully inadequate by Brian’s standards and therefore had to go. Brian was hoping the new garage would be completed by the end of the week so that he’d have someplace to park his Audi before the snow that had been forecast for the week before Christmas hit.

Brian tugged his suitcase into the Master Bedroom and left it just inside the door. He kicked his shoes off but didn’t stop for long. The sound of music drifting down the hallway told him which way to go to find the rest of the denizens of the house. As he passed by the office, he could see through the open door that the contractor had been busy in here as well. He stuck his head in through the opening and happily noted that this room appeared to be finished. The walls were freshly painted a beautiful hunter green, a thick light brown carpet covered the floor and his new desk, bookshelves and filing cabinets were all set up. It looked like a great place for him to retreat to when he needed to work at home - Brian looked forward to settling in later this weekend. It appeared that lots had been accomplished during his week away for the photo shoot. Brian felt an unfamiliar burst of pride in his chest as he thought about his home and all the little changes and upgrades he had planned for the place.

When a quick peek into the kitchen and another into the expanse of the Greatroom didn’t reveal the source of the music or his erstwhile family, Brian proceeded up the stairs to the choir loft where Justin’s studio was set up. There was a distinct odor of acrylic paint that got stronger as he got nearer and the music - some hip hop thing that Brian didn’t recognize with slurred lyrics that you couldn’t really understand without an interpreter - was playing loudly. At the top of the stairs he paused briefly to take in the scene he found before he was detected.

The choir loft had been set up with a plain linoleum tile floor that was hard to stain and easy to clean since it was a given that Justin’s painting would create prodigious messes. The rest of the area was sparsely furnished - also in deference to the activities likely to transpire in the space. Along the far end of the loft Justin had set up an old  paint-splattered fold out table on which he’d arranged his paints and brushes. Underneath, there were several rolling storage bins and racks that held other supplies. Justin’s large easel was set up in the middle of the floor, facing towards the rear wall so that he could get the most of the light streaming in through all the skylights and the large windows of the Greatroom. Closer to the stairs, there was a small single-sized futon, a small side table and a free-standing lamp with three directional lamp heads that could be arranged as the artist needed.

Justin’s back was to the stairs at the moment as he concentrated on the large-sized canvas he had set up on the easel. He must have been painting for some while since not only his hands but most of his clothing was daubed with various spots of paint. Brian hadn’t had a chance to sneak up here and peek at whatever it was that Justin had been working on for the past couple of weeks, so he was taken by surprise when he saw the gorgeous painting of himself and Kevan that Justin was just then finishing. It was a beautiful depiction of him holding Kevan, who was dressed in his winter best - Brian recognized the scene from a picture that Deb had taken of them the day they’d gone to Thanksgiving at her house. But the painting easily outshone the photo. Brian was once again blown away by Justin’s talent and the way the young artist managed to instill so much raw emotion in the paintings he created.

Brian didn’t have too long to marvel over the painting though. As soon as he fully stepped up into the loft area, he was spotted by the three month old who had been watching the nearby activity and happily burbling away in his bouncy chair which had been set up on the floor in the corner. Kevan was apparently overjoyed to see his Daddy and happily gurgled his own special, rather loud, hello.

Justin, who was startled by the noise, inadvertently knocked over the cup of cleaning solution holding his dirty brushes. He completely ignored that mess though and rushed to try and cover up the painting he’d been working on. Brian pretended he hadn’t already seen it, heading over to gather up his son instead.

“Brian! I didn’t hear you come in,” Justin turned to greet his partner as soon as he’d pulled a large tarp over the painting.

“I’m not surprised. You couldn’t hear world war three starting with that Nicki Minaj shit you’ve got playing,” Brian retorted, only half teasing as he bent over to extract the baby from the bouncey chair. “I can’t believe you’re exposing our son to that crap. It’ll warp his wee little brain. You wait and see - he’s going to rebel when he’s a teenager and do something totally horrible like decide he prefers classical music or something like that.”

Justin playfully shuddered at the idea of something so unthinkable happening. “You would never do anything like that, would you, Kevan?” Justin confronted the smiling gurgling baby in Brian’s arms. “There’s no way a baby of OURS could possibly end up some conservative, classical music-loving Republican! No way! Right, Kev? You’d never do that to your dads, would you?”

“Damn it, Justin! Don’t even JOKE about him turning into a Republican. That’s NOT funny!” Brian ordered, turning away from the laughing blond as if to shield the baby with his body from such an evil idea.

“Ok, Brian. I SWEAR I will refrain from even using the dreaded “R” word in the presence of our child. I wouldn’t want to corrupt him,” Justin replied with mock seriousness. “Now, since you’ve been gone for almost a whole week, I think it’s definitely your turn to play daddy. I’ve got about a half hour more work here. Why don’t you two head downstairs and get in some quality daddy/baby time and let me finish.”

“Fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted, Sunshine. You’d think that after five days without my services you’d be just a little happy to see me - or at least my dick - but, whatever . . .” Brian complained as he and Kevan headed back down the stairs.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Kinney. I’ve got plans for you and your lovely dick for later. By the way, it’s only about a half hour till Kevan’s bedtime, you know. And then, it’s his daddies’ bed time . . .”

“I’ll set the timer for you, Sunshine. You’ve got exactly thirty minutes and then I’ll expect your naked ass in my bed. And if you’re not there, on time, I WILL punish you!”

“Promise?” Justin shot back with a wickedly lustful grin.

Brian didn’t deign to respond. Justin should know by now that he wasn’t kidding. He was fucking horny as hell after an entire week of no company other than his own right hand. If only he hadn’t had to worry about the damn leaky tits and the flabby baby belly and everything else associated with his freaky body, Brian could have had more than enough company. But, after his embarrassing attempt with The Package, he had shied away from any other encounters while he’d been on the shoot. Which meant that by the time he’d reached his own door, he was over the top horny and would have preferred to have a horny blond teen in his arms rather than a stinky and slightly soggy three month old. Oh well.

“Come on, Sonnyboy. I think you could use a fresh diaper and a bath. Then, we can put you to bed and your Papa and I can do naughty, unthinkable things to each other that you’ll hopefully sleep right through. Won’t that be fun? I know I’ll find it fun, Sonnyboy. Sooooo much fun . . .”

It took Brian more than thirty minutes to get Kevan cleaned up, fed and into bed. Mostly this was due to the fact that the big softy lingered longer than strictly necessary while nursing. There was just something so soothing about sitting there in the big comfy recliner in the nursery and holding his son in his arms. All the tension and stress from the week before just melted away as Brian sat in that chair with his child. The sheer love and adoration in Kevan’s dark blue eyes as he gazed up at Brian while he nursed was staggering. This much reverence directed solely at him was something that Brian had never in his life experienced let alone anticipated. It was humbling in some ways and also frightening. To be loved that much was the scariest thing Brian had ever experienced.

Not that he’d ever give it up, no matter what.

When Brian had finally got his fill of baby adoration - which unsurprisingly coincided with Kevan finally dropping off to sleep - he carefully put his son into the crib and gently pulled the soft dark brown fleece baby blanket up around the child’s chin. If he stood there and stared lovingly down on his baby for longer than was strictly necessary, there was nobody around to see it or deride him for it, so he didn’t stress over the fact. When he was finally able to tear himself away, it was with more than a bit of regret that he had to leave that angelic, sleepy, little boy.

Of course, he DID have an even more tempting boy waiting for him in the other room, so he felt more than compensated for the ache of having to leave his son.

The ten or so paces it took to get from the nursery to the bedroom were covered swiftly. The door was open. Brian hadn’t even crossed the threshold before he was instantly aware of the raunchy yet romantic fun awaiting him inside.

There were tealights and flickering candles lighting the interior of the bedroom. The room smelled of a relaxing blend of vanilla and sandalwood.  The larger candles flickered and crackled similar to a blaze in a fireplace. However, the sight of what was waiting for him on the bed distracted him from commenting on the overly romantic setting.

Justin was lying spread out on the bed, gloriously naked, with his already erect dick in his hands. He was slowly stroking himself, using both hands alternately, one after the other, in order to keep up a constant stream of pleasurable sensation. His eyes were closed and he was sporting a tempting little smile on his bubble-gum pink lips. Now THIS was the homecoming Brian had been expecting and longing for.

“You shouldn’t have started without me, Sunshine,” Brian growled as he sauntered into the room. “That was very naughty, Pretty Boy. You know you’re going to have to be punished for this, don’t you?”

“I want to be punished, Brian. In fact, I demand it. I’ve been very, very naughty while you were gone. I was SO lonely without you. I . . . I had to touch myself . . . all the time. I know I should have asked your permission first, Master, but I just couldn’t help it,” Justin simpered, scrambling to move into a submissive kneeling position on the bed.

The game his Sunshine was playing put a huge smile on Brian’s lips. Leave it to the inventive and intelligent lad to know exactly how to spice up his welcome home party. Brian was more than happy to play along with this scenario. Sliding his braided leather belt out of the loops of his jeans, he approached the bed with a feral grin on his face and a raging hard on straining against the seams of his fly.

"So, how many strokes do you think you deserve for your lapse of self control?” Brian’s voice was low and gravelly as he asked this evocative question. “Here's a hint . . . it better be in the double digits Sunshine."

“I-I-I wouldn’t presume to guess, but maybe 20, Master,” Justin stammered, playing his role as slave boy almost too well. “I did touch myself an awful lot, you know. Over and over again. Night after night. Sometimes even in the daytime when I was supposed to be working. And, a couple times, I even . . . well, I just wanted to feel you so bad, so I fingered myself too. It just felt so good, I didn’t want to stop . . .”

Brian heard himself actually growling like an animal at that point. Fuck! He was so fucking turned on by the submissive act and the little innocent looks his horny little blond was shooting at him that he almost couldn’t think of what to do or say next. All he wanted to do was fuck the living shit out of the boy over and over again. But, first, he’d have to somehow rein in this overwhelming lust long enough to play the game.

"Well my pet, you get 20 for touching your cock without my permission, and 10 for Fingering that tight little hole of yours. And you will count each. And. Every. One."

Brian swiftly bent over and grasped both Justin’s hands in one of his and then moved to use the belt in his hands to lasso them together. Justin’s token struggle to pull away only fanned the flames of Brian’s lust and he tugged the belt even tighter as he looked around, lost for a moment, trying to figure out where exactly to tie the other end of his makeshift restraint. Luckily, his crafty and resourceful boy had already thought of this particular obstacle and had made some minor adjustments to the big platform bed while Brian had been out of town.

Using his bound wrists to guide Brian’s line of sight, Justin winked and then pointed towards a nice, solid brass hook that had been added to the headboard low down near the built-in nightstand shelf. After spotting the new adornment, Brian deftly tugged Justin upward on the bed, hooking the free end of the belt through the hook and soon had his partner lying spread eagle on the bed with his hands tied above his head, helpless and horny . . . just the way he wanted him. With a savage grunt Brian flipped the unresisting boy over onto his stomach, exposing the lovely expanse of his perfectly sculpted bubble butt to the Master’s hungry view.

Brian massaged the ample globes of Justin’s ass slowly and methodically while he whispered soft commands into his ear. And then the spanking started, the blows coming down in a steady rhythm that ironically seemed to match the beat of Justin’s heart. With each strike both Brian and Justin became more aroused. Brian was getting off on the way the red outline of his open hand so prettily marked his partner's pale skin. Justin was getting off on his ability to turn over control of his body to Brian and trust him to take him to the highest heights. He also liked that he could count on Brian to be there to catch him when he came apart - which he did, long before the final love tap hit his posterior,  

Moments before Justin entered that place of complete detachment from reality, Brian took pity on him and slid his slick cock into the youth’s overly needy ass, pumping into him furiously. Every few thrusts, Brian would add in another slap to Justin’s already sensitized rear, which only increased the pleasure and the pain, ramping up the sexual tension until he could barely control himself. Justin didn’t dare let himself come yet . . . not until his lover breathed the soft yet firm command; giving him permission to have his much needed release.

“Please, Master, please . . .” Justin was too distraught to even fully voice what he needed right then - all he could do was beg for something, anything, that would finally relieve the pressure that was inexorably taking over his entire being.

“That’s it, Sunshine. Beg me! Beg me for what you want. What you need,” Brian huffed out, egging his lusty mount on. “Tell me, or I’ll keep riding your ass until you pass out,” Brian demanded, emphasizing the point with yet another stinging slap to the now raw, red rear of his writhing boy.

“I need . . . I need more, Master . . . m-m-more . . .” Justin couldn’t think let alone speak clearly but he knew that the exquisite torture wouldn’t end until he somehow managed this one last gargantuan task. “I need to come, Brian. Please. Let. Me. Come.”

“Good boy, Sunshine,” Brian praised the floundering boy, pleased with the way he’d submitted his whole being in order to earn his pleasure. “That’s all you needed to do. You just had to ask for what you need, Sunshine. Now, come for me, Pretty Boy. Come for me NOW!” Brian ordered and sunk his throbbing raw dick as deep as he possibly could into the welcoming depths of his obedient little slave boy.

“BRIANNNNNN!” Justin’s release and his cry of passion came at the same time, his cum streaming out in long white ribbons that fell across both their bodies as the words echoed off the ceiling and triggered Brian’s own well-earned release.

When Brian eventually came to his senses several hours, days, maybe years later, he found himself still draped over Justin’s prone body. The boy was either passed out or sound asleep - not that there was much of a difference between the two states. He was so happy that they weren’t relegated to condoms at the moment since he’d long passed the point where his softening dick had fallen free of Justin’s ass and he was glad that event wouldn’t mean an expedition to excavate a neglected condom. As it was, all Brian needed to do was roll off his sated partner, pull him into his chest in a comforting and familiar pose and let himself drift off to sleep.

The last thought Brian registered in his sex sated brain was that it really wasn’t so bad coming home to his son and his lover like this. Really. It was actually kind of sweet . . .

Chapter 15 - Home, Studly, Home.

‘From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere’,  Dr. Suess.

‘Wow! What’s that?’ Kevan thought as something red zoomed by his stroller too fast for him to really focus on it completely. ‘Wow! What’s that?’ Another thing, blue this time, zipped by. Kevan gurgled in wonder at the unknown things that were whizzing around him.

“Blah blah, Kevan! Blah! Aunt Daphne blah blah blah!” the brown person thing who was pushing his stroller today commented loudly as she pointed her colorful glove at more of the bright zooming things racing by. “See blah blah cars, Kevan?"

Kevan was truly amazed at all the funny things he was seeing everywhere he went these days. It was like there were all these crazy, unknown, miraculous things all around him that he just hadn’t noticed before and then all of a sudden he DID notice them. Kevan didn’t understand how it happened, exactly. He thought maybe all the funny things had been hiding and just now decided to appear. What else would explain how he just now started to see things he’d never even thought could exist?

The Brown One was pretty fun to hang out with though. Maybe she had done something to cause the new funny zooming things to appear? She did seem almost as interested in them as Kevan was. But then again, most of the person things in Kevan’s life were very easily amused, so that didn’t surprise him.

After hours, or maybe days (Kevan was still a little hazy on the passage of linear time), Kevan noticed that he was getting a bit cold. When he turned his head around a bit he saw there was a lot of white stuff covering over pretty much everything around his stroller. The white stuff was new too. He didn’t remember being cold when he was out in his stroller before either. Maybe there was some connection between the white stuff and the cold? Nah - that was just crazy! However, he was a smart baby and did know enough to tell the Brown One that he did not like the cold - whatever the reason for it might be - and that he wanted to go somewhere less cold. Which is why he commenced with the requisite crying - his preferred method of communication in all such situations.

This Brown One apparently wasn’t a complete dummy, thankfully, and she immediately started pushing the stroller back down the grey pathway. A few minutes or hours or days later, Kevan was happy to note that they were back at the doorway that led inside the place where his pretty brown and green room was kept. He was pleased that he would be back in his favorite place, which, by the way, was never too cold and did not have white stuff over everything.

Kevan was even more happy to note that his Yellow One - also known these days as Papa, since that was the sound he heard most when the Yellow One was babbling at him - was waiting for him. The Papa was sort of growing on Kevan. Originally, it was all about The Daddy, since he was the one that smelled so good and had that way of making Kevan’s tummy feel all nice and warm and full. The Daddy really was the best at tummy warming - he just had a way about him, you know. But it seemed like The Daddy wasn’t always around when Kevan needed a warm tummy. The Papa seemed like he was much more reliable lately. And, yes, the Silly One was still a good second option for tummy warming, but he was just so silly . . . No, Kevan was definitely leaning towards The Papa as his go to person thing for tummy warming these days.

But, joy of joys, not long after the Brown One undid all the unpleasant strap things that kept him in the stroller and then handed him over to The Papa, while Kevan and The Papa were just hanging out together on their tummies and looking at things the way they both liked to do on occasion, The Daddy appeared out of nowhere! Kevan watched as The Daddy walked across the room and then sat down on the big black thing nearby. It was so nice to see The Daddy there where he belonged - which of course was wherever Kevan needed him to be. Kevan thought really hard for a few moments - trying to remember again just how, precisely, to do the thing he wanted to do - and then eventually he managed to make the face where his lips turned up at the corners AND make the happy little noise that his person things seemed to like so much. “Guurrgghhh!”

“Good Morning, boys!” The Daddy said with his happy mouth sounds. Kevan tried to make the same sounds back at him but only managed another ‘guuurrggghhh’. He tried to wait patiently while The Daddy and The Papa made lots of babbling noises at each other and did other, completely useless things. I mean, it wasn’t that Kevan didn’t enjoy the times he and The Pape spent looking at things while lying on their tummies, but what he really wanted just then was to go to The Daddy. But then, finally, happily, The Papa picked Kevan up and deposited him in The Daddy’s big, comfy, welcoming lap.

After that, all was well with Kevan’s world. He got to make happy mouth sounds with The Daddy. The Daddy held him and kissed him and played with him. And then The Daddy did that thing where he made Kevan’s tummy so warm and full and happy that Kevan just couldn’t take it anymore. He fell asleep while being held in The Daddy’s big warm hands.

All was right in Kevan’s world for another day. What more could anyone ask for. It was really funny that way.

Brian awoke slowly to the pleasant sensation of warm slippery fingers kneading his shoulders while additional zones of warmth radiated out from several spots lower down on his back. The pressure exerted on his tense muscles was exquisite - not too hard but hard enough to dig into the tissues that needed the most attention. He couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure that creaked out of him as the fingers came across a particularly sore spot and worked it until the muscle fibers were loose and completely pain free. Fuck, this felt so good. He wriggled a little to try to guide the prodding fingers to another troublesome spot and in the process he felt one of the warm weights on his lower back slide off his skin.

“You need to hold still,” a familiar low tenor voice whispered into his ear. “I promise to get to each and every spot you want before we’re through. But first you need to let the warming stones do their job on your lower back muscles.”

Brian gladly complied, stilling his body in order to let his private masseur have his way. Who was he to baulk at such excellent treatment. If the massaging continued, he’d probably lay here all day without moving.

“That’s my good little stud muffin,” the teasing tenor purr praised him while the fingers rubbed just a tad deeper, and Brian didn’t even think once about getting annoyed by being called by such a horrid pet name.

A few minutes later, Brian felt the warm weights resting on his lower back being lifted. He peeled open one eye and watched as his boy masseur carefully placed several large smooth river rocks into some type of pot that was plugged in and waiting on the shelf next to Brian’s side of the bed. Each cooled rock was then replaced with a new, hot stone, which Justin distributed all over Brian’s back - moving them so that many were now arrayed along the top of his shoulders with a few others dotting his buttocks and down his thighs this time. As soon as the rocks were situated according to the boy’s satisfaction, he turned, squirted some massage oil out of a small bottle onto the the palm of one hand, rubbed his hands together and then resumed his massage, this time along the muscles lower down below Brian’s shoulder blades.

Each time he sunk his fingers into the stiff muscles of Brian’s back, each movement, was perfectly gauged by Justin to get his tight as a spring lover to completely relax.

Justin wasn’t oblivious to the stress Brian had been communicating each night they’d talked on the phone while he’d been away. He'd also immediately recognized the tension visible in every line of his lover’s long lanky frame when the man had appeared in his loft studio the night before. He knew that Brian was constantly under far too much pressure to be perfect - most of which came from Brian himself. Brian had always been his own worst enemy in that regard. He just had to be the best at every single thing he did or was - be it his work, his body, or now this modelling job. Add to that Brian’s unspoken but still there desire to prove to himself and all the doubters around him that he could be the best father ever, and it made for quite a burden.

Which was exactly why Justin had planned this little treat for his stressed out partner. Of course he’d had all the massage materials set out and ready the night before, but after that phenomenal fuck, causing them both to virtually pass out from the pleasure, they hadn’t gotten around to the massage. When he’d woken up though, and could still feel a certain amount of residual stress coming through from Brian’s tired muscles even while the man was sleeping, Justin knew just how to start off their day the right way. A quick call to Auntie Daphne to take Kevan for a morning outing and Justin was prepared to spend all the time he needed to take care of his man the right way.

As Justin’s sensitive fingers deftly worked at each and every knot of muscle, stroking away any remaining vestige of tension from his body, Brian slowly dissolved into a happy, warm, puddle of goo. Every few minutes the blond masseur would switch out the warming stones, keeping the tissues that he wasn’t actively working warmed through the use of the hot stones as he inexorably moved his attentions downward. By the time Justin had reached Brian’s well toned glutes, he could no longer feel any tightness in any part of his relaxed lover.

Which was precisely how Justin wanted him. Completely and totally relaxed. Every last part of him. Including, hopefully, Brian’s tight, hot, thoroughly delightful ass.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, Sunshine,” Brian’s voice creaked just a bit when he finally spoke up right as Justin was massaging the globes of Brian’s ass.

“I’m planning on making you feel so good you won’t care what I do or how I go about it, big guy,” Justin replied without altering the direction his massaging fingers were headed.

“Hmmmrph,” was Brian’s only response - which Justin decided constituted consent as far as he was concerned.

Swiping his hand through the little puddle of still warm massage oil that had accumulated in the small of Brian’s back, Justin used the slick substance to thoroughly coat his dick - which had, incidentally, been hard ever since he’d first touched Brian’s shoulders and had only gotten stiffer as Brian’s muscles loosened. Then, taking advantage of the fact that his fingers were still nice and slick, he dug his fingers deeper into the crack of Brian’s ass and massaged the muscles that he found there as well. Working the puckered muscles there just the same as he’d been doing with the muscles of Brian’s back, he had his lover nice and open in very little time. As soon as he heard the soft, barely-there ‘mmmm’ that seemed to escape from Brian without his even being aware, Justin slipped his hard length inside.

“Fuck! Shit, Brian, you feel so nice,” Justin exclaimed as soon as he’d sunk in all the way.

Luckily Brian seemed to be too relaxed to reply to that rather inane comment - for which Justin was grateful, since he had expected some cutting and sarcastic reply as soon as the words escaped his lips. He really didn’t want to jinx this moment. It had been a long time since Brian had acceded him this honor and he didn’t want some stupid random comment to cause the touchy stud to change his mind about letting Justin top. In fact, ever since he’d been given the doctor’s postpartum okay, Brian had been pretty adamant that he was the only one going to be topping from there on out. This was actually only the second time Justin had had the privilege since they’d started doing it raw, and he wanted to enjoy himself in case it took another three months - or more - before he got back into Brian’s stingey ass.

The soothing massage seemed to have not only relaxed Brian’s tension away but also relaxed away his ability to hold out against his climax for very long. Justin only got about a dozen good thrusts in before he noticed Brian’s fists grappling in the sheets for a hand hold. The rising waves of pleasure he’d been feeling along the shaft of his own cock had apparently ignited similar sparks inside his lover, who was now squirming under him, his head buried deep in the pillow which almost completely muffled the erotic moans Brian couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck! Fuck, Sunshine. I’m coming. I’m . . . I’m . . . Ahhhhh,” Brian’s jumbled words breathed out of him with a final exhale as his body tensed once more for a heartbeat and then he sank down, completely boneless, back onto the bed.

With a smile at the thought that his plan had worked perfectly, Justin let himself reach his own climax and subsequently collapsed on top of Brian’s back.

“. . . Never had a fucking massage like that, Sunshine . . .” were the last words that Justin heard from his sleeping lover for quite a while after that.

Brian didn't emerge again from the bedroom for several hours. When he finally did make it out of bed - wandering around dressed only in a pair of faded blue jeans and no shirt in spite of the fact that it was December and there was a foot of snow on the ground outside - he found a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him in the kitchen and his two boys sprawled out on the area rug in the seating area of the Greatroom. Justin was lying on his belly on top of a pile of cushions from the couch with his laptop open in front of him. Kevan was lying, also on his belly, next to his Papa, with an assortment of toys spread around him. As Brian walked nearer, Kevan pushed himself up on his slender arms, turned his neck and tracked his Daddy's approach with keen dark blue eyes.

"Good Morning, Boys!" Brian greeted everyone jovially, setting his mug of coffee on the table and collapsing into one of the big, comfy leather couches. "Is lying on the carpet a requirement for today, or am I allowed to sit up on the furniture like a civilized human?"

"All the parenting books say it's important for an infant to spend lots of time on his tummy," Justin announced authoritatively. "It gives the baby a different perspective on the world - which is good for a developing brain - and it helps strengthen his arm and neck muscles."

"This PSA brought to you by . . ." Brian started in to tease his know-it-all boyfriend but he was cut off abruptly when the boy in question jumped up, plopped into Brian's lap and kissed him until he'd forgotten what he'd meant to say.

"Hush, you!" Justin commanded as soon as he came up for air. "No comments from the peanut gallery this early in the day." As he ended with another little kiss and a quick grope to Brian's nether regions, Brian wasn't going to argue, even if he could have remembered why he wanted to.

"So, what's the plan for today, troops," Brian did ask a few minutes later when Justin finally crawled out of his lap, picked up the happily gurgling baby and deposited him on his Daddy's lap.

"No real plans yet," Justin responded. "I need to finish up a project that Ryder's Art Director wants by first thing Monday, but that shouldn't take me long. Oh, and Michael's called three times already this morning - I assume he NEEDS you to go to Woody's with him tonight, or has some other dire emergency that only his Best Friend can help him with since he wouldn't even tell me why he was calling. Other than that, the weekend's pretty clear. You don't have to rush into work or anything do you?"

"I probably should stop into the office this afternoon and see what I missed last week," Brian offered, although he didn't feel very enthusiastic about the idea.

"I'm sure Ryder's won't collapse in financial ruin if you take the weekend off, Brian." Justin commented dryly, scrambling to think of some way he could kept his little workaholic away from the stress of the office for a couple more days at least.

Brian knew that Justin was right - especially after all the additional revenue he'd brought in for Ryder in the last six months with the Calvin Klein account, not to mention the Armani campaign coup - but he still felt guilty about taking the whole past week off. Ryder had been hinting for years that he'd make Brian a full partner in the firm if the ad exec brought in just a bit more business. You'd think that successfully bagging those two major accounts would have been more than enough. But Brian still didn't have that partnership and because of that he still felt like he had something to prove. Hence the nagging thought that he needed to make an appearance at the office on a Saturday after being gone for the week.

The longer he sat on the couch bouncing a snugly, content baby on his knee, though, the less Brian was inclined to worry about work.

Brian was surprised to note how much Kevan seemed to have changed in just the five days he'd been gone. The baby seemed like he'd gained at least a pound or two and grown maybe a whole inch! He also seemed so much more engaged with the world around him. Those bright baby eyes were actively tracking his Papa's movements as the blond trotted back into the room carrying another coffee cup and a platter full of what looked like fresh baked blueberry muffins. Kevan smiled delightedly as Justin passed and tickled him on the cheek. Then he turned his attention back to his Daddy and cooed and blew a big happy spit bubble. It made Brian chuckle. It also made him even more reluctant to bother going in to work.

"Well, I think you should skip work today and just stay here and play with me and Kevan. We need some time with our favorite studly Daddy!" Justin asserted, seating himself back on the floor by his computer.

"I need to at least go through my email," Brian said, but instead of making any move to get up he simply reached out for a muffin and his coffee.

"You can do that from here," Justin suggested through a mouthful of his own muffin. "Did you see that your home office is officially all done? The construction guys just finished putting all the furniture together yesterday. It looks great! I love the color we picked for the walls in there. It's so Brian Kinney-ish!"

"I didn't know there was such a thing as being 'Brian Kinney-ish'," the man himself asked with a teasing grin.

"Of course there is! Just go look in your new office and you'll see exactly what I mean," Justin smiled up at his man and his son relaxing together on the couch. "I put all your mail in there and a package that Cynthia brought out on Thursday. I think it's your copies of the new GQ issue, but I thought I'd leave it for you to unveil."

"Cool. I actually already saw a copy - they had one at the Armani shoot - but I didn't get time to thoroughly enjoy seeing my gorgeous face on another magazine cover," Brian rose to his feet with Kevan still in his arms. "Let's go see the pretty pictures of Daddy. Won't that be fun, Sonny Boy? You like looking at Daddy's pretty puss, don't you? Of course you do. Who wouldn't? . . ."

Justin giggled quietly to himself as he listened to Brian keeping up the running commentary for his son as the two of them walked to the office and back. Daddy Brian was simply too adorable for words. Of course Justin would never actually SAY that to the man's face, but he couldn't help thinking it all the same.

"Here," Brian dropped a copy of the magazine on Justin's back as he walked by, settling himself and Kevan once again on the couch.

The arty black and white picture of Brian that graced the cover of this month's GQ showed a soulful man with big, expressive eyes and just the suggestion of a smile. Brian always looked beautiful, of course, but Justin, who hadn't seen this photo yet, was once again blown away by his partner's seductive beauty. Once again the younger man counted himself overwhelmingly lucky to have met - and somehow captured the interest of - such a godlike being. And when he glanced over at the real thing, sitting on his couch with their equally beautiful baby in his lap, Justin almost felt like crying because he was just so incredibly, unbelievably, lucky to be where he was.

Brian had merely scanned the cover shot and then promptly started in on reading the article inside. From the expressions Justin saw flitting across Brian's face, he thought the big guy was amused by the article. Kevan was busy being amused by grabbing and crinkling up the pages of the magazine in his little fist as his Daddy turned the pages.

Justin decided to let the two of them read in peace. He would read the article himself later when he could actually concentrate on it and be objective. Right now he'd rather get this work project done and out of the way so he would be free to enjoy the rest of the weekend with his family.

The next hour or two was spent with the two men peacefully puttering around the house. Justin worked on, reassured by the homey background noises of his partner and son as they went about their everyday chores and tasks. Brian nursed the baby, who then went down for a nap without further protest, before heading off to his new office to deal with his mail. It all felt so comfortable. It felt like what a family SHOULD do on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Brian emerged from his new office/lair a little while later with a concerned look on his face and a padded yellow mailing envelope in his hand. “Do you know where this came from? There’s no return address on this.”

Brian walked over to the edge of the carpet where Justin was still lounging as he finished up his work project and squatted down so that he could show the small package to the now curious blond. Justin took the envelope first and noted that the address for Britin’s Chapel had been hand written on the front in bright blue marker. As Brian had said, there was no return address and also, oddly enough, there were no stamps on the envelope either. It must have been hand delivered.

Brian was holding the contents of the package in his other hand. It appeared to be a typical acrylic plastic picture frame - something you could buy at any store - decorated with a cutesy ‘Baby Boy’ caption. Inserted in the frame was what appeared to be a candid picture of Brian and Kevan. From the little he could see of the background, Justin thought the photo had probably been taken at the Liberty Diner. Neither Brian nor Kevan were smiling. It certainly looked liked the picture had been taken when Brian wasn’t aware he was being photographed.

“Sorry, Brian. I have no idea where that came from,” Justin admitted. “It was in the pile of mail that Em usually collects during the week and I just put it in your office with the other stuff yesterday after the construction guys finished in there. I wonder who sent it?”

“No idea . . .” Brian’s voice drifted off in confusion. “There’s no card or anything with it, which is weird. I guess whoever sent it doesn’t want a thank you note.” Brian set the frame down on the coffee table and tossed the empty envelope beside it. “It’s not exactly a great picture, though, and the frame is way too fucking tacky for my office. If you want to keep it, it’s yours, Sunshine.”

Justin had to agree that it wasn’t the best picture ever taken of either Brian or Kevan. He didn’t really want it either. Maybe he could foist it off on one of the grandmothers? Yeah, Deb would probably love something like that.

“Now this,” Brian tossed a second envelope down onto the floor next to Justin, “is worth keeping and probably even framing.”

Justin picked up the second envelope and saw that it was from GQ corporate headquarters in New York. The top of the paper envelope had already been sliced open so it was simple for Justin to pull out the fancy looking sheet of letterhead inside. The letter itself looked very official and had lots of exclamation points and such all over, so Justin assumed it was important news and probably what had put that sexy looking smirk on Brian’s face.

“Congratulations! You have been selected by the editors of Gentleman’s Quarterly Magazine as one of the 25 Most Stylish Men of the Year! . . .” Justin read the announcement aloud. “Shit, Brian! This is AMAZING! I always knew you were one of the biggest label queens in the history of the world, but this makes it official!” Justin couldn’t stop himself from teasing.

“Fuck you, Sunshine,” Brian snatched back his letter and playfully kicked at the boy’s leg as he waved it gloatingly in front of Justin’s face. “It says here that I’m ‘Stylish’ - not just a fucking label queen. See, wearing clothing that looks like it WASN’T purchased at Goodwill does have its merits - although you wouldn’t know about that, now would you, ‘Mr. Gap’?”

“I’m just kidding, Brian,” Justin conceded as he joined Brian on the couch. “I’m proud of you. Really. This is pretty cool.”

“Of course it is. But now I HAVE to go to this big blowout party in New York on New Year’s Eve and all,” Brian continued as he read more of the letter. “Hmmm, do you know any cute little Twinks who might want to be seen with me at such an affair . . . seeing as I’m such a big ‘Label Queen’ as you put it.”

“If I abase myself at your feet and apologise abjectly for my unthinking slur on your fashion acumen . . . maybe you could forgive me and take me to the party?” Justin proposed, prepared to do whatever sucking up it took to get back into the hot stud’s good books.

“I don’t know . . .” Brian pretended to think about it very seriously. “I guess, if you agreed to throw in, say, FIFTY blowjobs, I might forgive you.”

“Fifty? Well, I’d better get started then,” Justin easily conceded, not all that upset at the prospect of spending even more time than usual with Brian’s pretty dick. “Let me just get this zipper and I’ll get started right away, Sir.”

Brian actually giggled at the silly, lustful look Justin got on his face as the youth slid off the edge of the couch and started immediately grappling with the fly of Brian’s jeans. However, he wasn’t giggling for long. As soon as Justin wrapped his perfectly formed pink lips around his already hard cock, Brian forgot how to giggle. In fact, all he COULD remember how to do for the next who-knew-how-many-minutes was moan and writhe and thrash his head about.

“Fuuuuuuucccckkkkkk!” Brian groaned when he finally did shoot his load right after Justin did that thing with his tongue that Brian ALWAYS found impossible to resist.

“From what we could see, it looks like you just did that,” said a voice that shouldn’t have been in Brian’s home watching him get a blow job on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Brian cracked open one eye and unhappily noted the three unwelcome visitors standing in his living room watching as Justin hastily tucked Brian back into his jeans and zipped him back up. “Last I looked, this was a PRIVATE residence - not the back room at Babylon! What the FUCK are you three stooges doing here, without, I might point out, an invitation?”

“Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Emmett rushed to head off Brian’s anger with an explanation. “We’re really sorry to interrupt. We didn’t really think you’d be here, you know. And well, see, I left my bag here yesterday,” Em rushed across the room and picked up the bag in question from the table next to the front door as a visual aid, “and since the guys and I are heading over to Woody’s for the monthly Tea Dance, I needed to get the new shirt I bought when I was out walking with Kevan yesterday morning, which I, of course, left in my bag, and you know I don’t have a car myself so Teddy kindly offered to drive and then Michael said he wanted to come too because he’d been trying to call you all morning but hadn’t heard back from you if you wanted to join us, so I thought what the hell we could all just come over here together, and I just naturally used my key without thinking that you two would be otherwise involved, because, well, I just wasn’t really thinking, and now, of course, I realize we should have called first or at the very least come around the front and rung the bell and not just barged in here like a herd of wild home invaders, but I guess hindsight is 20/20 and all that and . . . Did I say I was sorry?”

“Fuck, Honeycutt! Could you please stop and take a breath sometime. And maybe use some type of punctuation in your sentences when you speak so normal humans can understand what you’re trying to say,” Brian interrupted before Em could waste another five minutes of his life on further explanations and apologies.

“Don’t call me Honeycutt,” Emmett intoned his usual admonishment.

“Hey Brian,” Mikey broke into the conversation, slouching down onto the end of the couch next to Brian’s feet without waiting for an invitation and seemingly without caring about the scene he’d just interrupted, Em’s attempts to apologize, Justin’s embarrassment or Brian’s budding anger at their uninvited presence in his home. “Why didn’t you call me back? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Boy Wonder said he’d tell you I called - he did tell you didn’t he?”

“Fuck you, Michael! Of course I told him you called,” Justin spat at the rude interloper as he stood up from where he was kneeling next to the couch and very obviously adjusted his sweat pants so the tenting at the front wasn’t quite as bad. “I also told YOU that I was turning off Brian’s phone, that he needed to sleep because he just got in last night and was exhausted and that you SHOULDN’T come by and bug him!”

Michael shrugged off Justin’s complaints without even looking in the youth’s direction. Instead he focused solely on Brian, who just squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. Brian thought it might be a good idea to remind Justin that trying to teach Mikey any manners was pretty much useless. Justin probably already knew that though, Brian figured, since the young blond had stomped off out of the room when he realized he was being totally ignored.

“So, Brian, do you want to come with us to Woody’s? It’s been ages since you hung out with the guys, and we’re all dying to hear about Palm Springs. I bet the guys there were amazing. Are all those California boys just as gorgeous as they look on TV? Did you fuck any famous actors? You HAVE to come out with us and tell us everything. I haven’t heard a good tricking story in ages - I mean, sorry, Em, but Brian’s stories just leave yours in the dust . . .”

Brian looked over to where Emmett and Ted were standing next to the kitchen bar. Em looked apologetic. Ted looked embarrassed by Michael’s verbal diarrhea. Neither made eye contact with Brian. Of course, neither of them tried to shut Michael up either.

“Mikey, I just got home last night and I really wasn’t planning on going out . . .” Brian tried to reason with his old friend - which was so clearly a mistake.

“C’mon, Brian! It’s Saturday! Don’t tell me that Brian Fucking Kinney is going to stay home on a Saturday night? That’s just NOT possible. You’re not pregnant anymore and there’s nothing to do around here,” Michael waved his hand around indicating he meant the entirety of Britin’s Chapel. “I mean, really, when was the the last time you got out of here and took a break from playing Daddy? What you need is to come to the bar with your friends, have a few drinks, play some pool, maybe go dancing and get sucked off by a half-dozen gorgeous guys in the back room. I know you’re probably bushed after a long week of travelling, but trust me, a night out will relax you. Besides, you need this. If you don’t watch out you’re gonna end up being permanently domesticated - one of those hetero-wanna-be’s you’re always making fun of.”

Brian was all ready to tell Mikey to just fuck off until that last sentence of his old friend’s lecture sank in. Unfortunately, right as Michael reached that part of his pontification, Justin reappeared around the corner of the kitchen with Kevan in his arms looking all settled and domestic and . . . scary as shit. Did Brian really want to turn into some pathetic house-husband? Was he really, actually, contemplating staying in on a Saturday night with no plans except to sit around and play house? What the fuck was happening to him? This was NOT the Brian Kinney he thought he knew.

“Yeah, you’re right, Mikey. I guess I could use a night out after all. Give me five minutes to get dressed, okay?” Brian heard himself saying as he rose from the sofa and headed off to the bedroom to dig out his old clubbing clothes.

Brian tried not to think about why, exactly, he avoided meeting Justin’s eyes as he walked past him and Kevan on his way down the hall.

Chapter 16 - KO’d at GQ.

‘You know, sometimes trying to train up your people things the right way really sucks, and not in a positive, warm, tummy-filling way, either,’ Kevan thought to himself as he was jiggled uncomfortably around by The Daddy for the millionth time that day.

Kevan had had a rather long and stressful day already and now The Daddy thought it would be a good idea to bounce him around some more? What a big dolt! Didn’t The Daddy know it was long past Kevan’s bed time and all he really wanted was to go to the nice green and brown room, cuddle up next to The Daddy in the big comfy chair and let The Daddy do that thing where he made Kevan’s tummy nice and warm and full.

Instead Kevan was here in this noisy, too-bright place where all the strange big people things were poking at him and making babbling noises at him.

It was really too much!

Kevan was going to have to show The Daddy that he wasn’t going to get away with such bad behavior. Kevan was an understanding baby and he loved his people things, but he couldn’t let them just do any old thing they wanted. They had to be taught how to properly care for Kevan. Kevan needed and wanted certain things in his life. And he wanted things done the way they should be - his way - not just any old willy nilly way the big people things decided they should be done. Both The Daddy and The Papa needed to understand that and learn to act accordingly.

Even while he was thinking these things and contemplating how he was going to go about rectifying the situation, the Daddy jiggled Kevan AGAIN!

‘Oh boy!’ Kevan sighed.

He really didn’t look forward to what he would have to do, but it had to be done . . .

From the moment Brian Kinney stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet in front of the New York Metropolitan Opera House, he knew that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The setting for GQ’s ‘Most Stylish Men of the Year’ Awards Party was perfect. The opera house and the big fountain out front were expertly lit up, showing off the richness of the decorations. The other people around him were equally well dressed and almost as beautiful. Even the weather had cooperated - it was a cool, crisp night but free of any precipitation that would have required bulky outer garments or dampened the mood.

Brian was completely in his element here. There were crowds of people lined up all the way from the street to the entrance, each simply waiting to get a glimpse of him. As he stood there trying to momentarily acclimate himself, thousands of flashbulbs went off as camera after camera tried to capture his image. Brian smiled his most enigmatic and sexy smile for the media, then waved randomly at all the adoring fangirls with their homemade posterboard signs welcoming him as well as the fanboys all holding out markers and hoping for an autograph. He reveled in the waves of adoration that were radiating out towards him from all directions. Really, it wasn’t much different than the greeting he regularly received when he walked into Babylon back home - just on a bigger scale - and he loved the approbation he felt coming his way.

After he felt he’d let his public adore him for a sufficient amount of time, Brian pulled at the lapel of his tux jacket - Armani, of course - straightened his black silk bow tie and then stepped further away from the limo so that the rest of the party inside could emerge. He reached down a gentlemanly hand to help Miss Scarlett out first - her pixieish appearance and bright red hair perfectly set off by the red sequined Dolce & Gabana gown that she wore so very well. Next came Brian’s young, blond, arm-candy and date, who also happened to be the other father of his child. Justin was dressed a little more sedately since he wasn’t going to be at the center of all the attention like Brian, but he was still adorned in a nice black cashmere Armani Exchange sweater and a pair of slacks just the same. And finally, in Justin’s arms, was an equally stylish baby Kevan, wearing a custom made tux to match his Daddy.

The idea to bring the baby along to tonight’s shindig had been Miss Scarlett’s. She had argued that Brian’s popularity hadn’t come about until the pregnancy and that his public would expect - possibly demand - that they get a peek at the little miracle baby as well. Brian didn’t argue against the idea too strenuously since it went along with his personal philosophy that it was better to give the public a little of what they wanted at a time of your own choosing, or else they would track you down and hound you until they got what they wanted. Hence the inclusion of a not-quite-four-month-old in the evening's festivities, over his Papa’s loud objections.

At the moment that Justin and Kevan appeared, the crowd, which had been mostly appeased upon Brian’s appearance a few moments earlier, once again went wild. There was another slew of flash bulbs going off as everyone attempted to get the best ever picture of the baby. The fans got a little more manic - struggling against the red velvet ropes that had been set up to keep the pathway to the door clear. Miss Scarlett quickly waved over a few of the burly security guys that were waiting by the front door. It took them a few minutes, but eventually it seemed like everything was back under control and the little family was safe to make their way up the red carpet and into the building, suffering only the incessant cries of ‘Brian! Brian!’ as they passed.

Frankly, Brian was too concerned about getting Justin and Kevan through the gauntlet of groupies to notice any of them, let alone bother responding to any of their requests for autographs, although he did think that he saw a few faces he recognized and even one or two hailing from back in Pittsburgh.

As soon as they made it inside the doors of The Met, the noise level dropped considerably and they all felt like they could breath again. Of course the interior of the famous landmark opera house was even more elegant than was the exterior. Immediately after stepping through the entrance, Brian was pulled aside to be interviewed by one of the the usual television news magazine shows. He, of course, handled the short sound-bite-long interview with panache, smiling that irresistable sexy grin for cameras so that all the world would see it the next day on the news. Once he was free from that minor obligation, Brian escorted Justin, who was still holding the baby, up the wide staircase to the ornately decorated main floor where all the rest of the beautiful people were waiting and mingling before the official start of the festivities.

Brian was doing his best schmoozing - smiling, nodding at people or stopping for a brief word every few feet. He apparently recognized practically everyone they passed as they walked through the room. The only people that Justin recognized were Marty Ryder and his wife, who greeted them and kissed cheeks like they were bosom friends. Ryder clapped Brian on the shoulder and gave him a little good-natured reminder to make sure he made as many contacts as he could tonight - again dangling the prospect of Brian making partner if this night went as well as they expected, in front of his oh-so-popular employee. Brian’s eyes narrowed briefly at the comment, but he managed to hide his annoyance from his boss long enough to make his escape and move on to talk to the next person he recognized.

Brian might have been in his element at this kind of event, but Justin felt completely left out. He trotted along obediently at Brian’s heels and smiled when addressed, but he didn’t say much. He compliantly held Kevan out for inspection whenever someone indicated they wanted to look at the baby and he accepted all compliments about what a beautiful baby Kevan was graciously. But he didn’t know anyone there and he didn’t really fit in with all the beautiful people. Nobody wanted to talk to him or have their photo taken with him. Tonight was really all about Brian. Justin felt like he’d been brought along more as the baby minder than as a true date. Thankfully, Kevan was over his colic and was generally a placid, easygoing baby, so at least Justin didn’t have to spend too much time fussing over the baby.

Justin thought that the only real benefit in him being in attendance tonight was that his presence seemed to deter most of the fawning wanna-be tricks who were so obviously sniffing after Brian.

‘Well, MOST of them, at least,’ Justin thought to himself as he watched one extremely brazen, muscle-bound model type brush enticingly against Brian’s side as he sauntered past. Brian was luckily too busy chatting with some publisher, whose name Justin had already forgotten, to notice the blatant pick-up move. Justin noticed though and shot the guy a withering look which was completely ignored but made the younger man feel better nonetheless.

The really sad thing was that Justin wasn’t so sure that Brian wouldn’t have taken the guy up on his obvious offer if he had noticed it even with Justin standing right there.

Sadly, things had been decidedly cool between Brian and Justin over the past couple of weeks, although Justin really didn’t know what had caused it or what to do about it. Ever since Brian got back from the Armani photo shoot, their relationship had felt strained and uncomfortable. That first evening, and even the next morning, had been wonderfully pleasant with both of them spending quality time together and with their son. But somehow everything had seemed to fall apart after that. Justin suspected that it had something to do with one Michael Novotny, but he had only heard the tail end of Michael’s little speech the other day, so he didn’t know for sure everything that had gone down. All Justin really knew was that right after Michael, Ted and Em showed up at Britin’s Chapel that day, Brian had practically run out of the house and hadn’t come home till after 2:00 am. And ever since that afternoon, Brian had been acting distant.

The rest of the week and a half between then and now had left Justin feeling totally confused. It wasn’t that Brian hadn’t been around at all. He had . . . for the most part. Brian was still doing his Daddy thing whenever he was home - nursing Kevan, spending time with his son, doting on the boy whenever he was around. They’d spent a relaxing Christmas morning taking turns opening Kevan’s many presents from all the Grandma’s, aunts and uncles he’d amassed even though the infant was totally unaware that it was even Christmas, let alone that any of the presents were for him. Brian was even still pumping during the day when he was at work, even though he continued to grumble about it to Justin whenever possible. Justin couldn’t really fault the man for not paying attention to Kevan.

And, whatever else was going on in Brian’s mind, Justin knew that he hadn’t started tricking again yet, since they were still condom-free in the bedroom. The one time that a worried Justin had brought up the subject - asking obliquely if he needed to pick up a box of condoms at the store while he was out - Brian had specifically told him ‘No’. Brian was clear that, if and when that became an issue again, he would speak up. Justin trusted that Brian would never do anything to put him at risk, so he let the subject drop after that.

However, the more nights that Brian spent away from the house, hanging out with ‘the boys’ and frequenting all his old haunts, the more Justin wondered how much longer it would be before that particular item was added back to the weekly shopping list. Because it seemed like every time Brian had the least little excuse, he’d be off, back to his pre-pregnancy hangouts. He’d even bugged out right after lunch on Christmas Day, thanking Justin for the wonderful painting he’d done of Brian and Kevan in one breath and then telling his partner not to wait up in case he didn’t get back until late with the next. Justin was not only worried about Brian and what temptations he was being put back in the path of, but he was also starting to resent the fact that he wasn’t being invited on any of these excursions and was instead left home to mind the kid.

He hadn’t said anything about all this to his gorgeous playboy partner, but something was gonna have to change. And soon. Justin was NOT going to be left home to play the good little housewife for much longer.

Which was why he’d been so excited about tonight. Justin was really looking forward to going with Brian to the big GQ party in New York City. As Brian’s date, no less. He just really could use a night out on the town and the prospect of spending New Year’s Eve at a glamorous party with his glamorous partner was just what the doctor ordered.

Or at least he’d thought it was the perfect idea, right up until the time he was told that they would be bringing Kevan along.

Now Justin was convinced he was just tagging along as the pretty blond baby sitter while Brian basked, as usual, in the admiration of his public.

“Brian! Darling! I simply must introduce myself,” Justin was brought back to the present as Brian moved away from the publisher he’d been talking with - towing Justin and Kevan in his wake - and was immediately accosted by a pushy older woman who looked like her skin had been turned into leather by too many hours in the sun and who was acting as if she was determined to become the next Joan Rivers. “I’m Margot Treatweiller and I JUST heard from my dear friend Giorgio that he’s agreed to do his summer collection at my villa in Cancun. Which MEANS, darling, that you and I are going to get INTIMATELY acquainted since I hear you’re going to be one of the models. Isn’t that just FABULOUS news! I can’t wait. I’ve already called my staff and started them getting the villa ready - I know the photo shoot won’t be for months yet, but there’s just so much to do, you know . . .”

Justin had tuned out of the conversation after about the second sentence. He detested the type of fake sincerity women like this one exuded. He’d been exposed to that sort of person as a child at his father’s many Country Club dinners and he’d hoped to have escaped that life once he escaped his father. He figured he’d just hunker down, pretend he wasn’t there and let Brian deal with this old biddy. Of course, as soon as he’d decided that, he was once again forced back into the conversation when he found Ms. Biddy shoving her too-thin leathery arm, which was incidentally adorned with far too much jewelry, into his face as she faked an interest in Kevan and inexpertly chucked under the baby’s chin. This did NOT amuse the baby, however, who was scared off by the clunking jewelry and the too-rough tickling. Kevan, of course, immediately started to cry.

“I simply ADORE children, you know,” Ms. Biddy was now assuring everyone around them, including all the newcomers who’d joined the group in order to find out why the baby was now howling like a banshee. “Of course I was lucky enough that I never had ANY of my own. But I LOVE playing Auntie . . .” Ms. Biddy continued on even in the face of a wailing infant.

Justin was too busy trying to hush the baby to bother with Ms. Biddy. Brian was standing there looking half amused at Ms. Biddy’s complete discomfiture and half embarrassed by his son’s drama princess moment. To Justin’s consternation, however, Brian didn’t make any move to try and help him with the baby. Luckily the wise Papa had come prepared and had a binky handy in the pocket of his designer slacks - which had fucked up the lines of the pants, according to Brian, but for which the man was now grateful. Justin quickly stuffed the little plastic pacifier into the wailing child’s mouth and received nearly universal congratulations from everyone nearby when the crying instantly ceased.

Which was precisely the moment when Miss Scarlett came jogging up - well, jogging as much as possible in her four inch stiletto heels - and immediately glommed onto Brian. “Brian! There you are! Don’t you know you’re supposed to be up on the stage right now? They’re about to do all the announcements. Hurry up! Oh, and bring Kevan too,” Scarlett ordered, officiously grabbing the baby out of Justin’s arms and thrusting him at Brian. “The Editor in Chief thought it would be a great photo op to have the baby on stage with you, seeing as you’re the best dressed daddy in the world right now. It’ll be great for the magazine’s image. Makes us seem more in tune with the family crowd. Come on!”

Neither Justin nor Brian had a chance to object to Scarlett’s demands as she tugged Brian, and by extension Kevan, through the crowd and up the stairs at the side of the huge stage. Kevan was still actively sucking on the binky that Justin had used to quiet his prior crying jag. The baby was working at that pacifier a little bit too energetically, Justin thought. It was a dead giveaway that the infant was not really all that calm. He might not be crying right that minute, but he was teetering on the edge of being upset enough that not even a binky would keep him quiet. Justin knew that because he’d had months of experience quelling the crying spates of a collicky baby. Brian might not have had quite as much experience as Justin, but he had enough. He might even have realized the same thing if he hadn’t been so distracted by Miss Scarlett’s ongoing instructions as he was thrust up onto the stage amid the array of the year’s other most notably beautiful men.

Brian didn’t think that the announcement of the awards should have taken so long. Regrettably, this year’s announcer, the Editor in Chief of the magazine, seemed incredibly long winded. Brian and the other attendees were forced to stand in place under the hot stage lights during the whole spiel without much to do other than look pretty and keep smiling. Which wasn’t really that onerous of a task for the adults. It WAS a difficult feat though for a not-quite-four-month-old baby. Kevan really did not like all the noise and the bright lights. He didn’t like the way the noise would roar up at him every so often as the audience clapped and cheered for one thing or another. He also didn’t seem to like how hot it was up there on the stage.

Brian, who was momentarily distracted by the nearness of the wildly popular Hollywood actor of indeterminate sexual orientation who was standing next to him and sort of half flirting throughout the proceedings, didn’t notice that his child was becoming increasingly more and more agitated as time went by.

When Eddy the Editor was only about halfway through his prepared remarks, Brian’s attention was torn away from his hottie neighbor by Kevan suddenly spitting out his binky and rather loudly emitting an emphatic ‘GAH!’ just as the announcer had paused for breath. The binky went flying off the stage somewhere to Brian’s left but nobody seemed to notice. The audience all exclaimed and cooed at how cute the baby was being. Brian smiled a response but in his heart he wasn’t nearly as excited by his kid’s seeming cuteness, because he knew what actually happened to cause the ‘GAH!’. Brian knew because he was holding the infant with his one arm tucked supportively under Kevan’s little bum at the time the baby made his ‘GAH!’ and he felt the gooshy wetness that seeped out of Kevan’s now full diaper a half a second after that triumphant ‘GAH!’. Thirty seconds after that, Brian also smelled the sulphurous emanations that came along with such a big ‘GAH!’ in his child’s diapers. And, about a minute and a half later, he also got to deal with the now not-so-happy infant in his arms who was more than ready to have the big ‘GAH!’ in his diapers removed since it was rather unpleasant to have that much ‘GAH!’ in one’s pants no matter what your age.

Without a binky at hand any more, all Brian could do to keep the baby from launching into a full out screeching protest over the ‘GAH!’ in his diapers was to bounce the baby in his arms, whispering in Kevan’s ear all the while in an effort to distract him, and pray that Eddy would SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!

Eddy, whose wife had always had to change all the diapers in their family, was completely unaware of any problems and just kept prattling on. Brian kept jiggling the baby in his arms and praying. Kevan started making little unhappy mewling sounds and squirming around so that Brian had to wrap another arm around him for fear of dropping the little wiggler. He unconsciously bounced the baby a little more strongly to try and keep him from wiggling.

“Let’s have one more big round of applause for these gorgeous and very stylish guys,” Eddy suggested, finally finishing up and standing back so that the audience could get one last good look at the beautifully dressed and poised men on the stage behind him.

With one last big jiggle to baby Kevan, Brian half bowed to the spellbound audience, stood up and was forthwith covered all down his front by half-digested, curdled breast milk which Kevan spit up all over his daddy’s lovely new tuxedo.

A little too late, Brian realized that maybe he’d been jiggling the baby just a tad too vigorously.

Justin, who was watching with guilty amusement from amid the throng of spectators, couldn’t believe how red Brian’s face turned as the big studly daddy basically ran off the stage. Justin  quickly retrieved the stylish black leather bag that Brian had insisted they bring instead of their usual diaper bag from the spot where Miss Scarlett’s aide had stashed it while they were mingling and headed off to look for his now soiled partner and child. It took him more than ten minutes to discover which restroom Brian had retreated to with the baby. When Justin finally pulled open the door of the small back-stage men’s room, he found Kevan lying precariously on a scrap of countertop with Brian holding him in place with one hand. The baby was diaperless with his butt propped up by a stack of paper towels several centimeters thick. With his other hand, Brian was frantically pulling one paper towel after another out of the nearby dispenser, wetting them at the sink and using them to daub at either the big whitish-yellow mess on the front of his tux jacket or at the larger dark grey-brown muck on his left sleeve.

“Hey!” Justin said in order to announce his presence. That was actually the only thing he could trust himself TO say without breaking out in uncontrolled laughter over the consternated look on his partner’s face.

“Fuck!” Brian spat in response to the cheery ‘Hey’. “Look at this shit! And I DO mean shit! It’s fucking green! How can shit be green? What the fuck have you been feeding my son, Justin? His shit is fucking green and now my jacket is green too! This is so fucking wrong!” Brian continued to curse at his jacket and swab the two big splotchy stains alternately.

“Sorry, Brian,” Justin started to apologize, although he wasn’t sure exactly why he had to apologize for Kevan’s bowel movements or upset tummy. “I think I’ve got a ‘Tide Stick’ somewhere here in the diaper bag. Hopefully it will work and you can save your jacket from staining. Just let me get a clean diaper on Kevan first and then . . .”

Of course Justin didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence before baby Kevan took it upon himself to demonstrate to his neglectful Daddy just why you shouldn’t leave a baby boy lying on his back on a countertop without a diaper covering his private parts. Just as Brian shifted around to face his partner, and in the process switching hands so that he was now holding the baby in place with his clean right arm, Kevan’s adorable little penis popped straight up in the air and a remarkably strong stream of urine projected out, perfectly aimed so that it drenched Brian’s right arm and the clean lapel of his tux jacket with bright yellow piss. Kevan seemed pleased with himself and gurgled happily as he finished peeing on his Daddy. Brian gurgled too but it wasn’t a happy noise.

“We’re fucking going home! NOW!” Brian screamed, picking up his still diaperless son and shoving the boy into his Papa’s arms before storming out of the men’s room.

‘So much for a night out on the town’, thought Justin.

Chapter 17 - Boys and Birthdays.

Kevan simply was not sure WHAT to make of this new little person thing that appeared to have invaded his home.

The new person thing was very small but also very loud. It made lots of mouth sounds, always very, very loudly and that was very disconcerting. Generally, Kevan did not like too much noise around, unless, of course, he was the one making the noise. But this new little person thing’s noises were mostly happy so Kevan ultimately decided he could live with that aspect of this newcomer.

What Kevan didn’t like much was that the new little person thing - whom he had mentally dubbed ‘The Bubba’ because that seemed to be the mouth sound that the creature made most often - seemed to have far too many hands and all those hands were always poking at Kevan. It was REALLY crazy! Didn’t normal person things just have one hand on the end of each arm? That’s what Kevan had thought based on his prior observations of the other person things in his life. The Bubba, though, seemed to have double or triple that number - although Kevan wasn’t really sure because he couldn’t actually count and didn’t really have any concept of numbers or multiplication per se - but it just seemed like that Bubba must have more hands than was really necessary. How else did he manage to be poking Kevan all over all the time and also holding all those bright shiny objects that he would wave around and hold The Papa’s hand and The Daddy’s hand all at the same time.

It was a real mystery.

Kevan resolved in his own baby way to keep an eye on The Bubba in the future just to make sure that a little person thing with that many hands could be trusted.

“Damn it!” Brian screeched and threw his napkin at Matt, the bartender, to get his attention. “Either change the channel or turn that fucking shit off,” Brian demanded with an angry glare directed at the television set over the back of the bar.

Matt looked up from the drink he was preparing and noticed that the TV was set to one of those entertainment news magazine programs which was, once again, showing a clip of King Kinney being vomited on by his oh-so-adorable offspring. Matt thought the video clip was hilarious. He’d never seen Kinney’s face get quite so red. He briefly contemplated leaving the TV as it was, just to further chap Kinney’s ass as the clip was repeated over and over, but then he heard the growling coming from the nearby table where Kinney and his Twink were seated and decided he’d better comply with the request - Kinney was not someone you wanted to permanently alienate.

“I swear, if they show that fucking video clip one more time I’m going to fucking sue that damn television program and all it’s fucking producers,” Brian grumbled again, slamming his beer bottle down on the small bar table.

“I don’t think you can sue someone for reporting on factual occurrences,” Justin stated logically, looking over at his grouchy partner who was sitting to his left and trying really hard NOT to smile at the disgruntled man.

Brian glared back at Justin with his most put upon look, psychically willing the annoying blond to shut the fuck up. Brian just wanted to forget the whole fucking GQ Puking episode. It was probably the MOST embarrassing thing that had happened to him since Michelle McDermott had accidentally dumped her lunch tray over Brian’s head when they were both in the third grade. He did not want to be reminded - for the thousandth time - that he’d been made to look a fool while appearing at a nationally televised event. It had taken all last weekend and some serious retail therapy in New York City, before Brian had truly forgiven poor little Kevan. But then, as soon as they’d returned home, he’d been subjected to even more teasing from the family and his friends, who had of course seen the whole depressing spectacle on television, and now Brian wasn’t sure he’d ever live the experience down.

Now, all Brian wanted to do was come to his favorite local bar, have a few drinks in celebration of the stupid Twink’s birthday and relax. Was that really too much to ask for? Really? Didn’t all these people have anything better to do than to ride his ass and tease him relentlessly? How fucking pathetic were the fags in this burg anyway?

As if in answer to Brian’s silent question, there was a noisy disturbance at the door and the next thing he knew they were accosted by a loud “Hey Baby! Happy Birthday!” as Emmett Honeycutt plopped down in the empty chair next to Justin, hugging and pawing all over the younger man in greeting. Brian promptly and pointedly removed the big nelly queen’s hands from around his blond’s shoulders with the requisite scowl.

“And hello to you too, Sir Studly Spitup!” Emmett teased Brian for the hundredth time that week. “And where is my favorite little poop machine tonight? Oh, Brian, I think you’ve got a little something there on your sweater,” Emmett pointed at the right shoulder of Brian’s shirt, causing a panicked Brian to look down before he realized Honeycutt was just pulling his leg once again causing him to ramp up his scowl about ten degrees.

“Fuck you, Honeycutt,” Brian shot back and then pretended to ignore the jubilant smile his too-sensitive reaction garnered.

“Em, please . . .” Justin pleaded, looking at his friend with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“Okay, fine. I promise to stop poking the bear, Sweetie. It’s just that he makes it so easy, you know?” Em conceded and then decided to move to more pleasant topics. “So, now, what’s the birthday boy drinking tonight. I’m buying the next round in celebration of your special day!”

“You do realize that his official birthday isn’t until Thursday, right?” Brian commented, disgusted by the overly enthusiastic and celebratory spirit that was taking over their nice quiet table. “Does that mean you’ll be buying drinks for us again on Thursday?”

“I’d happily buy you another drink on the actual day, Baby,” Em gushed, still ignoring Brian’s pissy mood, “but I thought you said you guys had plans then. That’s why we’re doing your party tonight, right?”

“We have plans on Thursday? Did anyone think about, maybe, telling me about these plans, Sunshine?” Brian interrupted.

“Yes, we have plans, Brian. And I DID tell you about them last week, but apparently you’ve forgotten,” Justin was trying to keep his cool even in the face of his partner’s ongoing lousy mood but it was proving to be rather difficult. Instead, Justin turned to Emmett and told him of the fun he had planned. “I finally managed to talk Lindsey into letting us have Gus overnight - which, by the way, wasn’t easy as she’s still being a total bitch to me in retaliation for the whole Thanksgiving fiasco, but whatever. Anyway, Gus is spending the night on Thursday and the four of us are going to have a nice, quiet, hopefully peaceful, family dinner and then on Friday, since I don’t have Friday classes this term, we’re all going to the children’s museum for the day.”

“When the fuck did I agree to do any of that shit?” Brian sputtered, swallowing his beer the wrong way as he heard what was planned for him. “I’m not going to any fucking Children’s Museum. I’ve got meetings scheduled all day long on Friday. I’m meeting with a new client in the morning and then we’ve got a photo shoot with Drew Boyd that afternoon.”

“Brian, when I asked you if it was okay if I made some plans for my birthday you specifically said you didn’t care what I decided,” Justin started to explain.

“But I thought you were going to make dinner reservations at some swanky restaurant or something, not subject me to yet another night of torture by parenthood,” Brian whined.

“Well, that’s what I want to do for my birthday and you’re just going to have to suck it up and enjoy yourself regardless,” Justin insisted. “And besides, I already cleared your whole day on Friday with Cynthia. She moved your morning appointment with the new client to the following Monday and promised to cover the photo shoot in your place. Which means you have no excuse to NOT spend the day with me and your sons. So, no complaining!”

“Fuck me,” Brian mumbled into his beer, although Justin thought that his protest was more for show and that Brian wasn’t really as upset with the idea as he was making out.

“I’d LOVE to!” replied a voice from Brian’s left side as a newcomer usurped the last empty seat at their table.

“Yeah, not in THIS lifetime,” Justin answered in Brian’s stead, frowning at the new addition to their table. “Fancy meeting you here, Taggart. So, do you live here at Woody’s these days - we do seem to see you EVERY single time Brian and I show up for a drink lately.”

“I just like the atmosphere in this place,” Taggart shrugged and disregarded Justin’s pointedly cold greeting as he turned his whole attention to Brian. “Hi, Brian! You look great tonight! Is that a new sweater? Is it from the Armani Exchange collection? It’s really nice, and soft too,” Taggart added as he took the liberty of rubbing his hand up and down Brian’s forearm. “You must have just gotten back from New York. Did you have a fun visit?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” Brian replied hesitantly, not sure why this guy was sitting with them when he hadn’t been invited and really not liking the way the kid was petting his arm - he fucking hated being touched, except of course when he initiated it, almost always in conjunction with sex.

Justin was about to go completely ape shit on this annoying intruder’s ass but luckily he was beaten to the task by the arrival of Michael Novotny. “Hey guys!” Michael greeted with his usual happy-go-lucky flair. “Get lost, Twink!” Michael shoved at Taggart’s shoulder and then took over the seat as soon as the kid rose.

“Mikey,” Brian’s laconic welcome was accompanied by a nod and a tipping of Brian’s beer bottle in his old friend’s direction.

“Evening, everybody!” added Ben Bruckner in a more polite greeting as he pulled up a spare chair and joined the group at the table.

“Professor. Good to see you out on the town for a change,” Brian was happy to see this new addition to their small circle, rightfully thinking that Ben’s presence would keep Mikey off his case for the evening.

“Nice to see you too, Brian. And I hear Birthday wishes are in order for you, Justin,” Ben added, acknowledging the youngest member of the group.

“Yep. It’s the big ‘1-9’ for the lad. His last year as a teeny-bopper, poor thing. After this he’s going to be all grown up,” Brian replied in Justin’s stead, affectionately rubbing his twink’s head and messing up the blond locks in the process.

“I’m already all grown up, thank you very much. Now you, on the other hand, Brian - you’re the one we’re not sure about,” Justin complained, pushing Brian away playfully and rushing to straighten out his hair with his fingers. “And I was NEVER a teeny-bopper!”

“Now, Brian, you don’t want to rush the boy into growing up too fast,” Em added with another personal dig. “I mean, what are you going to do when you no longer have a pet teenaged stalker anymore? You’ll get lonely.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” Michael butted in with a small huffing laugh. “Brian can just get himself a new stalker. Especially now that he’s a famous celebrity. Speaking of which, it looks like he’s already got another one waiting in the wings.” Michael tipped his head to the side, pointing obliquely to the bar where the twinkie he’d ousted from the table a few minutes earlier was still hovering and watching Brian intently. “See. Looks like you won’t be running out of stalkers any time soon, Bri! By the way, did you know he was in New York at that GQ thing? Ma and I were watching the coverage of the event on the TV last week - she fucking loves that entertainment news shit - and when they did a pan of the crowd at the beginning where you guys got out of the limo, Ma recognized him. Apparently he comes into the Diner all the time and is always asking about you. Ma thinks he’s cute, but if you ask me, he’s kinda creepy.”

Brian looked over at Justin as he listened to this disturbing news and saw his concerns were echoed by the younger man. They had both seen Taggart hanging around their usual Liberty Avenue haunts lately far more than could be chalked up to mere coincidence. And the kid really did seem pretty infatuated with Brian. It was one thing to joke about Justin having stalked Brian, but it was a whole different story when someone really did seem to be following them around.

While Brian and Justin were busy silently communicating their distress to each other, the three others at the table had leaned their heads in and were discussing Taggart in depth. Ted strolled into the bar right about then and made a beeline for the group, pulling up his own chair to the table right as the discussion had reached it’s height. But, while everyone else was acting concerned, Ted seemed merely amused.

“You better watch out, Bri! You already got yourself knocked up by one twinkie stalker. You don’t want to go messing around with another! I don’t think your wardrobe will survive a second pregnancy!” Ted needled his testy friend.

“At least I HAVE a wardrobe, which is more than I can say for you, Theodore,” Brian teased him back, the joking helping to dispel the disquiet caused by the discussion of Brian’s new possible stalker.

“Well, boys and boys,” Em took over the conversation in order to get the official birthday festivities underway, “now that we’re all here, what do you say we get this party started and head over to Babylon for some dancing and drinking and more hot boys?”

Everyone unanimously agreed with that suggestion and the party was henceforth relocated to Babylon. Neither Brian nor Justin seemed in a very festive mood after that though. They both noted when Taggart walked into the club less than five minutes after they did. Most of the rest of the evening, Brian and Justin simply stood near the bar and kept watch on the kid who was standing in the corner watching them. Brian didn’t take any interest in any of the possible tricks that were cruising him - not even when he was heckled by Michael for letting a particularly nice looking asian stud get away. He felt just a little too uneasy to be heading off to the backroom this evening. Instead Brian felt an uncanny need to keep his favorite blond nearby and safe. Hence the evening spent leaning against the bar.

Justin had had better birthday parties.

Justin spent the rest of the week acclimating himself to his new term of classes at PIFA and starting work on a new contract project he’d been given by the Art Director at Ryder’s. He felt incredibly grateful that Emmett was there to help out around the house, but he did miss spending more time with Kevan. He constantly worried about neglecting his son and spent as much time as he could with the little one whenever he could spare even a couple minutes. Overall, though, he was so busy with everything that he hardly noticed when Thursday rolled around and his official birthday started.

Brian wasn’t any better. He’d been up to his armpits all week working on two high profile campaigns for existing clients while simultaneously trying to work up a presentation for a potential new client - Liberty Air. If Brian could nail that juicy new plum, he was sure he’d be able to finally pry that partnership out of Marty Ryder’s tightwad fists. All the work he’d been doing, however, equated to some late nights and he barely got home before ten that whole week. When he did get back to Britin’s Chapel, all he had time for was one last session nursing Kevan before the baby was put to bed, a perfunctory fuck with his blond bedmate and then passing out, just to get up and do it all again the next day. To put it bluntly, the monotony of his week didn’t make Brian any more satisfied with his new role as a family man.

Thursday afternoon at 3:00 pm, Brian’s focus on the boards for the Liberty Air proposal was rudely interrupted when Cynthia barged into his office, grabbed the boards out of his hands and imperiously shoved everything else to the side of his desk. Brian was about to protest this high-handed behavior when he was struck dumb by the sight of two new objects that were deposited onto his desk where his work used to be. One was a small gift-wrapped package with a big green bow and the other was a large bouquet of cut flowers.

“You got Justin a lovely Akribos watch and these flowers for his birthday,” Cynthia announced brusquely. “You can thank me for doing your shopping for you later. I’ve called in an order to Justin’s favorite Italian restaurant which you can pick up in twenty minutes on your way home - the address for the restaurant is plugged into the GPS on your phone already. If you leave now you should be there right on time.” Cynthia had already started packing a few things into Brian’s briefcase while she was giving directions and by the time she was done it looked like Brian was all ready to go. Holding the briefcase and Brian’s coat out for him, she added one more thing, “you will NOT be coming into the office tomorrow, upon pain of castration, so don’t even think about it. Now, go home to your perfect, loving family and have a good time celebrating your partner’s birthday. I’ll see you on Monday!”

“But . . . But . . . a watch? And fucking flowers? I would never give someone a watch, let alone some fucking flowers . . .” Brian protested even as he got up from his desk, walked over to the door and let Cynthia help him on with his coat.

“Shut up, Brian. The watch is perfect - Justin doesn’t have a nice one and he’ll love this. Plus, I got the most masculine bouquet of flowers I could find. So, just stop complaining and go home to your family and fucking enjoy yourself already,” his PA demanded with that tone of voice she always used when you knew she would eviscerate you for even thinking about arguing with her.

“But, I was going to get him this hustler I saw that looks like his favorite underwear model,” Brian complained, albeit rather timidly and not very loudly.

“That’s the most pathetic idea I ever heard. You’re so lucky you have me to handle these things for you, Brian. You do NOT give your partner - the father of your child - a hustler for his birthday. Who the fuck ever heard of such a thing? Now get out of here and go pick up your dinner and don’t make me kick your ass.” Cynthia led him down the hall to the elevators as she finished berating her ‘boss’ and didn’t let go of his arm until the elevator doors had closed on him with finality.

Okay. Brian HAD to admit that most of the rest of that evening was ridiculously pleasant. Even if he did sort of regret not calling the hot looking hustler. Although, as the night progressed, he really didn’t have much opportunity to think of the hustler since he was too busy being Super Dad!

The only exception to the pleasantness of the evening occurred right when he arrived home with his arms full of a large bag of take out Italian, a bouquet of flowers and a small, neatly wrapped Birthday present only to discover that Lindsey had already arrived ahead of him. The atmosphere was strained, to say the least. Both Justin and Lindz were smiling their best fake WASPish smiles and pretending they could stand being in the same room with each other. Gus though seemed oblivious to the tension in the air - he smiled brightly as soon as his Daddy walked into the Greatroom and toddled over as fast as his little stubby legs would carry him.

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

“Hey there, Sonny Boy! How’s my favorite Gus today!” Brian grinned, as always floored by how much his son seemed to adore him even when he didn’t get to see Gus all that often.

Brian hastily dumped his armload of goodies on the kitchen bar just in time to grab hold of a speeding Gus who hit his shins with the force of an unrestrained toddler.

“Hey, Brian!” Lindsey said, her voice sounding much more natural and relaxed once she wasn’t dealing with Justin. “I can’t believe you’re home this early. It’s so sweet of you to take off work early to spend time with Gus. I know he’s really looking forward to this, especially since we haven’t seen much of you lately.”

Brian opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to respond for himself before his guard blond went on the defensive. “Brian would love to spend more time with Gus. You know that Lindz. And Gus is always welcome here. If Gus wasn’t always so BUSY every time I call to try to arrange a visit, I’m sure Brian would be able to spend a lot more time with him.” Justin’s smile got just a little bit faker as he said this, clearly making the point that it was Lindsey’s fault that Brian so rarely got any time with his son.

“Oh well, you know how busy things get sometimes,” Lindsey replied, unwilling to admit that she was in any way at fault. “Of course you could always come over to our house and visit with Gus anytime you have a minute, Brian. You used to come over all the time and hang out.”

“Brian’s a little busy these days, Lindz. Between working at Ryder’s, doing the Armani spots and interviews for GQ, not to mention spending time with Kevan, he really doesn’t have time to just come over to your house and hang out. You, on the other hand, only teach until 3:30 every day, so it would really be much more convenient for you to bring Gus over here, don’t you think?” Justin answered through gritted teeth, only just barely keeping his tone polite.

“Well, of course you’re having to work a lot more these days, Brian,” Lindsey responded, looking at Brian. “I mean, what with paying for this new house and all the remodeling you’ve done and also paying for Justin’s school now as well. You know, you really should cut back on work a little so you can spend more time with your sons. They’re only little once.” To emphasize her point, Lindsey reached out and petted Gus’ soft cheek while she smiled up at Brian. “But with all this new responsibility - your life really has changed a lot in the last six months, hasn’t it? I did try and warn you, remember, when you first told us about Kevan . . .”

“If you’re insinuating that Brian can’t make time to come see Gus because he’s working to support me, you’re fucking so far off base that I can’t . . .” Justin was now too pissed off to maintain any sort of polite exterior and Brian thought it prudent to interrupt before his sweet little blond boy said something to get Lindsey angry enough that she took Gus home with her.

“Speaking of Kevan, where is my sweet little puke monster? I’m sure Gus would love to see his baby brother. Right, Gus? You want to go see Kevan?” Brian suggested, handing Gus off to Justin with the intention of keeping Justin’s hands busy so he wouldn’t be tempted to scratch Lindsey’s eyes out right there and then. “Why don’t you take Gus back to the nursery and I’ll show Lindsey out.”

Justin continued to grumble under his breath but did what Brian had suggested and started walking down the hall towards the bedrooms. The adults could hear Gus’ excited squeals the entire way, indicating that he was very enthusiastic about seeing Baby Kevan. Brian turned to Lindsey with his most ingratiating smile, placed his hand on her back and firmly started to guide her towards the front door.

“Thanks for letting us have Gus for tonight, Lindz. We’ll bring him back around dinner time tomorrow. And in the meantime, you and Mel can have fun doing whatever lezzie stuff you carpet munchers do when you’re alone,” Brian prattled as he pulled open the door and practically shoved the woman outside before she could get in one word of objection or delay. “Night, night!”

Brian quickly slammed the door and locked it.

Shaking off the slight irritation that dealing with Lindsey engendered, Brian headed down the hallway himself in search of his boys. He found them, still in the nursery, with Gus exclaiming over Kevan and trying to convince Justin to let him hold the baby himself. Brian chuckled over the way Justin was attempting to use reason to dissuade the 16 month old. Gus’s predictable response was an adamant, “I do it! I do it!”

“No, Gus. You’re too little to hold the baby by yourself,” Brian stated authoritatively. “If you’re really good, though, I’ll let you sit in my lap and hold him with me when I read you a good night story later. Okay?”

“‘Kay, Dada!” Gus gave in easily when he heard the decisive tone in his father’s voice, although he did look a little sad.

“Now, how would you like a big surprise, Gus,” Brian asked, going with distraction in order to quell any residual poutiness in the toddler.

“A ‘prise? What ‘prise? What ‘prise, Dada?” Gus’ attention was instantly captured at the very mention of a surprise.

“Come on and I’ll show you, Sonny Boy,” Brian reached out for the little boy’s hand, feeling almost as excited about this particular surprise as his son seemed to be.

Brian led Gus, followed by an almost equally excited Justin carrying Kevan, to the small room next door to the nursery. They had originally planned to make this room into a guest room. However, it really was rather small and after much debate, they had agreed to turn it into a room for Gus and instead put a guest room in in the basement later. The contractors had just finished the space a few days earlier and both Brian and Justin were thrilled with the way it turned out. Brian was sure his son would love the space.

Pulling open the door, Brian stepped back and let Gus go inside first. Gus’ reaction as soon as he walked in told Brian that they had been right and that his Sonny Boy was more than pleased with his big surprise. Brian watched as the boy ran inside and immediately plopped onto the kid sized bed while he stood in the doorway with his arm around Justin’s shoulders and enjoyed how happy his son seemed.

The room itself was simple. They’d used the same color green paint as in the nursery but instead of polka dots they’d added brown and blue stripes around the circumference of the room. Besides the bed the only other furniture was a small dresser/shelf unit and a low play table where Gus could roll his cars around on the make believe roads. The coolest feature of the room, however, was the right-hand side wall where they’d had the entire expanse, floor to ceiling, painted with Blackboard Paint. Justin had spent the entire previous evening in there decorating the wall with a fanciful scene showing library shelves where the books actually flew off the walls at you. It looked like so much fun - Brian himself was looking forward to coloring on the walls with his sons - but mostly all the indulgent Daddy could think of was how great it made him feel to be able to put that look of wonder on his son’s face. In some strange way it almost made up for the lack of fun in his own childhood.

Gus refused to leave HIS room for the rest of the evening. They ended up eating the Italian take out on the floor of Gus’ small room picnic-style. Then they got all the pillows they could find in the whole house, made a pile of them on the floor and spent the rest of the evening lying on the pile of pillows, playing games and reading books together until it was bedtime for the two littlest boys. Brian remembered his promise and let Gus sit in the big comfy brown chair with him and hold Kevan while Daddy read a good night story and then Justin helped Gus get ready for bed while Brian nursed Kevan. When he was through, Brian went back in to kiss Gus goodnight and found him already sound asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around Brian’s pet ‘Fang’ who was now living in Gus’ room.

The big boys continued the birthday celebration after the little boys were sent off to dreamland. Justin was overjoyed with his bouquet of flowers. He didn’t even laugh once as Brian repeatedly pointed out that they were a very ‘manly’ bouquet and did not, in any way, make Brian a lesbian just because he’d given his partner a bunch of fucking flowers. Brian was even more grateful to his dedicated PA when he saw how delighted Justin was when he opened the watch. They both thought the skeleton style was pretty neat. Justin even got a little teary when he thanked Brian for being so thoughtful and promised that he would always take it off before painting so it wouldn’t get ruined.

Brian then suggested that they take the watch into their bedroom and use it to time just how fast Brian could suck Justin off. Justin was very eager to give that a try. And the rest of the night was spent with the two big boys timing various fun bedroom activities over and over again.

As he was finally drifting off to sleep several hours later, Brian conceded that Cynthia had been right and that a birthday hustler wouldn’t have been nearly as good of a present as that damn watch.

Chapter 18 - Kinney Exposed.

Kevan’s brain was so full it felt like there wasn’t any more room for anything else in there. I mean, really, there was just a whole lot of stuff going on in there today! Who KNEW the world was so incredibly fascinating?

This morning there were all these amazing, bright, colorful THINGS out there that Kevan had never seen before. He wanted to touch them and taste them and experience every single one of them. If only he could figure out how to get to them, he was sure he could learn the secret of each thing. But, alas, no matter how much poor Kevan grabbed for all the intriguing things, he just wasn’t fast enough to capture them.

If he wasn’t so fascinated, he’d be really pissed off right about now.

Kevan was even more confused by the fact that the little Bubba person thing seemed to be allowed to play with all the bright colorful things and he was not. The Daddy even handed a few of the things directly to The Bubba. Kevan kept reaching out his own hand but The Daddy just didn’t seem to understand. The Daddy never handed any of the interesting things to Kevan. And The Bubba would wave the things around in front of Kevan’s face, making those high-pitched mouth sounds he always made, but he never let Kevan actually get ahold of the enticing objects.

Kevan had decided, in his little baby mind, that The Bubba was just a tease - or at least what passed for that particular idea in his fledgling baby brain.

If only Kevan could reach the things! He tried to make mouth sounds in order to instruct The Daddy or The Papa to give him the things, but they were SO slow. He tried to move his body closer to the things so he could reach them using that new trick he’d learned a few days ago whereby he could lift up his shoulders, but it didn’t really work. He waved his fists in the air, demanding with his actions that he be given one of the things so he could examine it properly, but nobody seemed to notice.

Gee! Why was this so difficult! How was a baby supposed to learn anything with all these hurdles that prevented him from getting what he wanted? Why didn’t his people things obey him?

Finally, when he was just short of starting in on a real doozy of a tantrum if he didn’t get one of the colorful things right away, Kevan accidentally did a pushup move and a grabbing move AT THE SAME TIME!

WHOA! Kevan had NOT expected THAT!

How the hell had he managed to make the entire world turn upside down? The Daddy was now upside down and so was The Bubba. The pile of bright colorful things he’d been trying to reach was now on the ceiling behind him. Even The Papa sitting in his chair was now dangling from the ceiling. That was really unexpected.

Kevan really didn’t know he could control the whole world around him like that but he was very pleased with himself.

Of course, this new discovery that he was able to alter the physics of the entire universe didn’t do ANYTHING to relieve the feeling that his brain was way too full.

Justin couldn’t stop himself from taking yet another picture of the heartwarming scene in front of him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as surreptitiously as possible, aimed and took the shot as fast as he could, but he wasn’t sneaky enough to have escaped Brian’s half-hearted disdain. Justin got a fleeting look of exasperation before the busy Daddy’s focus was once again redirected by his son pointing out yet another piece of the giant floor puzzle that needed to be placed.

This one - the third of the morning - was a fanciful farm scene. It was very toddler friendly - the pieces were huge and it didn’t take too much ingenuity to figure out where each was supposed to go. Even so, Gus had decided that his Daddy would be the one to actually place the puzzle pieces into their rightful spots. Gus just directed which piece to do when. Kevan was supervising the process while lying on his belly next to Brian and Gus on the carpet of the Children’s Museum’s Toddler Room. They’d been there for more than an hour already and hadn’t yet made it out of this room. But the boys, including Brian, seemed to be having so much fun that Justin didn’t really care. He was just thrilled to sit and watch his little family interacting together and it really didn’t matter to him what they did.

“Sheep, Daddy! Sheep!” Gus demanded, handing the cartoon depiction of a fluffy white sheep to his father and pointing to the spot where the piece should go.

“Yeah, do the sheep, Brian,” Justin kidded his partner, laughing at the officious way Gus was ordering his father around not to mention the way Brian was letting him.

“Kinky, Sunshine, but I’m not into beastiality,” Brian quipped back, tongue in cheek sarcasm fully functional even while he was playing Super Dad.

“Gross!” was Justin’s only comment.

Luckily, before the conversation devolved further into realms wholly inappropriate for a place with this many children, everyone was interrupted by an insistent “Wah!” from Kevan.

From the moment they’d arrived, the baby had been fascinated by all the new and exciting colors, sights and sounds found in this new place. Everything about this museum was perfectly engineered to stimulate his baby brain and it appeared to be working. Kevan was more engaged than Justin had ever seen him. He’d been communicating his exuberance by alternatingly pumping his body up and down with his little arms in a baby version of pushups and then grabbing at the bright puzzle pieces laid in front of him. Gus was egging his little brother on by waving the tantalizingly colorful pieces in front of Kevan’s face every so often and then giggling at the baby’s antics.

Right as Gus picked up the sheep piece, again flashing it temptingly in front of his little ‘Bubba’, Kevan pushed up on his arms and at almost the same time reached out one chubby fist to try and grab for the enticing prize. The combination move resulted in Kevan collapsing and rolling over to the right, leaving him in the end on his back. The shock of this unprecedented experience is what caused the big “Wah!” from the startled baby.

“Dada! Lookee Bubba! Bubba roll-ded!” Gus shouted out, as proud of his little brother as if he himself had accomplished this herculean feat.

“Way to go, Sonny Boy!” Brian praised his son and lifted him high up above his head in celebration. “Did you see what my brilliant son learned to do, Sunshine?”

“Yes, I did,” Justin replied, sliding off the chair where he’d been sitting and watching all the fun in order to join the trio on the carpet. “But, Brian, why is he YOUR son when he’s being cute and brilliant and MY son when he’s throwing up on people.”

“Because you’re the throwing up parent, Sunshine. I’m not doing that part ever again. I prefer to be the ‘Fun’ parent,” Brian announced decisively as he rolled back over with Kevan still in his hands, laid the baby on his back on the carpet and commenced with an all out tickle attack on the infant’s tummy.

Kevan promptly rewarded his ‘Fun’ Daddy with a peal of giggles and a mini-Sunshine smile.

Justin watched Brian and Gus as they continued to play with Kevan, making silly faces and tickling him in order to elicit more giggling. The three of them were absolutely fucking adorable. He took about ten more photos and thought to himself that this - right here - was by far the best birthday present he could have received.

“Yep! My sons are both fucking geniuses! Gus here was doing the puzzles at the Children’s Museum faster than I could keep up with him and Kevan mastered the milestone of rolling over on his own this morning,” Brian bragged to Debbie as soon as she’d seated them in the back booth at the Diner.

“Well of course they’re brilliant,” Deb beamed at the beautiful little family in front of her. “With daddies like you and our Sunshine here, these two will be ruling the fucking world in no time! Won’t you honey,” Deb chuckled as she helped Gus into a booster seat while Justin strapped Kevan into the Diner’s only highchair. “What do you say, Gorgeous Gus - do you want to be President when you grow up? Or maybe just cure cancer?”

“Not to put any pressure on Gus, or anything, right Deb?” Lindsey gently chided the overly-proud grandma, walking up just as Deb finished gushing. The tall blonde slid into the booth on the same side as her son and Brian, leaning in to kiss Gus’ cheek in the process. “Hey there, Lambskin! How was your big adventure with your Daddy?”

Gus didn’t respond right away because he was already sipping at the glass of milk Grandma Debbie had brought him.

“We had a most excellent adventure!” Brian enthused. “Last night we spent the whole evening hanging out in Gus’s fabulous new room . . .”

“Pitcher walls, Mama!” Gus interjected.

“That’s right, Sonny Boy! Your room has a picture wall and we all got to draw on it!” Brian beamed down at his son. When he saw Lindsey’s disapproving look at the idea of her child being taught it was okay to draw on the walls, Brian quickly rushed to explain, “Don’t get your muncher panties in a twist, Lindz - Justin painted the whole wall with Blackboard Paint, so it’s perfectly fine for Gus to draw on that particular wall. But only on the black wall, right, Sonny Boy?”

“Bwack onny!” Gus echoed the rule.

“Anyway, as I was saying, we hung out, drew on the wall and had a picnic on the floor before both Gus and his little Bubba here passed out,” Brian bragged, making it sound like coloring and having floor picnics weren’t completely out of character for him, causing Justin to smile and Lindsey to look rather confused. “And then this morning we all went to the children’s museum where Gus showed his superior intelligence in the puzzle room and Kevan exhibited his advanced motor skills by rolling over on his own. Justin, of course, just took lots of pictures and spent his time planning out in his mind exactly how he was going to draw each and every adorable vignette, which will no doubt lead to the creation of several masterpieces in the not too distant future. So, I think it’s fair to say that all my boys had an entertaining visit.”

“And it sounds like Daddy had as much fun as the rest of the boys. Good for you, Brian!” Debbie petted Brian’s hair as she got up to return to work. She seemed almost as proud of her surrogate son as Brian was of his own children. Brian didn’t admit it out loud, but his slightly shy grin back up at Debbie told everyone watching that he had, in fact, thoroughly enjoyed himself no matter how out of character his actions appeared.

“Boy, it certainly does sound like you kept your Daddy busy, Gus!” Lindsey ruffled her son’s hair affectionately but kept her eyes trained on Brian.

Ever since she sat down, Lindsey had been noticing the intimate smiles and looks exchanged between Brian and Justin and the tiny chuckles they’d share over seemingly private jokes. Brian seemed so relaxed and comfortable in his skin. She had never seen her old friend like that - and especially not around Gus. He’d always seemed on edge and slightly unsure of himself before, despite doing his best to cover that up with his usual bravado. But here, right in front of her incredulous eyes, was a Brian Kinney who seemed happy and at ease playing the role of doting Daddy. In public even!

This was not the Brian who’d told her repeatedly that all he wanted was the occasional uncredited cameo appearance in Gus’ life and that he wasn’t cut out to be a full-time parent. This wasn’t the same man who’d denigrated her life with Mel and their desire to have a child, accusing them of trying to live out some pseudo-heteronormative lie. This was the man that Lindsey alway knew Brian could be - a loving, caring, proud father. Only, it wasn’t Lindsey who had managed to bring this side of Brian out, even after all her years of trying. It wasn’t her child that had inspired him to make this huge change all of a sudden.

As Lindsey observed yet another familiar gesture between the two men - Brian reaching out his hand to lightly trace one long index finger along Justin’s wrist as they both smiled together over Kevan blowing spit bubbles or some other ridiculous baby nonsense - she inwardly seethed with jealousy at the knowledge that Justin was now Brian’s closest confidante and it was Justin’s child that had worked this minor miracle in the previously recalcitrant Mr. Kinney.

“Hey, Brian,” Lindsey piped up, hoping to divert his attention away from the boy who she was coming to think of more and more as her rival. “You know Gus has a couple of new puzzles at home that we haven’t gotten around to working on. What do you say to coming over for dinner some time this week and the two of you can take a stab at them.”

“Yeah sure. Sounds like fun, right Sonny Boy!” Brian grinned expectantly at his older son. “I’m probably up for another puzzle or two. I think Justin and I are both free on Wednesday. Is that good for you, Lindz?”

“Wednesday’s fine, Bri,” Lindsey hesitated but then decided to just plow on, “but I thought it might be nice for you and Gus to just have a little one-on-one time. You know all the parenting books say that it’s important, once a new child comes along, to set aside time to spend with just the older sibling so he doesn’t feel neglected. Maybe, just this once, Justin and Kevan could stay home and do something just the two of them as well.”

“Well, um, I don’t . . .” Brian didn’t know why exactly, but he didn’t like Lindsey’s suggestion very much. It sounded like a perfectly reasonable request, but it felt wrong. It somehow raised his self protective instincts.

Justin, on the other hand, knew right off the bat that this was just another one of Lindsey’s manipulative schemes. Even back when Justin had still considered Lindsey to be a friend, he’d been well aware of how calculating she could be. In her own saccharine sweet yet passive-aggressive way, Lindsey almost always managed to get whatever it was she wanted. And ever since he’d seen the woman’s ugly reaction to finding out about Brian’s pregnancy, Justin had been wary of her. If it wasn’t for Gus, and the need to stay in Lindsey’s good graces in order for Brian to maintain a good relationship with his son, Justin would have been happy to write that particular relationship off. The last thing he wanted was to let her have Brian all to herself, alone and unprotected, where she’d be free to work her wiles on him.

“That’s an excellent idea, Honey,” Debbie announced as she returned with everyone’s meals in hand. “Brian can spend some quality time with Gus, and Justin and Kevan can come over to my place for dinner! I know Vic has been dying to get in some face time with Sunshine and our littlest family member. Dinner’s at 6:30 sharp, Sunshine. Don’t be late. I’ll make Chicken Parmigiana - your favorite!”

Before Justin could protest, Debbie was already off to take another lunch order and Lindsey was smiling triumphantly at the way everything was working out.

Justin would have still spoken up, even then, but everything seemed to be conspiring against him this afternoon. No sooner had Deb trotted off than the second round of Novotny’s came jogging up to the booth. With his standard, ‘Hey, Brian!”, Michael slid into the booth, forcing Justin to slide over towards the wall and away from Kevan’s highchair.

Michael immediately started in on questioning Brian about how he’d been, why he hadn’t returned any of Michael’s 27 phone messages and why Brian never wanted to hang out with him or go to the bar or club with him. Amidst the chaos that swept their table along with Michael’s advent, Lindsey made a strategic withdrawal - scooping up Gus and waving goodbye with a brief ‘See you on Wednesday, Brian’ before she was out the door.

As if he was feeling left out of the conversation, Kevan also took this opportunity to speak up and let his daddies know that he needed some attention too. His low-level whimpering cries were just a prelude to the shrill wailing that both fathers knew would be coming if they didn’t take immediate action. Justin was aware that it was past time for his bottle and started digging through the overstuffed diaper bag to find the spare that he usually kept there for just such emergencies.   

Brian was distracted by Michael’s insistent efforts to commandeer all of his Best Friend’s attention, so he didn’t notice right away that Justin’s search wasn’t successful.

“Shit!” Justin’s too-loud exclamation finally got the attention of everyone at the table. “I think I left Kevan’s extra bottle at home. We were in such a rush to get out and Gus was so excited, I guess I forgot it.” Justin looked over at his partner with an apologetic expression.

Brian immediately knew exactly what it was that Justin was implying with that expectant look. He also knew that his panic-stricken “Here?” wasn’t likely to get him out of his fatherly duties. Justin merely shrugged, knowing that there weren’t a whole lot of other options. A quick glance at Kevan told Brian that the baby was gearing up for a really good cry if he didn’t get his own lunch very, very soon.  

“Fuck!” Brian sighed with resignation as he started to slide out of the booth. “I’m going, but just so you know, Sunshine, you’re on diaper duty for the rest of the fucking week for this.”

Justin batted his long blond eyelashes and smiled submissively at the big stud who patiently lifted Kevan out of the highchair, grabbed the burping cloth that the young blond held out to him and bravely trudged off towards the men’s room at the back of the Diner with his offspring in hand.

“Brian? Hey, Brian, where are you going?” Michael called after his retreating friend, completely clueless about what was going on and not happy that Brian had totally ignored all his questions. Finally turning to the youth still waiting in the booth with him, Michael demanded, “what the fuck’s going on? Where is Brian going? He didn’t even touch his lunch yet.”

Justin, irritated by Michael’s slowness, just shook his head and huffed out a little mirthless laugh.

Michael gave the annoying twink a scathing look and then jumped up to follow Brian.

When a confused and curious Michael pulled open the door to the men’s room, all he saw was one drag queen with her ultra-tight minidress hoisted up around her waist as she used the urinal. The doors to both of the toilet stalls were closed. From the sound effects emanating from the closest - ‘Yeah, baby! Harder! Harder!’ - he surmised that it was not being used for its originally intended purpose.

“Hey!” Brian’s voice yelled from the farther stall, accompanied by the sound of a fist banging against the metal divider. “Either finish up already in there or go fuck out in the alley. You’re fucking annoying the hell out me!” The fucking noises did speed up a bit after that, but that only meant the noise level also rose. This result also increased the unhappy mumbling coming from Brian’s stall. “. . . get a fucking room, already . . . more cum on the walls in here than at the Baths! Don’t they ever fucking clean this place . . . Disgusting! . . . bet Todd wrote his number on every damn bathroom wall on Liberty Avenue - the skank!”

“Um, Brian?” Michael questioned, rapping lightly with his knuckles on the door of the stall.

“I’m fucking busy in here, Mikey. What the hell do you want?”

“What the fuck’s going on, Brian? Why did you take the baby . . .”

“What do you THINK I’m doing, Mikey?” Brian waited a moment or two but since there was no answer from his clueless friend, Brian gave him another prompt, “Kevan was hungry and Justin forgot to bring a bottle, so . . .”

Even then it took Michael almost a full minute to work it out in his slow brain. When he finally did, Michael practically yelled out his conclusion, “you’re feeding the baby? You . . . You’re . . . In here? You’re fucking breast feeding a baby in the Liberty Diner Men’s Room?”

Of course, Michael’s outburst startled everyone. The Drag Queen let her dress drop before she’d even finished shaking it off. The two guys fucking in the other toilet stall came to a complete stop. And even the old leather daddy who’d just opened up the door, about to come in to use the facilities, froze in place with his one hand still holding open the bathroom door so that everyone in the whole Diner could now hear.

“Fucking A, Mikey!” Brian’s voice was clearly furious. “How the hell else do you think the baby’s going to get fed since Justin forgot the fucking bottle? Of course I’m fucking breast feeding him. And since I didn’t want all of Liberty Avenue knowing that I now have working tits, I didn’t have much choice but to come in here to this disgustingly filthy pit where I THOUGHT I could take care of things in peace. I did NOT think you’d fucking follow me in here and announce my business - at the top of your fucking loud-ass lungs - to the two fags fucking in the stall next to me. So, if you’re through now, can you fucking leave me alone already because Kevan won’t nurse when I’m all fucking stressed out like this and I’d like to get out of this fucking vile toilet stall sometime this century.”

When Brian finally emerged from the the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, the Diner was completely silent. Every single eye in the room was riveted on him and Kevan. There was no sign of Michael Novotny, who had immediately run away with his tail between his legs the moment he realized what he’d done. Justin was waiting for them at the booth, biting nervously on his bottom lip and looking worried.

“Oh . . . FUCK ME!” Brian cursed, handed the baby to Justin and stomped off alone out the front door of the Diner.

Chapter 19 - Pinkie and Brian’s Brain.

Kevan was beginning to wonder if The Daddy had doo-doo for a brain!

When he’d first caught on to the fact that The Daddy was going to stick around for the day, Kevan had been thrilled. The Daddy was so nice smelling. He was usually the calm one who liked to cuddle and who always made Kevan feel so warm and full and loved. Of course Kevan loved The Papa too and he tolerated the Silly One and all the rest of his people things, but he’d always felt a special connection to The Daddy for some reason. So, yeah, he was pretty excited to spend a little extra time with The Daddy.

At least until The Daddy started to act like a complete doo-doo brain!

What WAS The Daddy thinking today? Every time Kevan turned around The Daddy was doing something totally unexpected. Kevan wasn’t sure he felt secure having The Daddy being his person thing for the day. Kevan really preferred having a more reliable person thing - someone who he could count on to do his bidding and not panic. But, oh well. Sometimes it was very hard to manage these big people things and Kevan would just have to do the best he could with whatever he had to work with.

And today, that looked like it would be The Doo-doo Brained Daddy!

Kevan decided to work on his ‘resigned baby’ smile for the rest of the morning.

Sometimes Brian Kinney was so predictable! Before the bell over the front door at the Liberty Diner had even stopped ringing following Brian’s dramatic exit, Justin already knew precisely what kind of fallout he’d be looking at now that Brian had been exposed as having working tits. Yep, for a guy who fancied himself an iconoclast, he certainly seemed to covet the stereotypical role of macho stud. Justin would have laughed if it hadn’t meant that he would likely bear the brunt of Brian’s ill humor for weeks to come.

So it really wasn’t any surprise to Justin - or anyone else who knew him well - when Brian virtually disappeared after the ‘Tittie-gate’ incident.

He didn’t make it back to Britin’s Chapel that evening until almost three am. Justin had worried that he’d take out his anger on the baby who’d unintentionally caused all this uproar by refusing to nurse him, but Brian reluctantly headed off to the nursery before he crawled into bed. Instead he ignored Justin. Justin figured he could live with that - for now.

The next day, even though it was a Saturday, Brian was up at eight, nursed Kevan - albeit with poor grace - and then was out the door on his way to the office before Justin had even finished making breakfast. There was no discussion about where Brian was going, or when he’d be back, and if he hadn’t been wearing a suit Justin might not have even known he was headed into work. Justin didn’t even get a peck on the cheek in goodbye.

The only relatively good part of this newest development was that Brian was far too embarrassed to be seen on Liberty Avenue so Justin didn’t have to worry about him tricking.

However, after four days of this sullen, silent treatment, Justin had had enough. He figured that he’d been more than understanding. Brian had been allowed sufficient time to sulk. And frankly, Justin really didn’t see what the big deal was. After dealing with the really BIG news that Brian was the only male in North America to get pregnant in modern history, was it really so astonishing that part of that diagnosis included the fact that he could breast feed their son? Duh!?! Justin was of the firm opinion that Brian just needed to grow up and get over this last little awkwardness already.

Accordingly, on Wednesday morning, Justin set his phone alarm for a half hour before Brian’s usual alarm. He got up and was ready, dressed and halfway out the door when Brian finally rolled out of bed. As soon as his still-sleep-addled partner was done with his morning duties in the bathroom, Justin plopped a newly wakened Kevan - still wearing his soppy overnight diaper - into Brian’s arms.

“Tag! You’re it!” Justin announced blithely.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” was Brian’s predictable, confused, pre-caffeinated response.

“You’re ‘IT’! It’s your turn to play daddy today. I’m taking the day off,” Justin stated, his tone clearly indicating that he would not tolerate any opposition to this plan. “I’ve already had Cynthia clear your schedule for the day. Emmett has the day off and YOU are taking Kevan to his four month check up with Dr. Dahl. The appointment is at 10:00 am.” Justin pulled his old blue messenger bag over his shoulder. “After class I’m going to the Library to work on a project I have to finish up for Ryder’s and then I’m meeting Daphne for dinner and a movie. Don’t wait up!”

“But . . . But, Justin!” Brian yelled after Justin’s back as the younger man was already most of the way down the hall to the back door. “I’ve got shit I have to do . . . And I was supposed to go to Lindsey’s tonight for some alone time with Gus . . .”

“Too bad, so sad. Guess your ‘alone time’ will have to be with Gus AND Kevan! Later!” Justin hollered over his right shoulder as he practically bolted out the door.  

“JUSTIN!” Brian yelled ineffectually at the door as it slammed closed. Then, looking down at his happily drooling son, Brian relented. “Shit, Sonny Boy. Did you know that your Papa has an evil streak about a mile wide? Well, fuck it! I guess it’s just you and me today, kiddo. But don’t worry - your Daddy can handle this, right?”

Brian was NOT reassured when even Kevan looked a little doubtful about the day’s prospects.

An hour and a half later, Brian was still flailing around and not noticeably closer to leaving the house for the doctor’s office.

It was more difficult than Brian had expected to get the both of them ready to leave the house. He’d changed Kevan’s diaper and then nursed him - and then had to change his diaper again immediately afterwards, of course. But then he didn’t know what to do with the baby while he took his own shower. Usually Justin would be there and take the baby for him during this particular part of the proceedings. Not today, though. So Brian had to improvise - he brought the baby’s bouncy chair into the master bathroom and set it up on the floor where he could keep an eye on Kevan while he showered. Of course Kevan let out a really ear-splitting wail right as Brian had started to shampoo his hair, causing him to dart out of the shower with soap stinging his eyes in fear that something terrible had happened, only to discover that Kevan was just fine and simply exercising his vocal chords.

Next, Brian ventured into the kitchen in order to get himself some breakfast. Unfortunately he’d left the bouncy chair in the bathroom and had nowhere to stash Kevan while he made himself some coffee and toast. Looking around desperately for a temporary solution, Brian spied the big pasta pot that Justin had used last night and which had been left out on the stove to dry after it had been washed. Brian shrugged, but didn’t see any better solution, so he gingerly sat Kevan down in the big pot on the stove. Kevan, who’d never before been subjected to confinement in a large cooking implement, got wide eyed and quiet at first, but soon decided he didn’t like the experience much and started crying. Brian had to abandon his toast in order to rescue his child and thereafter was forced to make the rest of his breakfast one-handed.

It took Brian another twenty minutes to gather together everything he could think of that he might need for the day and pack it all into the diaper bag. He made sure he had a couple of clothing changes for the baby, all his favorite toys, four bottles full of expressed milk, the changing pad, baby lotion, powder, a full box of baby wipes, the rain drape for the stroller, a sweater, a coat, a hat and at least four baby blankets in case it was cold out and about a dozen burping cloths. He didn’t remember the bag being quite that full when Justin packed it, but oh well - he didn’t want to be caught without when he was out with Kevan and didn’t have any back up.

When it got to be time to get Kevan dressed for his outing to the doctor, Brian was a little flummoxed by the sheer number of outfit choices. His kid must be even more of a fashion queen than he was, since the four month old had at least fifty outfits to choose from. (Brian refused to admit that at least 90% of the outfits had been purchased by him). Brian laid Kevan on the changing table and pulled five or six out of the drawer, then spent several minutes laying them out, one at a time, across Kevan’s torso trying to find just the right look for a doctor’s visit. Kevan seemed amused by this endeavor. He was giggling and babbling and grabbing at each outfit his Daddy considered. Brian was rather enjoying this part of the morning. He didn’t really think about the fact that he was still wearing only a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist after his earlier shower. At least he wasn’t thinking about that fact until Kevan reached out one fairly strong little fist just as Brian twisted enough so that the towel gaped a significant amount, allowing Kevan to grab ahold of his Daddy’s manly bits, squeezing with a vice-like grip which subsequently brought his Daddy to his knees.

As soon as Brian had freed his balls from his son’s talons and recovered enough to be able to stand, he dressed the kid in the first t-shirt he found handy - one that seemingly had come from the Children’s Museum they’d visited the weekend before - a random pair of baby pants with an easily accessed snap up crotch, and decided to call it good.

Next, there was the whole parental dressing debacle, wherein Kevan indicated his dislike of the first two outfits Brian tried on by violently spitting up on them both. Brian was NOT impressed with Kevan’s taste in clothing and swore repeatedly that he must have got his taste for fashion from his Papa. In the end, Brian went with an old pair of blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt and decided that the tiny amount of additional spittal that Kevan deposited on the shoulder of that shirt didn’t warrant changing for a third time.

Finally, Brian thought that they were both ready to go. He looked up at the clock and realized they only had ten minutes to get to the doctor’s office which was normally at least twenty minutes away. Brian hoisted the overfull diaper bag to his shoulder, grabbed Kevan in one arm,  scooped up the stroller in the other and sprinted for the car.

The pediatrician’s office was something Brian thought was only possible in one of his more bizarre nightmares.

There were dripping, coughing, sneezing, screaming, running, crying children everywhere around him.

There were toys and magazines and coloring books strewn everywhere across the floor so that it wasn’t safe to take even two steps in a single direction.

All the chairs were too small.

The huge television screen in the corner of the room was showing some absolutely inane children’s show that seemed to involve overstuffed, costumed characters - one blue, one yellow, one green and a particularly annoying one in red - that had antennae coming out of their heads and television screens in their bellies and who all frolicked around in an artificially green landscape decorated with obviously fake plastic flowers and which was inhabited by far too many rabbits.***

Worst of all, Brian was the ONLY man in the fucking place.

Seriously, this place scared him so bad he could feel his testicles shriveling up even before he’d checked in at the reception desk.

After he’d given the nurse at the desk his name, Brian huddled, frightened, in the farthest corner of the waiting room, one ass cheek hanging off the too-small hard plastic chair with Kevan’s baby carrier at his feet, while he tried NOT to watch the deceptively hypnotic television drivel. He failed miserably. It was like watching a train wreck - or one of those horrible ‘America’s Funniest Video’ shows - where you find yourself laughing at people getting seriously injured even though it’s not really all that funny and actually looks incredibly stupid and painful. Brian couldn’t stop himself from watching the odd costumed creatures as they went on and on about eating their morning ‘tustard’. He could feel his brain dying a gruesome death even as he watched. It was probably liquefying and about to leak out of his ears. He fleetingly wished he’d kissed Justin goodbye that morning before he met this macabre end and he worried about leaving Kevan an orphan.

“Kevan Taylor-Kinney,” the heroic woman dressed in pale pink scrubs announced from the door into the inner sanctum of the doctor’s office just before Brian lost all hope. Brian had never been more grateful to anyone in his life than he was to this saviour in pink who rescued him from certain brain death. He leapt up from the small plastic chair and sprinted towards the woman with Kevan’s carrier in his grip.

He really, really, really needed to get out of that waiting room.

Brian followed Pinkie into the office proper and waited while she weighed and measured Kevan. She also took his temperature with this nifty wand thing that she rolled across the baby’s head. Brian was reassured that his little Sonny Boy was being cooperative throughout this process. He was sure that if the thermometer had been stuck inside any part of the baby - like the thermometers he remembered from his own childhood - Kevan wouldn’t have been so happy and quiet. Ah, the joys of modern technology!

Once Pinkie was done, the nurse handed Kevan back to his Daddy and ushered them into a claustrophobically small exam room. As she left, Pinkie assured Brian that Dr. Dahl would be ‘right in’. Brian seated himself on the chair wedged in between the exam table and the sink - thankful that at least this chair was adult sized - and prepared to wait. And he waited. And waited. And waited and waited and waited and waited . . . And almost decided it was less painful to have his brain jellified by the television in the waiting room than to be forced to wait in the non-waiting room alone and with nothing whatsoever to do.

To keep his frontal cortex from completely imploding out of sheer boredom, Brian finally resorted to creating mad science experiments using the tongue depressors and cotton balls left out on the counter near the sink along with some band-aids and a few stray rubber bands he’d found in a drawer.

Dr. Dahl did not look at all amused by the miniature trebuchet he’d built by the time she did make it to Kevan’s exam room. Brian just smirked and fired off a cotton ball cannon at Dr. Dahl’s head. Kevan laughed from the depths of his baby carrier. Luckily, Dr. Dahl was a pediatrician and was used to dealing with infantile behavior - although usually it was seen in her patients, not their parents.

Without further ado, the doctor started into the meat of the Well Baby Exam on Kevan. She listened to his heart and lungs and stomach. She tested his reflexes. She took off Kevan’s diaper, checked for jaundice and diaper rash and then palpated his abdomen to make sure there were no blockages. She asked all sorts of questions of Brian about the baby’s sleeping habits, how many diapers he went through in a day, how he was sleeping and how often he was nursing. Brian fumbled through the answers as best he could and mentally berated himself for not being as aware of his own son’s daily schedule as the Doctor seemed to think he should be. Then Dr. Dahl used that weird little lighted eyepiece thing to check Kevan’s eyes and did a perfunctory check to make sure of the baby’s hearing. At that point, Brian thought she was done, and had already started congratulating himself on surviving his first pediatrician’s visit.

“Well, Kevan certainly looks good! He’s a healthy, happy baby and I don’t see any problems so far,” Dr. Dahl announced with an approving smile right before she turned around and started to busy herself with the small metal tray covered with a blue cloth that she’d brought in with her at the start of the exam. “Now for his vaccinations and then you’re all done here.”

“Vaccinations?” Brian froze at the words. “You mean shots? He has to have shots? Justin didn’t tell me about any shots . . .”  

“Well, one of the vaccinations - the one for rotavirus is given orally - but yes, the others are given via intramuscular injection, or what you would call shots. Kevan needs his second dose of  vaccinations for Diptheria, Tetanus, Pertussis, Polio and a couple others. We combine them though, so the baby only gets two shots total this time around.”

“But . . . but, won’t it hurt?” Brian’s voice was subdued as he asked this vital question.

“Well, yes. It will hurt a little. But it’s a lot better for Kevan to have a couple quick jabs that only hurt for a couple seconds than to have to face these potentially deadly diseases. Now, I suggest you sit in the chair here and hold Kevan while I do the honors. Ready?” Dr. Dahl efficiently maneuvered Brian into the chair and deposited Kevan into his lap before grabbing a small plastic vial and turning back to her patient. “First the oral dose. He won’t like the taste of this, but I’ll be fast. Hold on.”

The doctor used one gloved finger to pry open Kevan’s mouth and then quickly squeezed the small dose of apparently foul tasting stuff into the baby’s maw. Kevan made an unhappy face, his tongue licking and moving around as if to try and rid itself of the substance, but he didn’t cry. Brian took a relieved breath.

“Okay. Now for the hard part,” Dr. Dahl announced, with a syringe in her right hand as she grabbed the infant’s right thigh with the other.

The actual needle jab took less than ten seconds. Kevan’s little eyes popped wide open at the introduction of the needle but it took him another fifteen seconds before he realized that the correct response to the pain was to cry. Brian’s shoulders were tensed up and he was cringing in advance long before he heard his son’s actual sobs. But by then Dr. Dahl had already slapped a band-aid on the first injection site and was holding the baby’s other leg readying for the second shot. Kevan was already in full wail at that point though and managed an almost instant increase in the volume of his cries at the second jab. Of course the doctor wasn’t fazed at all by the experience and simply covered up the second shot site with another band-aid.

Brian, on the other hand, looked like he was in more pain than Kevan. He was sitting there tightly gripping his son’s writhing body with tears rolling down his cheeks, clearly too upset by watching his son’s pain to actually do anything to comfort the child. Dr. Dahl patted the big man’s shoulder a time or two but when that did nothing she was done helping. Brian continued to silently hold his son to him and just cried all over the baby. The doctor rolled her eyes, shook her head and then promptly retreated out of the small exam room.

By the time that Pinkie - who had been designated by Dr. Dahl as the consoler of all inconsolable fathers for that morning - reopened the exam room door, Brian had managed to get himself back under control. Mostly. Kevan’s crying had also subsided. Pinkie bustled around and cleared away all evidence of the horrible experience, depositing the used syringes in the ‘sharpes’ box and throwing away the vaccine vials, while Brian rebooted his brain for the third time that morning. “Fucking hormones . . .” was all Ms. Pinkie heard as Brian wiped away the last telltale tear. At that point Pinkie thought that Brian was stable enough to handle leaving.

Brian gathered up Kevan’s clothing and started to redress his son. After he got the little Children’s Museum shirt on, he rifled through the diaper bag looking for a fresh diaper before he put Kevan’s snap up pants back. It was difficult to find anything in that overstuffed bag, and Brian ended up having to excavate more than half the contents in his search for a diaper.

Which is when Brian discovered that he’d packed half of Kevan’s nursery in that bag but had somehow forgotten to restock it with clean diapers.

“Fuck!” Brian’s curse was heard throughout the entire pediatrics office.

Brian briefly contemplated crying again, but then shook himself and reminded himself he wasn’t a lesbian. He could do this. This was NOT the end of the world. He would simply have to improvise until he could get to a store and get more diapers. Of course Brian Kinney could handle something as minor as a diaper shortage.

Using one the burping cloths he HAD packed, Brian folded it into a triangle, packed it full of cotton balls from the doctor’s stash off the counter and then tied the corners together. And just to be on the safe side, he also pulled out an empty plastic bag that Justin kept in the outer pocket of the diaper bag for use in disposing of particularly nasty stuff, tore leg holes in the bottom of the bag and shoved Kevan into that as well, taping the bag tightly around the baby’s waist using more of the doctor’s scavenged band-aids. When he was done, Brian looked at his work - it wasn’t pretty, but he thought it would last him until he managed better.

Brian gathered up all his and Kevan’s paraphernalia, ready to escape this place of horrors. Delayed only by a short stop at the front desk to schedule Kevan’s next exam, Brian practically ran out of there. He didn’t even stop to return Pinkie’s friendly and concerned goodbye.

Less than a mile away from the doctor’s office, Brian saw a grocery store and wisely decided not to push his luck. He pulled into the parking lot, made sure he had his wallet and jumped out of the car, intent on getting to the store’s diaper supply before Kevan had cause to test out his jury-rigged alternative. The harried father dashed around to the passenger side of the Audi in order to retrieve his son’s baby carrier. He tried the door handle and was annoyed to find it was locked. He dug into his jacket pocket to get his keys . . . and didn’t find them there. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Brian raced back to the driver’s side of the car and tried the door handle there. It was locked. Cupping his hand to the side of his face to cut down on the sun glare, Brian rested his forehead against the side window.

There, on the driver’s seat, Brian saw both his keys and his cell phone.

When Justin pulled up next to Brian’s car in the grocery store parking lot he was worried since he didn’t immediately see his partner. He didn’t think Brian would leave Kevan in the car all alone, but . . . Justin leaped out of the jeep with keys in hand and rushed to unlock the Audi. At the first *beep beep* of the car alarm when the electronic lock clicked open, Brian’s head popped up from the far side of the car.

“It’s about fucking time,” Brian groused right before he tore open the rear door and unlatched Kevan’s baby carrier from the base unit.

Kevan appeared to be happily asleep and none the worse for having been locked in a parked car for the past twenty five minutes.

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t been planning on having to drive halfway across town on a rescue mission during my lunch hour,” Justin snarked back before bending down to give his son a kiss on the tyke’s forehead. “Kevan looks fine,” Justin added, trying to dispel the lines of lingering worry he could see on Brian’s forehead. “Good thing it’s January and not a hot summer day. Now, tell me again, without the panic, exactly how this happened, Bri.”

“Fuck you,” was Brian’s only response as he unstrapped the baby and pulled him out of the carrier to make doubly sure there was nothing wrong with Kevan.

As the blanket that had been wrapped around the child fell away, Justin noted the baby’s odd ensemble. “Uh, Brian . . . is there a reason my son is wearing a plastic garbage bag instead of pants?”

“Shit! The diapers,” Brian groaned. “Here, hold this. I’ll be right back,” Brian ordered as he stomped off towards the entrance to the grocery store without further explanation.

Justin gave Brian a curious look when he came back a few minutes later with two CASES of diapers. Brian just shook his head and mumbled something about an emergency stash as he put one of the cases in the trunk of his car. After that it was short work for the two daddies working together to get Kevan cleaned up, dispose of the mess he’d made of Brian’s makeshift diaper and then get him redressed.

“This is cute,” Justin commented as he pulled the unfamiliar Children’s Museum tee back over Kevan’s head. “I didn’t know you bought Kevan a shirt when we were at the museum last weekend.”

“I didn’t,” Brian replied, looking confused. “I thought you must have got this.” Justin simply shook his head and frowned indicating that it wasn’t him. “Hmmm. That’s . . . weird.”

And Brian might have continued to ponder over the strange shirt for longer, if Kevan hadn’t spoken up right then and, with a prodigious wail, let his daddies know it was now past time for his lunch. Brian looked around desperately for someplace he could go to nurse the baby that was at least a little bit private. Here in the middle of the grocery store parking lot there wasn’t anything in sight. Which meant Brian was going to have to do this out in the open.

As if he hadn’t already had enough fatherhood moments already this morning.

“Well, if you’ve got this now, I should get going,” Justin announced as soon as Brian and Kevan were comfortably ensconced back in the car and Kevan was happily nursing.

Brian’s spirits dropped even further at the thought that his blond was abandoning him to further solo parent degradation. He just didn’t think he could do this anymore today. The fleeting thought that he didn’t know how JUSTIN did it on a regular basis even passed through his tired, over-stressed brain. All he knew was that he needed Justin to stay with him. He needed Justin’s guidance and calm and optimism. Brian could NOT do this parenting thing alone for the rest of the day.

“Please don’t leave us, Sunshine,” Brian heard himself begging, even though he hadn’t really given his mouth permission to voice that pathetic sentiment. “I need . . . Kevan and I need you. Please?”

Justin chortled quietly at the neediness he heard. Apparently his big stud had finally met his match. He really did want to get the whole story about whatever the fuck had happened to his boys this morning, though, so he figured he’d stick around and help out the pleading man who really seemed to need some help.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you guys. But, I think we’ll call Lindsey and Debbie and both cancel our dinner plans for tonight. I think we need to just go home, relax and take it easy tonight. How does that sound, Stud?” Justin proposed.

“Heavenly,” Brian sighed, finally able to relax once he’d been assured he wasn’t being left to his own devices any longer.

Chapter 20 - Tribulations.

Kevan wasn’t sure growing up was a good idea. It was very trying. He’d just managed to master the whole rolling over thing and then - WHAM! - there’s a whole bunch of new stuff he has to learn and overcome. It really was tiring. But so far Kevan didn’t seem to have any other options other than to deal with the whole growing up thing as best he could as each new thing came along.

Take yesterday for example. After a very strenuous morning with The Daddy doing all sorts of unheard of things that were really very unsettling, they’d gone to see that Pokey Person - you know, the one that was always poking him with sharp things that made him cry. Kevan hated the Pokey Person. He’d hoped that this time, with The Daddy there instead of The Papa, maybe he’d escape from the Pokey Person without her usual torture, but alas, The Daddy hadn’t been able to stop the Pokey Person any better than The Papa. Kevan had actually been poked TWICE. It hurt. And then afterwards, he’d had a sore tummy all afternoon. Thank goodness that The Papa had come and taken over and made both him and The Daddy feel better. He didn’t think The Daddy had liked that Pokey Person much either.

But, despite the stress and the pain of having to deal with the Pokey Person, Kevan had survived another day.

Then, today, he’d had to cope with yet another trying and painful experience - he’d had this weird THING appear in his mouth. It just popped in, completely unexpected. One minute he was just doing his usual little baby things like growing, nursing, practicing lifting up his head and reaching for toys, rolling over, babbling at the Silly One . . . you know, normal Kevan stuff. Then, the next thing he knew, he had this throbbing pain in the top of his mouth. It wasn’t a really bad pain - not like the spikey pain he experienced whenever they saw the Pokey Person - but it was bad enough. It even felt like there was a bump in his mouth where the pain was - Kevan could feel it when he tried to suck on the bottle the Silly One gave him. The bumpy part was sore and it interfered with his lunchtime bottle and it made him annoyed. He didn’t know what to do about it though, since crying to the Silly One was pretty much useless even on a good day.

And then it got even worse!

While he was lying next to The Daddy and drinking the yummy stuff that made his tummy all warm and happy, that bump thing in his mouth turned into this weird hard, sharp thing. Kevan tried to show The Daddy the hard sharp thing in his mouth to see if he had any idea what Kevan was supposed to do about it. He clamped his mouth down hard while he was nursing so that The Daddy could feel the new thing inside. Unfortunately, The Daddy didn’t seem to like the hard sharp thing any more than Kevan did. All The Daddy did, though, was stop filling Kevan’s tummy with the yummy warm stuff, jump up off the couch and start babbling with an angry voice. It wasn’t nice at all.

And it didn’t get rid of the annoying hard sharp thing in his mouth, either.

See? This is why Kevan wasn’t sure growing up was really worth all the trouble.

“Cynthia! Take these boards back down to the art department and shove them up the asshole of whichever fuck up is responsible for getting them wrong for the third time in a row,” Brian screeched before his assistant could even make it down the hall and into his office. “We've got the presentation for Liberty Air in less than four hours and the fucking font still isn't right. If I have to go down there myself it won't be pretty, so the art fucks better finally get it right!”

“I'll make sure of it, Brian!” Cynthia gathered up the boards from where they'd been scattered on the ground when Brian threw them off his desk and trotted off down the hall as fast as she could.

“Fucking incompetent losers . . .” Brian was still pacing around his office and grumbling a full five minutes after Cynthia had left.

Nothing seemed to be going right today. First he was accosted by Ryder before he'd even made it to his desk and the asswipe had the gall to criticize him for taking off the day before - intimating that NOW more than ever it was important for everyone at the agency to give one hundred percent. How dare Ryder give him shit for taking one lousy day off to take his kid to the doctor’s. As if Brian wasn't already single-handedly responsible for more than seventy percent of the agency’s revenue over the past year. If it weren't for Brian - and by extension, for Kevan, too - Marty Ryder wouldn't have even had a chance at a huge international account like Armani. Of course Brian couldn't just say that to his boss, so he'd just swallowed his anger, nodded and tried not to say anything he'd regret.

Then, just when he'd gotten his temper back under control after Marty left, Miss Scarlett had called to inform him that her boss at GQ was getting fed up with handling all the interview requests and dealing with Brian's rabid fans. The magazine was basically backing out of their offer to run interference for him anymore. Which meant that she'd be forwarding all the calls and letters on to him from now on. And just how the fuck was Brian supposed to find the time to deal with that shit? At this point he was wishing all his ‘fans’ would get the fuck lost already. If it weren't for the fact that he was still banking on that contingent to support his stint modeling for Armani, he'd gladly put together a press release and tell them all - publicly - to fuck off.

Next, Brian had been confronted by the fucked up Liberty Air boards. Which is where he'd finally lost it. No wonder even Cynthia was running from him today.

Right then, however, his fuming was interrupted by the alarm on his phone going off. Apparently it was THAT time again. Wonderful. As if he wasn't already in a shitty mood, now he got to spend fifteen minutes doing one of his least favorite things of the day - pumping! Brian tore off the phone headset he'd been using, threw it down angrily onto the desk and stomped his way over to close his office door and the window blinds. It was bad enough that, thanks to Mikey's runaway mouth, all of Liberty Avenue knew about his tits - he didn't really need his co-workers to get an eyeful too. Then he pulled over the hated black leather bag and started to assemble the torture device known as a breast pump.

Brian was so stressed out that morning that he couldn't relax right away and it took a couple minutes before the let-down reflex kicked in. He tried to take deep calming breaths and think about something pleasant. It was bad enough he had to do this shit - if he couldn't relax it would just take that much longer. But he'd learned his lesson about what happened if he skipped the pumping session and wasn't keen on ruining yet another shirt when his tits would later start to leak - probably at the most embarrassing possible moment.

Eventually Brian's mind drifted back to the prior evening at home with Kevan and Justin. After their traumatic morning and the trip to the pediatrician’s office, Brian was as happy as the baby to just spend the rest of the day holed up at home with Justin to take care of them. Kevan had been fussy after his vaccinations and seemed to even be running a little bit of a temperature. Justin had administered some baby ibuprofen which put him to sleep. Then Justin had taken an almost equally fussy Brian to bed too. Reciprocal blow jobs and a nice long fuck later, and Brian was also napping. Justin had used the time to finish some homework as well as that project for Ryder. By the time both Brian and the baby woke up, everyone was in much better moods. They'd ordered Thai delivery, turned off all the phones and spent the rest of the evening in a pleasant, quiet, comfortable, domestic haze.

The thought of that peaceful time with his little family was what finally relaxed Brian sufficiently so that he could express some milk. It was such a relief when it finally started. Brian really did hate the fucking pump and the indignity of the whole process, but then again, he knew he would do anything for Kevan - even breast feed - as emasculating as that process was. He really didn't hate the time he spent nursing Kevan at home. It was the rest of the stuff that went along with breastfeeding that made him uncomfortable. He did hope though that he wouldn't have to be doing this for very much longer. Justin had promised they'd discuss the arrangement again when Kevan was six months, which was thankfully not that many weeks away.

Brian was about halfway done when his peaceful idyll was interrupted by a knock on his door. He knew it wasn't Cynthia - she knew his schedule by now and wouldn't dare to intrude until he'd opened the blinds, indicating the coast was clear. So who the fuck else would be bothering him?

Brian didn't have to wait long to find out, though, since the door immediately creaked open and his unwelcome visitor peeked a blonde head around the door without having been given permission to enter.

“Brian? Hey there. Gus and I were just in the neighborhood and figured we'd stop in to say ‘hi’ since you missed dinner last night,” Lindsey burbled as she pushed the door wide and bustled inside with Gus in his stroller before she’d even realized what Brian was doing. “Oh! Oops. Sorry to interrupt Brian,” she exclaimed with a giggle when she finally noticed the bottles attached by suction cups to each of Brian's nipples. “I-I-I didn't know you were . . . Well, this is a surprise . . . Brian Kinney pumping breast milk. What the hell is the world coming to? *Hehehehe* I can truly say I've seen EVERYTHING now! *Hehehehe* I bet that goes over real well in the backroom. Now when you tell your tricks to suck you they'll actually get more than just a mouthful of jizz!”

“Fuck you, Lindz!” Brian took instant offense at his friend’s demeaning tone. “Yes, I'm fucking breast feeding because - as you should know - it's the best thing for Kevan. And, unfortunately, all this shit,” Brian pulled the bottles away and slammed them down on his desk, “comes along with the privilege. I'd think that, instead of making fun of me, you'd be applauding my dedication to being the best father I could possibly be. And if you can't do that, then just shut the fuck up and get out of my office.”

"Now, Brian, don't get all pissy," Lindsay said placatingly as she plopped down into the visitor chair in front of Brian's desk."I think it's great that you're doing this. I was just surprised. I didn't expect to walk in here and see you using a breast pump, is all. You do have to admit, it's about as far out of character for Brian Kinney as you could possibly get.”

Brian ignored her as he tidied up and put away all of the breast pump paraphernalia and the two collection bottles of milk were stowed in his fridge. "So, was there a reason for this little visit other than to laugh at me,” he asked when he was all put back together, before walking around his desk where he unhooked Gus from the stroller and picked up his son.

"Just that Gus missed you when you didn't show up last night,” Lindsay stated with her patented simpering smile. "We were all really looking forward to spending some time with you, Brian. Since Kevan came along we barely ever get to see you. And I really just want you to be more involved in Gus's life. It's important that he have a solid father figure,” she added, slathering on an extra-large helping of guilt.

"I thought that was Mel’s job,” Brian shot back. "Besides, Kevan wasn't feeling well last night. He had his four-month Well Baby checkup yesterday and he ended up having a little bit of a reaction to the vaccinations. I decided it was better to stay home with him.”

"I'm sure Justin could've stayed home with him,” Lindsey responded immediately with a bit of a pissy edge to her voice. "He didn't have to force you to blow off Gus for the whole evening just for that.”

"First of all, Lindsey, Justin didn't FORCE me to do anything. I wanted to stay home and make sure my son was okay,” Brian explained, barely holding back the anger that was threatening to explode at the woman's critical view of him and his partner. “And secondly, Justin isn't my wife. I don't expect him to stay home, cook, clean and care for the babies while I'm out having a good time every night. I wasn't about to just abandon him with a sick baby on his hands while I go out and have dinner. You wouldn't let Mel get away with that kind of shit. Why the hell do you think Justin would let me get away with it?”

“Oh, well . . . I didn't mean . . . I'm sure . . .” Lindsey didn't like getting caught out like that, but was having trouble thinking up a way to cover her mistake.

"I know exactly what you meant, Lindz,” Brian interrupted her stammering. "And you're just going to have to get used to sharing me from now on, okay? I didn't intend to just blow off my time with Gus. I'd be happy to reschedule our dinner and we’ll do our best to try to include Gus in more of the stuff that Justin, Kevan and I do, but you'll have to work with us to make that happen, Lindz. That's the most I can promise.”

When Lindsay opened her mouth as if to protest further, Brian decided it was more than time to end this little impromptu interrogation. "Now, get the fuck out. I've got a major presentation to do in less than four hours. I need to get myself ready and make sure the art department hasn't fucked up the boards for a fourth time.” Brian handed Gus back to his mother, and turned to walk out of the room without even giving Lindsey a second look. "Bye-bye Sonnyboy. Be a good boy. I'll talk to you soon.” And then Brian was gone, his mind already back on work issues - Lindsay and her troubles already completely dismissed.

“Hey, Em! How was our boy today?” Justin asked - it was always the first question out of his mouth as soon as he walked in the door after school each day - Emmett thought it was adorable.

“Poor little tyke’s been a bit more fussy than normal, I’m afraid. But Auntie Em has been dealing with it.” Emmett replied as he handed an armload of Kevan off to his Papa. “I think he might be starting to get a tooth, though. He’s been drooling up a storm all day.”

“Ooooo! Your first tooth? That’s pretty neat, isn’t it kiddo,” Justin crooned as he hugged the baby and kissed the soft little cheek. “That means that it won’t be long until we get to start you eating some solid foods. Won’t that be fun? I’m sure Daddy will love that - he’ll get the opportunity to have mashed peas smeared all over his designer clothing along with the milk spittle. Won’t he be stylin’ then!”

Emmett chuckled along with Justin at this vision of the fashionista father’s upcoming trials. Nobody said watching Brian struggle with full-time fatherhood wasn’t amusing. But as far as Emmett was concerned, he was doing surprisingly well, all things considered. And far better than several of Brian’s friends assumed he was doing.

Emmett, of course, got to see a lot more of Brian’s parenting moments than the rest of the gang since he was the Manny and was at Britin’s Chapel on a daily basis. Because of this, he actually SAW the changes in Brian more clearly than most. He wished that the others got to see what he’d witnessed. That might stop the almost incessant teasing that kept coming from the peanut gallery - all of them joking constantly at Brian’s expense. No wonder they hardly ever saw Brian out these days. The poor man was inundated with negative comments whenever he did show his face. Emmett had tried to quell some of the slanderous gossip, but nobody listened to him. And nobody was ready to give Brian Kinney the credit he deserved for stepping up to the plate and showing himself to be such an exemplary father. Emmett would just have to keep trying and hope that eventually the rest would see how amazing Brian was as a parent.

“Oh, hey, Em . . . did I get a package delivered today? I ordered some materials I need for a project in my kinetic sculpture class. It was supposed to arrive today,” Justin interrupted Em’s woolgathering before the manny could gather all his stuff and head out the door. “If I don’t get started on that project soon I’m going to run out of time and the professor has been hassling me about it already.”

“Oh! Thank you for reminding me, Baby. Yes, we did get a package today. We got two, in fact. One for you and a second, smaller one for Brian. I left them on the desk in the office along with all the rest of the mail.”

“Oh good! Here, hold Kevan for one more minute. I want to grab my stuff and take it up to my studio right away. Hopefully, our little man here will consent to take a nap and let me get started on my project.”

Emmett and Kevan chatted amiably for two minutes while Justin ran down the hall to the office. The young blond came trotting back with packages in both hands and a curious look on his face. The package for Brian was in his right hand and the scanty address on the front appeared to have caught Justin’s attention.

“Em, how did this package arrive?” Justin asked with a troubled frown on his face. “It’s only got Brian’s name on the front - no address or return address either - and there’s no postage or mailing sticker either.”

“I think the UPS guy just handed both of them to me . . . wait, now that I think about it, he might have said something about finding the small one on the doorstep. I wasn’t really listening - our little prince was having a bit of a melt down at the time and I was a little harried,” Em answered after a moment’s thought. “Why do you ask, Sugar? Is there something wrong with the package. Is it damaged or something? I didn’t notice anything.”

“The package is fine. It’s just odd, is all,” Justin replied distractedly, setting down his art supply delivery and starting to open up the one meant for Brian, irregardless of the addressee.

The outside of the small package was the usual brown craft paper, which tore off easily. Inside there was a plain white paperboard box, flat and about six inches square. Justin pulled the top off and was a little surprised to find a small baby blue photo album inside. The album cover was plain but it looked elegant and, if Justin wasn’t mistaken, it appeared to be real leather. He opened the book and saw the usual array of plastic covered pages, some of which seemed to already have photos inserted.

Inside the front cover of the gift album there was a loose sheet of handmade note paper, it’s edges tinted with a blue ink wash, folded into an intricate little envelope shape. Brian’s name was drawn on the front fold - complete with a cutsey little heart dotting the ‘i’ and a bigger heart drawn around the name itself. Justin was sure that Brian was going to just love that little bit of artistry - NOT!

Justin went ahead and opened the note, disregarding the fact that he was probably invading Brian’s privacy. As soon as he’d started reading, he was glad he hadn’t waited for Brian to see it first. This was serious. Someone out there was really, truly, seriously obsessed with Brian and it was getting more than just a little creepy.

“Fuck! Get a load of this, Em,” Justin insisted, his irate tone tipping Emmett off that something was very wrong. “My Dearest Brian. Our little Kevan is growing up so fast, isn’t he? That’s why it’s so important to record every single minute of this precious time. When he’s older we can look back on these pictures and laugh about how much fun we had when he was a baby. I hope you like the album I chose - I promise to keep it updated with pictures as Kevan grows. I especially love the one of him at the Children’s Museum last weekend. And yesterday at the doctor’s Kevan looked so sweet in the CM t-shirt I got him. What wonderful memories! Love you both so much!” Justin finished reading the note and looked up at his friend, who now appeared just as worried as the younger man. “It’s signed, ‘Your’s Always, Tag!’ What the hell? Who the fuck is this ‘Tag’ and why the hell is he or she sending Brian love notes and baby shit?” Justin demanded.

“Well, I think I can answer your question about who HE is . . .” Emmett answered, picking up the photo album that Justin had tossed onto the coffee table while he was reading the note. “I’d say that THIS is Brian’s mysterious admirer.”

Justin took the book out of Em’s hands and looked down at the picture that had caught Emmett’s eye. It appeared to be a candid snapshot taken of Brian, Kevan and Justin at the Diner. It had to be a fairly recent picture too, because Kevan was wearing the new beanie hat that Brian had bought for him only two weeks earlier. In the picture, both Brian and the baby had been looking up at Justin who’d been perched on the back of the booth while he was beaming down on the pair lovingly. Only, in this version of the scene, Justin’s face had been covered up by the cut out head of someone else . . .

“Justin, Sweetie, I think you’ve got a problem . . .” Emmett commented unnecessarily as the two of them flipped through the rest of the photos already in the little album.

Each of the pictures that followed showed Brian and Kevan in some candid shot, most of them taken in the environs of Liberty Avenue. And there were a lot of them. There were pictures taken in the Diner, while they were walking down the street, in stores, even one taken inside the Children’s Museum from the weekend before. It would have been a nice keepsake, except for one thing . . . every photo that showed Justin as part of the family group had been altered to delete him from the scene. In some, like the one at the Diner, Justin’s face had been covered up by a cut-out of the young brown-haired man - it looked like he’d literally cut out pictures of himself and glued them over Justin’s face. In others, Justin had been cropped out of the picture altogether. And, in a few, Justin’s face had been marked out with some type of thick black marker so that only someone who knew the scene would have known Justin was supposed to be there.

After looking at one such picture - one where Justin’s face was marked out so violently that it left him with a nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach - Justin had to agree with Emmett. This wasn’t good at all. They definitely had a problem. A BIG problem.

Brian stumbled into the Chapel about seven o’clock. His day had been hell but at least he had won the Liberty Air account by the seat of his pants. If only the Art Department wasn’t such a weak link, his job would have been a million times easier. Now, all Brian wanted was a glass of Beam and at least a half hour with Justin’s tight little ass without Kevan’s presence. That HAD to be possible. Didn’t it? Brian was willing to even take up religion and pray if that would get him what he needed so desperately right that minute.

Brian headed to the bedroom to get changed. When he got near the door he thought he heard moaning and for a minute his heart sank - maybe Justin had company? No, he quickly corrected himself, Justin wouldn’t do that. As he got closer, he realized there were only the sounds of one person. He looked in the door and saw Justin on the bed, rubbing oil on his chest with one hand and rubbing his cock with the other. He stood there watching for a minute. Justin’s eyes were closed and he appeared deep in some erotic fantasy. Now that was interesting. What the hell had gotten his Sunshine so hot? And was it something Brian could get in on? This was definitely the type of thing that Brian liked to come home to.

Suddenly Justin opened his eyes and saw his lover standing there staring at him. Justin reached out his hand, imploring Brian with his eyes to join him on the bed. Brian smiled and started stripping before practically leaping onto the bed. Panther-like, Brian crawled across the duvet towards his intended prey. His fingertips tingled with the anticipation of touching the luminous pale skin that was lying there on display for him. He found that he was already panting and maybe drooling a little even. Shit! The things this Pretty Boy could do to him!

He quickly climbed up the body of his blond lover, kissing his way over the alabaster expanses along the way, and asked what started this. Justin explained - a bit breathlessly, while he continued to stroke himself - that he had opened the package to start on his sculpting project and when he started playing with the modeling materials, feeling the slick substance squeezing through his fingers, he just got so horny that he couldn’t stand it. He immediately deposited the baby in his nursery, came directly into the bedroom and just started touching himself while imagining that it was Brian’s hands on him.

“So you won’t mind if I join in on the fun, then?” Brian asked with a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes that Justin hadn’t seen much of lately and was glad to have back.

“Please do, I could use the help,” Justin replied, licking his lips. “I was just about to get out the big blue dildo, but I’d rather have the real thing.”

“Hmmmm. Well, in that case, maybe I want to watch first and then I’ll join in when you get to the good part,” Brian said, reaching into the toy drawer and pulling out the one they affectionately called ‘Big Blue’.

He loved watching Justin fuck himself with his favorite toy. Watching Justin pleasure himself turned Brian on immensely. That was when Justin was the most open and unguarded. Brian lubed up the dildo while Justin used the lube and his own fingers to open himself up. Justin took the lubed toy and, pulling his legs up to give Brian a good view, inserted the tip, pushing steadily until it was all the way inside him. Slowly he started fucking himself with it, hitting his sweet spot over and over, moaning and thrashing his head back and forth. Brian was as hard as a rock without even touching his cock.

Finally Brian couldn’t stand it any longer, before he shot his load all over both Justin and the bed, he pulled out the dildo and replaced it with his very own steel hard rod. Once again, Brian took a moment to enjoy the fact that he didn’t have to bother with a condom any more. And then he was no longer thinking at all as he slammed home into the sweetest ass he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking. The horny lovers rocked together, their rhythm perfectly in sync, as always. They were both very vocal, moaning each other's names, whispering dirty suggestions and begging for more. They both wanted to cum, but neither one wanted to let this exquisite torture end.

After minutes, hours, maybe days - who was keeping track? - Brian finally leaned down to kiss his lover one last time. When their tongues connected this time, Justin exploded without his cock even being touched. His ass clamped down and Brian roared out his own climax before collapsing on top of the warm body of his lover.

Now, if THIS was the way things were going to be, Brian wouldn’t mind being a ‘family man’ at all.

Unfortunately, the boys’ quiet post-coital moment didn’t last for very long. The noise-maker-otherwise-known-as-Kevan, chose that opportunity to let his people know that his nap was over and that he desired their attention. Now! Brian rolled over and grumbled but not too vehemently. He was just glad that the baby had waited until AFTER they’d finished this time.

Justin, who was covered in puddles of cooling cum, looked over at Brian pleadingly. Brian understood his lover’s wordless entreaty and resigned himself that he’d be on baby duty at least until Justin had gotten cleaned up. Not that Brian really minded having an excuse to spend time with his son, it was just that he’d barely had time to catch his breath. But from the escalating sounds of Kevan’s wailing, his Sonnyboy didn’t care that his Daddy would have preferred to spend a few minutes relaxing with a glass of Beam and decompressing after a long day at work and then a quick hot shag with his live-in lover. So, like a good daddy, Brian rolled out of bed, pulled on some pants and headed to the nursery to find his very vocal offspring.

Kevan was happy enough to see his Daddy that he interrupted his crying to gurgle up at the adored one. Brian scooped the boy into his arms, quickly and efficiently changed the wet diaper and then the two of them wandered out to the Greatroom together. Kevan was making those adorable smacking noises he always did when he was hungry and knew that Brian was about to nurse him - the sweet little bowed lips pursing up as if to suck long before Daddy had even got himself situated. Brian took his cue and went straight over to the sitting area, arranging himself on one of the couches with a pile of pillows under one arm so that he could comfortably prop up the baby at just the right height for nursing before tucking the baby under his arm in a football hold and holding the small head up so that Kevan could begin to suckle. The baby latched on right away and Brian sighed with contentment as they both relaxed and enjoyed their time together.

While the baby was busy nursing, Brian looked around him and noticed the mess of wrapping paper and shipping boxes that had been left on the coffee table. There was also a small box with what looked like a photo album nestled inside amid a froth of tissue paper. Brian took a second in the process of switching Kevan to the other side to lean forward and grab the box so he could investigate the album. No sooner had he got Kevan resituated and back to nursing, the small album opened on his knee, than he realized what was wrong with the pictures in the book. As he shuffled through the pages, noting each time Justin’s face had been covered over, cut out or otherwise obliterated, Brian started to get more and more angry. However, it wasn’t until he got to the end and noticed the hand-written note that had been stuffed between two pages that he really became irate.

This felt like a threat and nobody threatened Brian’s family. This ‘Tag’ person needed to back off and back off NOW. Brian would make sure of it. Brian wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him or his family. Not without a fight. If anyone was going to get hurt, it would be this scumbag who apparently had a problem with Justin. He’d either stop or Brian would hurt him.

‘Don’t you worry, Sonnyboy. Nobody messes with us Kinney men. Right?” Brian announced out loud. “I won’t let your Papa or you get hurt, Sonnyboy. Because that’s my job - to take care of my boys. Right, Sonnyboy? I won’t let ANYBODY get hurt.”

Which was when Kevan decided to show his Daddy the new tooth he’d just sprouted that afternoon by biting down hard on Brian’s nipple and causing the unsuspecting father to screech in pain and vault off the couch, barely managing not to drop the one-toothed wonder that was his son.

Chapter 21 - Reluctant Roles.

‘Why was it that all the big people things in his life seemed so tense all the time?’ Kevan wondered . . . or at least that was the equivalent of what his baby mind was thinking. He didn’t actually know what the term ‘tense’ meant yet. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel that the Yellow One - The Papa - wasn’t his usual relaxed and happy self tonight.

The Papa was all stiff feeling. He was holding Kevan a little bit too tightly. And The Papa’s voice wasn’t all soft and happy sounding. The noises he was making were shorter and clipped and harsh and not really happy but it was a not-happy that was trying to hide underneath the usual happyish noises. Kevan could feel each time The Papa made his mouth-sounds to The Nice Smelling One that there was something not happy there. Something that was unsettling to Kevan, who liked his People Things to be happy so that they would be completely focused on the important things in life - namely HIM! And that didn’t seem to be happening right now.

It was all very confusing for Kevan’s four-month old brain.

The Daddy was also exhibiting some very Non-Kevan-Approved tenseness. The Daddy’s mouth sounds were small and tried to hide behind a fake funny-ness - and they definitely didn’t sound the way The Daddy usually talked. These mouth-sounds were not happy. They didn’t make Kevan feel safe and warm the way he usually felt whenever The Nice Smelling One was home. The Daddy seemed like he was almost afraid of The Papa’s mouth sounds only The Daddy was trying not to show it.

And neither one was paying any real attention to Kevan.

Overall, it was a total relief when the happy, silly ‘Curly One’ showed up and took over. At least she wasn’t all tense and unhappy. And she paid lots of attention to Kevan. It was one of the first times that Kevan remembered being glad when The Daddy and The Papa left the house.

Kevan and the Curly One would be shiny happy people and to doo-doo with The Daddy and The Papa if they couldn’t get with the program!

“Okay . . . I said ‘okay’ already . . . yeah, yeah, I heard you . . . Enough! I said I’d be there, so back off already!” Brian growled, tapped the icon on his phone to end the call and then angrily tossed his phone onto the nearby sofa.

“Lindsey or Michael?” Justin asked, coming into the Greatroom with Kevan propped up on one hip and his messenger bag full of schoolwork in his other hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Let me guess . . . Based on your level of pissed-offedness, I’d say . . . Lindsey. Am I right?”

“Ding, ding, ding! You win, Sunshine,” Brian confirmed that Justin’s guess was right on the money. “She’s been relentless ever since I missed dinner last week. I finally had to give in to save my sanity.” Brian looked up at Justin guiltily from under his long dark-auburn lashes. “I told her I’d come over for dinner tonight . . .”

“Brian . . . I thought we were finally going to get a night out by ourselves,” Justin heard himself whining but couldn’t help it. He was so disappointed. “I got Daphne to babysit and I even made reservations at a restaurant that isn’t the Diner for once. Can’t you do dinner with the Merciless Munchers another night. Please?”

“I know we had plans, Sunshine, but I’ve already put Lindsey off several times and she was getting pretty nasty. I just couldn’t take her implied digs about me ‘abandoning’ Gus anymore,” Brian did look truly repentant, but Justin was too crestfallen to even look him in the eye - instead, the disgruntled blond flopped down on the couch and proceeded to pout. “Listen, Justin. I know this is last minute and that it puts a bit of a crimp in our plans, but it doesn’t have to ruin the entire night. I figure I’ll go to dinner at Muncherville and get that over with so that Lindz will back off for a while. Then, after dinner, I could go meet Mikey and the crew at Woody’s for a few quick drinks and get him off my case too. And then, as long as Daphne doesn’t mind staying the night, you and I could still meet up at Babylon later, dance the night away and maybe end up at the loft for a night of peaceful, child-free, rampant sex . . . What do you say, Sunshine? That way I can kill three birds with one stone in one night.”

“Well, I’m not sure I want to be one of the ‘birds’ you feel it’s necessary to kill off . . . But, I guess that would be acceptable. And it will get Mikey and Lindz off our backs for at least a few days - I hope,” Justin didn’t sound very enthusiastic about Brian’s brilliant plan, but Brian didn’t think he had any other options.

Keeping all the various factions in Brian’s life satisfied wasn’t easy these days - they seemed to all want a piece of him and there weren’t that many pieces to go around. Brian sometimes felt that he was being pulled in so many different directions he was about to come apart at the seams. There were so many different roles he was expected to fulfill these days: father, partner, best friend, stud, celebrity. If only his friends could agree on which role he was supposed to be playing at any one time. Unfortunately, they all seemed to want something different from him. Which is why he felt like he was constantly changing masks - slipping in and out of whatever personality his audience wanted at that particular time. It was tough trying to keep up with all of them, but what other choice did he have? Brian didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

So, tonight, he would have to juggle his friends and his various performances. First, he’d be the loving friend and confidante that Lindsey expected while at the same time demonstrating just enough fatherly attention towards Gus to keep Lindz happy without making Mel jealous. Then, he’d switch hats, put on his carefree gay lothario costume and go regale Mikey and the boys with enough tales of his reckless youth to keep their hero worship fueled for a few more weeks. And finally, he’d meet up with his romantic little twink, seduce the pants off the boy and carry out his duties as a caring and devoted partner. And he’d do all of this within the span of just a few hours in order to keep all his fans happy because that’s what they all expected him to do.

In other words, it was going to be a hectic night.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” Brian leaned over and kissed both his boys. “If I leave right now, I’ll have time to get in a decent workout at the gym before heading to Lindsey’s. I’ll see you at Babylon around 11:00, Sunshine. And I’ll see you, Sonnyboy, tomorrow morning. Be a good boy for Auntie Daffy.”

And then Brian was off without even a goodbye, leaving his boys still blinking on the couch.

Brian stumbled down the walk from Lindsey & Mel’s house, got into his jeep and let his head slump back against the headrest. Dinner at Chez Munchez had been painful and long and emotionally draining. And that was only the first third of his evening. He still had to get through the gauntlet of Mikey and the gang at Woody's. But after the dinner from hell he didn’t know if he had the energy.

Lindsey had seemed so glad to see him when he first arrived. She’d ushered him in and solicitously offered him a beer - which Brian turned down, reminding her about the whole nursing thing - before explaining that Mel had ended up working late, which was fine with Brian. He actually started to relax, thinking that with Mel out of the picture the evening might not be so unpleasant after all. Lindsey carried on, gushing over him the way she usually did - all smiles and compliments. Only, her compliments, more often than not, ended up being subtle jabs at what she saw as Brian’s failings as a friend and a father. She couldn’t just say, “Gus is excited to see you”. She had to add, “It’s been so long since you’ve spent any time with him that I’m not sure he still remembers who you are,” laughing as she said it but still implying that he’d left it for far too long. It sometimes felt like nothing Brian did would ever be good enough. He would never live up to her standards as a father to Gus or as a friend to her. It made him wonder why he was even trying.

As the night progressed, Lindsey moved on from criticising Brian to taking jabs at the rest of his little family. Every single time Brian even mentioned Kevan’s name, Lindsey had deflected his words, pointing out something that Gus had done that was somehow better or brighter or smarter than anything Kevan would ever be capable of. Gus had mastered rolling over weeks earlier than Kevan. Gus had slept through the night by three months and Kevan was still getting them up for at least one nighttime feeding. Gus had been able to sit up for a few minutes at a time by the time he was barely five months old and Kevan didn’t seem even close. She had even intimated that maybe Kevan had some kind of learning disability, since he seemed so far behind the amazing Wunderkind Gus. Of course, all these observations had come with seemingly well-intentioned advice on what Brian should be doing to help poor dim-witted Kevan catch up.

Lindsey had then moved on to critiquing Justin’s parenting skills. She’d started off by intimating that maybe Kevan’s ‘slowness’ had something to do with Justin’s home studio area and that the paint fumes from his work were negatively affecting the baby. Brian quickly nixed that idea, explaining about the top of the line ventilation they’d installed up in the choir loft where Justin’s studio space was located and reminding her that she often painted in the house around Gus too.

A little later, Lindsey made yet another comment about Justin’s insistence that they not start Kevan on solids until after he was six months old, explaining to Brian just why she thought that was silly and suggesting that’s why the baby wasn’t sleeping well. Lindsey had apparently started Gus on solids as soon as the pediatrician gave them the ok and she insisted that it had been the primary reason why Gus had slept through the night so early. She didn’t fail to add that moving to solids would alleviate Brian’s issues with pumping - not that he needed Lindsey to point that out to him or interfere in the decision making process over this issue. Brian and Justin had already had numerous discussions on this particular issue. Justin had been pretty persuasive about why he wanted to wait before moving to formula or solids and had shown Brian the medical and behavioral research that backed him up. Even assuming he bought into her anecdotal evidence, Lindsey’s boasting about Gus and her pompous attitude made Brian even less inclined to follow her advice, even if it would get him out of pumping earlier.

As soon as Brian had gotten Lindsey off the solid foods rant, she once again started nagging him about how little time Brian seemed to have these days. She wondered why Justin didn’t want to stay home and take care of the baby so that Brian could get out once in awhile, but then in the next breath mentioned that Justin really should be contributing more towards all the expenses of the new baby. This led to Lindsey asking if Brian thought that Gus needed some nicer clothes, because she didn’t want him to look like all of his clothes were bought at the Big Q when Kevan was wearing designer clothes. When Brian proposed that he and Justin would make sure to get Gus some new things next time the boy came over for a visit, Lindsey changed the subject.

A little later, when Brian tried to steer the conversation back to the topic of Gus coming over for a visit, and maybe a trip for both boys to the zoo, Lindsay said that was a great idea. She almost immediately volunteered to go with them, until Brian added that Justin was the one who’d suggested the zoo idea and he would be going too. Then, all of a sudden, Lindsey changed her mind, saying that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take Kevan since he was still so little and it would be more fun if it was just her, Brian and Gus, adding in the subtle dig that this would be a good opportunity to make up all the time he’d missed with Gus since the new baby arrived. Which, of course, led back to the topic of Justin needing to stay home with Kevan so Brian had more free time. The whole conversation felt like a vicious circle to Brian and he was itching to get out of there long before dinner was over.

And, as if all this harping over dinner hadn’t been enough, Lindsey made a point of pulling Brian over to the couch after dinner to have a ‘serious’ discussion with him. She apparently felt it necessary to reemphasize how concerned she was that Gus might be jealous of Kevan when he grew up because Brian spent so little time with Gus and so much with Kevan. She reiterated - for the hundredth time that evening - that Gus really needed a more stable fatherly influence in his life. Of course, being Lindsey, she had lots of suggestions on how Brian should remedy this problem including the repeated entreaty that he plan on spending more time with her and Gus without Justin or Kevan. She also added that, since Kevan had another father, Brian could afford to spend more time with Gus. Lindsey seemed to think that Brian was somehow being unfair and that by not spending time with his first son he was favoring the second son, all the while leaving out any discussion of the fact that Gus already had two full-time parents of his own.

To round out the evening nicely, Lindsey let her WASPish side show full-on by throwing in a plea for money. Brian had expected this, of course, because when had Lindsey not brought money into the equation any time Brian’s parenting of Gus was discussed. So, when Lindz segued from the topic of not favoring one child over the other into her concerns about how she always wanted her child to have all the best opportunities life had to offer and that it bothered her that these things were so expensive, Brian knew what was coming next. By the time Lindz finally got around to mentioning the new Montessori pre-school that was opening down the street, Brian was already reaching into his pocket for his checkbook. Brian was so eager to escape by that point that he considered the $5,000 he’d had to shell out a bargain. It was simply the cost of doing business - er, raising a child - with Lindsey Peterson. And it DID shut her up finally.

In the end, Brian was just glad to get out of there. He was worried that dealing with Mikey would be almost as stressful. But at least Woody’s would have copious amounts of alcohol to make the trials of dealing with the rest of his friends slightly less painful.

A chorus of ‘Brian!’ greeted him as soon as he stepped through the doors of Woody’s.

“What the hell?” Brian groused, trying to keep in character even though he was warmed by the show of friendship. “This isn’t ‘Cheers’ and I’m not Norm Peterson. You don’t have to all greet me in unison whenever I come into the fucking bar.”

“But, Honey, we just LOVE having you here. Your sunny disposition always brightens up the place, you know,” Emmett teased with good-natured sarcasm. “Now, just plant that gorgeous tushy right here, Mr. Kinney, and start spreading all that joy that seems to just follow you around everywhere you go.”

“Fuck you, Honeycutt.” Brian responded, right on cue.

“Don’t call me Honeycutt!” Emmett replied, following his script just as assiduously.

“What took you so long, Brian? You were supposed to be here a half hour ago,” Mikey nagged, his voice edged with a nasal whine that just screamed ‘jealous wife’.

“Don’t tell us . . . Something ‘came up’, right?” Ted supplied the standard answer before Brian could even open his mouth. “The only real question is was he blond, brunet or a redhead and how big was his dick?”

“Oh? What’s the matter, Theodore? Are you running out of material to jack off to? Is that why you’re hitting me up for the details of my sex life - because you’ll never have one of your own?” Brian snarked right back, earning himself a wry grin from Ted and a few giggles from the peanut gallery.

“Shit, Brian! I thought you were supposed to be going to Mel & Lindz’ for dinner? Only you could manage to pick up a trick when you’re out to dinner with a pair of bona fide dykes and your kid!” Mikey enthused, his voice betraying his pride in his friend’s amatory accomplishment even though the words themselves sounded reproachful.

“What can I say, Mikey? Sometimes it’s like I have to beat them off with a stick,” Brian quipped, playing along with the ruse.

“As opposed to the rest of us who have to just beat ourselves off,” Ted’s self-deprecating comment closing out that round of banter.

The advent of the waiter bringing over another round of drinks forestalled Brian having to make any further contributions to the inane conversation for at least a few minutes. The gang had moved on to discussing which recently outed celebrity they’d fuck and why - typical Saturday night fare for this group. The exasperated brunet sipped at his light beer slowly and let the usual chit chat whirl around him. He was having trouble getting into the spirit of the familiar joking exchange of gossip and teasing, though. For some reason, tonight it all seemed entirely pointless. It was essentially the same conversation he and the gang had every single time they got together. It was like a perfectly choreographed routine and none of them ever ventured out of their assigned role or forgot their lines. Except that Brian no longer felt like playing that role anymore.

Brian felt totally out of sync with the other three sitting around the small bar table. He didn’t know why but he just felt so out of place. Which was strange really. It wasn’t that long ago that Brian had spent pretty much every single night either here at Woody’s or out at a club with these guys. They used to spend hours doing this very thing - sitting around drinking, gossiping, joking with each other and generally acting like juvenile boys. Now it just seemed so incredibly tedious. Had he really enjoyed listening to this drivel every single day?

Thinking back, Brian realized that whenever he’d become bored with the gang’s banality in the past, his response had been to look around the bar, pick out the most likely trick and use that as an excuse to distance himself from the mind-numbing inanity. Hmmmm. Well, that had worked pretty well for him before - maybe it would work again tonight? He’d do anything to relieve this nagging boredom.

Brian quickly scanned the possibilities in his immediate vicinity without any real fervor. There were a couple of guys that seemed vaguely interesting, but nobody that really turned his crank. The fleeting image of a slight, alabaster-skinned blond with a more-than-proportionally-sized dick and an almost endless sex drive flittered through his mind briefly, but Brian carefully avoided examining that thought too closely. He was out at a bar on a Saturday night and for once he didn’t have an overly solicitous blond dogging his steps - he really shouldn’t waste this opportunity, right? He was still Brian Kinney, Stud of Liberty Avenue. What was he waiting for? He’d been constrained by circumstances to just one man for so long now that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to pick up a trick. It really was past time for him to get back into the swing of things. There was nothing holding him back anymore. He figured he owed it to himself to go for it. He deserved this. Right?

Zeroing in on a likely target - a tall, dark-haired muscle queen with big brown eyes and a sizeable bulge in his jeans - Brian slammed back the rest of his beer, clanked the empty bottle back onto the table and rose to his feet.

“Be back in a minute, boys. There’s somebody I’ve got to do,” Brian announced with all the bravado he could summon up from his studly past as he strutted off towards his intended prey.

“Mmmmmm! La Kinney’s Next looks like a very yummy morsel,” Emmett burbled as soon as the trio located the man that Brian appeared to be heading towards.

“Looks like our Studly Leader is back and as bad as ever,” Ted pronounced with an appreciative nod at Brian’s retreating form. “And he appears to have reverted to type too - looks like short, cute and blond is out and tall, dark and dangerous is back in style again.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Michael trumpeted gleefully. “It’s good to see Brian acting like Brian again. I was beginning to think that Boy Wonder had him totally dick whipped.”

Brian, who couldn’t help but hear all of these comments, wasn’t sure if he should be pissed off at the way his friends were talking about him or gratified that they still all looked up to him the way they did. On the one hand, he hated hearing Michael talking about Justin that way, implying that Justin somehow controlled him. But, on the other hand, Brian was too happy to hear the approving tones of Michael’s comments to really make a fuss over the content of the statements. It had been a long time since he’d felt that sense of validation from his long-time friend.

Before he had time to think the matter through any further, Brian came up to the group of guys huddled at the end of the bar that contained his target trick and he gratefully shoved the introspection to the back of his mind. It was time to get his mojo back. Time to treat himself to a trick. Time to recover his Stud status.

“You! Let’s go!” Brian grunted, barely even slowing down as he strutted past the big musclebound beefcake, and just assuming that the guy would follow - they always had before and Brian wasn’t about to let on that he was even the slightest bit nervous that this time it wouldn’t work.

Luckily, the bravado paid off and the prey followed Brian as expected, practically tripping over his heels with eagerness all the way to the john. Brian didn’t smile - that wouldn’t fit with the aloof personae he was going for - but he was actually relieved that this had worked and glad to see he hadn’t lost his pull. He didn’t stop until he came to the big handicapped stall at the end of the row of toilets, knocking open the door with his shoulder and manhandling the trick inside without any discussion at all. In fact, everything was going swimmingly until the trick, who’d obediently dropped to his knees as he worked at the buttons of Brian’s fly, glanced up and finally got a good look at the stud hovering above him.

“Oh my word! You’re that pregnant guy, aren’t you! Brian Kinney! Wow! I can’t believe I got to meet you! You’re so amazing!” The trick climbed back to his feet so that he could fawn over Brian more closely. “You HAVE to tell me - what’s it like to be pregnant? I mean, it’s got to be just amazing! Having a baby - another life - inside you! That’s got to be just amazing, right? And little Kevan - he’s such a doll - I’ve got a picture of the two of you as the wallpaper on my computer at work. You looked just SOOOOO amazing in that GQ spread!”

“Yeah, it was amazing,” Brian replied dryly, wiping at a tiny spot of spittle that the guy had sprayed on his shoulder along with his boundless enthusiasm. “Now, why don’t you get back on your knees and show me how amazing you can be while you blow me, buddy.” Brian used both hands on the trick’s shoulders and pressed down more forcefully than he normally would, hoping to get this proceeding back on the right track. “I didn’t pull your ass in here to listen to you babbling. I’d rather get sucked off than be sucked up to, so get to work.”

“Of course, Brian! Anything for YOU!” The trick instantly fell to his knees and addressed himself to the remaining buttons on Brian’s jeans, but continued to chatter all the while. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to suck Brian Kinney’s cock! This is like a dream of mine! I can’t wait to tell everyone in the chat group! They’ll never believe me! Before I go, could I maybe a get a picture of the two of us together. OOoooooo - maybe with your cock in the pic too, so I can prove that I sucked you off! My buddy, Matt, is going to just kick himself for staying home tonight!”

By this point in the proceedings, the Trying Trick had Brian’s fly open and his pants down below his balls. He’d also unbuttoned Brian’s shirt, allowing his hands to roam freely all over Brian’s belly and up to his chest. Brian was trying to ignore the inane blabbing and just concentrate on the feeling of Trying’s tongue lapping at his balls, his pubes and then his belly. He kind of wished the guy would just shut the fuck up and get on with it. Unfortunately, TT seemed to be too busy rubbing himself all over Brian and muttering crazy shit to actually get around to the sucking part.

“I love your belly, Brian. I wish I could have felt it when you were pregnant . . . Mmmm, you taste so good . . .” As the rubbing and licking and mumbling went on the sentiments seemed to get even more wild, the words disjointed and only a phrase here and there was understandable. “I want to touch ALL of you . . . Tongue bath . . . Lick the sweat from your armpits . . . Drink your bathwater . . .” Brian tried, at this point, to dislodge TT’s hand from where it was seemingly latched onto his tit, massaging at the slightly swollen pec almost painfully while he continued to salivate all over Brian’s belly. “. . . Big blue dildo and naming it Brian . . . Be your sex slave . . .  Love that you smell like sweat and sex and milk . . .”

“What the fuck?” Brian interrupted the desperate drivel, disgusted by the suggestion that he might smell like milk, and tried to push the TT away from him but the man now had one arm wrapped around Brian’s waist and had established a death grip so that he wouldn’t be disturbed in his attempt to lick every inch of Brian’s stomach. “Hey! Buddy! My cock is about four inches to the left of where you’re licking. What the fuck are you doing down there?”

“I love your stretch marks, Brian. Shit, they are so hot!” TT responded as he again licked at one of the stretch marks on Brian’s abdomen - one of the one’s that Justin had repeatedly assured him barely showed at all and therefore he’d been ignoring. “Can I please suck on your tits, Brian. Please? I just want to taste you one time,” TT pleaded as he licked his way up Brian’s torso even as the annoyed brunet was trying to fight the guy off. “Please, Brian! Don’t go! Please!”

Brian shoved with all his might and finally managed to dislodge Trying Trick’s grip. He quickly pulled up his pants, fumbling a bit with his fly but getting enough buttons refastened to ensure the pants would stay up and then struggled past the TT and out the door of the toilet stall. The TT followed, shuffling after Brian while still on his knees.

“Don’t go, Brian! Please! I just want to show you how amazing I think you are! I’m sure I can do anything that little blond can do for you! I could be the father of your next baby. Please, stay with me, Brian! I would even have YOUR baby, Brian! I’d do ANYTHING for you, Brian! ANYTHING! BRIAN!”

Brian practically ran out of the john, barrelling his way past the gallery of onlookers that were now congregated around the doorway, laughing and pointing at the TT who was on his knees in the middle of the bathroom floor, his hands clasped together, pleading for a retreating Brian Kinney to return so he could prove his unending devotion.

“Brian? Where are you going, Brian?” Michael called as his best friend flew past the table on his way to the exit. “Brian, come back! You haven’t finished your drink.”

All Brian could think of was that Justin was supposed to meet him at Babylon. He just had to get to Babylon. He had to get to Justin. Justin, who was the only person left who didn’t completely make him insane.

Justin was barely through the door at Babylon before Brian swooped down on him.

“Thank fuck you’re finally here, Justin!” Brian exclaimed loudly enough that even the blaring club music seemed quiet by comparison.

“Not that I don’t appreciate being missed, Brian, but what brought this on?” Justin asked, trying not to trip as Brian literally towed him through the crowd to a quieter spot at the far end of the bar.

“These people are fucking crazy, Sunshine,” Brian half explained, pulling Justin’s body around almost as if it was a shield that could protect him from the insanity of the general public.

“People are crazy . . . Well, I won’t argue about that. But are we talking about any specific people, Bri? Or were you just making a general comment on the nature of humankind as a whole?” Justin responded laughingly, adding a kiss to his partner’s frowning lips so that there wasn’t any sting to his words.

“Ha, fucking, ha, Sunshine!” Brian sniped back, feeling better already and not really minding that his blond was teasing him just so long as he kept the crazies away. “Just keep the fucking nutbars away from me, will you? These so called ‘fans’ are fucking annoying.”

“Oh. Poor Baby!” Justin couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Brian trying to hide out from his many fans. “I thought you liked being the center of attention, Brian?”

“Yeah, well, I can live without the ones on their knees begging to suck my tits because they think I smell like fucking breast milk and offering to father my next baby, Sunshine,” Brian retorted, knowing that the image of some rabid fan pleading to suck any part of his partner would be all that was needed to get Justin to see his point.

“Seriously? Fuckers!” Justin spat, immediately looking around him to make sure none of the tit-sucking, boyfriend-fucking, fans were anywhere near his man.

“Exactly.” Brian agreed, but feeling better already just knowing that Justin was standing next to him. “Now, come on, Sunshine. I’ll let you buy me a drink, then we can dance and you can try and make me forget the horror of it all.”

Brian waved to the bartender, who obligingly brought over two bottles of water. And Brian was just starting to cool off - both physically and mentally - when he caught a glimpse of the rest of the Liberty Avenue Gang sidling through the crowds towards their end of the bar. Brian sighed deeply and tried to prepare himself for the onslaught he already knew was coming.

“Brian! There you are. What the fuck happened back there? Why’d you leave us and just run out of Woody’s like that? Don’t you and Boy Wonder get enough of each other at home? You didn’t have to take off and leave the rest of us like that, Brian,” Michael’s nasal whine easily cut through the thumpa thumpa drone.

“Woody’s just wasn’t doing it for me tonight, Mikey,” Brian answered, trying half-heartedly to joke about the experience in order to hopefully throw his persistent friend off the subject.

“You know, the way you ran out of there, we all thought that trick must have bit it off or something! You should have seen your face, Brian! Was the guy THAT terrible? He looked pretty hot, but I’ve never seen Brian Kinney running away from a blowjob before. Hah!” Michael, unfortunately, wasn’t the least bit deterred and didn’t let his utter lack of tact stop him from saying whatever was on his mind no matter what the unintended consequences.

Brian knew that Michael’s comments weren’t going to go down well with his Sunshine even before he dared to look over at the blond who was standing next to him. Fucking Mikey and his ‘speak first, think never’ attitude. Was he completely clueless or intentionally trying to fuck up Brian’s life? It was one thing for Brian to decide it was time to go back to tricking, but a whole different can of worms to rub it into Justin’s face like that. He hadn’t exactly thought this through, but he didn’t think that THIS was the way he would have chosen to bring up the subject with the prickly young blond.

Brian took a deep breath before turning to confront what he suspected would be an already seething partner. “Sunshine . . .” Brian hesitated, not really knowing what he could possibly say right at that moment that might help. He wasn’t about to apologize - Brian Kinney didn’t do apologies, especially not for something like tricking. He’d never promised Justin that he wouldn’t trick so, in his mind at least, there was really nothing to apologize for anyway. All that being said, though, he realized it probably was something they should have discussed beforehand. And it was also an issue that would definitely be complicated by Michael’s unwitting and unplanned disclosure at this very inauspicious moment. Still, Brian wasn’t a coward and knew that he would have to deal with the fallout now that the matter HAD been raised.

So, with resignation, he looked up into the icy-blue, accusing eyes, steeling himself to engage in the necessary damage control.

“Hey, Brian! I’m so glad to see you. You really have perfect timing - this is my favorite song! Wanna dance?” An ardent voice coming from an unseen speaker standing somewhat behind Justin’s left shoulder interrupted the pending confrontation, making Brian wonder whether he should be thankful or scream with frustration.

“Oh good. Just what we needed - another fawning fan. I hope this one knows enough to cover his teeth when he’s blowing you. Have fun, Brian. I’m going home.” Justin growled, his voice just loud enough that only Brian could hear him.

“Sunshine . . . Stop!” Brian ordered, and reached out to grab ahold of Justin’s arm right as the younger man spun around, clearly intending to head towards the closest exit.

Which was when both of them finally got a good look at the young man who had broken into their conversation and was still waiting expectantly for Brian. Distracted as they were with their own argument, it took them both a few moments to place the face. However, as soon as they did, it set off alarm bells in both of their minds.

The beaming, worshipful face looking adoringly up at Brian was the same as the one that had been repeatedly pasted over Justin’s in picture after picture in the photo album delivered to Britin’s Chapel the week before.

“Fuck! We’re leaving, Brian! NOW!” Justin announced, grabbing hold of Brian’s hand and yanking the stunned man after him through the crowded bar, not slowing down for anything and unceremoniously shoving everyone out of their path until they were both standing outside on the sidewalk in front of the club.

Brian was too confused by the series of events that had unfolded over the course of this one night to protest much no matter how much Justin was manhandling him down the sidewalk and into the car. He couldn’t remember a night where he’d felt so universally rejected. He’d set out to placate all the various factions in his life - being a confidante to Linds, a good father to Gus, a hero to Mikey, the legendary Stud to the fags of the Avenue and a partner to his Sunshine - but somehow seemed to have failed everybody. He’d set out to kill three birds with one stone, but the stone seemed to have ricocheted back and taken him out instead.

As Justin bundled a still reeling Brian into the passenger seat of the jeep the words of some old adage about throwing stones and glass houses were niggling at the back of his consciousness . . . So much for trying to please all of the people in his life. Maybe he should just stay home tomorrow? But what would that really solve? Brian just hoped that Justin would continue to be there to handle the fallout whenever he did decide what role he really wanted to play.

Chapter 22 - AdMan Stuff.

Kevan was having so much fun with his new game this morning.

He was sitting in his bouncy chair which The Papa had put high up on the counter in the room where all the milk came from - well, at least the milk that didn’t come out of the The Daddy directly, which he preferred, of course, but when you were a hungry five-month-old baby you didn’t really care where the milk came from sometimes. Right? Anyway, while he was sitting and bouncing and watching The Papa and The Daddy moving around the Milk Supply Room doing all sorts of unexplainable Big People Things, like they did every morning, he’d discovered this amusing new game. It was really simple but endlessly entertaining. See, he’d found that when he spit out the stopper thing that The Papa always put into his mouth, it would fall down towards the floor and make a really interesting clattering noise. And then, after the clattering noises stopped, The Papa would pick the stopper thing up, run water over it and put it back in Kevan’s mouth.

Kevan rather liked the cool, wet feeling of the stopper. It was different. So, after the first time this happened, Kevan decided to try it again and see if The Papa would make the stopper wet again. And he did! Kevan wasn’t sure though if this was going to happen all the time or not - he still wasn’t really clear on the whole concept of cause and effect, and so he felt it was his duty to test these things repeatedly in order to ensure that they’d happen in the same order every time. But that was part of the fun, right? He didn’t really mind the testing part of the game, so he spit out the stopper again. And again. And again!

Boy was this fun! Kevan could make The Papa wet the stopper every time! What a stupendous, inspiring discovery! It was almost miraculous.

Of course, just when Kevan thought he’d figured out an immutable rule of the Universe - stoppers that were spit out would fall, make noise, be picked up by The Papa, made wet and reinserted in his mouth - then the whole thing went to doo-doo.

About the sixth time Kevan tried his little experiment, The Papa picked up the stopper . . . and put it down on the counter!

Dang! Another immutable universal principle of Kevan’s World was just disproved.

Well, if The Papa wasn’t going to continue the game by putting the stopper thing back in his mouth, Kevan could always practice his crying. He was working on a new higher-pitched wailing noise that he’d found to be most effective at getting The Daddy to come cuddle him. Maybe he should spend some time perfecting that instead?

Good Plan!

At 9:18 am Brian Kinney came barrelling out of the elevator at the Ryder Agency’s offices, his hands full of a screaming baby, a briefcase and a diaper bag that had burst its seams and was leaking baby paraphernalia everywhere.

“Brian! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for the past twenty minutes. The people from Dressing Fifi are waiting in the conference room. Marty’s trying to entertain them but he knows diddly-squat about the account, so if I were you I’d get my shapely behind in there ASAP.” Cynthia demanded, grabbing the briefcase and the remains of the diaper bag from her harried-looking boss.

“Fuck, Cynthia!” Brian zoomed past her into his office and started unloading all the stuff that had fallen out of the torn diaper bag from his suit coat pockets. “Emmett called at 8:30 to cancel on us - he’s got the fucking plague or something and is too busy puking up his guts to leave his apartment. Debbie’s working a double shift today because all the rest of the world - or at least all the Diner’s waitresses and waiters - seems to have the same strain of flu. And Justin’s got two mid-terms today that he can’t miss. Which means that Sonny Boy got to come with Daddy to work for the day.” Brian tried to modulate the tone of his voice so as not to sound too angry since his son was nearby and the more agitated he got the more the baby’s crying escalated, however his assistant could tell Brian was barely holding it together. “Unfortunately, it seems that we’re in the process of getting yet another tooth, which means that, when he isn’t using me as a teething toy, he’s screaming his adorable little head off.”

Brian grimaced at the unending wailing as he unceremoniously handed off Kevan to Cynthia. The elegant woman wasn’t really expecting to have her arms full of caterwauling infant and almost dropped him at first. Which, of course, didn’t do anything to quell the baby’s panicky crying. When she did get a grip on the wriggling, plump little body, and got a good look at the child, she had a hard time holding back her laughter. Kevan was dressed only in a thin cotton onesie with a caption on the front that read, ‘My Daddy Is A Stud Muffin’. He was also sporting a knit hat that made him look like he had a roast turkey upended on his head and, for some unknown reason, one lonely sock. Considering that it was February and not all that warm out, it wasn’t surprising that the baby had been crying at having been dragged out dressed like he was. Of course, it looked like there HAD been a blanket wrapped around the infant at one time, but it was now draped uselessly over Brian’s left shoulder.

Kevan’s daddy didn’t look much more put together this morning. Brian’s dress shirt was rumpled and wrinkled and only halfway tucked in. The pockets of his suit pants were turned out from when he’d been excavating them for the fallen baby toys that had escaped the diaper bag. Brian’s lovely pale yellow silk Armani tie had a large milky-green wet spot on one edge that looked suspiciously like baby spittal. Add to that disheveled hair that, instead of the sexy ‘Just Fucked’ look Brian preferred, seemed to give off more of a ‘Just Fucking Stressed Out!’ image, bloodshot eyes that spoke of a long sleepless night, and a slightly haunted look overall, and you got a picture of a rather panic stricken and thoroughly harassed father.

“Sonny Boy . . . Kevan, please . . . Please stop crying, Sonny Boy. Daddy has to go talk to the nice people who want me to help them sell their ridiculously expensive, high-end clothing for dogs. So you need to be a good boy and stop crying and stay here with Ms. Cynthia for a bit. Okay? Please, baby.” Brian, the always together, ever aloof, frequently unapproachable, business executive was now piteously begging his distraught five month old infant - to no avail whatsoever.

“Never mind that, Brian. I’ve got Kevan. You just get in there and take care of Mr. Spiegel and the rest of the dog fanciers,” Cynthia insisted, exchanging the file for the current clients with the spare bottle that Brian was still holding in one hand. “Kevan and I will be just fine for a few minutes. You go be brilliant as usual.”

Brian tucked his shirt in all the way, snugged his tie tighter and then ran his fingers through his hair while taking a deep breath. Then, with only a brief backwards glance at the still sniffling and whimpering Kevan, he marched out of his office towards the conference room down the hall. Cynthia held Kevan’s chubby hand and helped him wave ‘Bye-bye’ to his daddy.

She hoped nobody else noticed the pair of blue plastic baby pants that were partially hanging out of the back pocket of Brian's suit pants.

Almost an hour later the deal had finally been sealed and Brian was standing at the door of the conference room shaking hands as Ryder and the clients filed out. Despite the unexpected delay and his flustered entrance, once Brian had taken over the pitch everything had gone swimmingly. The CEO and Marketing Director of Dressing Fifi loved the concept Brian had come up with, raving over the superb quality of the photography that they thought showed off their line of ‘designer dogwear’ to it’s best effect.

Brian had been his usual charming self and had somehow managed not to let his contempt for the pretentious doggie clients and their ridiculous duds for mutts show on his face. He did make a mental note to brush up on dog breeds and other topics surrounding the type of pedigreed animals that these clients kept raving about - just in case he ever had to meet with them again. As he gathered up the presentation boards showing three dogs dressed in human clothing, he shook his head again. It seemed perfectly ridiculous to Brian Kinney, but he’d been amazed when he did his research for this client and found out the sheer volume of revenue people were willing to expend so that their dog could wear a matching track suit when they were out walking. But whatever! Selling useless stuff to idiots was what advertising was all about, right?

Brian stacked the boards on top of the table, looking at them critically one last time to see if there was anything he missed before he sent them off to the Art Department to finalize the campaign. He thought the little Yorkie and the chocolate Poodle both looked silly - although the clients had loved them. The little white Highland Terrier wasn’t so bad, though. If Brian had to have a dog, something like that wouldn’t be too annoying. Maybe in a few years, Kevan would like getting a pet? Of course Brian would never allow his dog to be dressed up like one of these, but a regular old dog - one that would fetch balls, do little tricks and entertain the kid - that wouldn’t be so bad, right?

And then Brian realized how lesbionic and lame these thoughts were and mentally bitch-slapped himself. What the hell was happening to him? That was one of those far too domesticated thoughts that just really didn’t belong in the head of Brian Kinney. He really needed to get a grip before his dick shrivelled up and fell off.

Leaving the boards where they were, Brian fled from the conference room and any thoughts about getting a family dog. He was happy to note that there were no longer any wailing baby noises coming from the direction of his office, which meant that Auntie Cynthia must have quelled the teething beast somehow. Thank fuck! Now, what the fuck was he going to do with his drooling, dripping, demanding offspring for the rest of the day while he tried to get some work done, he wondered? He was sure in the depths of his soul that Cynthia would not agree to baby wrangling for the entire rest of the day. And there was no telling when Justin would finally be done at school.

Brian once again cursed Emmett Honeycutt and the advent of cold and flu season.

As expected, Cynthia was waiting for him in his office. She immediately handed off a mostly placated Kevan. The baby looked up at Brian and smiled his little mini-sunshine smile as soon as he realized his Daddy was back. Brian felt his heart melt just a little. When the little monster wasn’t screaming his head off, he really was pretty cute, Brian thought.

Cynthia quickly scooped up the papers she’d been working on while watching Kevan and almost dashed for the door.

“Cyn . . .” Brian spoke up, trying to get a word in before she made good her escape.

“Don’t even bother, Brian,” Cynthia shot a devious smile at him over her shoulder without even slowing her pace. “I’ve got more than enough work of my own. I’m not playing Auntie for you all day. I’m afraid you’re on your own, Daddy!”

Brian scowled at the door which Cynthia closed behind her and through which he could still hear her giggling. “That’s okay. We don’t need her, do we Sonny Boy?” Brian replied, causing Kevan to turn his head towards his father, responding to the sound of his nickname. “So, how are we going to work this, huh?” Brian looked at the pile of papers in his inbox and sighed. “I couldn’t possibly talk you into taking a nap now, could I?”

Kevan smiled at his Daddy and gurgled, causing another freshet of drool to drizzle down his chin. Unfortunately he didn’t seem at all sleepy. But at least he was no longer wailing like a deranged banshee. Brian looked around his desk area, trying to figure out what exactly to do with the kid while he applied himself to his mounds of work. He’d left the car seat down in the car, which meant that he couldn’t use that as a convenient child holder. He didn’t, of course, have any other baby equipment here in his office - that would clutter up the minimalist decorating. He didn’t see the remains of the exploded diaper bag anywhere close by either, so pulling out a blanket or something to put on the floor wasn’t going to happen. Hmmm . . . it looked like Brian would just have to keep holding Kevan for the time being.

Kevan seemed to enjoy this arrangement. It meant he was at just the right height to grab at all the interesting papers and pens and other things on Daddy’s desk. Brian, who was trying to shuffle papers and type on his computer one-handed, all the while pulling things out of Kevan’s grubby fists, felt like he was fending off a baby octopus rather than a rather small human. He was already getting frustrated and was almost glad when his ringing cell phone interrupted him less than ten unproductive minutes later.

“Speak!”

“Hey, Brian!” Michael’s excruciatingly cheerful voice percolated through the phone’s small speaker.

Brian silently cursed himself for not looking at the caller ID before answering. “Mikey, I can’t really talk right now. I’ve got my hands full . . . literally!”

“No problem, Bri. I was just calling you back. I couldn’t answer my phone when you called before - we’re doing inventory at the store and I was up to my armpits in feminine hygiene products,” Michael laughed ingratiatingly at his own joke. “So, what did you need? In your message you sounded a little flustered.”

Brian hesitated to answer his friend. When he’d called and left a message for Michael earlier that morning he’d been at his wit’s end - desperate - and looking for help from anyone he could think of to call. But now that he’d cooled down a bit and the all-important client meeting was over, Brian was rethinking whether or not he really wanted Michael’s help. Yes, it would be helpful if someone would come take Kevan so he could get some real work done. But Michael? Brian wasn’t sure that his extremely immature friend was ready to take on a five-month-old. Now that he thought about it, Brian didn’t think he’d trust Mikey to take care of his houseplants - assuming he had any - let alone his son.

“That’s okay, Mikey. I’ve got everything under control again,” Brian responded finally.

“Oh. Okay. So, what are you doing for lunch today? ‘Cause Woody’s has this new deal - they’re trying to bring in more business during the lunch crowd, so they’re hosting games and have great food specials on weekdays now. Today is strip beer pong! I thought we could check it out.” Michael explained, sounding keen on the idea of watching strippers with his mid-day meal.

“You do know that you’re incredibly pathetic, don’t you, Mikey? Why the hell would I want to give myself indigestion by watching some losers strip and get drunk while I’m trying to eat my lunch?” Brian was rolling his eyes at his friend’s idea of fun and congratulating himself that he hadn’t said anything about the man babysitting Kevan - it was questionable which of the two of them, Michael or Kevan, was the more mature.

“Come on, Brian! It’ll be fun. I’m sure there’ll be at least a couple of decent looking guys there. And I know how you like to get in a little ‘stress relief’ over your lunch hour. Besides, it’ll save you a trip to the Baths after work!” Michael pleaded.

“I can’t, Mikey. Honeycutt’s home with the flu today so I’ve got Kevan with me at work,” Brian finally fessed up. “The thing about parenthood, Mikey, is that you don't always get anonymous sex breaks twice a day. So you’ll have to go watch strip beer pong without me."

“What? Shit, Brian! Why didn’t Justin take the kid for the day? Doesn’t he understand you have to work? He’s so fucking selfish all the time. I mean, you’re not only supporting him but paying for his school and art and shit and he can’t even take care of his own kid for one lousy fucking day? I don’t know why the fuck you put up with him,” Michael started to go off on Justin as usual. “I’m tempted to call the little shit and give him a piece of my mind.”

“Fuck you, Michael! Justin’s got mid-terms today and a big project due for school. He would have stayed home with Kevan if he could, so just shut the fuck up about shit you know nothing about. Now, you go on and waste your day away watching strip beer pong - I’m going to go back to taking care of my kid and doing my job like a real grown up. Have fun, Mikey!” Brian snarled and then hung up the phone before Mikey had time to start with the inevitable whining.

When he disconnected the call, Brian spun around in his chair to find that Marty Ryder was seated in the guest chair in front of his desk with a malicious smirk on his smarmy, florid face. “Well, well, well. The great Brian Kinney reduced to changing wet nappies and playing Peek-a-Boo! Hahaha! I never thought I’d see this day!” Ryder laughed outright at the ‘caught’ look on Brian’s face. “Back when my kids were younger, my second wife used to try and pull this kind of shit on me too. I think she figured that if I had to take the kids for the day I wouldn’t be fucking around on her. Of course, I never let that slow me down for long. My secretary would just order the most recent intern to babysit and then the two of us would head out for a nice looooong lunch. No problem.”

“Yeah, well, first of all, Marty, I don’t have a wife - thank fuck! - and secondly, I’m not at all interested in a long lunch with Cynthia. So it’s really not a problem for me either,” Brian replied, hoping to wipe the condescending look off the bastard’s face.

“Hah! You sound just like every other pussy-whipped husband on the planet - defending the little woman!” Ryder seemed tickled pink at the way he was finally getting Brian’s goat. “Guess things aren’t really that different even if you’re gay. A hen-pecked husband is the same everywhere.”

If it had been anyone other than his boss spouting this kind of shit to his face, Brian would have simply told the guy to fuck off. But, since he didn’t have that option in this situation, he was forced to just sit there and seethe. Kevan, who could feel his father’s growing agitation, started to whimper and wriggle, making Brian even more embarrassed in front of his demeaning boss.

“Not that it isn’t a ‘slice’ sitting here and listening to you belittle me, my partner and our child, Marty, but is there some work-related reason you came in here? Something other than commenting on my ‘little woman’?” Brian prodded, hoping to move this little meeting along and get Marty Ryder the fuck out of his office as soon as possible.

“Actually, there was a reason for me coming in here . . . I have some great news. After ten years of schmoozing their VP of Marketing, I finally got us a meeting with Pittsburgh Steel.”

“Wow. Not bad, Marty. They’ve been with the same Madison Avenue advertising firm for twenty-five years. I didn’t think they were even in the market to switch agencies. How’d you manage that?” Brian asked, impressed for once with his boss’ coup.

“Well, Clint MacGregor and I have been friends for years. We belong to the same golf club and have moved in the same social circles forever,” Marty explained. “But, unfortunately, I can’t take all the credit for Clint finally giving us a shot; it turns out that his wife is one of your biggest fans. It seems she read that interview in GQ and has become fixated on you - Clint’s words, not mine. Once she found out you were in advertising she started hounding her husband relentlessly to let you take a stab at their advertising. From what he said, I take it he wasn’t going to be ‘getting any’ at home until he gave in, so you, my boy, are on. You’ve got an appointment with their marketing team today at 2:00.” Ryder practically crowed over this unprecedented opportunity. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

As he stood up, Marty grinned deprecatingly and flicked his finger at a spare baby pacifier that had been sitting forgotten on the edge of Brian’s desk, sending the binky flying across the room. “And, Brian, leave the baby binkies - and the baby - at home, huh? I’ve wanted PittSteel in my portfolio for years and I won’t be forgiving if you screw this one up, Kinney.”

Brian smiled facetiously at Ryder’s back until the older man had closed the office door. “Fucker!” Brian whispered in the direction Ryder had left, again trying not to raise his voice and thereby set off another crying spree in his already agitated son. “Shit, Sonny Boy. What the fuck are we going to do now? What, exactly, does Daddy’s asshole of a boss think I should do, huh? Oh, right, his idea of good parenting is to have me park you with one of the brainless interns he’s hired so I can go out, fuck my secretary and then, when I’m done there, go win the PittSteel account for him. What do YOU think of that plan, kiddo?” Brian noticed that Kevan was no longer looking happy or smiling, so he kissed the infant’s chubby cheek reassuringly and bounced the baby on his knee a little. “Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that plan either, Sonny Boy. In fact, I think there’s probably a good reason why Marty’s got three EX-wives. And I don’t think your Papa is the ‘little woman’ type - no way would he let me get away with that kind of shit. We’re going to have to come up with a Plan B, Sonny Boy.”

Brian got up and started pacing around the perimeter of his office with Kevan in his arms. However, despite of the fact that pacing almost always helped Brian think, he wasn’t coming up with any good ideas this time. The only alternative he could think of was Michael and, after the phone conversation earlier, Brian didn’t think he could trust the childish man with his child.

The longer Brian paced without arriving at any real solution, the angrier he became. Why the hell was this kind of shit happening to HIM? He hated how fucking complicated his life seemed these days.

Brian was almost as excited as Ryder about getting the chance to pitch to PittSteel. It was the largest company in Pittsburgh and had an almost bottomless advertising budget. After the Armani coup last summer, if Brian could win PittSteel, Ryder would HAVE to finally offer him that partnership he’d been dangling in front of him for so long.

But it was just his luck that when the opportunity of a lifetime came along, Brian was stuck playing Nanny for the day. How the hell had this happened to him. When did his life get so off track?

Brian looked at the child who was now almost asleep in his arms and sighed. He loved his son so much . . . but sometimes he resented the hell out of him too. If it weren’t for Kevan, Brian’s life would have been so much simpler. For one thing he wouldn’t be so busy worrying about childcare issues that he didn’t have time to think about the pitch he had to give to PittSteel in just over three hours. And, while Brian didn’t really WANT to turn into the kind of cliche that would be out fucking his secretary during his lunch hour or wasting his time watching a strip beer pong tournament, it still sucked that he was chained to the office with an infant in tow. A year ago, Brian wouldn’t have even thought twice before spending his lunch hour at the Baths or in the steam room at the gym letting some nice looking trick have the honor of helping him relieve his stress.

And now look at him. He was a mess. He had spit up on his fucking tie and his hair looked like shit today. It had been so long since he’d gotten a full, uninterrupted night’s sleep that he didn’t remember what it felt like NOT to be exhausted. He felt utterly pathetic.

Brian knew that he shouldn’t put any stock in the drivel that Marty Ryder or Michael Novotny had spouted - and his reasoning mind had already rejected it all - but it was hard not to let it seep into his subconscious anyway. Somehow, he still felt like a poor dick-whipped house-husband. And even though he knew, logically, that Justin really had needed to take these tests today and couldn’t help it, he felt like his son’s other father had somehow abandoned him to this pitiable fate.

Fuck! He hated feeling so fucking domesticated. So trapped. So NOT Brian Kinney. He hated the fact that he’d lost his independence. He hated that his ‘Fuck-em-all’ lifestyle had evaporated in front of his very eyes. He hated that he couldn’t do jack squat without feeling like he was letting someone down. He hated that he couldn’t even go out and trick these days. And he hated the fact that he was starting to hate his life, resent his partner and begrudge his son for the time the boy took away from other parts of his life.

If something didn’t let up soon, Brian felt like he might explode. Or worse, turn into his bitter, resentful and bellicose father. Which scared the fuck out of him and made him even more angry since he didn’t want to fall into the same trap his hateful father had complained about all his life. In Brian’s mind, turning into his father was the absolute worst thing he could imagine.

And it looked like that possibility wasn’t as unthinkable as he’d once assumed it to be.

Right about the time Brian had reached nearly full boil, his internal ranting was interrupted by a quiet knocking on the door. He was still pacing and holding a sleeping Kevan, who was now propped against his Daddy’s shoulder happily drooling all over Brian’s brand new Zegna dress shirt, so Brian didn’t call out to tell whoever was knocking to come in. Before he could cross the room to open the door, however, it creaked open and Justin came tromping through the previously silent room with a very exuberant, “Hey, boys! Papa’s here to save the day!”

When Kevan startled awake, already in full cry, Brian growled and then quickly shoved the sobbing little body into Justin’s equally startled arms.

“It’s about fucking time! But did you have to wake him up just when he’d finally stopped with the fucking noise-maker impression?” Brian snarled, having to raise his voice in order to be heard over the squalling infant.

“Fuck you, Brian! I got here as soon as I could,” Justin yelled back even as he was patting and shhhing Kevan in an attempt to quiet his son’s caterwauling. “Instead of screaming at me and scaring the shit out of our son, you could try thanking me for skipping the rest of my classes for the day in order to rush over here and save your sorry, bitchy ass. I even managed to get my sculpture professor to give me an extension on my midterm project - which, by the way, involved a humiliating amount of groveling - because I knew you’d be stressed out and that, as a good, considerate partner, I needed to get here as soon as possible instead of taking the time to finalize my project and turn it in on time. Although, now that I’m here, I’m starting to wonder why the fuck I bothered.”

“What-the-fuck-ever, Justin. I’ve got to get ready for a new client presentation that Ryder only gave me three hours notice about,” Brian replied, the anger and stress and fear he’d been feeling boiling over before he could even think to control it or aim it somewhere other than the unsuspecting man who’d walked through his door. “I don’t have time to pat your shoulder and thank you profusely for doing the fucking job that we agreed you would do. Or did you forget that the whole reason I agreed to you and I living together was because you swore you’d take care of Kevan? Well, fucking do it then! I don’t have time to listen to your nagging or play nanny. I’m the one supporting all of us and paying for not only the house you live in but your fucking school too! Now, fuck off so I can work already and take the little wailing parasite with you!”  

Justin was simply too stunned by Brian’s unexpected and aberrant attack to think of any response. The younger man had seen his partner pissed off before. He’d seen Brian being sarcastic, cutting and sometimes even purposefully hurtful before. He’d even witnessed a few times when the brutally honest man had been intentionally cruel, especially when he had a point to make or thought he was acting in his victim’s best interest. But Justin had never been on the receiving end of anything quite so vitriolic and downright vicious. And he NEVER thought he’d see Brian take out his anger on their son this way. What the fuck was going on here? Where the hell was Brian Kinney? This couldn’t be the kindhearted man and doting father Justin thought he knew. The man who’d just called the child he adored a ‘parasite’ couldn’t be the same Brian Kinney.

Justin was so shocked that all he could think about was getting away from this angry stranger and taking Kevan somewhere far, far away from here. Somewhere they’d be safe. And so Justin basically grabbed Kevan and ran out of Brian’s office without looking back.

!!!!!!!!!KDTK!!!!!!!!

Chapter 23 - Blue Light Special.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, Justin! Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah! BLAH BLAH BLAH! BLAH. GROWL. GRRRR . . .”

The Daddy’s mouth sounds had been loud and not happy. Kevan didn’t like the loud, unhappy noises at all. He also didn’t like the way The Daddy’s face got all red or the way The Daddy’s mouth turned down at the corners or the way The Daddy’s eyes turned dark and growly. The more The Daddy growled at The Papa the more Kevan’s tummy hurt but he was almost too upset to cry anymore.

Later, after The Papa took Kevan away from The Daddy, The Papa started to make even more unhappy mouth sounds - these sounds were like the one’s Kevan made himself when his tummy hurt or when he was hungry. Kevan really, really didn’t like hearing The Papa make those kinds of noises. That was his job. The uneasy feelings became even greater when The Papa’s face got all red and blotchy and wetness started to leak out of The Papa’s pretty blue eyes that Kevan usually found so comforting. The Papa was supposed to be the calm one. The one who made the unhappy feelings go away. It was very disconcerting to find out that The Papa wasn’t always in control. That even The Papa sometimes felt unhappy.

Kevan didn’t like it at all. He figured that since all of his big people things were unhappy, he might as well be unhappy too. So, accordingly, Kevan let loose with a nice big wailing cry too.

Both Kevan and The Papa spent the rest of their drive home from The Daddy’s office making loud unhappy noises until they were both cried out.

“Thank you, Brian. I must say I’m impressed. Your ideas are quite refreshing. Maybe I should have listened to Marty and let you guys take a stab at our advertising years ago,” Clint MacGregor said as he heartily shook Brian’s hand. “Now the only problem is that I’m going to have to tell my wife, Elsie, that she was right about letting you make a pitch, and she’s going to have me eating crow for a week.”

Brian chuckled politely at the man’s quip. “Thank YOU for giving me this chance to show you what the Ryder Agency can do for you, Mr. MacGregor,” Brian replied calmly. “I should have some preliminaries ready for you to look at in about two weeks. I’m sure we’ll come up with a campaign that everyone on the PittSteel board will love.”

“I don’t doubt it at all, my boy. Not at all,” Mr. PittSteel clapped Brian on the shoulder with a bit of fatherly affection as he showed the younger man out of the conference room on the twenty-fifth floor of the huge PittSteel building. “How about you and I meet privately to review everything a couple of days before the full board meeting so we can iron out any last minute details? In fact, why don't we do it over dinner at the club? You can bring your partner and that adorable little miracle baby and that'll give my Elsie a chance to tell you all about how she's your biggest fan ever.” Clint chuckled again. “She'll get a kick out of meeting you guys in person and I'll be a hero for bringing you all together. What do you say, Kinney? Your partner won't mind, will he?”

“Of course not, Mr. MacGregor. I'm sure Justin and I would be happy to join you and your wife for dinner,” Brian assured the man, adding under his breath, “provided he's even talking to me after today.”

“Excellent! I'll have my secretary call your office to set things up.” MacGregor gushed, shaking Brian's hand one more time before heading back to his office and leaving Brian to his solitary elevator ride down to the street-level lobby.

Brian made it all the way to his car before he let himself fall apart.

The past few hours had gone by in a sort of blurry haze. He'd forced himself to concentrate on preparing for the PittSteel meeting to the exclusion of everything else. With Cynthia's help he’d gone over stacks of demographic information, committed to memory pages of corporate data and reviewed years of the potential client’s past ads. But now that the meeting was over and it looked like he'd been once again successful in roping in yet another big name client, Brian had nothing else to occupy his thoughts with.

Nothing, that is, other than the pending fallout from his earlier confrontation with Justin.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit . . . Fuck!” Brian yelled as he pounded against the padded steering wheel of the Audi with both fists.

The image of a shocked and horrified Justin - the same image he'd been suppressing from his conscious mind all day - was now right there front and center almost as if he was reliving it all. Echoes of the nasty words he'd thrown at Justin kept jolting through his memory but it was almost like the words had been spoken by someone else. Brian couldn't believe that he'd done and said what he knew he'd done and said.

Yes, Brian had been totally stressed out right when Justin had appeared. He'd had a for shit morning, what with Emmett getting sick, Kevan teething, the diaper bag falling apart, being late for a client meeting and then the lovely conversations with both Mikey and Marty - it was understandable that he'd been ready to blow a gasket after all that. But still, Brian knew he'd been in the wrong. He'd only lashed out at Justin because the boy had been a convenient target. The unsuspecting youth had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Brian had needed to vent and had taken it all out on the first person to come along.

Not that Brian expected Justin to be at all understanding about the circumstances surrounding his little temper tantrum.   

In fact, if he knew his feisty little blond, there were going to be some serious repercussions. Very serious. Maybe catastrophic. Justin might have basically fled from Brian's office earlier, but the brunet knew that was only a strategic retreat and it would be followed up by a major tactical offensive sooner rather than later. And Brian would definitely NOT like whatever was coming.

However, even worse than the remorse he felt at having taken out his temper on Justin or his dread about how his partner was likely to react, was Brian's guilt over having acted the way he had in front of his son. Growing up in a household filled night and day with screaming arguments, hard fists and unreasonable punishments had been a nightmare for Brian. He sometimes wondered how he'd ever survived. And because of his less than stellar childhood experiences, Brian has sworn that he would NEVER act like that with regard to his own children. In his mind, yelling at Justin the way he had in front of Kevan was practically unforgivable. He'd sounded just like Jack on one of his worse days. Maybe Brian was just like his father? Maybe he'd turn out to be just as horrible of a parent? Maybe he didn't deserve a beautiful son or a kindhearted lover? So, it looked like he was turning out to be a shitty father - was anyone really surprised? Maybe they'd all be better off if Brian just walked away now before anyone got really hurt?

But the mere thought of never seeing his son again filled Brian with a sense of panic so strong that he almost couldn't breathe. The usually stalwart man found himself gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers as he leaned his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat, squeezed his eyes tightly closed to hold back the incipient tears and struggled to calm his erratic breathing. No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't just walk away from his son and Justin. That would kill him.

What could he do to make it up to them, though? Brian remembered the times his own father had attempted to make up with an angry Joan Kinney - Jack would bring her pathetic, half-wilted flowers or some little bauble, all of which seemed so paltry, not to mention ineffective. That method of making amends always felt to Brian like emotional blackmail. It seemed like Jack was simply buying forgiveness while never having to actually admit any fault for the things he’d done. No way was Brian going to pull some hetero bullshit like that on Justin.

Besides, Brian never apologized to anyone. That just wasn’t his style. When he knew that he’d done something wrong he’d act like a man, admit he was wrong and then, if he could, he’d fix it. If not, he’d live with the outcome. He’d always said he didn’t ‘do’ regrets, and he didn’t want to start now.

Of course, all that being said, he still had no idea how to fix what he’d done and he couldn’t bear to think that he’d be forced to live with the consequences if that involved permanently alienating his partner and their son.

After sitting there for more than ten minutes stewing, however, Brian still hadn’t come up with a good plan. If anything, he was getting more and more anxious about the whole thing and that wasn’t helping his thought processes any. Shit! Why the fuck wasn’t this relationship shit easier? There should be a manual handed out with every single relationship that outlined all the duties and responsibilities for each party with an extensive section dealing with conflict resolution between the parties in the event of a dispute. That was what a reasonable business person would do - have a well drafted contract - and it would solve so many problems. Unfortunately, Brian had somehow never gotten the manual and didn’t remember any contract negotiations when he’d somehow become unwittingly embroiled in a relationship with an irresistible blond twink sporting a dangerously addictive dick.

With a sigh, Brian turned the key in the ignition. He hadn’t come up with any good ideas, but he couldn’t sit in the parking structure of the PittSteel building all night either. Maybe he’d come up with a cunning plan on the drive home.

Fifteen minutes later Brian still hadn’t come up with a cunning plan but that was okay because he’d found a bar instead and determined that a little liquid inspiration might help him come up with something workable. Even as Matt the bartender set the first tumbler of Jim Beam in front of him, Brian felt some of the tension he’d been suffering under drain from his body. Not all of it . . . but a little bit. And even that much relief was palpable. Maybe once he relaxed and wasn’t quite so stressed out his brain would start to function again and he could think his way out of this mess.

Sadly, that wasn’t meant to be. Before he’d started on his second drink, Brian sensed someone settling onto the bar stool next to him and when he turned to see who’d dared to interrupt his musings, he groaned. It was that annoying fanboy . . . Tad or Tab or Tip or something. Why couldn’t he ever get a fucking break? Brian really did NOT want to have to deal with some loser fanatic tonight. He just wanted to sit and drink in peace while he thought through what he was going to do. He really wasn’t in the mood for an irritating Superfanboy.

“Hi, Brian! It’s so great to see you! Isn’t it amazing that we’re both here at Woody’s tonight at the same time. It’s like ‘Fate’ is trying to tell us we should be together, isn’t it? So what are you drinking? I bet that’s a JB. Am I right? Because that’s what you always get. Well, except when you don’t really want to get drunk, and then you just have a beer. Right? I think I’ll have a JB too. Then we can be ‘drinking buddies’!” The annoying, babbling fanboy rambled on and on, his verbal diarrhea never letting up for more than a second or two at a time, while Brian tried his best to ignore the slightly creepy young man.

“How’s our sweet little Kevan-man? He’s growing up so fast, isn’t he? When I saw him the other day at the supermarket, I just couldn’t believe how big he’s getting. And he looked just adorable in that turkey hat I got him - didn’t he?” Tip or Tig or whatever kept gushing, his words finally getting a rise out of Brian when the creep started talking about Kevan in such a familiar way.

“Listen you nutcase, you keep the fuck away from my son! Do you hear me?” Brian turned around on the bar stool so that he was facing a surprised Tag, spitting his words into the startled younger man’s face and emphasizing each sentence with a finger poking into the other’s chest. “I want you to stop following me and my family around. I want you to stop sending stupid gifts and shit to my house and I want you to leave me the fuck alone! I’m NOT interested - not in you or your piles of crappy gifts. If you do send anything else to my house, I’m throwing it in the trash unopened. And if you even DARE to come near my partner or my son ever again, I’ll be getting a restraining order against you. So just take your fucked up delusions about me and get out of my face. I don’t want to ever see you again. Got it?” Brian screamed, venting all his frustrations about not only this one particular annoying fan but his whole fucked up day.

“But . . . but, Brian . . .” the fawning youth stammered, reaching out with both hands as if to reassure and calm the raging brunet. “You don’t mean that, Brian. You’re just tired and stressed out. I can see that. You must have had a really hard day at work . . .”

“Actually, Tig, I really, really, really DO mean it. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me!” Brian ordered, standing up so that he towered menacingly over the slight young man and pointing very decisively towards the bar’s main entrance.

Taggart backed slowly away from a totally irate Brian, looking like he was trying to melt into the linoleum while every other patron in the bar stared at the surprising confrontation.

When the boy was only a few feet away from the door, Brian added, “Oh, by the way, I fucking HATE that ridiculous turkey hat! It’s the fugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Only a total moron would buy shit like that . . . or Honeycutt. And now that I know HE didn’t buy it, I no longer have any reason not to burn that fucking piece of crap hat!”

This last comment seemed to be the final straw. Tag’s face crumpled and he burst into hot, humiliated tears before turning and running out the door. The curious cantina crowd continued to stare while they whispered comments to one another, although nobody was brave enough to approach Kinney too closely. Brian swept the entire gaggle of onlookers with one last withering glare before turning back towards the bar, muttering to himself the entire time about ‘annoying fans without any fucking sense of taste whatsoever’.

Brian’s moment of relaxation had flown away though, and now he was even more tense than when he’d come in. He quickly knocked back the rest of his drink before getting up and leaving. So much for trying to think up a plan as to how he would confront Justin. Brian was more anxious than ever. But it was getting late and he was stressed out beyond belief. He just really wanted to go home. He figured his best shot was simply to wing it and hope Justin was feeling merciful. And if his partner refused to forgive him, Brian thought he could at least beg to be put out of his misery swiftly.

After the day Brian had experienced so far, that option wasn’t looking all that bad.

Britin’s Chapel was almost silent when Brian finally got home. The only lights on inside were a nightlight in the back hallway and the small under-counter lights in the kitchen. Brian came in through the back door, hung up his coat, kicked off his shoes and left his keys on the little side table there and then walked past the closed door of the master bedroom, not quite brave enough to venture inside just yet. He padded down the hall into the Greatroom, feeling antsy and unsettled, almost as if he expected someone to jump out at him from around every corner. It wasn’t that late yet and he’d expected to find Justin and Kevan in the kitchen making dinner or playing in the living room area. The eerie quiet he was met with instead was unnerving.

Once he’d surveyed the main rooms and confirmed they were empty of all life, Brian sighed, squared his shoulders and headed back down the hall. Giving in to his cowardice for just a moment, he again shied away from his bedroom door and instead opted for a peek into the nursery. Brian was so relieved when he saw that his son was indeed there - sitting up in his crib acting uncharacteristically content while he quietly burbled to his new Uglyworm doll - that he felt his knees go all wobbly. He quickly walked over to the crib, to greet his son.

In the back of his mind, Brian had been just a tiny bit worried that Justin might be so angry that he would take Kevan and leave. He’d never really thought he deserved to be happy, or have a family or a house or a partner or anything else that happy people take for granted. He’d never even imagined it was possible for him to be happy. He knew he could be successful. He knew he was attractive and could pull any guy he wanted. But he’d always doubted that true happiness was something that HE was entitled to. So the mere sight of his son went quite a ways towards soothing the worried man’s jangling nerves.

“Hey, Sonny boy.” Brian whispered, reaching down at the same time to gently caress the boy’s soft, chubby cheek. When the touch elicited a huge, happy, drool-filled grin, Brian felt almost like sobbing out of sheer relief. “I’m glad you’re not the sort to hold a grudge, Sonny boy. Maybe you could talk to your Papa for me?” Kevan replied with a gurgle and a goo, and Brian couldn’t help but smile his first real smile of the day in response. “Yeah, I don’t think that would work either. But at least he wouldn’t bite YOUR head off . . .”

Brian looked over his shoulder at the doorway back into the silent hall and had to control a shudder. He looked back at the baby and briefly contemplated hiding out in Kevan’s room for the rest of the night. Not that hiding would make things any better - it would just be easier in the short term. But, no. Brian knew he’d have to face this head on and he might as well get it over with . . . even if he still didn’t have a clue what he was going to say when he did finally face Justin.

“Daddy loves you and he promises not to yell at you or your Papa like he did this morning ever again, okay?” Brian murmured, leaning down to leave a kiss on the top of his son’s head. The little mini-Sunshine smile Kevan beamed up at him made Brian’s heart do a flip-flop in his chest - it was so beautiful and reminded him so much of the boy’s other father. The other father that he now had to go talk to.  “So . . . here goes nothing. Wish me luck, Sonny boy,”

Brian closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to reassure himself that he could do this thing. Then he turned towards the nursery door and walked slowly along what he privately thought of as his own personal Green Mile. The approximately five feet of hallway between Kevan’s room and the master suite had never seemed so long before. Even the bedroom door itself looked ominous.

Feeling like he was on his way to face a firing squad, Brian reached out, gripped the door handle and cautiously pushed open the door.

Justin was sitting in the center of the big bed, his back cushioned by several pillows all propped up against the headboard, his knees drawn up and his arms circling loosely around his thighs. He hadn't bothered turning on any lights so the room was completely in shadows. He'd been trying to sketch earlier - back when there was still some daylight to see by - but he'd given up the feeble attempts and now his sketchbook lay abandoned next to him atop the thick, dark blue, raw silk duvet.

Justin had had a lot of time to think. He'd had time to cool off. He'd even had time to call Cynthia in order to find out what the hell had happened at Ryder that morning before he'd shown up in Brian's office. He was no longer furiously angry at Brian. No, his anger had had sufficient time to simmer down to the point that he was now just silently seething. The only problem was that he hadn't yet decided precisely where he should direct his anger.

Justin had seen the signs of Brian’s growing levels of discontent for weeks now. He knew that his partner was pretty stressed out by all the various factions of his life pulling at him in conflicting directions. When it was just their own little family at home alone, things seemed fine. But that was the only time that Brian was able to let himself relax and just be. Whenever they’d gone out in public though, Brian would morph into a completely different person. And it wasn’t always a person that Justin liked very much. Today, though, was the first time Justin had seen a side of Brian that actually frightened him.

Justin had known from the beginning that full-time parenthood was going to be a stretch for Brian, despite how much the man had looked forward to the idea of his son. He knew without a doubt that Brian loved Kevan, no matter how hard it was sometimes for him to show it. And, considering the dysfunctional childhood his lover had grown up in - a childhood where any display of affection was not only discouraged but occasionally even punished - it was a miracle that Brian wasn’t even more closed off with his feelings. All of Brian’s unvoiced insecurities about his parenting abilities didn’t help matters much either. In spite of his difficult past though, Brian was a wonderful father . . . when he let himself be. The problem was that Brian rarely let himself enjoy that role.

Lately there always seemed to be something or someone pulling Brian away from Kevan and Justin. Justin understood Brian’s desire to be successful in business - that was an inherent part of Brian’s nature and always had been. Unfortunately that was also one of those things that seemed to be pulling Brian away from his family right now. And from what Cynthia had told him earlier, it sounded like Marty Ryder was heaping Brian with new and more stressful demands at an alarming rate. It was completely understandable that Brian was feeling the strain of these extra obligations.

Justin found it a lot harder to be understanding about the impositions Brian was being subjected to by his friends and family. Between Michael’s seeming inability to give up his childhood playmate and Lindsey’s narcissistic need to be the focus of Brian’s attention at all times, it was no wonder that Brian felt pulled in too many different directions. If he didn’t know that Brian would resent any unsolicited interference, Justin would have long ago told both Michael and Lindsey to fuck off. Not that they’d listen to him, of course, since everyone seemed convinced that he was just a kid who knew nothing and - at least as far as Michael was concerned - hopefully wouldn’t be around for much longer anyway. In the meantime, though, they just had to live with these added family stressors.

So, yeah, Justin totally understood why Brian was tense, overloaded, burned out and ready to explode. To a certain extent, it wasn’t really a big surprise that Brian had slipped this morning and lashed out in order to relieve a bit of the anxiety. And once he’d cooled off, Justin had realized that the angry words hadn’t really even been meant for him - that he was just the most convenient target at the time. It was even a tiny bit gratifying to realize that he was probably the only person that Brian felt safe enough with that he could voice some of those feelings and thereby vent a little of the pressure. It was all completely understandable.

And also completely unacceptable.

Justin would not put up with being treated like Brian’s whipping boy. And he wouldn’t let Brian take out his frustration on their son either. Brian was going to have to learn some healthier ways of managing his stress. Preferably sooner rather than later.

Justin was still in the process of determining what those alternatives would be and how he was going to convince Brian to change when he heard the rumble of a car engine out back and then the whirr of the garage door opening. The luminescent numbers of the clock sitting on Brian’s bedside table showed that it was surprisingly early. Justin hadn’t expected Brian to slink home with his tail between his legs until much, much later. He hoped that was a good sign.

The creak of the back door’s hinges and the softly padding steps allowed Justin to follow his partner’s progress through the house. It was reassuring that there wasn’t any stumbling, stomping or loud expletives, which meant that Brian hadn’t tried to drink away his problems before coming home. That was an unexpected but very good sign. He was happy to note that Brian spent a bit of time in the baby’s room - the low murmur of voices telling him that Brian and Kevan were having a conversation. Another very good sign. And then there were more soft, hesitant footsteps ending at the bedroom door.

Justin waited patiently for several long minutes until the door gradually swung open and he could see the vague outline of Brian’s tall, broad-shouldered form halting just inside the doorway. He was curious to see what Brian would say, how he would start off this conversation, so Justin stayed where he was and said nothing. Brian didn’t bother with the lights. He also didn’t say anything at first, either. He just took three indecisive steps forward until he reached the foot of the bed, then turned and seated himself with his back towards a still silent Justin.

“I don’t think I can do this, Justin.” The words, when they finally came, were so faint that Justin would have missed them if the house hadn’t been so absolutely quiet - as if the whole world was waiting for Brian’s pronouncement. “I don’t want to hurt Kevan . . . or you . . . but I just don’t know how to do this thing and I . . . I can’t bear the thought that I would . . . that I would do something . . .” Brian’s voice broke and he didn’t say anything more. He just continued to sit there, his shoulders slumped, utterly still, while the old church roof timbers creaked and moaned above them in sympathy with the drama going on down below.

At that moment, all Justin’s plans to totally ream Brian’s ass for his insensitive and harsh words just vanished into thin air. He was no longer looking at an adult who should have known better and who deserved a good bollocking - he was looking at a hurt and frightened little boy who needed reassurance. It nearly broke his heart.

“Oh, Brian . . .” Justin breathed out the name as he crawled across the bed towards the smaller-than-life-sized form huddled miserably at the foot of the large mattress.

Brian startled when Justin first placed his palm on the man’s tensely curved shoulder. When Justin proceeded to wrap his arms around those shoulders though, Brian progressively became less and less stiff until, after a minute or two, he’d melted against Justin’s smaller but sturdy frame. With Brian’s face buried in the crook of Justin’s neck, the emotions that were flittering across his face were obscured but Justin could tell that the man in his arms was just barely holding back his tears by the way his breathing came in deep, halting gasps accompanied by almost imperceptible breathy sighs.

“Justin . . . I need . . .” Brian’s voice was almost pleading and, even though he couldn’t seem to find the words he needed, Justin understood what it was his man needed.

With deliberate slowness, Justin’s nimble fingers carefully began to slip the top button on Brian’s dress shirt through the buttonhole. For once Brian was an almost passive participant, taking no action on his own and simply letting the younger man take control of the situation. Trailing his fingers down the starched cotton shirtfront, Justin undid button after button until he was able to slip the entire thing off Brian’s shoulders. Brian didn’t even lift his head up from where it still rested against the side of Justin’s long, pale neck. It wasn’t until the tenderhearted blond began to track a series of butterfly-light kisses over and down the exposed shoulder that Brian even moved, and then it was only to let his head drop back so that there was easier access to his neck and shoulder and eventually to his chest.

With a gentle pressure, Justin lovingly pushed Brian backward until he was lying on the bed, still slightly curled in on himself as if to protect his vulnerable core. A stray moonbeam peaking through a crack in the louvered blinds struck Brian’s face right at that exact moment and illuminated the strongly masculine face with a hazy blue light that limned the soft, sensitive lips, the long aquiline nose and glinted off the tips of thick, dark auburn lashes. In that second, in that halo of shadowy blue light, Justin could see through every one of Brian’s masks. He was no longer the strong, powerful, untouchable Stud or the sharp as a tack businessman. He was just Brian. Just a man who was as vulnerable and insecure as any other man and who needed love maybe even more than someone who had always known love in his life.

Of course, that was Justin’s job - to love this complex and difficult, but inherently gentle man. And Justin took his job very seriously. Accordingly, he applied himself to the task with full abandon until, within only a few minutes, they were both lying naked under the moonbeam, Justin spooning Brian’s body with his own and pushing inside so as to once again forge that necessary and timeless connection. Brian grappled with his left hand until his fingers found Justin’s tangled in the baby-soft chestnut locks as he tenderly cradled the older man’s head. Brian’s right hand crossed over his body and reached up until he could guide Justin’s face down so that their lips could connect as well. And then, as soon as they were connected in every possible way, Justin began gently rocking them towards the climax that would hopefully bring not only release but much needed comfort as well.

Chapter 23 - Totally Periolic.

“Blah, Sonny boy! Blah, blah, blah, Daddy . . .”

Kevan smiled up at The Daddy when the big person thing came into the pretty brown and green room. The smile seemed to make The Daddy happy since he smiled back and made even more happy-sounding mouth sounds. Kevan really enjoyed listening to the mouth sounds. Not only did he just love to hear the deep, soothing tone of The Daddy’s voice, but he was also getting rather good at distinguishing some of the different noises that The Daddy made. There were a lot of mouth sounds that The Daddy said over and over. The Daddy talked a lot about The Papa. He also said the mouth sound ‘Kevan’ a lot of the time. Of course he also just babbled a lot, making silly noises that were too fast to catch, but overall Kevan thought he was starting to figure out some of the repetitive noises.

There was one mouth sound that he heard this morning again and again . . . ‘Sonny boy’. The ‘Sonny boy’ sound was always said with a smile and a happy tone. When The Daddy would move away from Kevan’s crib or the place he laid when his wet diapers were being changed, The Daddy would often say that particular sound over and over. ‘Sonny Boy’. It was a nice mouth sound.

Kevan was busy thinking all about mouth sounds this morning. But, when he heard The Daddy saying that ‘Sonny boy’ sound again, he turned to look over at The Daddy, who was getting another new clean cloth thing out of the big wooden box thing that stood against the far wall. When The Daddy saw Kevan looking at him, he said the ‘Sonny boy’ yet again.

And then something inside Kevan’s baby brain just sort of clicked!

HE WAS ‘SONNY BOY’!

Just like The Daddy was ‘Daddy’ and The Papa was ‘Papa’, the mouth sound ‘Sonny boy’ was him! Wow! What an amazing discovery. He was Kevan AND Sonny boy! Well, what do you know?

The Daddy said ‘Sonny Boy’ again and Kevan looked up at the beautiful smiling happy face. He burbled back at The Daddy to let the nice-smelling one know that he got it finally. He was ‘Sonny boy’ for The Daddy.

Ahhhhh! That was a lot of work for a just-barely-five-month-old baby. Kevan was pretty much done for the day, he figured. Good thing all he had to do now was enjoy his breakfast, smile and then, in a few minutes, go back to sleep. It wasn’t easy being a baby, you know.

"I need a plan, Daph!" Justin blurted out the second Daphne opened the door to her dorm room.

"Okay. We can do that. We're excellent at plans. The sneakier the better!" Daphne replied as Justin bustled past her into the room and deposited Kevan's baby carrier on the countertop by the window - the only relatively clear space in the small, crowded and disorganized room. “What are we planning? A hostile takeover of a large multi-national corporation? The downfall of a corrupt South American dictatorship? A major diamond heist right under the noses of the FBI? What?”

Daphne plunked herself down on one of the room’s two daybeds and shoved off a towering stack of books so that Justin could join her. The dispirited youth quickly joined his friend, leaving the baby snoozing in a puddle of sunshine. As soon as they were both comfortable, Daphne pulled a ratty-looking old crocheted afghan over both their laps and settled back ready to listen.

“I'm afraid that what I’ve got in mind is going to be much, much, much more difficult than any of those things, Daph,” Justin insisted with an absolutely serious demeanor. “What we need to do is de-stress Brian Kinney. Without him knowing we’re doing it, of course.”

“Oh. Is that all? No problem. How about we just lock him in the basement for two weeks and only let him out for bathroom and sex breaks. He’ll be as mellow as a well fed pussycat in no time,” Daphne giggled at the image of a ‘Sex Slave Brian’ that she’d conjured up in her imagination.

“I’m serious about this, Daph,” Justin interrupted her fantasy and dragged her attention back to the immediate discussion.

For the next fifteen minutes, Justin explained everything that he'd been sensing from his partner in the past month or so and included a detailed description of the screaming match in Brian's office the week before.

“We sort of worked it out afterwards, but not really,” Justin continued, getting to the core of his worries. “I mean, Brian hasn't yelled at me or Kevan since, but he also hasn't been himself. It's like he's been avoiding us - staying later and later at work and barely talking at all when he does come home. Brian's building up to a Grade A freak out - I can feel it - and if that happens I'm scared that it'll be all over. I know him and most of the time I know how he’s gonna react before he does himself. Right now he's avoiding the problem but the stress is still building up inside. He's due to explode any day now. When it happens he'll be just like a wounded animal. First he'll go into hiding and lash out at anyone who even tries to get close enough to help him. Then he’ll feel guilty for having lashed out at the people he cares about and convince himself that he doesn't deserve their love so that he feels justified in pushing everyone away. Me and Kevan included. I can't let that happen.”

Daphne, who'd listened sympathetically to her best friend’s description of the situation, surprised Justin by breaking out into a huge smile at this point. “This is PERFECT!” the girl announced, adding a gleeful clap to punctuate her assertion.

“Gee, Daph. Couldn't you at least pretend to feel bad for me?” Justin groused, looking even more dejected in comparison with the giggling girl next to him.

“Sorry, Jus! I didn't mean that your predicament with Brian was perfect, just that I already know the perfect solution. See, just this morning my friend Kat was complaining about how her low-life, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, loser of a boyfriend broke up with her less than a week before Valentine's Day. AAAAANNNNDDD, she'd already sprung for this big, romantic weekend trip to Stowe, Vermont, for the two of them. Which, I'm pretty sure, means that she'd be happy to sell you and Brian her weekend! You can probably talk Kat into a pretty sweet deal even - I'm sure she’d be happy to take anything you offered rather than think she'd wasted all that money for nothing. And it means you can take Brian away for the weekend, give him some intensive Justin loving and de-stress him before he explodes. I'll even babysit Kevan while you're gone since this year I'm protesting Valentine's Day and the unfair way it inflicts psychological trauma on single people - like me. So, see? It's perfect!”

“Sounds like a great plan, Daph, except for one thing . . . Brian will never agree to go. I mean, really? A romantic weekend away would be a tough enough sell all by itself, but over Valentine's Day? He’ll never go for it. Fuck! That in and of itself would probably push him completely over the edge - there's NOTHING that screams domestication more than going away to some romantic ski lodge for V-Day.”

“Shit, Justin! Have I taught you nothing over the years?” Daphne stood up as if to lecture her longtime co-conspirator. “It's a good thing you came to me. You're going to have to be a LOT sneakier than that if you want this to work, Jus. You don't TELL him about the weekend. You don't even ask him to go. You don't want to even give him the option to say ‘No’.” Daphne started pacing back and forth in the small area of floor space available in the dorm room. “Now, this is what you're going to do. First, you call Cynthia . . .”

“Cynthia, why is my calendar blocked out for the whole day on Friday and Saturday morning?” Brian asked, interrupting his assistant who was on the telephone when Brian came up to her desk.

“Please hold,” Cynthia intoned professionally to the caller before pressing the ‘hold’ button and turning her attention to her boss. “You’ve been asking me to set aside some time for you to brainstorm for potential cold call clients, Brian. This is the first large block of time I could find on your schedule, and you don’t have anything important pending for any current clients, so I just booked you out for the whole day. I figured that if you don’t need all the time for your brainstorming, there’s always plenty of paperwork and other administrative stuff I can give you to occupy your time.”

“Oh. Good thinking, Cynthia,” Brian replied, seemingly satisfied with the answer he was given.

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks, boss,” Cynthia smiled at Brian’s retreating back, waiting until the executive was all the way in his office with the door closed before she went back to her telephone call. “Okay, Justin. He’s gone again. Now, you should be all set. I’ve cleared his highness’ calendar for all day Friday so you guys can head out for your weekend getaway on Thursday evening. So far he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Thanks, Cyn. You’re the best,” Justin’s voice sounded relieved even through the small speaker on the telephone headset Cynthia was wearing.

“No. YOU’RE the best, Justin. If this works and you can get Brian to relax a bit then I’ll owe you big time. If you hadn’t proposed this little vacation, I was going to insist he take one myself. He’s been a bear to work with the past few weeks. You’re more than welcome to him,” Cynthia insisted. “Just, please, bring him back in a better mood so I don’t have to kill him.”

“I’ll do my best, Cyn. Thanks again,” Justin said before hanging up to continue with his plans.

Brian groaned as he rolled over and slapped at the alarm in order to stop the incessant *beep, beep, beep, beep* noise. Once the clamour was cancelled, he settled back into his pillows while he mentally reviewed this Thursday’s agenda. He already knew the day was going to be a bitch - he had three important meetings and, as of nine pm the night before, the boards for the first one hadn’t even been finished. On top of that, he had a conference call with Miss Scarlet at ten to discuss finding him a new agent/publicist to take over the piles of crap that GQ was still getting from his fans and folks wanting interviews.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Justin had informed him that he HAD to be home by six tonight - giving some flimsy excuse that they were supposed to have dinner with Mother Taylor. If Brian didn’t show up, his blond had promised to wait until he was asleep and then castrate him with a pair of rusty garden shears. Brian didn’t really think Justin was serious, of course, but he wasn’t exactly willing to push him and see for sure either. They hadn’t been communicating real well lately but he could tell that Justin was pretty much at the end of his rope and not happy with Brian’s standoffish behavior. Brian figured that going to dinner with Mother Taylor was probably going to be a lot less painful than the ‘Talk’ he’d be subjected to if he tried to back out.

The blond in question was still firmly entrenched in dreamland with his head hidden under a pillow so that no alarm would bother him. Brian smiled at the familiar sight. For all his usual enthusiasm and energy, Justin was NOT a morning person. Brian leaned over and left a kiss on an exposed shoulder - the only part of his bedmate that wasn’t covered - before grudgingly rolling away and getting out of bed.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, Brian pulled on a pair of sweatpants and then shuffled across the hall into the nursery. Kevan was already awake but seemed content. Or at least he’d been too busy chewing on Uglyworm’s tail to start crying. The adoring smile that Brian received as he leaned over the railing of the crib to pick up his son was heartwarming. Brian was constantly amazed by the fact that this little ray of mini-sunshine was always so thrilled to see him. That kind of unconditional love was something that Brian found hard to understand no matter how much he craved it.

“Morning, Sonny boy!” Brian whispered as he lifted the baby out of the crib and laid him down on top of the changing table. “How’s Daddy’s big boy, huh? Oh, you’re stinky already this morning, I see. Wonderful. You couldn’t have saved that for after I left for work, Sonny boy? Your Papa’s going to get jealous if he finds out you’re giving me all the fun daddy jobs, you know.” Brian kept up a running commentary as he efficiently changed the diaper, cleaned everything up and put a clean onesie on the baby. “Now, let’s go get the paper so Daddy has something to read while Sonny boy has his breakfast. Doesn’t that sound like a fun idea? Of course it does!”

Brian hoisted Kevan onto his hip and the two of them headed down the hall towards the front door to start on what had become their morning routine. After turning off the alarm, Brian opened the door and then quickly sprinted down the front walk barefooted to retrieve the morning paper from where it was waiting in it’s box by the front gate. A few tiny snowflakes were fluttering down from the sky and Brian briefly regretted the fact that he hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt or shoes before coming outside this morning, but since he was already halfway to the newspaper box he just decided to move faster so he could get himself and Kevan back inside and warmed up sooner.

At the end of the walk Brian discovered, to the detriment of his cold feet, that there was something blocking the gate. It seemed a medium-sized parcel wrapped in craft paper had been placed just inside the gate. He hadn’t noticed it at first because it was partially obscured by a small drift of snow. He quickly bent down and picked it up, dusting the snow off the top in the process. He was trying to juggle the box while not dropping his son, and at the same time reaching into the newspaper delivery box, when he noticed that the parcel didn’t have any postage or a return address.

“Damn it! That little fucker. I told him to quit sending us this shit!” Brian fumed, assuming that this was just another of the packages his fanboy stalker kept sending. Brian dropped the parcel and just before it hit the ground he kicked it with his foot so that the entire bundle flew off, eventually landing several meters away in the middle of the snow-covered street. “I told you we would just toss anything else you sent, you loser!” Brian yelled to the street at large as the package landed with a thud and a faint sound of breaking glass. “Stop sending us crap we don’t want and leave us the fuck alone!”

With that pronouncement, Brian grabbed his paper, made sure he had a good hold on Kevan and then sprinted back inside.

When Justin finally crawled out of bed about fifteen minutes later, he found his partner seated peacefully on the couch in the Greatroom with Kevan propped up on pillows under Brian’s right arm. The baby was happily nursing away while his Daddy calmly read the paper which was neatly folded up in Brian’s left hand. It was a lovely and very domestic scene which just screamed contentment. If only Brian could see himself like this. If only he’d acknowledge that THIS was what made him happiest and that there was no reason to keep fighting the one thing that made him feel so good.

“Good morning boys,” Justin greeted them with a grin as he passed by, ruffling Kevan’s hair and leaving a kiss on Brian’s cheek at the same time.

Brian smiled at the passing blond. Unfortunately, as his eyes followed Justin’s disappearing ass into the kitchen, he also caught a glimpse of the clock and noted the time. “Shit! I’m going to be late,” Brian swore, his loud words startling Kevan as well as Justin. “Sorry, Sonny boy, but it looks like breakfast is over. Daddy has to head off to work and be brilliant again.” Brian rose to his feet, scooping Kevan up in the process, and trotted off to the kitchen in pursuit of his relief. “Tag, you’re it!” Brian teased as he handed off the baby to Justin and immediately jogged off down the hall to finish getting ready.

When Brian pulled out of the driveway twenty minutes later on his way to the office, he made sure to drive over the dented parcel that was still lying in the middle of the street in front of the house. He didn’t pay any attention to the car parked off to the side as he drove by. Which was probably a good thing, because he also didn’t see the furious look the man sitting in the car shot his way as the parcel was flattened by the Audi’s tires.

As Brian was getting off the elevator Cynthia came sprinting down the hall towards him with a mug of coffee in hand. Brian hadn’t taken more than two steps into the reception area before his assistant was pulling off his overcoat, handing him the mug of coffee and taking away his briefcase. She was also talking at him so rapidly that he only caught about every third word.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales,” Brian ordered. “All I got out of that was that Marty wants to see me in his office. That’s hardly the kind of momentous announcement that would have you acting like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. I talk to my boss in his office every day. So, what’s going on?”

“He wants to see you right away,” Cynthia insisted, reaching up to smooth Brian’s hair.

“What’s the rush?” Brian let her turn him around so he was facing the hall where Marty’s office resided.

“He’s been on the phone all morning with his attorney,” Cynthia chattered as she dogged his footsteps down the hall. “It can only mean one thing.”

“He’s divorcing his fourth wife?” Brian joked, buttoning up his suit jacket as he paced after Cynthia.

“He’s finally making you partner!” Cynthia asserted as they rounded the corner and threaded their way through the desks of various administrative staff.

“Oh . . . Well, then, what are YOU so excited about?” Brian asked, trying but losing the battle to squelch the grin that had broken out on his face.

“I’m happy for you,” Cynthia replied, but then relented when she spied Brian’s disbelieving expression. “And the Partner’s Assistant gets to be a raving bitch to everybody . . .”

“Aha! That makes much more sense,” Brian confirmed, stepping up to the door of Marty’s office and hesitating just for a moment.

Cynthia knocked on the doorframe for Brian and, when there was a faint response, opened up the door. “Get in there . . . And good luck, Partner!”

“Brian! Come in. Come in!” Marty Ryder announced as soon as Brian walked into the large and elegantly appointed office. “Have a seat.” Marty directed, gesturing Brian towards the vacant chair in front of the big glass desk. Brian noted that the other chair was already occupied by a short-statured man with a closely-shaved head who was looking Brian over with greedy little black eyes. “Brian, this is Gardner Vance.”

“Mr. Vance,” Brian politely offered his hand to the seated man and then turned his attention back to Marty Ryder. “You wanted to see me?” Brian sat, leaning forward expectantly with his elbows on his knees as he waited to hear the good news.

“I did indeed. There’s big changes coming, Brian,” Marty declared with a smile directed at the still silent man sitting in the second guest chair. “I wanted you to be the first to hear . . . I’ve sold the agency to Gardner.” Brian slouched against the chair back and blinked at this wholly unexpected announcement. “Yep. Gardner here has been on my tail for over a year now and he finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. *Hahaha* Yeah. Now I can finally buy that place down in Bermuda, retire and play golf till I drop!”

Brian shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Congratulations, Marty,” Brian responded, standing up and looking down accusingly at the two men, both of whom were clearly pleased with themselves. “So . . . what about me, huh?” The smile on Marty’s face faded in an instant. Brian shook his head, “You made me a promise, Marty. You’ve been dangling a partnership over my head for more than a year now, saying that all I had to do was get THIS client or THAT renewal. And now, after I handed you a record breaking profit year, you sell out before making me partner . . . So now what?” Brian looked from Ryder over to his new boss.

“Ryder tells me you’re the best Account Exec he’s got,” Gardner Vance finally spoke up, his smooth British accent not masking the hint of hostility underlying his tone.

“He’s right. I am,’ Brian confirmed. “I brought in over a third of the accounts on this agency’s books all by myself. Including our biggest client to date - Armani.”

“Which is why I plan on firing everyone else,” Vance stated baldly.

“Oh, good. I’ve always hated those long lines at the water cooler,” Brian tried to make light of this news, sitting back down again so that he could look Vance straight in the eye.

“He also tells me that you are arrogant, willful and insubordinate,” Vance went on while Ryder tried to look busy shuffling through the papers on his desk.

“I’ll try my best to live up to my reputation,” Brian said with a humorless smirk and a dirty look shot in Marty’s direction.

“In addition,” Vance went on as if Brian hadn’t spoken, “I hear that your celebrity status and . . . shall we say, your ‘personal situation’ . . . have disrupted work here on more than one occasion,” Vance accused, piercing Brian with a steely and equally humorless glare. “Frankly, Mr. Kinney, I don’t give a fuck if you’re the latest, greatest discovery of medical science, or if you’re the proud papa of a hundred adorable miracle babies. And I really don’t want to know how many screaming fans are dying to see your naked ass in a magazine. I don’t need a pretty face who can model the latest fashions or somebody who can’t leave his personal life at home. What I need is an Ad Exec - plain and simple - and all I care about is whether or not you can bring in clients and create ads that will keep them here. So, the way I see it, you have one week to convince me there’s a good reason why I shouldn’t fire you too . . .”

Justin was in the process of loading the suitcases he’d packed for the weekend into the back of the Jeep when he was surprised by Brian driving up in the Audi. He turned around with a guilty look on his face, preparing himself to ‘surprise’ Brian with the news of their snowy getaway . . . and hoping that his partner wasn’t going to throw the expected tizzy fit about the whole thing.

“Brian! Wow, you’re home early. I didn’t expect you until at least six,” Justin started off, faltering a bit because he really hadn’t been planning on Brian getting home for at least three more hours and hadn’t yet had time to rehearse what he was going to say.

“What the fuck is this?” Brian asked as soon as he walked around the back end of the Audi and saw what Justin was doing. “Did I miss a memo or something? Are you moving out?”

“Of course not!” Justin replied with a little forced laugh as he tried to think of the best way to broach the subject of their surprise trip.

“Okay . . . Then, am I moving out?” was Brian’s next question when he noticed that one of the bags waiting in the back of the Jeep was his favorite Louis Vuitton Weekender.  

“No. Nobody’s moving out. We’re just going away for the weekend,” Justin bit the bullet and decided to just launch into the full explanation without trying to hide anything. “You see, Daphne’s friend, Kat, broke up with her boyfriend and she’d already paid for this great weekend in Stowe, so she agreed to let me buy it off her for, like, half what she paid. I figured we could use a weekend to ourselves, you know. Just you and me and no crying infant or pesky friends or work or anything. So, I cleared it with Cynthia and you’ve got nothing on your calendar tomorrow, and Daphne is babysitting for the weekend, which means we’re free until Sunday night . . .” Justin knew he was blathering but thought that maybe he’d stun Brian into submission with a deluge of irrelevancies and hopefully, before the big stud knew what hit him, they’d be on the road and halfway to Vermont.

“Yeah, well, think again Marco Polo,” Brian grabbed his bag out of the car before Justin could stop him. “The farthest we’ll be travelling this weekend is to the glorious suburbs of Pittsburgh proper where we’re expected for dinner at the fucking Country Club tonight at seven with Mr. & Mrs. PittSteel.”

“But, Brian, I’ve already got everything arranged and paid for the hotel and . . .”

“And nothing, Sunshine. We’ve got dinner plans that I don’t dare back out of,” Brian turned and walked away without further explanation.

“But, I already cleared your calendar with Cynthia. She said you didn’t have anything planned until Monday,” Justin insisted as he trotted after Brian’s retreating form.

“Apparently, nobody informed my new boss, Gardner Vance, of that fact,” Brian retorted. “Because Vance is under the impression that I’ll be a good little toady who will lick his boots and kiss his ass and not cause any trouble while he graciously gives me a whole fucking week to prove to him that I shouldn’t be fired. So, I get to spend my evening kissing up to some breeder couple and you and Kevan get the pleasure of joining me in this fun-filled evening. And we all better do our best to make them happy so they sign the contract. Then I can present Vance with the biggest fucking client he’s ever seen and I can keep my job so that we can continue to live in the outrageously expensive manner to which we’ve all become accustomed.”

The door to the house slammed shut behind Brian at this point, leaving Justin alone and defeated. He slumped down, perched on the rear bumper of the Jeep. Justin wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or cry or hit something. All he knew was that the last thing Brian needed was more stress. But, from the sound of things, that was precisely what was in store for the foreseeable future.

Chapter 25 - Nadir.

Kevan was just sitting there in the high chair looking around him at all the sights in this new place. There were soooo many big people things in this place, it was a little daunting. But The Daddy and The Papa were there and they didn’t seem upset, so Kevan decided to wait and see before he decided if he was going to get upset himself. In the meantime, there was a lot to watch and figure out.

All the big people things in this room were sitting around these large round flat things. There were a lot of them too. And on top of the flat surfaces there were so many interesting things to look at. In the middle of the round part nearest Kevan, there was even a strange red thing that had a bright white spot at the top of it - only the white spot seemed to move and glow brighter sometimes. It was fascinating. Kevan could have looked at the glowy thing for hours . . . or at least until he got hungry, which happened after only a few minutes, although Kevan still didn’t really get linear time yet so it could have been hours for all he knew.

As soon as Kevan started to lose his focus on the glowy thing, and even before he’d resolved himself to begin making the mouth sounds that would tell his people things that it was time to make his tummy warm and full again, The Papa was there with a bottle.

Now, Kevan thought of himself as a fairly easy-going baby and he tried to be understanding about the shortcomings of his people things as he patiently trained them to see to his needs the way he preferred, however he thought he’d already been over this particular issue enough times that they should have figured it out. It was starting to get a bit annoying that they just weren’t paying attention. When were they going to learn?

Kevan threw the bottle away from him and turned towards The Daddy with an insistent *Gah!*.

The Papa picked the bottle up and tried to shove it back into Kevan’s face. Kevan poked his tongue out so that The Papa couldn’t get the rubbery little sucking part into his mouth the right way. But the Papa was persistent and kept shoving and shoving until he managed to get around Kevan’s tongue and insert the bottle again. Kevan grabbed hold of the bottle with both hands this time and threw it as hard as he could, managing to get it to roll all the way off the top of the big round thing.

“Kevan! Blah, blah, blah . . .” The Papa had his ‘serious’ voice on now.

Kevan turned one last time to The Daddy and made a couple of extra-plaintive ‘Gah!’ noises - trying his best to communicate the fact that he would really prefer that The Daddy hold him and let him drink the nice warm stuff that came with The Daddy instead of the cold stuff that came out of the bottle with the rubbery sucking part. However The Daddy seemed much too busy putting stuff in his own mouth and making mouth sounds with that other stranger person thing to even notice Kevan’s predicament.

Kevan hated it when he was ignored.

However, just as he had decided to make his displeasure with the unpalatable bottle and The Daddy’s lack of attention known, the whole world around Kevan went totally and utterly black!

It was so shocking and unprecedented that Kevan didn’t know what to do. He was too shocked to even remember how to cry. It was like, one minute he was looking around him, whimpering a little because he was hungry, and then the next minute the rest of the world just DISAPPEARED!

Before Kevan could get too worried about this situation, though, another miracle occurred and the world reappeared.

He looked around him and it all looked just like it had been a few moments before. There were all the many people things sitting around their various large round things and all of them putting stuff in their mouths and talking about things. The glowy thing in the center of the closest big round thing was still glowing. The Daddy and The Papa were sitting in the same seats. Things appeared just like they always did . . .

‘Boy that was weird,’ Kevan thought with a hint of relief that whatever had happened was now over.

And then it happened AGAIN! The whole world went black. Kevan couldn’t see anything. Maybe he had disappeared too? This was getting serious.

When the world reappeared again a moment later, Kevan noticed that the woman person thing who was sitting on the other side of him from where The Papa was, was right up in his face. She was also making strange new mouth sounds at him. It sounded sort of like, ‘peeeeeeeee kabbbbboooooo’. Of course, Kevan had no idea what that meant and he was inclined to just ignore this new woman person because he had so many other things to worry about right at that moment.

And then it happened yet AGAIN! Only this time, when the world went black, Kevan noticed that the woman person had grabbed both his hands and was moving around funny right before the blackout. He decided to wait and see what would happen . . . And when the world reappeared once more and the woman person again said ‘peeeeeeeee kabbbbboooooo’, Kevan finally understood everything.

This woman person was magic! She could make the world disappear at will. Wow! That was a really neat trick.

And that was how Kevan learned about magic women things and that you couldn’t even trust your own eyes these days.

“Just fucking kill me now,” Justin mumbled into his second Campari & Soda as Mrs. PittSteel kept chattering away next to him, thankfully not noticing that her audience’s attention was drifting.

When had he turned into ‘The Little Woman’, Justin wondered? Shit, this was like one of his worst nightmares from his youth. He was back in the same Country Club he’d hated with a passion for all those years, only this time he’d somehow been relegated to the role of Country Club Wife - expected to make polite, socially acceptable small talk and mind the children while the ‘Men’ discussed business. It was Justin’s idea of hell.

“I’m just so thrilled to meet you and Brian,” Mrs. PittSteel was repeating for about the eighth time already this evening. “And this little cutie - he’s just too adorable for words. I can’t believe how sweet he’s being. My children were always just horrible when we tried to bring them anywhere. But this little guy has perfect manners. Doesn’t he?” she cooed over Kevan, kissing both of his chubby little fists and then covering his eyes with his hands briefly before pulling them both back and squealing ‘peek-a-boo’ four or five times in a row.

“I’m actually as surprised as you are that he’s being so good,” Justin replied, shaking his head at the sight of Kevan who was now giggling and actually batting his eyes at Mrs. PittSteel as if he was flirting with her. “We haven’t taken him out to anyplace this fancy before, so I was really a little nervous. Of course, he’s used to going with us to the Liberty Diner. We eat there quite often, but it’s very casual. This is Kevan’s first time at such an upscale restaurant.”

“Well, then he must just be a naturally good natured baby,” Mrs. PittSteel asserted with another Granny-ish grin at her new favorite baby. “Or maybe it’s just that you and Brian are such good parents. You’re both so calm. I can’t believe how well you two seem to manage. I know that I was a complete wreck with my first child. I’m sure I’ll be a MUCH better grandmother than I was as a mother, you know. I can’t wait until my children finally get around to giving me grandkids. They just don’t seem interested in settling down yet, but I keep working on them anyway. *Hahaha*”

*Hahaha* Justin laughed politely, all the while hoping that a meteor would zing down out of the sky and take out Mrs. PittSteel’s chair so that he could finally run away screaming like he’d wanted to from the moment they’d walked into the Club.

“These look great, Brian!” across the table from where Justin was seated, Mr. PittSteel was gushing over the boards that Brian had brought. “I never thought anyone could make a steel girder look sexy, but you’ve somehow done it! This is so fresh and enthusiastic. I’m sure the board is going to love it.”

“Thanks, Clint. I think this concept will definitely take your image into the 21st Century,” Brian schmoozed back with his usual confident business mask on.

“Hmmmm. Maybe orange instead . . .” Justin uttered in a quiet voice which rang out louder than it should have due to a momentary lull in the conversation around him.

“What was that young man?” Mr. PittSteel asked, directing his attention towards Justin for the first time since they’d been seated.

“Oh, it’s nothing . . .” Justin replied, catching the warning look in Brian’s eye and immediately redirecting his attention back to his plate like the good ‘Little Woman’ he was supposed to be for this evening.

“No. No. Speak up, please,” Mr. PittSteel insisted. “You are an artist, right? I myself have no eye whatsoever for color, as my wife reminds me every time we redecorate the house. So, if you’ve got any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”

“Well, it’s not really a big thing . . . I was just thinking that the font might look better in orange. Everyone at art school has been telling me that Orange is the new Blue - it’s hot and spicy and energetic. It would liven up the whole image.” Justin tapered off with his explanation when he noticed that Brian was frowning at him over Mr. PittSteel’s shoulder. “But, that’s just a suggestion. The ads look great just as they are too.”

“Hmmmm. Orange, huh? Actually, I think that’s an excellent idea!” Mr. PittSteel nodded, looking back and forth between the boards laid out on the table and a Justin who was now trying to surreptitiously sink under the tablecloth. “Excellent idea! Really excellent! You’ve got quite the eye there, young man!”

“That he does,” Brian added, smiling his ‘calm businessman’ smile at Mr. PittSteel while still darting dark angry flashes Justin’s direction. “Justin actually does a bit of contract artwork for the agency when he isn’t busy at school. Ryder’s . . . er, VanGuard . . . is lucky to have him.”

“I’d say so! But it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he’s so talented. You’re both such creative people, and it just makes sense you’d end up together.” Mrs. PittSteel gushed again, laying her hand on Justin’s arm and actually petting it just a bit in her enthusiasm. “I’ll just bet your little guy here will turn out to be just as creative as his fathers.”

Luckily for Justin - who really, really wanted this conversation to end before Brian completely blew a gasket - he didn’t have to respond. Nope. Because just then an even more horrifying conversation started.

“What the HELL are you doing here, Justin?” they were interrupted by a very loud, almost savage snarl.

“What?” Justin twisted around in his seat and looked up to find Craig Taylor hovering over him.

“Damn it! It wasn’t bad enough that you broke up our family and ruined my marriage, then proceeded to flaunt your perverted pansy ass all over the national media, but now you have to come here and embarrass me in my own club? I thought that I told you I never wanted to see you again! Get the fuck out of here right now before I have your ass thrown out!” Craig slurred drunkenly, pointing imperiously towards the door, his face red with anger and a little dribble of spittle even flecking the corner of his mouth, he was so angry.

Brian was already on his feet, shouldering in between the irate older man and Justin, who was still seated trying to shield Kevan. “Back off, Craig.” Brian warned, his voice just as menacing.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Little Woman! You know, I never would have pegged you for the wifely type, Kinney. Guess I was wrong, huh?” Craig turned his hatred towards this new target. “But shouldn’t you be home minding your mutant spawn, Kinney? Although, considering who he’s got for parents, you might as well just throw in the towel now - he’s bound to be an even bigger fairy than the two of you. If you want him to learn how to be a real man, you’re going to have to hire him some tutors.” *Hahaha* Craig laughed nastily and glared at the baby still sitting in his highchair, not seeming to care when the infant began to whimper a little due to the yelling and the growing feeling of hostility in the air.

Justin put his arms around his son, trying to comfort and protect the baby as best he could, and in the process drawing Craig’s attention back to himself. “You know, Justin, I guess I have to thank you for one thing - at least you’re not the biggest fucking fairy in the universe. I mean, I can’t believe YOU weren’t the one who got knocked up. Good to know that at the very least you turned out to be the man in this fucked up farce of a relationship.”

Justin could feel the waves of fury radiating off Brian’s shaking frame as a result of his father’s words. He quickly stood up and snaked one arm around Brian’s chest from behind, holding the man back before he could go after Craig physically. All they needed was for Brian to take a swing at the man and get them all kicked out of the club. As it was, it looked like their quiet business dinner had been blown to hell. So much for bagging this account and impressing Gardner Vance so that Brian could save his job.

“Yeah, well at least there’s ONE man in your family, Craig, ‘cause it sure as fuck isn’t you!” Brian hissed back at the malevolent interloper. “If anyone’s an embarrassment around here it’s a small-minded, homophobic, closet-case like yourself.”

“Why you . . .” Craig lunged at Brian, reaching up with both hands to grab at the lapels of Brian’s suit jacket.

“Take your filthy hands off me or you'll be pulling back nothing but stubbs,” Brian snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Hah! Like some little pussy-assed bitch like you would have the balls to stand up to anyone,” Craig taunted, spit flying into Brian’s face with every malicious word that he threw at the man he blamed for ‘stealing’ his son. “Of course you could always try, and if you can’t hack it, maybe my fairy son will step in and help you out.”

“Fuck you, Craig,” Brian growled back.

“Hey, you’re the one who likes to get fucked up the ass, not me,” Craig shot back nastily, gloating over how successfully he was getting to Brian now.

That last remark seemingly pushed Brian over the edge. He charged forward, completely disregarding Justin’s restraining arms, butting his chest into Craig’s so hard that he easily knocked the fifty-ish, not-at-all-in-shape and half-drunk Craig onto his holier-than-thou ass.

There ensued a huge roar of noise and action. Craig was helped up by a buddy and then the both of them came at Brian together, yelling obscenities as they came. Meanwhile, both Justin and Mr. PittSteel were trying their best to push Brian back away from the scene of the confrontation. Despite everyone’s attempted intervention, both Craig and Brian got in a few good punches. A minute or two later, two of the club’s security staff came running into the dining room, flexing their muscles and quickly quelling the melee.

“I want this dirty faggot arrested for assualt. Somebody call the cops right now,” Craig insisted, holding his hand up to tenderly probe at the bruise spreading across his left cheekbone. “And I want the rest of this low-life scum,” Craig gestured to the rest of the table where his son and Brian had been sitting, “thrown out of here and banned for life!”

“Excuse me?” an incredulous Mrs. PittSteel demanded, stepping forward so that she was at the forefront of the little group. “If ANYONE is going to get thrown out and banned it’ll be you, you cretinous bully!” The rubicund older woman exclaimed, moving around the security guards until she was standing with her nose just inches away from Craig Taylor’s chest, her short stature doing nothing to detract from her air of authority.

“Riiiiiight! I don’t know who you think you are, Lady, but I’ll have you know that I’ve been a member in good standing at this club for over twenty-five years. And if I say I don’t want scum like this,” Craig pointed emphatically to Brian,” in MY club, then the club administration better damn well listen! And if you, madam, are going to associate with this kind of trash then you deserve to be thrown out on your ass too!”

“Is that so?” Mrs. PittSteel’s hands were propped up on her hips and her mouth had been drawn into a furious line of white fiery determination. Mr. PittSteel quickly moved around the table and reached out a hand towards his wife’s shoulder as if to hold her back, but the gesture was futile. “Well, I’ll have YOU know, you foul-mouthed bully, that I’ve been a member of this club since before I was born. And so was my father and his father before him. In fact, my Great-Grandfather was one of the founders of this club AND my family donated the land the club is built on. Which makes ME the kind of person that actually BELONGS here, and YOU the nouveau riche TRASH that’s about to be thrown out and banned for life.” Mrs. PittSteel crowed with righteous fury, advancing on the taller Craig another step with every few words until the big bully was backed up all the way to the wall.

“And let me tell you one more thing, you brainless bigot,” Mrs. PittSteel pressed her advantage, poking a PittSteely forefinger into Craig’s belly to punctuate every sentence. “These two young men are some of the smartest, most talented and most courageous men I’ve ever met. How DARE you talk about them in such a rude and derogatory manner. You’re not fit to lick the dirt off either of their boots. And if it’s true that Justin is really your son, you should feel honored to have such a wonderful person as your child, not to mention such an adorable grandchild. I have nothing but contempt for ANYONE who would treat their own family as horribly as you’ve done today.”

Before Craig could reply, Mr. PittSteel waved the two security guards over towards the cornered man. They each grabbed one of Craig’s arms and started to physically drag the sputtering man towards the exit with Mrs. PittSteel following along behind as she continued to berate the man who’d dared to interrupt her dinner. Brian, Justin and Mr. PittSteel, as well as the entire rest of the club, watched the scene with a combination of horror and humor - humor eventually winning out as the diminutive pitt bull continued to harass her retreating prey, threatening to blackball him from every social venue in the state as well as ruin his business for daring to offend her dinner guests.

Even after Mrs. PittSteel had finally been convinced to return to her seat at the dinner table, she couldn’t stop herself from going on and on about the ‘stupid lout’ that had somehow infiltrated HER club. “I can not believe that someone like that was allowed into this club. I’m going to have a word with the membership committee first thing tomorrow morning. We definitely need to review the membership criteria if someone like that is allowed to join. Sorry, Justin,” she finally realized the implications of her rant about Craig. “I know he’s your father, but that was just unacceptable behavior.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Justin insisted immediately. “He disowned me as soon as I came out to him and then proceeded to kick me out of the house. If it hadn’t been for Brian, I probably would have ended up homeless. So, please, feel free to insult Craig all you want. In fact, I might join you.”

“I’m going to do more than just insult him. Just wait until I really get started - that man won’t know what hit him,” Mrs. PittSteel reaffirmed. “I just can’t believe anyone would say those things about his own son. And the way he was talking about our sweet little Kevan,” Mrs. PittSteel turned so that she could pet and coo over the baby once again, “well, that’s just not right. Not right at all. I’m just sorry that this sweet little baby had to even witness such hatefulness.”

“Thank you for having Craig removed from the club, Mrs. MacGregor,” Brian added in his note of gratitude. “I apologize for contributing to such an unpleasant scene, but I just couldn’t stand there and listen to any more of his shit. Especially once he started in on Justin and Kevan. However, If I’d known that you were going to step in and take care of things so efficiently, I would have probably held off on slugging him and not risked my manicure,” Brian teased, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully redeem his character.

“Don’t think a thing of it, Brian, dear. I would have done the same thing if I was just a little bit taller,” Mrs. PittSteel grinned over at him. “I wouldn’t stand for anyone talking like that about my husband or children either. We ‘mothers’ simply have to defend our families. It’s only natural - instinctual, you know . . .”

Mrs. PittSteel rambled on and on about Craig’s behavior. Meanwhile, Justin smiled, nodded and silently hoped that nobody else noticed the angry flicker in Brian’s eyes at being lumped in with the rest of the ‘mothers’ of the world. Brian had almost immediately put his urbane businessman mask back on, so maybe, Justin hoped, it would all be okay. Maybe Brian would just let that little slip in the conversation slide.

And maybe flying pigs would dive bomb their car on the drive home so that Justin wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout from this nightmare of a dinner.

They were halfway home before Justin worked up enough courage to initiate a conversation.

“So, it sounds like you've definitely got the account,” Justin opined cautiously. “I know you still have to pitch it to the Board of Directors tomorrow morning, but you've already sold Mr. PittSteel and he seemed confident he could push it through with the board. I mean, he wouldn't have agreed to moving the pitch forward at the last minute like this if he wasn't excited about your ideas. Right? Which means that Vance will have to keep you.”

“We’ll see,” was Brian's noncommittal answer.

“Come on, you know Clint can't say no to you - not after the way you won over his wife. It's pretty clear who wears the big boy pants in that family . . . and it certainly isn't Mr. PittSteel. Once you got Elsie on your side, it was a done deal.”

“Yeah. Well, of course she and I bonded. Because we're both ‘mothers’, right? It's only natural that we would have so much in common since I'm just one of the girls now,” Brian snarled angrily, causing Justin to cringe.

“You know she didn't mean anything by that, Brian. It was just a silly slip. An unfortunate turn of phrase . . .”

“Oh, and it's supposed to make me feel better that she didn't MEAN to question my manhood?” Brian practically screamed. “Well, then, how come she's not the only one, huh? Because I'm pretty sure Craig MEANT what he was saying.”

“Brian, you're not going to fucking listen to an idiot like Craig . . .” Justin started to say, but was cut off when Brian braked sharply and pulled the car over to the right side of the street.

“Get out.”

“What? You're throwing me out of the car?” Justin questioned. “I know my father’s an ass but that doesn't mean you get to take out your frustrations on me by throwing me out on the side of some random highway.”

Brian sighed and shook his head. “We're home already, Sunshine. Take Kevan and get out.”

“Brian . . .” Justin started to argue, not wanting to let his partner go off alone in the mood he was in.

“I said, get out.”

“Don't go, Brian. Please. Not like this . . .” Justin was willing to plead if it meant he'd be able to stave off Brian's escape attempt. When it didn't look like the glowering man was likely to give in just because of a little pleading, though, Justin decided to try adding a dash of guilt. “Can't you just come in, nurse Kevan and help me get him settled for the night.”

“No. I can't. Now get out.” Brian's tone was chilly and distant.

Justin realized this probably wasn't the time to press him, but he still worried about what Brian was planning - he seemed more than a little desperate. “Fine, but at least tell me where you're heading?”

“Out. And you're not invited, so get the hell out of my car,” Brian ordered again, leaving no doubt he was serious.

Justin knew it was useless to try and argue. Brian was too far gone to listen right then. Not that that fact made the boy feel any better. This was precisely the kind of emotional explosion he'd been hoping to avoid by getting the two of them out of town for the weekend. Damn Gardner Vance and his shitty timing with this takeover. Justin was scared senseless that Brian would do something seriously stupid if he left in the condition he was in, but then again, Justin didn't see any way to stop the impending conflagration.

The only thing the frightened young man could do right then was to take their son into the house, let Brian go and hope he managed to get it all out of his system with a minimal amount of damage.

Brian hadn’t even started on his first glass of Beam at Woody’s before he was assailed on all sides by his ‘friends’.

“Brian! I didn’t know you were joining us tonight! This is so great! I haven’t seen you in way too long and now we can finally have a night out together,” Michael’s usual boundless enthusiasm bubbled all over the both of them.

“Hey, Bri! What are you doing here tonight? Didn’t you and the ‘old ball and chain’ have that dinner thing at the Country Club?” Emmett asked, seating himself on the barstool next to Brian and stealing the beer Brian had been saving as a chaser for his Beam.

“Oooo la la! The Country Club? My aren’t we the little social climber these days,” Ted horned in on the conversation, offering up the first round of sarcasm in the usual game of barb trading that he and Brian normally engaged in. “Didn’t know you were angling to become officially recognized as one of the ‘A Gays’, Brian.

“But, of course,” Em joined in with the badinage, affecting an upper-crust accent. “Become a genetic wonder, pop out a miracle baby and you too will be allowed into the elite ranks at the Country Club . . . even if you ARE still gay.”

They all laughed as they gathered their drinks and wrangled Brian along with them towards a table off to the side of the room.

“Well, now that Brian’s all settled down with the perfect little family in the perfect little house with the perfectly acceptable job and just enough notoriety to be fashionable, he fits right in with the Club Set,” Ted continued his ribbing.

“Yeah. Next thing you know, Brian will be hosting Bridge Night and trading tips on potty training with the other mommies,” Michael added, guffawing louder than anyone else at his own joke.

“Fuck you, Michael,” Brian grumbled, shrugging his shoulders to try and dislodge his friend’s overly-clingy grasp.

“Hey, that’s what you get when you join the ranks of the breeders, Daddy Brian,” Michael replied, elbowing Brian jovially and laughing again as if he’d never heard a better joke while the three amigos moved off in the direction of their table.

None of them even noticed that Brian hadn’t bothered to follow them.

Brian turned back to the bar, mentally dismissing his ‘friends’ and more determined than ever to get as drunk as he possibly could. He threw back the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for another before taking up a new seat a few stools down from where he’d been sitting before. To his immediate left, there was a huge bear of a man leaning against the bar, his gargantuan frame blocking most of the view of the length of the bar counter. Brian felt like he was virtually hidden behind the big Papa Bear, which suited him just fine since all he wanted right then was to be left alone.

Unfortunately, while he couldn’t see the rest of the bar’s occupants, Brian could still hear them. In particular, he could hear the voices of two completely flaming queens sitting on the other side of Papa Bear. Two rather nasty, gossip-hungry queens, who were seemingly talking about him.

“Mamma Mia! Pray for me, Sweetie, because I'm having very sinful thoughts about that mouthwatering morsel of man-flesh that just walked away. Who was that gorgeous guy?” said the first voice.

“Honey, I know you're new around here, but even you must have heard about Brian Kinney. You know, the Prego Guy? It was in the news, like, everywhere,” replied gossip queen number two.

“That's HIM? Wow! He's hot. I thought he'd be some frumpy little bottom boy, not a total stud like that!”

“Yeah, I know, right? And I totally agree - he is pleasing to look at - but you can put your eyes back in your head. He's completely housebroken and off the market these days. I'm actually surprised to even see him out on a weeknight. Ever since he popped out Pittsburgh's first miracle baby, he's been more of a Dud than a Stud. But I guess that's to be expected now that he's happily shacked up with his baby-daddy and progeny. It's really too bad though - they say he used to be a terrific fuck. I bet that these days, though, he spends most of his time barefoot in the kitchen with his kid hanging from his tit!”

“Oh my! How the mighty have fallen!” the first queen added before they both broke out into peals of riotous, mean-spirited laughter.

“Damn it to fucking hell!” Brian exclaimed, getting to his feet with the intent of finding the two queens who couldn’t keep their fucked up opinions to themselves and shoving their words back down their throats with his fists.

“How could you, Brian!” His path around the Papa Bear was suddenly blocked by the appearance of the very last person on the face of the planet that Brian wanted to see - his relentless stalker Tab or Tag or Tip or whatever.

“Get the fuck away from me, Loser!” Brian growled, grabbing the younger man’s shoulder in order to shove him out of the way.

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re being such a prick!” Tig shouted, planting his feet and somehow managing to hold his ground.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Now get the hell out of my way or I’ll make you move.”

“I’m talking about this morning, Brian. The way you threw the beautiful silver music box I got for our Kevan into the street and then drove your car over it! That was really mean, Brian. Really, really mean. And you didn’t even open the package first. If you had, you would have seen how gorgeous the music box was and I know you would have loved it. I even had it engraved, you know. But, no! You just tossed it into the street like it was trash. Now it’s ruined,” Tab hollered and shoved a flattened, rattling box into Brian’s hands. “I hope you’re happy with yourself, Brian. I’m very angry at you right now and I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”

“Good. Don’t forgive me. Hopefully you’re so pissed off at me that you never want to talk to me or see me ever again. Then you can go off and pout in whatever hole you crawled out of. Maybe you’ll even go find somebody else to harass now. Whatever. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck, as long as you leave me the hell alone! And I already told you that we’re not going to open any more of your unwanted presents, so quit sending this shit!” Brian screamed back at Tip, foisting the damaged parcel back into Tad’s hands and then barrelling past him and straight out the door of the bar.

Fuck Woody’s! Fuck Michael and Emmett and Theodore! Fuck the fucking gossip queens and bears and all the rest of them! Fuck Tab and his gifts! Fuck the damned Country Club and Craig Taylor and Gardner Vance and everyone else on the fucking planet.

And fuck this parenthood shit! Brian had had enough. It was time to take back his body and his life!

Chapter 26 - Leavings.

Justin pulled the jeep into the garage but couldn't make himself get out and head into the house. Even the mere idea of going back into that powder keg was almost too much for him. He wished that he had another class or some unfinished school project that might give him an excuse to leave again, but for once he was all caught up and had no place else he needed to be.

The fact that Brian's Audi was in the garage, meant that his partner was actually home for once too. Of course that didn't do much to alleviate the anxiety Justin was feeling. Judging by what had been happening lately, it probably meant that Justin was heading into yet another argument. Hence, Justin’s reluctance to return home.

In the two weeks since the disastrous dinner at the Country Club, the only times Justin had seen Brian had been late at night when the man would slump into the house, spend a half hour nursing and playing with Kevan before heading silently off to the bedroom. The few times Justin had taken the initiative to confront Brian about where he had been or what he thought he was doing, they’d ended up in roaring arguments about how Justin wasn’t his keeper, etc, etc, etc. Brian would then fling himself angrily into bed and give Justin the silent treatment for the rest of the night. In the mornings, Brian would be out of the house long before Justin was even out of bed.

Justin only had the barest inkling about what exactly was eating at Brian. Something was triggering this surly behavior and all these arguments, but it wasn’t clear what it was. He knew that the confrontation with Craig had been distasteful and embarrassing, but he didn’t think that alone would have been enough to totally throw Brian into the funk he was in these days. Craig hadn't managed to derail the underlying business purpose for the dinner; Mr. PittSteel had come through as promised with the Board of Directors, all of whom agreed that Brian’s campaign was the best thing since pre-lubed condoms. Brian ended up winning the contract and thereby placating Gardner Vance. So the night hadn’t been a total bust. In fact, Brian had not only kept his job but he had even earned himself another whopping big bonus. Justin had subsequently been contracted to help out on the final artwork for the campaign - a stipulation mandated by Mrs. PittSteel, he’d been told - which meant that everyone in the household was actually benefitting from the Country Club dinner despite Craig’s attempted sabotage.

Okay, there had been that one slip where Mrs. PittSteel had unwittingly undermined Brian’s masculinity, but Justin didn’t think that alone would have driven Brian to practically abandon his family. There had to have been something more. Something that had happened earlier in the week, maybe? Or perhaps something that happened that night after Brian dropped Justin and the baby off at home? Justin had asked Emmett, but the manny had only said that the gang had seen Brian very briefly at Woody’s before Brian disappeared. Em didn’t seem to think anything out of the ordinary had happened while Brian was there. And, of course, Brian wasn’t talking so Justin had no idea what he was up against. But whether this was just part and parcel of the slow buildup of generalized stress Brian had been subjected to over the past few months, or a result of some specific incident, the outcome was the same.

Brian was pulling away from Justin and Kevan.

To make matters worse, they’d only fucked twice in that whole time - and for a man like Brian who rarely went more than twelve hours without some form of sexual release, that was unheard of. It didn’t help Justin figure out what was wrong either. Before, when they’d had periods when they weren’t communicating particularly well, they’d at least been able to express themselves in some limited fashion with their bodies. And as long as they were working on the sexual front, Justin had always been confident that they could work the rest of their shit out. But what was he supposed to think when they weren’t even fucking? That, in Justin’s mind, was a huge, flashing, bright red, alarm signal.

The only thing that Justin did know for certain was that Brian hadn’t yet resorted to getting his sexual needs met outside their relationship.

After the first week when no nookie had elapsed, that’s precisely what Justin had assumed was transpiring. And though he was disappointed by that thought, it wasn’t wholly unexpected considering who his partner was. But, when Brian had woken him up in the middle of the night after that first long, frustrating week and started to initiate something - not bothering with a condom, as had been the way of things ever since Kevan had been born - Justin had stopped his lover with a questioning glance.

“Shouldn’t we be safe . . .” Justin had voiced his suspicions, albeit in a roundabout way.

“No need. I haven’t . . . Well . . . Not yet, at least. And you can’t think, Justin, that I would ever put you at risk - you know that, right? Whenever that becomes a necessity, I’ll tell you right away. I swear,” Brian looked down into the hesitant blond’s face with an open and honest look that spoke volumes. “I want you safe, Justin. I want you around for a long time. Not just for me, but for our son. And I’d never - NEVER - do anything to jeopardize your health.”

And then Brian had completely shut down again, fucking Justin hard and fast and almost unemotionally before collapsing into a sated sleep. Which only left the younger man with even more questions about what was going through that gorgeous and frustrating brunet head. But at least for that one night he hadn’t had to suffer with blue balls as well as a blue mood.

Of course hiding out in the garage and fuming about all that had happened in the past two weeks wasn’t going to fix things with his exasperating lover. Justin sighed, gathered together what fortitude he could and reluctantly made his way into the house through the back door. His mood wasn’t improved any by the mess he found - which was just another cause of stress for both himself and Brian.

Brian had immediately put a large part of his PittSteel bonus towards finishing up some of the remodeling that they hadn’t yet gotten around to at Britin’s Chapel. Accordingly, the contractor and his crew had been working all week on the basement, framing in a guest room with en suite bathroom, a media room and large rec area. Unfortunately, the best way for the workers to access the work site was through the back entrance. So, starting just inside the back door and then all down the hallway to the stairs, the floor was covered with large black construction mats used to protect the hardwood flooring. There were also the occasional piles of construction supplies: boxes of nails and screws, a carton of random electrical wires and connectors and, over in the corner next to the Utility Room, a whole stack of raw lumber that was waiting to be carted downstairs. At least it was late enough in the afternoon that the work crew had already left for the day, otherwise he’d have to put up with the noise of the construction as well as the mess.

Justin threaded his way inside past the debris, hanging his bag and jacket on the hooks by the door and then making his way further into the hall. He was barely five feet from the door when he first heard Brian’s voice trickling out of the nursery along with the answering gurgles and coos from Kevan. Stopping just outside the door, Justin gave in to his curiosity and shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation.

“. . . I’m sorry, Sonnyboy. I really am. I just wasn’t cut out for this father shit, you know. Unfortunately my own parents were lousy fucking examples, so I just haven’t got a clue how to work this,” Brian’s plaintive voice was so low that Justin had to strain to hear even though he was only a few feet away and the door was wide open. “I want you to have everything. Everything. But I don’t know if I’m the best one to give it all to you. Shit! I probably should have listened to Mikey and Lindz and everyone else who tried to tell me that I wasn’t cut out to be a full-time father but . . . Fuck it! Are we surprised that I’m already royally fucking up? I just wanted this so much . . .” The little catch in Brian’s voice at that point almost made Justin sob too.

Justin could hear movement inside the nursery so he pulled back and flattened himself against the wall in the hallway outside the door. He really didn’t want to have to explain what he’d been doing listening in. Luckily, it appeared that Brian was just getting up from the recliner and heading to the crib with their son. It didn’t sound like he was leaving the baby’s room yet, though, so Justin relaxed again.

“See, the only thing I ever had going for me was my looks,” Brian continued, spilling his guts to his captive audience, Kevan, who was guaranteed to be non-judgmental and who wouldn’t ever repeat the confessions he was receiving. “I mean, I’m fairly smart too, but nobody really cares about that. All they care about is the ‘fuck-me’ package the brains come in. That’s how I got to be the Stud of Liberty Avenue. I’ve always been able to pull any guy I wanted with just a glance. And, to a certain extent, that’s what makes me good at my job too - I just use my looks and my charm to sell my ads to the clients. That kind of stuff is easy, you know. But this parent shit . . . Well, I can’t get by on just my looks with you, can I? And I’m just so shit-my-pants scared that I’m going to fuck up so badly that you’ll end up just as screwed up as your old man.”

Justin heard the slightly squeaky noise that the crib railing made when it was raised before Brian went on. “I don’t know how I’m going to fix things, Sonnyboy. I know I’m screwing up here, but I just don’t know what else I can do. Sometimes I just feel so fucking trapped . . . Not by you - don’t get me wrong, Sonnyboy, you’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me - but just by life in general, you know? Shit . . .” Brian’s monologue broke off for a moment, and Justin prepared himself to flee, but then the words continued, although even more quietly than before. “I just gotta figure out what the fuck I’m doing. Then I’ll be back. Okay? Just . . . Just don’t forget me . . . ‘cause I fucking love you so much, Sonnyboy.” The last sentence was punctuated with a soft kissing sound, alerting Justin that he better move if he didn’t want to be caught listening in.

Justin backed away as quickly as he could until he was around the corner near the back door. “Now, you lay down and take your nap like a good little man, okay? I’ll be back real soon, Sonnyboy. And be good for your Papa while I’m gone,” Brian said, pulling the window shades closed so that the room, previously bathed in the weak winter sunlight, became even darker.

Justin listened until he heard Brian’s footsteps padding down the hallway on the construction mats before he came back around the corner into the main part of the hall. He wasn’t sure what all that blathering meant, only that it wasn’t good. It looked like everything he’d been worrying about lately was coming to pass. He’d known Brian was feeling trapped and he’d worried that the man was ready to bolt. Now it appeared that Brian was going to do just that, and Justin didn’t think there was anything he could do to stop it.

Shaking his head with a deep sigh, Justin followed the path down the hallway to the Master Bedroom where the lights pouring out through the open doorway gave evidence that he’d find his soon-to-be-runaway partner. Inside, Brian was already busy filling a suitcase laid out on the bed with an array of clothing. The matching garment bag was already packed and hanging from the top edge of the closet door. Judging by the quantities of what the fashion queen was packing, Brian intended to be gone quite a while. Justin leaned against the door frame, watching quietly and trying to think of something - anything - he could say that might change Brian’s mind.

Before he’d come up with a workable plan, though, Brian turned slightly to his right, looking around at the dresser near the door, and caught sight of his watcher. “Justin. I didn’t hear you come in,” Brian stated nonchalantly

“Going somewhere?” Justin asked, figuring that it wasn’t worth the extra energy to beat around the bush or exchange trivialities.

“The Armani shoot got moved up. One of the other models is apparently a fucking celebrity of some kind and he’s due to start filming for a movie the week we were scheduled, so they just moved the whole fucking thing up two weeks. They want me on the set in Cancun in two days.” Brian explained in a completely matter of fact voice as he continued to gather the things he wanted to pack.

“Fuck! There’s no way I can go with you now,” Justin groaned, slumping down dejectedly onto the bed next to Brian’s luggage. “I should have known it was too good to be true. The way they had it planned out before coincided perfectly with my Spring Break at school. But now . . . the next two weeks are when all my finals are scheduled and I have three big projects due as well. I can’t just miss all that. I’d lose the whole term.”

“Yeah. I figured as much,” Brian commented without much emotion. “It’s not like this earlier date is all that great for me either, Sunshine. Taking time off right now, so soon after the VanGuard takeover, is not exactly going to earn me points with the boss. Vance was fucking livid when I told him, but he can’t fire me unless he wants to lose the whole Armani account, so he’s biting his tongue for the moment. Of course, I expect him to work my ass to the bone - and not in a pleasant, life-affirming way, either - once I get back. I don’t have much of a choice though since, according to my contract, I’m at their mercy regarding scheduling.”

“Shit. I was really looking forward to this trip, too. I’ve never been to Mexico. Plus, I thought it would be nice to get to spend some time together without Kevan and the gang and work and school and everything else dragging us down. At this rate, we’re never going to get to go away together on a vacation, are we?” Justin knew he was whining but didn’t really care anymore.

“We’re not fucking married, Justin. You’re not roping me into some pseudo-honeymoon trip so you can live out your little Stepford Fag fantasies,” Brian scoffed as he stuffed his toiletry kit into the suitcase and started zipping it up.

“Fuck you, Brian! You’re the one who offered to take me with you to Cancun in the first place.”

“Yeah, well . . . best laid plans and all that, Sunshine.” Brian slid the largish case off the bed, but didn’t turn around right away. “I should be back in Pittsburgh on the 12th unless there’s some delay or another change in the plans. Cynthia has all my contact information if you need to get ahold of me.”

“So, what . . . That’s all I get? You’re just fucking leaving me here? Alone? What about Kevan?”

“Kevan’s in good hands with his Papa. You’re already good at this fatherhood shit. You guys will be just fine without me.”

“Yeah, we’ll be just fine . . .” Justin repeated, although when he said it, it didn’t sound as convincing anymore. Justin jumped up off the bed and moved around until he was standing behind Brian, blocking the older man’s pathway to the door. “So, Brian, are you actually coming back? Because it sounds to me like you’re just using this trip to set up your escape plans. Like this is just your way of easing out of our lives . . . ‘So long, thanks for all the memories and I’ll see you in your dreams, Sunshine’? I’ve already heard that little speech, Brian. And I gotta say I don’t like it any more this time than I did the first time around.”

Brian didn’t look up, apparently finding his shoes fascinating. He also didn’t answer Justin’s questions. “My flight to Cancun leaves early tomorrow morning. I thought it was best if I just stayed at the loft tonight and I’ll go straight from there,” Brian explained briefly, before hoisting the strap for his suit bag over his shoulder and reaching for the handle to the larger, wheeled suitcase. “I’ll . . . I’ll call you when I get back from Mexico and we can talk about other arrangements then.”

“Brian . . .” Justin grabbed hold of the taller man’s elbow before Brian could maneuver around him and get through the door, his voice and demeanor softening immediately when it looked like Brian really was leaving, and maybe for good. “Don’t . . .  don’t leave like this. Please.”

Despite all the simmering anger that had been boiling up inside him for weeks and weeks, Brian just couldn’t bear to hear all that hurt in Justin’s voice. He knew, deep down inside, that none of this was Justin’s fault. Not really. Justin had been nothing but supportive of him from the very beginning. Thinking back over the past year and everything that Justin had done for him while he was pregnant - well, it was simply overwhelming. Justin had always believed in him. Believed that Brian could - and would - be a wonderful father. It wasn’t Justin’s fault that Brian had utterly failed at parenthood.

“Sunshine,” Brian wanted to explain, but then the words just wouldn’t come. How did you explain to the man who was counting on you to be there for both him and for your son that you just couldn’t do it? That you were constitutionally incapable of being a good father to your own son or a good partner to him. No. No matter how much of Brian’s anger had been focused on Justin in the past couple of weeks, if he was being honest, it really wasn’t fair. The person Brian should be angry at was himself for being such a horrible failure. “I’m . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say, Justin. I don’t know what I can give you anymore. I just don’t know how to do this and I don’t want to fuck it up even more than I already have. So what can I say? What do you want to hear?”

“Don’t say anything, then. We’ve always been better at showing each other what mattered without the words. So, show me, Brian. Don’t leave without showing me . . .” Justin pleaded in a hushed, raspy voice that was barely concealing the anguish the young man was feeling.

Brian hesitated. He didn’t really want to go, even though he knew that it was the best thing for everyone. That Justin and Kevan would be better off without him. Only, it was so hard to do the right thing this time. Saying goodbye to Kevan earlier had already left his heart broken and bleeding. And now Justin was looking at him with those soul-deep blue eyes that seemed to almost paralyse him with the weight of the need showing out of them.

“Show me,” Justin demanded again, reaching out with his hand to caress Brian’s cheek so softly that Brian couldn’t help leaning into the warmth of the touch.

And a minute later the suitcases had been dropped to the floor and Brian found himself wrapped around the smaller blond frame, kissing the full, popsicle-pink lips for all he was worth. He enjoyed the way Justin tasted of those orange breath mint candies he was always popping. It was a sweet and spicy mix that Brian would always associate with Justin no matter how long they might be apart. It was so quintessentially Justin.

So was the way the younger man melted into Brian’s arms, moaning and giving himself without reservation. If Brian hadn’t been so busy trying to devour the boy’s luscious lips he might have laughed at the way Justin gave himself so completely in spite of the argument they’d just had and Brian’s churlishness over the past few weeks. As it was, Brian was simply too caught up in the moment to think straight. He just wanted to kiss those lips forever and not have to think about all the other stuff that made his life - and more moments like this - so impossible.

And the next thing Brian knew, the nimble artist’s fingers were unbuttoning his shirt and warm hands were dancing across his skin leaving trails of touch that almost burned, they were so intense. Brian blinked and then the next thing he knew his pants were already unfastened and sagging off his hips. Another blink and his blond was kneeling with those perfectly plump lips sucking at his cock as if he’d never tasted anything that scrumptious. Brian threaded his fingers into the thick blond locks and held on for dear life while the talented mouth kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled up and down his shaft in endlessly erotic patterns.

Brian was incredibly close to coming when all of a sudden he found himself being led back towards the bed and a second later he was lying flat on his back, his hips propped up on a pile of pillows, and his legs draped over the shoulders of a blond boy who seemed to be completely engrossed in eating his ass so enthusiastically that Brian felt himself nearing the edge of insanity. He must have said something or at least made some kind of noise that the Sunshine was able to interpret because, a heartbeat later, he felt the satisfying burn as slickened fingers began to probe expertly into the depths of his hole. And knowing how adept the owner of those digits was, Brian shouldn’t have been surprised that they zeroed in on his sweet spot with unerring accuracy while the other hand was expertly stroking his cock at exactly the same pace.

Just about the time Brian remembered to question why it was that he seemed to be on the receiving end of this last hurrah, he was distracted yet again by the abrupt introduction of a better-than-average-sized cock nudging against the entrance to his most intimate opening. Maybe if his cock wasn’t already harder than a diamond-tipped cement drill bit, he might have actually raised some form of objection. But, as it was, Brian didn’t have either the time or the inclination to comment. Before he knew it, the blunt tip of a thick, well-trained cock was sliding inside him, splitting him open and stretching him wider and wider as it penetrated the depths.

And Brian absolutely, unequivocally, abso-fucking-lutely, loved every minute of the experience.

Nobody could fuck him like Justin. Not that he ever let anyone else try, of course, but even then, Brian couldn’t even imagine somebody coming close. No one he’d ever met before or since could milk the pleasure out of his prostate like the blond youth. No one else knew all the spots to kiss while they were fucking. No one else knew the precise amount of pressure to apply to his cock or the exact right tempo with which to stroke him. No one else knew how much Brian loved the incredibly disgusting, naughty and erotic things that his Sunshine would whisper in his ear while they were fucking. And no one else knew how much Brian liked - or rather, craved - being fucked hard and fast and ruthlessly, never letting up, never pausing, until he just couldn’t take any more and his body convulsed with a paroxysm of pleasure.

Or, for that matter, knew how much Brian always needed to be held and reassured afterwards.

Justin was already asleep - worn out after all the emotional upheaval of the evening, not to mention the preceding weeks - before Brian had even recovered his breathing all the way. Brian let himself have a moment to revel in the feeling of belonging he always got when he was wrapped securely in Justin’s arms. But, as soon as the quaking from his orgasm had died out all the way, Brian’s misgivings reasserted themselves with a vengeance. He knew better than to let himself have this. He had already made his decision and it was time he acted on it.

As carefully as possible, Brian inched his way out of the bed, gently substituting a pillow for his own body in the slumbering Sunshine’s arms. Then he quickly dressed himself again and resolutely picked up his abandoned suitcases. He didn’t even give himself the reassurance of a last kiss before leaving since that alone would probably be enough to break his resolve. He walked down the hall, not even letting himself stop at the nursery door.

As he gathered his keys from the stand near the back door, his eyes alighted on the black leather case of the hated breast pump waiting in it’s place on the floor by the door. He paused momentarily, glaring at the detestable item. Then, setting his shoulders in a resolute stance, Brian kicked the case over and walked out the door. No matter what else he decided, Brian was through with that particularly unpleasant aspect of parenting.

Chapter 27 - Cranks and Crackpots.

Kevan was cranky.

Of course he didn’t know the WORD cranky but he knew how it felt.

It felt like one of your favorite people things had disappeared and you couldn’t find him anywhere and it had been days and weeks and months and years since he’d been there to hold you and kiss you and talk to you. And you cried for him but nobody was listening and he didn’t come back. And nobody else knew how to make your tummy warm and full like The Daddy did. But The Daddy was just gone.

It felt like when they took away the yummy wet stuff that you liked to drink - the stuff that you got from The Daddy when he wasn’t missing - and replaced it with some horrible gunk that smelled icky and tasted even worse. You tried to knock the hard plastic thing with the rubbery little sucking part on the end out of The Papa’s hands but he just kept trying to shove it in your face. And when you did suck up some of the icky gunk it tasted like doo-doo, so you spit it all out, but then it dribbled down your chin and got on your skin and then YOU smelled icky too. So you cried and screamed but nobody listened and they just kept shoving the bottle into your mouth until you were too tired to cry anymore and just went to sleep.

If felt like when that funny big green thing that was soft and cuddly was too far away from you to reach and you really needed to hold it and tell it all your baby troubles. You know, the thing that The Papa called ‘Uglyworm’. Uglyworm had become a really good friend lately and you missed him. And you could see him lying on the floor but he was all the way over there and you were a baby and that meant you couldn’t just get up and go and get Uglyworm. And you wriggled and squirmed but couldn’t figure out how to make your body move to where Uglyworm was waiting. So you cried and cried but the big people things weren’t paying any attention and the day was just getting worse and worse but nobody seemed to care.

That’s what cranky felt like.

“Hey, Baby!” Emmett’s always cheerful greeting echoed around the vast spaces of the Greatroom as he practically skipped into the house. “And hey, Baby’s baby!” Em added, chucking Kevan under the chin as he capered by. “How are two of my favorite boys doing this glorious morning?

“Oh, we’re doing just fucking great!” Justin practically growled back at the annoyingly over-enthusiastic manny. “Brian left us last night, Kevan’s not happy at all about being instantly weaned off breast milk and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do in the meantime while Brian’s off figuring out what he wants to be when he grows up. So, yeah. We’re totally having the best fucking day of our lives. Thanks for asking!”

Right then Justin lost all patience and threw the bottle that Kevan had spit out for the tenth time across the room. It bounced off the kitchen wall, cracked and then fell to the floor where the formula inside slowly seeped out onto the tile floor. The sight of the mess on the floor served to fuel the young blond’s anger even more and he picked up the canister of powdered formula and threw it after the bottle. When the can hit the ground, it burst open and spewed a cloud of milky yellowish-white silt into the air, which then proceeded to settle all over everything in the room.

“FUCK!” Justin screamed, venting only a tiny bit of his overall frustration.

His screaming seemed to momentarily shock Kevan, who paused in his own howling long enough to give his father a disbelieving look.

“What? Brian left you? What are you talking about, Baby?” Emmett hustled over so he was standing in front of the panting, irate youth. “Now, calm down and tell me what’s going on so I can figure out how to help you.”

“He’s off to Cancun for another Armani modelling thing,” Justin explained, wiping away a smear of milky formula that had coalesced on his cheek where the powder drifting through the air had mixed with an escaped tear. “Only, I’m not sure if he’s coming back after the Cancun trip is over. He was blathering on last night about how he needed to figure things out and a bunch of other self-indulgent bullshit. And I think . . . I think . . . I think he’s going to leave for good, Em,” Justin finally couldn’t hold back the angry tears as he collapsed into the strong, caring arms of his friend.

“Oh, Sweetie!” Em consoled as he hugged the distraught young father in his arms. “Don’t say that. I don’t believe it for one second. Brian may be going through alot right now, and maybe he needed to get away for a while, but I don’t believe it that he would ever just up and leave for good. That man loves you two so much it’s crazy. You're the love of his life and he simply adores Kevan. After everything he had to go through to have that sweet little baby - no Brian wouldn’t leave him. Not forever. And not you either. He probably just needed some ‘Brian’ time - you KNOW this father thing is a huge adjustment for our confused Stud - but as soon as he’s got whatever it is that’s bothering him out of his system, he’ll be back. I can practically guarantee it, Baby.”

“I don’t know, Em. You should have heard him. He said . . . he said he’d call when he got back so we could ‘make other arrangements’! That fucking sounds to me like he’s not planning on coming back.”

“Oh, Justin!” Auntie Em moved away far enough to grab the dish towel hanging off the handle of the fridge and used it to gently wipe away his friend’s milk-powdery tears. “I still don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I’ve known Brian a long time and yes, he can be a total bitch sometimes, but he’s always been as loyal as they come. Look at the way he’s stuck by Michael all these years even when they consistently seem to get on each other’s last nerve. Brian might mock us and tease us but he would never abandon his family or friends, let alone his partner and his son. You’ll see, Sweetie. He’ll come back, his tail between his legs, once he realizes what a total ass he’s been. Of course he won’t ever ADMIT he was being a jackass, but he probably won’t stop you while you ream his ass out for acting like a total idiot, which is pretty much the same thing in Kinney-speak.”

“I don’t know, Em . . . you should have heard him,” Justin sniffled and used the dishtowel to swipe at his running nose.

“Well I DO know!” Em insisted and, as if that was the end of the discussion, he turned away from Justin and started to clean up poor Kevan who looked like he’d been liberally dusted from head to toe with the creamy yellow powder that was still filtering down over everything and everyone. “Now, you go get yourself cleaned up and ready for school. I’m going to deal with this mess here in the kitchen and then we’ll try to figure out how to get our little man reconciled to his formula instead of Daddy's Milk. And we just won’t worry about Brian and all his drama queen tendencies until later, okay?”

“Okay. I guess,” Justin sighed, gave Emmett - who was now bouncing the baby on his hip in an attempt to quell another spate of baby sobbing - a half-hearted smile and then headed off down the hall towards the bedroom to get ready for the day.

“Now, YOU, young man need to buck up and stop stressing your Papa out. You certainly are Brian Kinney’s baby - that’s the only place you could have inherited drama princess genes of THIS magnitude,” Auntie Em prattled on as he bustled around the kitchen, picking things up, putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher and then sweeping up the piles of powdered milk.

Kevan, who was now propped up on the counter-top in his bouncy chair, was distracted enough by the manny’s antics that he forgot to cry for several consecutive minutes. When the worst of the mess was tidied up, Auntie Em turned his attention back to the curiously watching baby. As soon as he was once again the center of attention, Kevan seemed to recall that he was supposed to be upset and started to whimper a bit. “Drama princess!” was Emmett’s only response, as he shook his head and went about mixing up a fresh bottle of formula for the little budding queen.

Instead of the standard baby bottle, Kevan had always prefered a bottle that had handles on each side so that he could hold onto it himself. Justin had joked from the beginning that his son was just exhibiting the same stubborn independence as his Daddy. Em was fine with it though since it made everything a lot easier for him when Kevan could hold onto the bottle better and wasn’t constantly dropping it. So, Emmett dug around in the cupboard a bit until he found the baby’s favorite two-handled bottle before starting the process of making up a fresh serving of formula. A minute later the microwave dinged, announcing that a warmed bottle was ready.

Emmett handed the bottle over to Kevan, who started to take it as he normally would if it were one of the warmed up bottles of expressed breast milk he was used to. But then the baby wrinkled up his cute little turned up nose and started to shove the unsatisfactory-smelling thing away from him with a loud wail. Emmett immediately shoved the nipple of the bottle into the baby’s wide open mouth and almost laughed when Kevan’s eyes got big with surprise and he looked up at his Auntie with a confused look. The baby only sucked for about thirty seconds though before he flung the bottle away from him and let all the formula he’d sucked up dribble out of his mouth. The gooey liquid trickled over the baby’s chin and down into the folds of his slightly chubby neck. Kevan immediately resumed his inconsolate wailing.

‘Oh well,’ thought the manny. ‘I guess Little Mr. Cranky-pants will eat when he gets hungry enough. Silly little drama princess!’

Brian looked at himself in the scratched up mirror of the airplane’s lavatory and wasn’t at all happy with what he saw. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot and there were dark bags underneath. His skin looked yellowed and dry - although that could just be the terrible lighting in the john. However, it could also be because he hadn’t slept worth shit the night before and, after he’d tossed and turned for more than two hours, he’d given up, grabbed the bottle of Beam off the liquor cart and then drank until he’d finally passed out. He hoped that the makeup people that Armani hired were good enough to hide the damage he’d done. But it was either that or not sleep at all while his mind spiraled through his problems over and over again all night.

He sighed, ran some of the lukewarm tap water into the palm of one hand and then splashed it onto his face. It didn’t seem to do much to help him wake up or refresh him. And the effort it took to pry a paper towel out of the dispenser that had become jammed with shredded paper in one corner so that it was impossible to get a towel to come out whole, wasn’t worth it. Brian ended up using the ragged third of a towel he managed to get hold of to dab away the remaining wetness. Then he unlatched the door and made his way back to his seat. At least Armani had sprung for first class so maybe he could catch a bit more sleep on the almost four hour flight.

Brian was seated by the window, so the guy on the aisle had to get up in order to let him back in. Brian had already admired the well-built, sandy-haired hunk with the icy blue eyes as soon as he’d got on the plane. They hadn’t said more than a curt ‘morning’ as they nodded to each other when they first came aboard. Which was just fine with Brian, since he really wasn’t in the mood to chat.

Now, though, it looked like Hunkalicious was feeling talkative. “You’re Brian Kinney, right?” Hunky stated in a conversational tone.

“Yeah.” Brian responded, trying to show how un-talkative he was feeling with the curt answer.

“Logan Jackson,” Hunky said, reaching across his body awkwardly and offering his hand.

“If you’re another rabid fan, I can tell you now I don’t give autographs, and no, you can’t take a picture with me to post to your facebook account,” Brian replied icily.

‘Uh . . . no. Not really a fan. Actually more of a colleague, I guess you’d say. I’m doing the Armani shoot too. I recognized you from last fall’s ads,” Hunky explained, still maintaining a jovial little smile even in the face of Brian’s taciturn scowl.

“Hmmm. So, are you the one that we all had to move our schedules around for?” Brian asked, finally looking at the guy more closely and realizing that he did look kind of familiar.

“I’m afraid so. I’m due in Los Angeles . . .”

“Whatever,” Brian interrupted Hunky before he had to listen to some lame-assed excuse followed by a complete recap of the guy’s entire acting career. “Listen, Loren, I’ve got a bitch of a hangover, so if you could keep the chatter to a minimum while I try to sleep here, I’ll be less inclined to call you nasty names behind your back once we’re on set.”

Hunky looked to be at a complete loss for words after that. Brian mentally congratulated himself on effectively shutting the guy up. Then he pulled the window shade down, turned onto his side, wadded the miniscule airline pillow into a less lumpy shape, pulled the thin blanket over his shoulder and tried to get as comfortable as was possible within the limitation of an airplane seat. It must have worked since he was asleep within about ten minutes and didn’t wake until the pilot announced that they were about to land.

And he had barely had to talk to his Hunky seatmate at all.

“Damn it!”

Justin was just entering the Greatroom with Kevan in his arms when he heard Emmett slam the front door shut, cursing loudly. The uncharacteristic expletive coming from the almost-always-cheerful manny immediately alerted Justin that there was some kind of serious trouble brewing. He quickly laid his son down in the playpen full of stuffed animals and other toys which was set up next to the couches and trotted over to see what Emmett was looking at. As Justin neared, he could tell that it was a plain, brown, craft-paper wrapped package that had apparently raised such an uproar.

“What’s up, Em?”

“There’s ANOTHER of those packages without any return address. This is the fourth one already this week! I mean, doesn’t this creep get it that we’re just going to throw whatever it is out without opening it? I’m getting a little pissed off at the guy - whoever he is.” Emmett complained as he carried the small shoebox-sized parcel through the house and right out the backdoor, depositing it in the large trash bin waiting next to the garage. “I mean, really! Get a life already!” Emmett was still grousing five minutes later as he came back inside. “Whoever this stalker guy is, he obviously needs some serious help.”

“. . . . .”

When Em didn’t get any response from Justin, he looked over at the short-statured blond, who was still standing near the front door, the stack of mail that Emmett had handed him earlier lying in a scattered pile on the floor and his face as pale as a sheet, looking at a sheet of paper in his hands.

“I think WE’RE the ones going to need some serious help, Em” Justin finally answered once the tall worried man had come up behind him, startling him back to the present with a touch on his shoulder.

Without saying more, Justin handed the letter he’d been reading over to his friend and saw an echoing look of dread settle on Emmett’s face.

“. . . How dare you just throw out the gifts that I sent you! That’s so petty, Brian. And I know you don’t mean it. We would be so perfect together. You know it as well as I do - even though you’re fighting it right now. But I KNOW we were meant for each other. We could be so happy. Just you and me and our sweet little Kevan . . .” Emmett read aloud from the body of the note, his voice dying away at the end as he quickly scanned the rest of that page as well as the three other sheets of paper that were covered, back and front, with a closely packed scrawl of disjointed writing.

“Justin . . .”

“Yeah . . . I know. It’s . . .” Justin covered his mouth with his left hand and then brought his right hand up to cover that - only just barely holding back his fear by means of that physical action.

“We need to call the police, Justin. This is more than just crazy gifts . . . This is crazy insane.” Emmett put the letter down on the side table next to the door and moved to pick up the phone. He pushed a few buttons, waited a moment and then said, “Pittsburgh . . . Pittsburgh Police Department, please . . .”

Meanwhile Justin was still simply standing there, listening to Emmett’s description of events to the police, unmoving, not sure what he was supposed to do or feel or think at this point because he was too petrified to do any of that.

And why, exactly, had Brian picked THIS week to go gadabouting around Mexico? Didn’t Justin have enough on his plate trying to deal with school, weaning Kevan, and an increased work load being dumped on him at the last minute by VanGuard - probably because the agency was caught short-handed when Brian left for his modeling gig without any advanced warning - not to mention the stress of Brian apparently leaving him alone to raise their son on his own, without adding in a crazed, angry stalker into the mix? Justin thought he was definitely due for a break.

Maybe he’d just go back to bed, hide under the covers for the rest of the day and hope it all went away. Yeah, that sounded like the best idea he’d had in a long time. If Brian was allowed to run away, Justin should be allowed to do the same.

And he would have done just that if Kevan hadn’t, thankfully, picked that moment to demand some parental attention. With a heavy stride, Justin shrugged off his incipient depression and turned to his son. He just hoped he could hold it together a little bit longer. He had to. He was all Kevan had right now. And single parents didn’t get to take mental health days to wallow in their sorrows, did they?

Brian was lying on his stomach on a beach chair partially shaded by a lime green umbrella and enjoying the ministrations of a particularly solicitous latino cabana boy who had generously offered to apply sunscreen to his back when one of the hotel staff approached them carrying a small telephone handset on a tray.

“Senor Kinney?” the staffer asked and then, when Brian lifted up his head enough to nod, he bent over and offered him the phone. “You have a telephone call from the States, Senor. The woman, she said it was muy importante.”

“Gracias, Guillermo,” Brian replied, reading the man’s name off the tag pinned to the dark green polo shirt that served as a uniform of sorts for the staff at the resort where the Armani photoshoot group was staying. “Kinney.” Brian barked into the phone.

“Finally! You have no idea how difficult it’s been to get through to you, Brian,” Cynthia’s exasperated voice easily backed up her statement. “I’ve been on the phone for almost two hours already.”

“Yeah, well, that’s good because I really don’t want to be in contact with anyone yet this morning - except for Miguel here, who I’m planning on have lots more contact with as soon as he’s done rubbing sunscreen all over me . . .” Brian snarked, winking over his shoulder at the cabana boy in question who smiled at hearing his name mentioned. ”So this better be good, Cynthia.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it good . . .” Cynthia hesitated, which wasn’t at all characteristic for the indomitable personal assistant, immediately raising Brian's hackles. “Remember that fan of yours that was following you around Liberty Avenue and sending you presents? Well, apparently he’s a little miffed at you for throwing everything out and has taken to sending threatening letters instead. Justin had to call in the police yesterday. I thought you’d want to know.”

“What the fuck?” Brian knocked the cabana boy off the edge of the chair as he sat up abruptly. “What kind of threats? Are Justin and Kevan okay? What are the police doing about this shit?”

“Both Justin and Kevan are fine so far, but it seems the police can’t do much to make sure they stay that way,” Cynthia explained, relaying all the information she’d amassed from talking to Justin and the others. “Until this guy’s broken some kind of law, they can’t arrest him. Unfortunately, sending you presents isn’t against the law. And, because you guys threw out all the stuff he’s been sending there’s really no evidence that he’s dangerous - other than the most recent letters of course - and even those are pretty vague about what exactly he’s threatening. I think Justin’s working with Mel to try and get some kind of restraining order in place, but the last I heard was that they may have to wait until you get back since you’re the primary target mentioned in the letters. In the meantime, Ted, who’s actually read the letters, was concerned enough that he asked me about the possibility of hiring some kind of security guards for Britin’s Chapel. Which is why I’m calling to let you know what’s going on, boss, and find out what you want me to do.”

“Fuck! I can’t believe that little creep! I mean, he’s been fucking annoying and all, but I didn’t think he was the type to go all ‘Bunny Boiler’ on anyone. And, of course, this shit all comes down when I’m out of the fucking country! Damn it . . .” Brian was now pacing in circles around the beach chair, kicking up sand as he continued angrily ranting at the top of his voice and drawing the attention of all the other guests and staff around. “Okay. This is what I want you to do, Cynthia - get Zavi and the rest of the Hulk Brothers and set them up as security at the house. Hire whoever else you need, but make sure that Justin and Kevan are safe. I want around the clock security in place by the end of the day. Then I want you to find out everything you can about this ‘Tab’ guy, using whatever means you need to . . .”

Emmett, who had stayed over at Britin’s Chapel the past few nights to keep a thoroughly overwhelmed and depressed Justin company, had been sent out on an early morning breakfast run. He was being allowed to drive the jeep while Brian was out of town so, as soon as he'd picked up enough food to feed everyone, he sped back to the house, pulled up to the gate at the rear of the property and hit the button on the remote control that would open both the gate as well as the garage door. It was still fairly early in the morning though, meaning that Emmett wasn't all that alert yet. In fact, while he was waiting for the gate to slide all the way clear, he was further distracted by a large yawn that he just couldn't suppress. When Em finally did close his mouth and blink, he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively turned his head to follow whatever it was.

The blur of motion turned out to be a human figure that was trying to sneak in around the the Jeep just as the gate reached its widest point. “Hey!” Emmett pulled the car door open and yelled at the retreating form which had moved so quickly that it was now all but hidden by a group of evergreen bushes inside the wall on the far side of the driveway. “Hey, YOU! This is private property, buddy!” Emmett had started to jog over towards the plants that were concealing whoever it was that had infiltrated the grounds. All he could really see between the leafy branches were flashes of dark blue material - a sweatshirt with a hood that had been pulled low over the trespasser’s eyes. “Come on out of there, whoever you are! If you’re not outside that fence in the next ten seconds I’m calling the police and pressing charges!”

Emmett held up his cell phone so that the huddled figure could see that he was serious. The interloper must have taken the warning to heart, since he or she immediately stood up and trotted back through the gate again. While he was at it, Emmett had the forethought to snap a couple of quick pictures of the figure with his camera phone, although all he really got in the frame was the back of the blue hoodie.

Em stood in the open gateway and watched as whoever it was ran off down the block and around the corner. Then he strode back to the jeep, found the remote and closed the gate, still watching attentively to make sure that the intruder didn’t make another attempt. It wasn’t until the gate clanged loudly closed, its metal latch firmly making contact with the gatepost, that Emmett realized he was shaking.

This was really NOT good. Not good at all . . .

Chapter 28 - Margaritaville.

*WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH* Kevan belted out his loudest complaint to date, hoping against hope that THIS time someone would listen to him.

“Blah, blah, blah, Kevan. Please, Kevan, Honey, blah, blah, blah . . .” The Papa said, his voice all pleading and sad as he tried again to shove the hard plastic thing with the rubbery end and the foul smelling gunk inside it into Kevan’s mouth.

How is it that none of these stupid people things understood that Kevan did not want the smelly gunk? He wanted The Daddy. Where the doo doo was The Daddy. Were the other people things around him just stupid or were they keeping The Daddy away from him for some reason? Were they intentionally doing this to be mean to him? Hmmmm. That was a new idea that hadn’t crossed Kevan’s baby mind yet - that his people things might be torturing him with the bottles of smelly gunk on purpose? It was such a horrible concept and so scary that Kevan wailed again and again and again.

Finally, The Papa let out his own big people thing version of Kevan’s ‘Wahhhhh!’ and handed the baby off to the The Silly One.

Twenty minutes later - or twenty hours or twenty days or twenty years, Kevan didn’t know and didn’t care because it felt like forever - The Silly One also seemed to give up. He handed Kevan off to some other big person thing that Kevan didn’t remember ever seeing before. This person thing had dark hair and his eyes were small and almost black.  The Black One wasn’t smiling down at Kevan the way almost all big people things did - this person thing looked almost as scared of Kevan as Kevan was of him. The mouth sounds that this Black One was making weren’t going to help calm the baby either - the noises he was making were higher pitched than most of the other people around Kevan and maybe even a little squeaky. It kind of hurt his ears even. The Black One also wasn’t holding Kevan right - instead of holding Kevan close to his body where the baby felt stable and safe, this person thing was holding Kevan so that he was far away from his chest with only his two hands to support the little body. Kevan felt like he was suspended over nothing with practically nothing holding him up.  Add to that the fact that Kevan didn’t KNOW this particular big person thing, and that he was already fed up with the stupid gunk-filled bottle, and you had a recipe for a very, very disgruntled infant.

*WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH* Kevan’s new cry managed to reach a decibel level that was certified to pierce the eardrums of even the most well-seasoned of parents. Michael - aka ‘The Black One’ to Kevan’s sensibilities - who was not used to being around kids at all, especially not angry, forcibly-weaned, almost six-month-old infants who’d barely managed to keep down any of the new formula over the past week and who were not happy about meeting strangers, was at a complete and total loss as to what to do in this situation.

Kevan quickly discerned that The Black One was absolutely useless - probably even mentally deficient - and decided to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

Which is probably why Michael ended up leaving Britin’s Chapel that day with his new Big Q-Mart Shirt covered all down the front with partially-digested, thrown-up, baby formula.

Brian was sitting in the beach cabana that was being used as the makeup and dressing room. He was aggravated as hell over the ridiculously slow pace they’d been following during this photoshoot so far. It had been almost a week now since they arrived and it didn’t feel like they were any closer to being done. Every day they’d be hustled off early in the morning, told to get ready and then they’d end up sitting around for hours while the prima donna photographer puttered around setting up his lighting, fiddled with the scenery and complained about the heat. By the time the temperamental photographer was ready, the models’ makeup would have become smeared and need retouching or something else would have gone wrong. Brian and the others would be marched out to the site and then back into the tents several times a day before any actual photography would take place. And then, just when things seemed to be going well, the photographer would declare that he’d ‘lost the light’ and they’d quit for the day.

Needless to say, Brian-the-control-freak was frustrated and ready to strangle the photographer.

He was also just about ready to walk. Since he’d got the phone call from Cynthia the day before about the stalker problem back in the Pitts, he’d been hovering on the verge of panicking. He wanted to be home where he could take care of Justin and Kevan and make sure they were safe from this nutcase. But, instead, he was trapped in Cancun and couldn’t leave without incurring a monstrous fine under the terms of his modeling contract, possibly even losing Armani as a client of VanGuard altogether. Even so, Brian was just about to say ‘Fuck it!’ to the fine and Vance and get on the next plane back to the states. The fact that he’d been waiting this morning for almost two hours in this almost airless tent wasn’t making him any more inclined to stick around for the rest of the shoot.

“Mr. Kinney,” tittered the annoyingly flirty little assistant to the Assistant Creative Director as she came jogging into the make up tent. “You have a phone call. The woman said it was urgent, so I decided to bring the phone to you myself.” She announced as she came to a stop well within Brian’s personal space, adding a big toothy smile, batting her overly mascaraed lashes at him and making sure that their fingers touched when she handed over the phone. “If there’s ever ANYthing else I can do for you, Brian - I mean, Mr. Kinney - please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Brian took the phone without bothering to thank the obsequious tart and turned his back on the girl - who seemed to take that as a challenge rather than a dismissal, intentionally brushing her chest against his back and trailing a hand low across his robe-covered back in the process of leaving the cabana. Brian glared at her over his shoulder, but the effect was lost as she had her back to him. He didn’t waste too much energy on the Fangirl though. He was too curious about this phone call to worry about yet another of his fawning groupies.

“Kinney.”

“Brian? It’s Cynthia.”

“It’s about time. What the fuck is going on up there? Did the police find that little weasel yet?” Brian demanded.

Cynthia proceeded to tell Brian about all the most recent developments in Pittsburgh. She informed him about Emmett’s run in with the hooded person trying to get into the house the day before, causing Brian to curse loudly and his blood pressure to skyrocket, not to mention that it aggravated the hangover headache he was still suffering through after spending most of the prior night drinking instead of sleeping. She also told him about the newest gift and letter that had been left at the house overnight. Brian was only partially mollified to hear that the round-the-clock security he’d asked for had been put into place and that one of the Hulk Brothers or their associates would be at Britin’s Chapel at all times for the foreseeable future.

“Good, but in the meantime what the hell are the police doing? We shouldn’t have to hide in our house and have bodyguards follow us around everywhere we go. This creep needs to be taken off the streets and locked up,” Brian demanded as he paced around the small space inside the makeup tent.

“Emmett took the most recent deliveries to the police this morning. I don’t think they’ll do much, though. I’m having Justin fax me copies of each letter he receives as well as pictures of all the gifts before they take them to the cops. I’ve read over all the letters and the problem is that basically they’re not explicitly threatening. It’s more the tone of the letters that’s scary. If you just look at the words themselves, it doesn’t seem that bad. I mean, this guy never actually says that he’s going to hurt anyone. It’s all just implied. Which means that the cops probably can’t DO anything,” Cynthia could almost feel her boss’ anxiety level escalating through the phone lines as she spoke. “Mostly he just goes on and on about how you and he are meant to be together. The thing that creeps me out the most is the pictures he’s sent. It’s apparent he’s been following Justin and Kevan around for a while now because he’s got pictures of them from all over the city. And then he either cuts Justin out of the pictures or uses a marker to obliterate his face. It’s . . . disturbing, to say the least. But in the letters he never once refers to Justin - it’s like Justin doesn’t even exist to this guy? I don’t know. Whoever he is, he’s clearly not mentally stable. But I don’t know what we can do about it.”

“Damned little fucker!” Brian collapsed into the chair by the canvas door, wishing now that he’d laid off the margaritas because that, combined with the stress of this phone call, seemed to be substantially increasing the stomach cramps he’d been feeling off and on all morning. “What else have you been able to find out on this Tad guy, Cynthia? Maybe the police need a bit of a push. If we find any dirt on him, that might spur them to take some real action.”

“I’m sorry to say that I haven’t found anything yet, Brian.” Cynthia admitted. “And his name is ‘Tag’, or ‘Taggart’, not ‘Tad’ - or at least that’s how he signs the letters. Unfortunately, that’s all I have. No last name and I’m not even sure that’s his real first name. It could be just a nickname or something. I’ve got feelers out to people I know in the community to try to find out more, but without at least a last name there’s not much I can do either.”

“Fuck!” Brian yelled, causing Cynthia to quickly pull the phone away from her ear. “Fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Calm down, Brian. There’s no use getting that upset,” Cynthia tried to pacify the obviously agitated man. However, when several more minutes went by and all she heard on the phone was a continuing string of ‘fuck’s, Brian’s voice getting fainter and fainter, she started to get concerned that something more was going on than just another of Brian’s legendary temper tantrums. “Brian? Are you okay . . . Brian?”

Brian, meanwhile, was doubled over and almost falling out of his chair. The vague sense of stomach discomfort he’d been feeling all morning had just turned into a sharp stabbing pain deep inside his gut. At this point, all Brian could do was gasp for air and mutter the occasional ‘fuck’. He’d forgotten he even had the phone still in his hand until Cynthia’s yelling finally penetrated through the haze of pain he was feeling.

“Shit! Stop yelling, Cyn. Fuck! You screaming in my ear isn’t going to help the fact that I feel like I’m about to puke my guts out here,” Brian eventually managed to get the words out to placate his worried assistant. “Either I fucking drank a lot more than I remember last night or the ice in those margaritas wasn’t made with filtered water. Shit! It feels like someone’s stabbing me in the gut with an ice pick.”

“Uh oh. That sounds bad, Brian. I was laid up for almost a week with Montezuma’s Revenge after my last trip to Mexico. I hope you don’t have it as bad as I did,” Cynthia sympathized with her boss.

“Another good reason to come home right away,” Brian grunted as another stab of pain hit him, although this one wasn’t quite as sharp.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Brian, If this stalker guy really is a threat, you’re safer out of the country than back here in the Pitts, even with a case of the runs.”

“Fuck that! What about Justin and Kevan? I’m not going to be hiding out down here in Mexico while some crazy is after my family,” Brian’s anger, for a moment, overwhelmed his pain

“There’s nothing you could do here, Brian. Right now there's nothing more anyone can do. If there were, we’d already have it done before you got back,” Cynthia reassured her boss. “Plus, now that we’ve got security in place, Justin and Kevan should be fine. Emmett’s been staying at Britin’s Chapel this week too, so there’s basically no time of the day or night that either of them are alone. They’ll be fine, Brian. You should just stay where you are and finish out the rest of the shoot. Hopefully, by the time you do get back, the whole thing will have blown over.”

“Shit!” Brian felt yet another puncturing pain and grabbed at his gut with his hands until the throbbing abated a bit. “Okay. I don’t think I could fly like this anyway. I’d probably be puking before we hit 20,000 feet. But NOTHING better happen to them before I get back or heads will fucking roll. Do you hear me, Cynthia? Make sure that everyone knows that my family’s safety is paramount. And it goes without saying that you have authority to do whatever you need - money’s no object - just make sure they all stay safe. Got it?”

Cynthia acquiesced and the conversation ended quickly. Brian was glad to note that the worst of the stomach cramping had passed by the time the phone call ended, although he still felt vaguely nauseated. As he hung up he saw the digital time readout on the phone and was again pissed off that he’d now been waiting around in this stupid cabana for almost two hours. Enough was enough. He didn’t care what the fuck the fickle photographer was doing, he was going back to his room until the asshole was ready for him.

Halfway up the pathway to the hotel, Brian was waylaid by the same fawning fangirl that had brought the phone to him earlier. Brian literally cringed when she laid her hand on his biceps and gave it an intimate little squeeze. This was really the last thing he felt like dealing with today.

“There you are, Brian. I was just coming down to get you,” Assistant Fangirl simpered. “It seems that the photographer, along with most of the rest of the production staff who went out drinking with him last night, are all sick to their stomachs right about now. They think it was bad fruit in the sangria or something. Anyway, it doesn’t look like anything much is going to get done the rest of today and I thought that maybe I could treat you to a beer by the pool, since you looked so hot back there in that cabana . . .” she offered, letting the innuendo hang there in the air while she smiled up at Brian.

Brian managed not to gag, but only just barely as his already upset stomach did a sickly roll. “Yeah, thanks but, uh, I don't think so. I mean, I know I'm hot - I'd wanna do me too - but unless you've been living under a rock for the past year, you've got to know I don't bat for your team,” Brian explained, trying to be at least a little diplomatic about turning the girl down. Unfortunately, the woman continued to smile at him as if she thought maybe she would be the girl who could get him to rethink his team affiliations. But, when her too friendly hand started to slide up his arm and then across his chest, Brian decided to hell with the nice-nice. “Sorry, chickie. I’d rather hook up with a scat queen than come any nearer to you or your obviously overused pussy.” Brian took hold of the wandering hand with his index finger and thumb as if to avoid any overt contamination and dropped it back at the girl’s side. “Eat the street, Sweetheart!” Brian added dismissively and turned his back on the now angry Assistant Fangirl, who probably wasn’t a fan at all anymore. Not that Brian cared.

Instead of continuing on to his room, though, the run in with the Fangirl caused Brian to change directions and head straight to the poolside bar. After that unpleasant experience, Brian needed a fucking drink. He didn’t care that it wasn’t even noon yet. The pain in his gut seemed to be almost gone now, thank fuck, so he might as well get his frustrations out by drinking rather than pacing and worrying alone in his room.

Brian sauntered up to the bar which was situated next to the resort’s main pool and shaded by a palm frond roof. He undid the sash and pulled off the robe he’d been wearing, leaving him in only the tiny, and very revealing, black Armani Exchange swim briefs that he’d been supposed to be modeling that morning. He tossed the robe over a stool and then sat on the next one over, making himself comfortable on the small woven rush seat of the bar stool, even though the rough material dug into the backs of his thighs.

Brian waved to the bartender and ordered a glass of whiskey - he vowed to stay away from anything fruity and only drink his alcohol ‘neat’ until he got back home, hoping that would fend off any additional stomach problems. Out of the corner of his eye, Brian noted that the Assistant Fangirl had taken up a seat at the far edge of the pool area and was still eying him lasciviously even after his pointed rejection.

Shit! Brian was so fucking done with the whole pseudo-celebrity thing. Yeah, it had been nice at first - especially when he was pregnant and feeling a little self-conscious about his body - to have all the attention that he got from being semi-famous. He’d felt flattered by all the doting fans. And the ego boost he’d got from seeing his face on the cover of GQ, as well as being in those Armani ads in all the high-end magazines, had been great. But the celebrity status had gotten tiring pretty fast. He was tired of the feeling that eyes were following him everywhere. He was tired of being on display all the time. He was fed up with the fangirls thinking they could convert him, not to mention the apparently crazy stalker that was back in Pittsburgh threatening his family.

Brian tossed back the rest of his tumbler of whiskey and slid the glass down the bar so that the helpful staff person could see he needed another. While he was waiting for his refill, Brian ran his hand down his once again flat belly and happily noted that most of his muscle tone was back. His abs still weren’t quite as well defined as they’d been before Kevan came along, but they weren’t too bad. He thought he looked pretty good in his little black briefs, even if he did say so himself. And the rest of his body appeared to have weathered the storm pretty well too. His pecs were still a little swollen and sore - he’d had problems all week with some occasional leaking as well as intermittent pain, which seemed to be a side effect of the abrupt cessation of breastfeeding - but that just made his chest look even better and more toned. Yep, his body at least seemed to have recovered from the trauma of pregnancy. But, even so, he really couldn’t wait for his Armani modelling contract to be up. He did NOT intend to renew the contract no matter how much they offered him. He no longer cared to flaunt his body to a world filled with overly persistent fangirls and potential stalkers. It had sounded like a good idea at first, but Brian now knew that this wasn’t the life he really wanted.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t still like knowing that he was admired. The tall, slim blond man sitting on one of the barstools immersed in the pool on the far side of the bar, the one whose eyes kept roaming approvingly over Brian’s body, confirmed that Brian was still attractive. That felt good and reaffirmed that he hadn’t lost whatever it was that had made him the Stud of Liberty Avenue in the first place. Brian was gratified to know that if he allowed himself to meet the man’s eyes, he would have an instant companion.

That was a role that felt comfortable and familiar - he’d long played the part of the sexy gay lothario and could fulfill that function without even breaking a sweat. He’d always enjoyed knowing that he could pull any guy he wanted with little or no effort. It was comforting to know THAT at least hadn’t changed, despite what the gossips on Liberty Avenue, as well as his teasing friends, had been saying. This guy’s attention was proof positive that he still had it. He had always liked the sense of approval he got from that type of interaction. There was acceptance and adulation. Brian liked being liked. And if that's what Brian wanted to be - The Stud of Liberty Avenue - he could still play that role with ease.

Draining the rest of his second drink, Brian allowed himself to look over at his poolside admirer. The guy was hot. And those acres and acres of tanned skin were definitely tempting. But, strangely enough, the first thing that came to Brian’s mind when he really looked at the guy was that the sun-streaked blond hair was just a shade or two too dark. However, if the guy’s hair were lighter, then the golden tan skin would look wrong - in that case, he’d be better off staying out of the sun. And before he knew it, Brian was picturing a completely different blond. One with almost white blond hair and flawless, untanned, alabaster skin that was so soft your hand would glide over it like it was silk. A blond whose deep-set sapphire blue eyes always glinted at him with amusement and admiration and maybe something else that he wasn’t ready to name . . .

“Fuck!” He was supposed to be using this time away to figure things out, get his head on straight, and ease back into what Brian thought of as his ‘real life’. But every time he turned around he found himself thinking about that pernicious little blond twat that had started all this trouble in the first place. Why the hell couldn't he get his mind to move on? “Another!” Brian yelled as the bartender shuffled past.

The bartender poured another two fingers of whiskey into the glass and Brian picked it up. After the second sip, he let his mind move back to the nagging problem that had been haunting him. Okay, he couldn’t stop thinking about that one particular blond, so then maybe he’d better just bite the bullet and work through that whole mess and hopefully get it out of his system. He turned his shoulders to the left so that he physically couldn’t see the admirer in the pool and, with a huge sigh, he delved into the the ‘Problem of the Blond’.

Justin . . . The name alone brought on such a flood of mixed up emotions and turmoil that Brian felt an almost palpable need to flee. Who would have thought that a diminutive, soft-spoken, blond boy could have such a huge impact on Brian’s life? It wasn’t just the pregnancy and the unexpected advent of renewed fatherhood that had thrown Brian for a loop either. It was the blond boy himself . . . along with that completely disconcerting way the kid had of getting inside Brian’s psyche.

Brian tried to focus through the growing haze caused by the alcohol, trying to analyze exactly what it was about his current situation that had caused him to, in essence, run from his own home. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Kevan or Justin. He did. Brian could easily admit that he loved his sons more than he’d ever thought possible. He could also admit that he cared deeply about Justin and didn’t want the young blond out of his life. He was even willing to acknowledge that, since he’d arrived in Cancun, he had missed his little family.

But he also, in some ways, missed his old life. The carefree life of a single man who wasn’t constrained by the obligations of a family. A life where he was free to come and go as he pleased and where he was automatically respected just because he was Brian Kinney, Stud. He just didn’t know how to reconcile his family life with his public persona anymore.

Brian had already reached the bottom of his glass of whiskey again before he’d resolved anything. This time, however, when he looked up trying to locate the bartender to get yet another refill, Brian noticed that his modelling buddy from the airplane, Hunkalicious, was just pulling up the next bar stool. Brian and Hunkalicious had struck up a bit of conversation a time or two over the past week and generally speaking he’d found ‘Licious to be a genial companion. Brian took his appearance right then as a sign that it was more than time to give up his apparently useless and solitary introspection.

“Kinney,” ‘Licious said and nodded to the man beside him as he waved the barkeep over. “It looks like the two of us are the only ones on the crew who’ve escaped the ravages of the stomach thing going around. Lucky us.”

“Yeah, lucky us,” Brian intoned laconically, gulping down the remains of his last glass so that he could get another as soon as ‘Licious got his glass filled. “I think I had a touch of it this morning, but it seems to have passed. Just to be safe, though, I figure I should keep on drinking so that the alcohol will kill off any bacteria that’s left.”

‘Licious laughed heartily and clinked his glass against Brian’s in a toasting gesture. “Sounds like a reasonable treatment plan to me, Dr. Kinney. I think I’ll join you.”

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Brian and ‘Licious followed Dr. Kinney’s prescription assiduously, administering liberal quantities of alcohol into their systems for the antiseptic properties of the liquid. Since there was no control group involved in this experiment, it will never be known if this procedure was effective in fighting off the traveller’s diarhea that had taken out the rest of the group. However, it did result in two very drunken men who very soon weren’t feeling any pain at all. Especially not once the handsome hottie from the pool came over, kneeled in front of Brian’s bar stool and started sucking him off right there in front of the entire resort. This, in turn, inspired the Assistant Fangirl to come over and join in, performing the same service for Mr. ‘Licious.

At the very least, this course of treatment did cure Brian of his lingering introspection over his Homebound Blond, his fatherly failures and that nagging feeling that he really should be getting his Studliness back on again.

And everything was going swimmingly . . . at least until the next morning, when Brian woke up with the worst hangover he’d had in more than a decade, rolled over to escape the bright sunlight glaring down into his eyes, and discovered that one of the reasons his mouth tasted like it was filled with sand was because it was full of sand. He blinked until his vision cleared sufficiently enough so that he could see his surroundings. Based on the sandy clue he’d already received, it probably shouldn’t have surprised him that he appeared to have spent the night on the beach, sleeping just beyond where the tide was lapping at the shore. What did surprise Brian was that he was stark naked with no clothing anywhere in sight. It also vaguely surprised him that there was another body lying next to him - likewise naked.

Brian lay there just blinking and trying to corral his jumbled memories of the night before. Usually Brian was pretty good at holding his liquor. And even when he’d had the occasional wild night, he could generally remember most of what he’d done. But this time, at least so far, the evening before was a complete and utter blank.

Eventually Brian shifted enough so he could prop himself up on his elbows. Even that small amount of motion, though, was more than his groggy head and rumbling stomach could handle. Ten seconds later he found himself retching and coughing up the toxic contents of his stomach into the damp sand. The sounds he was making startled his slumbering companion who lifted up his own head and looked over sympathetically towards Brian. As soon as Brian was done - well, for the time being anyway - he looked over at the man who gave him a weak smile.

“Morning, Tiger,” a scruffy, sand-covered Hunkalicious said. “Wow. That was some fucking bender, huh? I can honestly say I have never before drunk so much that I woke up naked on the beach in a foreign country.” ‘Licious remarked with a chuckle, the sound jarring Brian’s head even more, to the point that Brian wondered if he had the strength to reach over and slap the man in order to make him stop with the fucking laughing already. Luckily the laughter stopped when ‘Licious added, “of course, I also never drank so much that I thought fucking another guy was a good idea, either. So, I guess the waking up on the beach thing is relatively kinda minor . . .”

For about half a second, Brian felt a tiny thrill of pride thinking that he’d successfully turned another straight guy. He started to sit up more but froze halfway as the soreness in his ass, which had been exacerbated by the act of sitting up on it, slowly penetrated into this consciousness. That’s when Hunkalicious’ words struck home . . . ‘fucking another guy’. Not, ‘getting fucked by another guy’. Which, now that he was thinking about it, made sense with the sore ass thing.

Brian groaned, toppled over onto his side and let himself lay there in a huddled ball of misery. When he didn’t say anything more, ‘Licious finally got up, smirked down at Brian, grabbed the beach towel that was waiting a few feet away and then slowly shuffled off back towards the resort buildings. Brian watched him go, noting with yet another groan, that not only were there no clothes strewn about around him on the beach, but there was also no sign of a used condom anywhere in sight.

Chapter 29 - Heading Home.

The Papa was evil!

That was Kevan’s conclusion after spending hours and days and months trying to reach his Uglyworm friend while The Papa waved it around just beyond his reach. Of course, Kevan didn’t really understand the concept of the term ‘evil’, but he did understand that The Papa was doing this to him intentionally and seemed to enjoy seeing him struggle to reach the toy. That, in Kevan’s book, was evil.

“Come on, Kevan. Blah, blah, blah. Blah, Kevan! Come on! . . .” The Papa kept saying these new mouth sounds over and over.

Kevan didn’t know what ‘Come on’ meant but figured it probably equated to something along the lines of ‘I’m holding Uglyworm hostage and you’ll never get him, Bwahahaha!’

Oh, and it didn’t help matters much that The Silly One was standing off to the side with a shiny silver box thing held up to his face, joining in with the maniacal laughter of The Papa.

Kevan played along with the sadistic game for a while, writhing and wriggling his body, rocking back and forth ineffectually, trying to reach out with his hands to Uglyworm, but getting only a fistful of nothing as The Papa would pull the toy away at the last minute. Kevan was determined though. He was just naturally a very stubborn little boy - he got that character trait from BOTH of his fathers - and was not going to give up. He just kept twisting his body and trying out different combinations of reaching and wiggling with his arms and legs. He had a feeling that if he could only figure out the right combination, he could get to Uglyworm. He felt it in his baby bones. He just had to figure out how to do it.

And then, all of a sudden, Kevan moved his right leg up so that his knee was against the fluffy white area rug at the exact same time that he also pushed up with both his arms. This left the little boy suspended a couple of inches off the ground in a manner that he’d never experienced before. It shocked him just enough that he started to lose his balance and his left arm buckled a little. But he still had his eyes on his Uglyworm friend and so he just pushed a little harder with the arm that was still supporting him.

Which is when the entire world titled strangely and the fluffy white carpet fell away from his arm as the universe toppled backwards leaving him sitting on his diaper-padded bottom with his right leg propping him up and his body sitting bolt upright.

“GAH!” Kevan announced proudly, once the world stopped moving about in such a strange manner and he found himself still sitting up and looking about him from this relatively new perspective.

The Papa and The Silly One were both making very loud mouth sounds that sounded a lot like Kevan’s ‘Gah!’. The Silly One was even dancing around with his silver box thing. The Papa was making that face where he stretched his lips out very widely and showed his many big white teeth to Kevan. It seemed that making the world tilt over until he was sitting up was a very impressive trick and his big people things were as amazed as Kevan was that he’d managed such tremendous magic all on his own.

Unfortunately, he still didn’t have his Uglyworm friend in his hand . . .

Watching Hunkalicious walking away made Brian want to throw up even more than he already had. So he did. And for at least the ten minutes or so that he was puking, he was happy that he didn’t have to think about what a huge, horrible, gut-wrenching mistake he’d made.

Once that was over, though, Brian had no other excuse for crouching there naked on the beach. Since the rest of the resort seemed to be waking up, Brian thought it wise to remove himself from the scene. It took a few minutes, but eventually he hauled himself to his feet and stumbled back to his room where he could continue to puke more comfortably in the privacy of his own bathroom. After a while, once there was nothing left in his stomach, he managed to get himself into the shower, and from there into bed. Of course, as soon as he was no longer occupied with puking or cleaning himself up, there was nothing to stop the negative thoughts that kept spiralling through his brain.

“Fuck!” Brian yelled, flipped over so that he was lying on his other side and tried again to turn his brain off. That never works though, so he returned to mumbling curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so fucking fucked . . . What the fuck was I thinking? Strike that - I obviously WASN’T thinking. Shit!”

As if his mood hadn’t been bad enough to start with, each pang of the throbbing headache dragged him even lower. It was as if the pulsing ache in his skull grew in inverse proportion to his sinking spirits. He wasn’t sure which would happen first - his brains exploding out through his ears or his depression getting so overwhelming that he suffocated from it.

Brian hated being hungover, and it had been such a long time since he’d had to deal with one that this time felt even worse than any he’d remembered from the past. Okay, so he knew he really shouldn’t have been drinking as heavily as he had. The days of Brian tying one on nightly and then just bouncing back without effort the next morning were long gone. He hadn’t been drinking much at all for more than a year now - he’d given it up altogether during his pregnancy and even afterward he’d barely allowed himself a beer or two most of the time - so he should have known that he wouldn’t be able to handle his liquor. But then he’d gone and tried to drown out the fact that he was missing Justin and Kevan. Add in that he felt guilty for having left them the way he had and that he hated not being there to protect them from this stalker guy, and it was a recipe for disaster. He supposed that it was understandable that he’d gone and gotten completely shit-faced.

Not that any of that excused his actions, of course. Especially not the appalling fact that he’d not only allowed some stranger to fuck him, but he’d done it raw. Shit! How could HE of all people let that happen? He was the most obsessive person he knew when it came to being safe and making sure he ALWAYS used condoms. Even when he’d been three sheets to the wind, he’d always managed to remember to use a rubber. Up until now, that is. What the hell had he been thinking? He told himself that it was absolutely no excuse that he didn’t carry condoms with him regularly anymore - not after he and Justin had been exclusive for so long. If he was going out, he should have had at least one on him, no matter what. In the past that would have just been habitual. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get so fucking careless. If it was physically possible to kick himself, he would be doing it right now and kicking so hard that he’d fall over in a black and blue heap. Now he’d have to go get tested and probably need to take some kind of prophylactic meds just in case. Unfortunately, he was in Mexico and didn’t have any clue where to go to get medical attention. What a fucking nightmare.

After trying to wrap his head around that set of issues for longer than he cared to, Brian thought of something even more disagreeable - as soon as he got home, he’d also have to tell Justin . . .

*Arrrggghhhhh* Brian groaned and rolled out of bed again. He couldn’t just lie there anymore. There was nothing he could do about any of this shit right that minute, and lying there stewing about it wasn’t going to help at all. He had to get up and go do something to distract himself from thinking.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt and quickly made his way to the resort’s main dining room where they were still serving breakfast. His roiling stomach wasn’t really in the mood for food, but he forced himself to choke down some toast so that the copious amounts of coffee he was drinking would have something to keep them company. However his scowling demeanor kept away any company so he was still left alone with his thoughts. He cut short his breakfast as soon as he could wave down a waiter and sign the room check.

Instead of heading back to his room, though, Brian made his way into the lobby where the resort had a couple of computers set up for the convenience of their guests. Brian figured that he could distract himself for at least a little while by going through his email and maybe doing some of the work that was no doubt piling up back at VanGuard for him. Since it was still so early, he pretty much had the whole lobby to himself. He picked the first computer and logged on.

The very first email he opened, however, was so discouraging that he almost gave up then and there. It was a quick notice from Armani’s head of marketing advising that, because of the illness that most of the photoshoot crew was experiencing, the on location shoot would be extended for at least another week, possibly more. Brian groaned but since there was nothing he could really do about it he simply forwarded the email on to Cynthia and then deleted it.

The next few messages were from work, which did help to keep his mind busy for the short time it took him to deal with the issues they raised. Next, though, came a message from Justin. Brian hesitated to even open it. The overwhelming guilt he felt was like a tangible weight on his shoulders and he didn’t think he could deal with either that or anything else related to his messed up life. But when he noted that there was an attachment along with the email, he couldn’t help himself and clicked on the item to open it.

‘Hey, Brian,’ the brief message began. ‘Hope you’re having a good time down in Cancun. We miss you. A lot. Especially your son, who has been giving us all a very hard time about the abrupt switch to formula. I think he misses you and the time you would spend with him more than anything though. He’s especially difficult in the evenings when normally you would have been there to hold him and talk with him. Please hurry home so we can all be reassured by your presence once again. Whatever was wrong - whatever made you think that you couldn’t be here - we can work through it. I know we can. I won’t give up on you, Mr. Kinney. And you know that I mean it when I say that because I’m still that same tenacious little twat that will follow you around to the ends of the earth until I wear you down and make you realize that we love you and need you here with us.’ Even in his morose mood, that statement made Brian smile a little because it was so very true. ‘As extra encouragement to make you hurry your beautiful butt home, I’m sending you a video showing you what you’re missing back here. Hurry home! Love, Justin.’

Brian wasted no time opening the video link. The image that popped up on the screen was that of Kevan lying on his tummy on the area rug in the Greatroom. While the camera was focused on the baby, you could still see Justin’s shoulder in the forefront of the video, with Kevan’s favorite toy - the big green blob of Uglyworm - in his hand. Kevan was wriggling and reaching out to try and grasp the stuffed toy, which Justin was shaking in a tantalizing way just out of the infant’s grasp. Brian chuckled as he watched baby’s struggles to try and reach his toy. First he’d raise up his well padded bottom with one leg underneath but he didn’t seem to know what to do next. Then the butt would fall down and he’d reach out with one or both hands. Then the butt would go up again. Finally, after a lengthy struggle, Kevan got both his butt up and his hands under his body pushing up at the same time, but then didn’t seem to know what to do next. Finally, with a wobbly push that appeared to be accident more than anything, the little boy pushed up with his arms just as he moved his leg out of the way and slowly teetered backwards until he was sitting up. The huge smile the baby directed at the camera when he was at last upright was pure sunshine and made Brian’s heart do an almost painful flip flop inside his chest. Brian quickly clicked on the icon to replay the video, repeating it over and over again, and smiling at it every time.

“Cute baby. Is that the miracle kid everybody’s talking about?” Brian’s fourth re-watch of the video was interrupted by a comment thrown over his shoulder as an unwelcome face peered down at the computer screen. “The thought of kids generally makes me want to run and hide, but I gotta say that one seems pretty adorable. You’re a lucky guy, Kinney.”

Brian turned around and gave Hunkalicious a true smile - the first one he’d felt come over his face since he’d arrived in Cancun. “Yeah, I guess I am. Although, I’ve probably screwed that up for good after last night,” Brian responded, the smile melting away into a frown. “I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to even tell Justin, let alone get him to forgive me. I mean, I was already in trouble before because of the way I left . . . Sunshine did say that he missed me and wanted me home, though. He’s really too good for me. I don’t deserve them,” Brian sighed and turned back to the video, hitting play one more time.

“Sunshine? Is that this guy?” ‘Licious reached over Brian’s shoulder and pointed to the partial picture of Justin in the video. “So THAT’S what you kept calling me last night! I didn’t know what the fuck you were saying at first, but you just kept going on and on about your ‘Sunshine’ and how good it always was with him. Now I get it.” ‘Licious huffed a little half-laugh as the video showed Justin smiling down at the wriggling baby. “Well, if it does any good, I think it’s safe to say that you were so out of it that you thought I was him. Maybe he’ll cut you some slack for that?”

“Yeah, not likely . . . but, I guess it’s worth mentioning,” Brian shook his head but didn’t take his eyes off the computer screen until he saw Kevan finally sitting up again. “Shit! What the fuck am I doing down here? I don’t give a fuck about any of this shit. I should be there. I should have been there to see this.”

Maybe it was just the hangover talking, but Brian felt decidedly homesick. He missed Kevan so bad it actually hurt. He was also pissed off that he’d been away and missed out on a huge fucking milestone like his son sitting up on his own. He didn’t want to be the kind of parent that was so caught up in his own drama that he ignored his kids - that was too close to what Brian’s own parents had been like. This stupid modelling thing wasn’t worth the hassle and it definitely wasn’t worth missing out on his son’s big moments. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to have to resort to the likes of ‘Licious and a drunken, mindless fuck just because he missed his family. He wanted to be home. He was also thinking that if he were home he’d know exactly where to go to get tested and get follow up care after his little slip up with ‘Licious. Not to mention that he’d be there to protect his family in case this Tag-guy stepped up his obsession another notch. So, then, why the hell was he still sitting here?

“You know what? Fuck it! I’m out of here!” Brian decided in a flash and immediately jumped up out of the computer chair.

An hour later Brian was in a taxi rushing to the airport so that he could catch the flight that the concierge had booked for him to Pittsburgh. He was lucky that he’d been able to get the last available seat on the next flight out. He didn’t even care that he’d have to transfer planes twice. By nightfall, Brian should be home and asleep in his own bed. Provided, that is, that Justin let him into bed after he found out what Brian had done . . .

Justin was on his way to the library so he could get in some quiet study time before his next class when his phone buzzed to alert him that a new email had arrived. He immediately stopped and tapped at the small screen to open the email application - he was hoping that it would be a response from Brian to the message he’d sent with the video of Kevan. Justin had tried his best to give Brian some space so the man could work through whatever had been eating him, but it HAD been a full week now, and the young father figured that was more than enough ‘alone time’. He wanted to at least open a dialog so that Brian would know he was missed and he was expected home no matter what.

Justin soon discovered that the new email was from Cynthia, not Brian. He opened it right away though, still hoping that maybe his partner had just relayed his response through his assistant. And it turned out the message had originated from Brian, but it wasn’t the message he was hoping to hear.

“Fuck!” Justin moaned, slumping down in desolation on top of the concrete retaining wall that surrounded the library as he read the forwarded message that said Brian’s stay down in Cancun was being extended indefinitely. “Damn it, Brian. We want you home already.”

“Shit, Em! This guy’s fucking scary. Next thing you know he’ll be killing small animals and leaving them on Brian’s doorstep or boiling bunnies in Brian’s kitchen. We’ve got to do something to help Brian stop him,” Michael was expounding loudly, apparently not giving a damn that everyone in Woody’s could hear him going on and on about Brian and Justin’s stalker problem.

“I think you’re over-reacting just a bit, Michael,” Ted stated in his ever-reasonable accountant’s voice. “The guy hasn’t done anything other than send them some gifts and some sorta creepy letters. That doesn’t mean he’s violent or anything. And besides, what exactly could WE do to help? From what I understand, Brian’s got it under control. They have round the clock security, right Em?”

“That’s right. Brian had Cynthia hire those gorgeous Hulk Brothers. And, by the way, that Lev is to die for. Have you seen him? He’s a fucking Adonis. If I could just get that juicy morsel to leave his post for a night or two, I’d take him home and let him play security guard with me all night. Mmmm mmmm!” Emmett responded, getting easily side-tracked by his newest fantasy man.

“Yeah, well, security or not, I don’t think it’s safe. These kind of guys are fucking crazy and they’ll do ANYTHING,” Michael spouted off, undeterred by either Ted’s logicalness or Emmett’s flightiness. “I’m just glad Brian’s out of the country for the time being. I mean, I know that it sounds like the stalker is more out to get Justin than anyone else - what with cutting him out of the pictures and stuff - but that only means that Brian could be at risk too as long as he’s around the twink. It’s safer for Brian to be completely out of the picture for a while. I’m glad he’s still in Cancun.”

Michael’s ranting about the stalker and how Justin was putting his best friend in danger by dragging him into this whole situation, continued on long past the time when either Emmett or Ted was listening. For the most part, they were used to their long-time friend’s ways and knew that there was no reasoning with Michael when he had some bee in his bonnet about Brian. While Michael continued to expostulate, Em and Ted let their attention drift towards the many handsome men in the bar that night and what their plans for the rest of the evening might be.

Nobody seemed to notice that there was one customer in the bar that night who WAS actually very interested in what Michael was saying. The guy was all ears, but you couldn’t tell that by looking at him, since he was sitting with his back to Michael two tables away from the gang and seemed to be entranced by his drink. However Taggart was carefully listening in to every single word Michael was angrily broadcasting in a voice that easily carried throughout most of the bar. The information that Brian had been in Cancun for the past week explained a lot for the curious fanboy. He’d been wondering why he hadn’t been able to catch even a glimpse of Brian and was relieved that it was only an out of town trip that was preventing him from seeing the primary object of his affections.

Taggart was a little peeved when Michael’s spiel of information was interrupted by a phone call. From the tone of the cutesie endearments the short, obnoxious man was burbling into his phone, it sounded like Michael was talking to his boyfriend. Tag hoped the conversation wouldn’t go on for long. He wasn’t at all interested in Michael or whoever this ‘Ben’ character was. All he wanted to hear about was Brian. So it was a relief when the tall, lanky southerner came over, pulled the phone out of the short one’s hand and ended the call without Michael’s permission.

“Enough! You can chat with Ben later. We’re up next at the pool table. Come on before someone else takes our table,” Emmett ordered, setting the phone down on top of the table next to their drinks as he pulled his friend the few meters over to the table where Teddy was waiting for them.

While the pool match was going on, the patrons that had been sitting at the next table over finally got up and left. Taggart quickly switched seats so that he was now sitting even closer to the gang’s table. All three men came and went to the table off and on, sipping at their drinks or retrieving things from the pockets of their jackets that were still hanging off the backs of their chairs. They were gone for several extended periods of time, though.

And it was just Taggart’s luck that, during one of these periods when the Liberty Avenue Regulars were all too caught up in their game, laughing and kidding each other, Michael’s phone rattled and buzzed. Since nobody was looking, Taggart reached over and quickly picked up the cell phone. The preview of the text message showing on the small screen read, “Brian: Flying in tonight on Liberty Air flight #432. Arr. 9:25. Need a ride.”

Tag swiped across the bottom of the screen to open the messaging app - taking a guess, based on his impression of Michael’s intelligence level, and correctly guessing that the phone’s passcode was ‘1-2-3-4’ - and then tapped the icon to delete the message.

Tag looked up at the clock on the wall over the bar and noted that it was only just after 7:00 pm. That was good. He had a lot to do before Brian’s plane arrived. He just knew that Brian was going to be so excited to see him when he picked the man up from his trip. Maybe they’d finally have a chance to really talk this time . . .

When the gang had tired of playing pool and finally came back to their table, there wasn’t anyone sitting at the surrounding tables. Michael finished the last of his beer and picked up his cell phone off the tabletop. And when Ted suggested they head on over to Babylon even though it was still a little early everyone was in total agreement. They grabbed all their stuff and headed out for their usual night of loud music, semi-naked male bodies and even more alcohol.

Chapter 30 - Uncomfortably Numb

Kevan was on a roll. Literally. Ever since he'd discovered his prodigious powers of prestidigitation earlier in the week, the precocious baby had been working hard to perfect his skills. Right at that particular moment, Kevan was preoccupied with making the floor and the ceiling flip places over and over again.

Holy Diaperload, was he ever good at this trick, too! All he had to do was wiggle his legs a certain way and push his arms out at the right velocity and trajectory and . . . Voila! He did it again, this time making the ceiling disappear and the floor take its place!

Basically, at only six months old, Kevan was able to completely defy all the known laws of physics.

It was a powerful feeling. And fun, too! Hence the repeated peals of baby giggling that he just couldn't hold back even though he had a feeling that, being such a powerful and magnificent magician, it was a little beneath him to giggle.

Oh, who are we kidding? Kevan didn't know squat about dignified! He just knew that making the world roll around him was a doo-doo load of fun and so he did it as often as he could. Giggling all the while.

What's more, seeing as Kevan was an above average child in every respect, he wasn't content to just sit on his laurels. He wasn't content to just sit at all. He wanted to do so much more. If he could already control the movements of the planet without even barely trying, what else could he do? The possibilities seemed endless. That's why he was so driven to try new and even more daring feats of wonder. Which is also why he was not only sitting, but rolling around and squirming and wriggling and contorting his arms and legs and body in every possible combination he could come up with just to see what would happen. You just never knew what you were capable of until you tried, right?

And, of course, Kevan was proven right in these assumptions when, after minutes or hours or days of working at his craft, the precious baby boy managed to roll himself all the way across the fluffy white area rug in the Big Room and found himself on a hard, shiny, brown surface that he'd never experienced before. It wasn't soft or cushy like the carpet. His knees kinda hurt when he tried to push them against the brown. It was also cold against Kevan's belly. But the brown was also amazingly slippery. When Kevan started to resume his wiggling, he noticed right away that he could actually pull the whole room towards him by grabbing onto the brown with his chubby baby hands and pulling. Wow! This was really, really cool, Kevan thought. Now, when he couldn't reach something he wanted - like when his Uglyworm friend was too far away - he could just pull the room towards him and then the toy would be right at his fingertips. This was a wonderful development. Truly remarkable.

Doo-doo! Kevan really loved controlling the entire universe!

Brian woke to the *bam, bam, bam* drumming sound of his blood pulsing through his temples. He wasn't sure if it was the throbbing headache that was causing his stomach to roil like an arroyo after a thunderstorm or if that was a completely separate symptom. He tried to roll over so that the sunlight beating down on him wouldn’t beam directly into his face. It made him feel like an ant that was being tortured by a kid with a magnifying glass. Movement wasn't at all a good idea, though. Not only did every muscle in his body ache, right down to the pinky finger on his left hand, but turning over exacerbated the unrest in his gut.

Suffice it to say, Brian felt like shit warmed over.

After that, he lay as still as possible with his eyes tightly closed and tried to rouse his brain enough to piece together what the hell had happened to him. Without actually opening his eyes, that feat was a little difficult, but Brian was certain that as soon as he pried his eyelids apart he'd have only seconds to look around, find the closest toilet and run to it before the contents of his stomach would be violently rejected by his body. But without daring to look around him, all he had to go by were the sensations the rest of his body was receiving and that information just didn't compute. Judging by those standards, it wouldn’t surprise him if he was the only survivor in a fatal car crash. He felt THAT bad. Or maybe he hadn't survived. He felt like he imagined someone dying should feel. Although that really didn't account for the nausea. He didn't think dying in an horrific auto accident would make you sick to your stomach. It probably wouldn't cause the type of dry mouth that he'd just noticed either. In fact, even if he'd had his lips taped to the exhaust pipe of the industrial-sized dryer in the Chinese laundry down the street from his loft for an entire week, he probably still wouldn’t have this dry of a mouth. And did car crashes cause the type of headache that felt like tiny miners were trying to pick axe their way out from inside your skull? Brian didn’t think so.

Which left him with the only other plausible explanation - he was suffering from the WORST hangover he’d ever had in his entire long and often alcohol-infused life.

That thought led to the next question, namely, what the heck did he drink to get this bad and why, exactly, had he been on such a bender?

The fuzziness in his brain was not conducive to answering that question. He found that he really couldn’t remember anything about the night before. Or, to be completely honest, the night before the night before. Brian lifted his hand to scratch contemplatively at his brow and moaned at the pain the movement caused. But even that didn’t do anything to clear out the cobwebs in his brain enough so that he’d remember anything more. Which struck him as very strange.

Brian had been drinking since his early teens - growing up with Jack and Joan Kinney meant there was always alcohol around and nobody really cared if Brian was tippling regardless of what the legal drinking age had been. Because of that, he’d learned by trial and error pretty early on what and how much he could drink without getting totally sloshed. Not to mention that he’d built up a pretty high tolerance for most forms of alcohol. He’d had his share of hangovers but to get this bad, he would have had to drink enough to send a good sized horse to the ER to get its stomach pumped. And Brian still couldn’t remember a fucking thing - not even the beginning of the evening, let alone why he’d been drinking enough to topple Mr. Ed. Something really didn’t feel right.

That’s as far as Brian’s contemplation of the situation got, however, before his thought processes were interrupted by an overly cheerful voice, practically screaming, “Good Morning, Baby! Did you sleep well? Time to ‘wakey-wakey’! I’ve got your eggs and bakey!”

Brian’s eyes involuntarily sprung open at this rude greeting. From where he was lying, curled up on his side like a sick hedgehog, the entire room seemed to be swirling around sideways with the edges up by the ceiling and down by the floor pulsing in time to the beating of his headache. In the middle of the swirling, whirling, too-bright room was a man who was leaning down towards him with his too-large face distorted as if Brian was seeing him through a fisheye lens. The man happened to be holding out a tray of some kind that was enveloped by the most vomit-inducing mixture of smells that Brian had ever encountered.

“Come on, Baby. Time to sit up. I made you everything you like for breakfast! Pancakes with bacon, fried eggs on the side and fresh squeezed orange juice. I hope you’re hungry,” bleated the voice, which seemed to come from too far away considering that the man’s face was only centimeters from his nose.

Brian simply gaped at the strange man whose disproportionately large nose and prominent toothy smile were distracting him from the horrors of the breakfast tray that the man sat on a nearby nightstand. It didn’t help at all that, from Brian’s perspective, the man was sideways to the world and the whole room was still swirling and tilting in a nauseating fashion. He wasn’t sure if it was the blindingly bright light coming through the window on the far side of the room or the guy’s too-white teeth but something was gleaming too brightly in his face. Brian cringed away from the scene in pain and once again shut his eyes.

The Fisheye Man seemed to think that Brian’s response was just an excuse for him to get all touchy-feely. The next thing Brian knew, two strong arms were grappling around him, jostling him out of the semi-comfortable spot he’d managed to curl into and hoisting him into a completely unwelcome and upright position. Brian’s head and stomach, however, apparently refused to leave their recumbent position.

“Open up those gorgeous hazel orbs for me, Baby, and give me a good morning kiss!” the voice demanded.

So Brian followed directions and opened his eyes. Only to note that this new perspective didn’t help at all with his hangover. And when the Fisheye Man leaned towards him, ostensibly to steal that kiss he’d been fishing for, Brian responded by projectile vomiting directly into the man’s skewed and now no longer happy face.

For the third time already that morning Justin opened his laptop and checked his email. There was still nothing. No response from Brian to the new message he’d sent that morning. No response to any of the several previous emails he'd sent or to the phone messages he'd left.

He was sure that something was wrong. Justin didn't know what it was, but the fact that Brian still hadn't responded to any of his messages just felt so off. Yeah, Brian had been angry enough that week before he'd left for Cancun, but not so angry that he would refuse to talk to Justin. And then that last night, Brian had been so sad and sweet and giving - Justin had thought that his partner was conflicted more than anything and probably just needed time to work through things. Now, though, he wasn't so sure.

“Hey, Sourpuss, your breakfast is getting cold,” Daphne startled Justin out of his lethargic contemplation of the blank email inbox.

“I'm not hungry,” Justin replied, sighing and desultorily tapping out another message asking Brian to please call him.

“Justin . . .” Daphne started out, but then decided she really didn't know what to say.

“Why won't he answer me, Daph?” Justin moaned and then collapsed, lying his head on top of his crossed arms which were propped up by the edge of the dining room table. “Does he hate me that much that he can't even bring himself to answer one lousy email?”

Daphne reached out and started to lightly massage her best friend’s shoulders. “I'm sure it's not that, Justin. He's probably just too busy or maybe his laptop is broken or something. There's got to be a million possible reasons why he hasn't written back. You know he loves you and Kevan. He’ll be back soon and you guys will work it out somehow. I know it,” Daphne reassured him.

“But that's the thing - I DON’T know it, Daph. He's never actually said he loves me. I mean, I thought he did. But maybe I was wrong . . .” Justin lamented, his muffled voice sounding even more pathetic.

“Stop it, Justin!” Daphne ordered with a painless slap to the sulking man’s shoulder. “You and I both know Brian adores you. He might not say it in so many words, but he shows you in other ways all the time. And the man is crazy about that little boy too,” Daph pointed over to where Kevan was rolling around on the Greatroom carpet with Uglyworm in his grasp. “Even if Brian WAS still angry at you for some reason, he would never abandon Kevan. I'm sure there's some really good explanation for why he hasn't answered yet and you two can laugh about it when he finally gets home.”

“Yeah? And when will that be, huh? It's been almost two weeks already.” Justin finally sat up and turned to look despondently at his friend. “I'm sure he's not in any rush to get back here. He's off having the time of his life in some tropical paradise surrounded by his adoring fans and an endless supply of hot Latino cabana boys. Meanwhile I'm holed up here like a virtual prisoner because of HIS crazy stalker. I don't even have any privacy, what with you and Em taking turns babysitting me every night and the Hulk Brothers dogging my steps everywhere I go.”

“We're not babysitting you, Jus,” Daph insisted. “We just want to make sure you and Kevan are safe. And as long as that Tag guy is threatening you, you know you shouldn't be alone. And, by the way, all these safety measures that you find so annoying are just another way for Brian to show he cares about you. Brian was the one who set all this up, remember. As long as there’s still any possible threat to either you or Kevan, Brian won’t let up with his uber-protection thing.”

“Yeah, well, how do we know that this stalker guy IS still a threat? There hasn't been any sign of him in days. No new letters or gifts. Maybe he got the message already and gave up?” Justin suggested with a hopeful glance Daphne’s way. However the stubborn set to his friend’s countenance quickly damped that hope. “Damn it! How long do I need to be trailed around by my bodyguards until we’re sure he's history? Shit! It's just all so fucking complicated.”

Justin got up, intending to stomp away and go sulk in his bedroom where he had at least some semblance of privacy, but was distracted by his son’s antics. The baby had rolled himself off the plush white area rug onto the smooth wood flooring. Taking advantage of the slippery surface, the baby was doing this wiggling elbow crawl thing that seemed quite effective. He'd already managed to propel himself a couple of meters away from his starting point and looked like he was heading towards the hallway.

“Wow! Look at you go, Kev!” Daphne had joined Justin where the proud daddy was standing as he watched his son madly pulling himself along, seriously intent on some unknown baby errand. “This is so cool. He's crawling already! Well, sorta crawling . . . Although he looks more like those soldiers who have to squirm under barbed wire and stuff. He is pretty fast at it though - whatever you call it. Guess it's time to baby-proof the house, Dad!”

Justin groaned at the mere idea of all the havoc a crawling baby could wreak and sent out another mental SOS to his absent co-parent, pleading with Brian to hurry home.

A bright flash of light startled Brian. He opened his eyes, blinked again and again, but the view still seemed blurry and dim. There was someone sitting next to him on the bed. There was an arm around his back holding him up. There was something - a cell phone, maybe - waving around in front of his face. He wanted to grab whatever it was and make it stop moving around but he felt like he couldn’t move his arms. Then there was another flash of bright light originating from the object in front of him, and Brian once again shut his eyes to hide from the blinding brightness.

***

He felt his eyelids fluttering open but it was dark and he couldn’t see much of anything around him. He could tell he was lying down in a bed. There was someone else lying next to him, arms and legs draped over Brian’s own body. It wasn’t Justin though. This man didn’t feel like his blond. He didn’t smell like his blond. He didn’t make Brian feel safe or loved like being with his blond always did. Whoever this was shouldn’t be here, Brian thought. Had he brought someone home from from the club? That didn’t seem right. He wanted to get up and throw the guy out, but his body seemed frozen in place. And before he could summon enough wherewithal to do anything about it, the little bit of dim light there was in the room faded away.

***

Brian ‘woke up’ to find himself sitting in a chair. It was night outside the nearby window. The room was only dimly lit by the one lamp on the nightstand clear across the room. A shadowy figure moving around in the periphery of his vision caught his attention. The next thing he knew, the figure was approaching with a small bundle in its arms. The man - Brian could tell now it was a man - laid the blanket-wrapped form in Brian’s arms. He looked down and saw what appeared to be a swaddled baby.

“Isn’t our little Kevan so sweet?” whispered a voice next to Brian’s ear. “You two look so adorable together. I just have to get a picture of this for our photo album. Hold still, Baby.”

There was a flash of light that caused spots to dance in front of Brian’s eyes and then, before he could protest, the baby was taken away from him. Brian tried to hold on to the small form but his fingers wouldn’t do what his brain told them to do. Then the man was taking his baby away from him and walking away towards the door.

“Don’t cry, Honey. Kevan’s fine,” the man who was stealing away Brian’s baby said, the words providing no reassurance at all. “He’s just hungry. I’ll give him a bottle and then put him in his crib. And then, in the morning, when he wakes up, we can all play together. I just love our little family. Don’t you? We’re going to be so happy together. You’ll see, Brian. You’ll see.”

And then Brian was all alone and he couldn’t even seem to raise his hands to wipe away the tears that were flowing down his cheeks.   

***

Brian drifted back to an awareness of the present and found himself standing in front of a mirror dressed in a cheap, poorly fitting suit. It was daytime again, and the room was filled with too much sunlight, making it almost as hard to see as it was when the room was dark. Brian blinked his eyes, but still nothing seemed to be completely in focus. For some reason his arms weren’t working right. Brian felt as if he were paralysed. He could see what was going on around him and he could feel his body being moved but he couldn’t make it move the way HE wanted.

“There we go. You look so handsome!” an overly-cheerful voice rang in Brian’s ears and two hands reached out, snugging the tie up more neatly under the collar of the dress shirt he was wearing. “I’m so excited. I want everything to be just perfect for our wedding! I just can’t believe it’s finally happening, can you? I’ve been dreaming about this day for so long and now it’s really coming true. You and I and Kevan can be a real family now.” The man making all these outrageous statements kept babbling on and on, humming the Wedding March under his breath whenever he wasn’t actually speaking, as he put on his own jacket and tie and then pinned a boutonniere to Brian’s lapel.

When all the dressing seemed over, the man turned and raised up on his tip toes, leaving a small kiss on Brian’s unresisting lips.

“Now, how about another picture before the rest of the wedding party arrives?” The man grabbed Brian’s arm and led him over to the far corner of the room. There was a tripod with a camera set up on it facing the armchair in the corner. Brian was seated in the chair, with the man perched on the arm and then there were clicks and flashes of light and . . . Brian’s attention wandered away. He didn’t want to be there for whatever was going to happen next.

***

The bursts of awareness were getting more frequent. Or at least it seemed that way to Brian, although he couldn’t be sure since time was being slippery and all he could really say for certain when he did manage to focus on whatever was happening in the present was that it was either night or day. This most recent episode of time seemed to be occurring during the day since he could see the blue sky and trees that lived outside the window of the room he was in. He was lying in bed still. He could see that the blanket had become tangled around his legs and was puddling around his hips. He was naked. He still felt totally enervated - as if there were incredibly heavy weights holding down all his limbs so that he couldn’t move. Even turning his head a little to the side when he heard noises felt like a gargantuan effort.

This time the noises seemed to be coming from the other side of the door. Brian heard a metallic clicking, then saw the doorknob turning and finally the door swung open. The man he’d seen off and on over the past - well, however long it had been since he’d been put into this room - came through the door, sat the tray he was carrying on top of the nearby dresser and then took a large bunch of keys out of his pocket. Taggart - the man’s name suddenly popped into Brian’s mind - quickly found the key he was looking for and promptly re-locked the door. Then he was approaching Brian with the tray of food.

Brian was able follow the man’s movements, turning his head to watch as Taggart placed the tray on the nightstand before he moved over and helped Brian to sit up with his legs draped off the side of the bed. Brian was actually rather glad to discover that he wasn’t really paralysed. He could move his arms a little once he was sitting up. They still felt heavy and awkward but he could move them slightly. Not enough to slap Taggart as the vile little man leaned over and kissed Brian’s lips though. Brian did turn his head away, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the offensive press of damp lips. Taggart didn’t seem to notice the distaste in Brian’s gaze afterwards. He just went on with his tasks, greeting Brian with a sunny ‘Good Morning, Lover!’ and then tidying the bed covers.

Brian merely watched. He didn’t feel like he could do anything more in his current state. He wanted to cover himself up, to hide his nudity, not liking that this odious man was able to see him in his most vulnerable state. But the effort to move that much was too great, so Brian just sat and watched. He watched as Taggart moved a little tray table over in front of Brian. He watched as his tormentor arranged the plates of food he’d brought. And he watched as Taggart dropped a small white pill into the glass of orange juice that he then sat next to Brian’s plate.

“Fuc . . . ker” Brian huffed out the almost silent word under his breath.

Taggart turned and looked at Brian as if he was surprised to hear any sound at all coming from his previously placid victim. Brian quickly reined in his temper and tried to blank out his face, if it wasn’t already. He didn’t want to give away his discovery. Now that he knew what was happening to him, he needed to find a way to stop it. But he couldn’t do that if he was constantly being drugged up. He needed to throw this Taggart asshole off balance. And to do that, he needed a clear head.

When Tag later held up the glass of juice to Brian’s lips, the captive took a large mouthful of the liquid and then immediately let it all dribble out, drenching the contents of the tray and Taggart’s sleeve as well. While his captor was reaching for a napkin to mop up the mess, Brian managed to twitch his hand just enough to knock over the rest of the glass. The breakfast was ruined, which was precisely Brian’s intention. Taggart cursed, loaded the uneaten plates full of slop back onto his tray and stomped out of the room with an angry parting look thrown in Brian’s direction.

Brian just sat there and tried to look completely helpless and blank, hoping that his kidnapper wouldn’t realize his actions had been intentional and that Brian was more alert than he’d been since his arrival in this nightmare.

Chapter 31 - Discoveries.

Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try! Dr. Seuss

***

After thinking about it long and hard, Kevan had decided that the fuzzy, fluffy, white things bouncing all around him this afternoon were simply oddly-shaped and very tiny people things.

At first he hadn't been sure what they were. He'd been happily distracted by what he assumed was just another afternoon stroll with The Papa and the nice soft person thing who came with all that fuzzy brown stuff on its head - the one Kevan most often thought of these days as The Curly One. But then The Papa had taken Kevan out of his stroller and plopped him down on a patch of cold ground covered by intriguing hard small golden brown pieces of something. Kevan was in the process of putting one of the somethings in his mouth to see if that would help identify what the somethings were made of, when The Papa rudely knocked the piece of something out of Kevan’s hand.

“No, Kevan! Don't blah blah wood shavings blah blah blah.”

Kevan was just about to launch into a full blown protest about this abominable behavior on The Papa’s behalf - The Papa had been using that ‘No’ sound a lot lately and Kevan wasn't at all fond of that particular sound - when he was almost scared out of his diapers by the arrival of one of those fluffy white things. The thing had just bounced up to Kevan without any warning, lowered its tiny head and then run right into him. Kevan didn't even have time to cry out before his magic got loose and he accidentally made the world topple over.

The Papa must not have liked the fluffy things either because as soon as Kevan’s world rolled to a stop again, he was snatched up and held tight, as if the Papa was seeking protection from the fluffy things. Kevan didn't mind the tight hug since he was very unsure about the fluffy thing’s intentions himself. When The Papa sat down, keeping Kevan in his lap for safety, the little boy allowed himself to snuggle into the arms even more. He didn't mind offering whatever reassurances he could to The Papa.

But then, the next thing Kevan knew, they were surrounded by a whole passle of the scary fluffy white things. And if that wasn't bad enough, one of them came right up to where they were sitting and yelled at Kevan.

“Baaaaaaaaaaaa!” The fluffy thing screamed at him.

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” Kevan screamed back even louder.

Then there was a moment of utter chaos when another of the fluffy things bumped into the first fluffy thing and The Papa was making his loud happy sounds and The Curly One was clapping and . . . Well, by the time all the ruckus died down, Kevan found that one of the fluffy things was sitting next to him in The Papa’s lap.

Kevan wasn't inclined to share The Papa's lap with just anyone. He was prepared to do his magic, flip the world around and thus throw the interloper out of the lap. But before he could even get started, the fluffy thing looked up at Kevan with a sad expression, gave Kevan a small quiet “Baaaa!” and then rubbed its tiny head against Kevan’s cheek.

Kevan thought the thing was very soft. It smelled kinda funny but Kevan figured maybe this fluffy thing just needed it's diaper changed too? And it WAS warm.

Kevan reached a chubby hand out and grappled on to the first bit of fluffy thing he could reach - a soft floppy part on the side of the thing’s head. Fluffy just blinked at Kevan. Kevan decided to investigate further into the nature these fluffy things and promptly put the floppy piece of Fluffy into his mouth to assess its taste. It even tasted fluffy.

Kevan then spent the next few minutes thinking and thinking in order to figure out exactly what kind of thing Fluffy was. He thought about it really hard while absentmindedly continuing to gnaw on the floppy piece of Fluffy. This Fluffy was a tough thing to pin down though. And Kevan was relatively new at this type of determined thinking. But he thought and he thought and he considered and then he compared and then he thought some more . . .

The conclusion Kevan reached was that Fluffy moved around, he talked with mouth sounds, he was warm, he tasted good, and he smelled like a dirty diaper. Hence, Fluffy must be just a really oddly shaped little person thing. And since Fluffy didn't seem to mind Kevan chewing on his ear, he must want to be friends.

‘Cool!’ Thought Kevan. ‘I've just made my first friend!’

To: BAKinney@VanGard.com

From: JTaylor@PIFA.edu

Re: Fun.

Hey, Stud! Do you remember when we went to Coney Island last summer? How we agreed you needed practice having fun? How we planned to use Kevan as an excuse to do all sorts of fun things together that you never had a chance to do as a kid? Well, today would have been one of those days if you'd been here. Daph and I took Kevan to this little petting zoo. It was hilarious. At first your son was scared out of his mind by all the animals. But then this baby lamb came bounding over to where the two of us were sitting and sort of fell into my lap right next to Kevan. The next thing I knew, Kevan was chewing on the lamb’s ear. The lamb didn't seem to mind for some strange reason. It was totally adorable. The only thing that could have made it even better would be if it had been you sitting there with our son instead of me. Then I could have looked on and sketched that beautiful scene and we'd always have that memory . . . I wish you'd come home, Brian. We need you. Please come home to us.

Love always,

Justin & Kevan

***

Justin typed out the last few letters of his name and then hit ‘send’. At this point, sending these twice daily emails had become merely an academic endeavor. He no longer expected any response from Brian. It had been more than two weeks since Brian had left him there alone in their bed. Two weeks without a single word. He didn't know what was wrong or why Brian wasn't responding. Whatever it was must be really bad. Justin wouldn't give up though. So he just kept sending the emails.

“Justin, Honey, you’ve got to stop worrying about Brian. He’s a big boy. I’m sure he can take care of himself,” Emmett directed as he walked past the dining table where Justin had his laptop set up.

“Don’t be so sure of that, Em. Brian’s not as invulnerable as everyone always makes him out to be,” Justin replied, slamming the lid of his laptop closed in frustration. “I KNOW something’s wrong. Something’s happened to him or he would have at least emailed back. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, luckily for you, I do,” Emmett asserted, handing Kevan off to his Papa and retrieving the house phone from it’s cradle on kitchen counter. After punching in a few numbers, the Manny spoke into the handset. “Cynthia? Hi there, Missy. It’s Emmett Honeycutt. I’ve got your boss’ better half here with me. Can I put you on speaker? Thanks, Hon.”

Emmett set the phone down on the table, pushed the speaker button and pulled up a chair. Just as they were getting started Zavi - the oldest of the Hulk Brothers and the one who was ostensibly in charge of the Chapel’s security detail - wandered in through the front door and joined the group. Justin was already huddled over the table’s edge, leaning into the phone, eager to hear any news Cynthia was willing to impart about Brian.

“Okay, we’re all set, Cynthia, and by the way, Zavi’s here with us now too.” Emmett informed the person on the other end of the line.

“Good afternoon, everybody. What can I do for you gentlemen?” Cynthia’s voice sounded as cool and accommodating as always, but Justin thought he detected a hint of underlying stress that really shouldn’t be there.

“Cyn, Honey, Justin’s been going a bit crazy around here because we haven’t heard anything from Brian since he left for Cancun, except for the one or two messages you’ve forwarded on,” Emmett took charge of the conference call right from the start, to Justin’s immense relief. “Now, I know Mr. High-And-Mighty left here in a bit of a kerfluffle, but enough is enough. I don’t care if he is still sulking. He hasn’t responded to any of Baby’s emails or phone messages. We need to get a hold of the man, like now. We don’t even know when he’s supposed to be getting home. Can you help us here, Cyn?”

“Well . . .” Cynthia’s voice now sounded completely off and it made the ball of anxiety Justin had been carrying around in his gut for the past week throb uncomfortably. “Actually, I don’t think I CAN help you.”

“This is getting a little ridiculous, Cynthia,” Emmett interrupted her, about to fly off on a tirade about how silly Brian was being, carrying on with this silent treatment thing.

“Let the woman speak, Emmett,” Zavi reached over and laid one of his hamhock-sized hands on the Manny’s shoulder to quell any further comments.

“Thanks, Zavi,” Cynthia went on. “I was going to say that, unfortunately, I haven’t heard from Brian in several days myself. Gardner’s been all over my ass about when Brian’s coming back to work. I’ve emailed him and left him messages a few times asking when he’s scheduled to return, but haven’t received any response. I didn’t know you weren’t in contact with him either. If I’d known that, I would have been even more worried.”

“Shit! This isn’t good,” Justin interjected. “I thought he was just still pissed off at me and that’s why he wasn’t calling me back. But if you haven’t heard from him either . . .”

“Let’s try him again,” Cynthia suggested, hitting the buttons to try to conference in Brian’s cell phone.

The call went straight through to voicemail. Sadly, as soon as the voicemail connected, however, they all heard the message that informed them that Brian’s voicemail box was full and therefore they couldn’t even leave another message. Justin wasn’t the only one who groaned when they heard that announcement.

“This really is NOT good,” Cynthia stated as soon as she’d disconnected the line. “I know for a fact that Brian’s phone service provides storage up to forty voicemail messages. If he’s got that many messages that he hasn’t deleted . . .”

“Brian wouldn’t leave that many unanswered messages on his phone. He’s obsessive about clearing out his messages,” Justin observed. “Checking his messages is the first thing he does every morning and the last thing he does at night. Something’s really wrong here.”

“I agree. It’s not like Brian to let his voicemail get so full,” Cynthia added pressing some additional phone buttons even as she spoke. “Let’s see if we can reach Brian through the resort’s switchboard.”

Twenty five minutes and multiple phone calls later, the group still had not located Brian. The hotel confirmed that Brian had checked out the same day he forwarded the email to Cynthia saying that the shoot was being extended. They had no explanation for the early check out. Cynthia next called several numbers she had for the Armani marketing staff and eventually connected to the Creative Director that had been in charge of the location shoot. He informed them that Brian had left Cancun without warning stating that he had ‘Family Shit’ that he needed to get home to take care of. Cynthia then pulled up Brian’s online credit card statement and located the flight number for his homeward trip. When she called the airline, they confirmed that, according to their records, Mr. Kinney had been on the flight that arrived in Pittsburgh later that night. Another perusal of the credit card records showed two charges at Pittsburgh International Airport the night Brian was supposed to have arrived - one at an airport Starbucks kiosk and another at an airport newsstand. But after that, there was nothing more.

In the end, it was clear that Brian HAD made it back to Pittsburgh and then had simply disappeared. Nobody had heard from him since. And that had been more than a week and a half ago.

Brian was pretty much out of it for most of the day after he’d first discovered that he was being drugged. Slowly, though, the drug’s effects wore off. The heavy, almost paralyzed feeling in his limbs wore off first and then, slowly, his head cleared. Even after the drugs wore off though, Brian continued to feel like crap. The hangover from whatever he’d been given was pretty fucking bad. His muscles ached, he felt weak all over, his head throbbed and overall he felt so lethargic it was pathetic. He vaguely remembered feeling sick off and on throughout his stay in this room, but everything was so hazy and blurred in his mind that he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

Meanwhile, for his captor’s benefit, he had to continue pretending to be a zombie the entire time. He made sure to be extra clumsy during mealtimes so that the food Taggart was trying to foist on him was spilled or otherwise ruined and therefore he wouldn’t have to ingest any of it. His captor was understandably a little peeved at Brian all day because of the repeated messes. Brian was laughing inside and was especially proud of the fact that he’d managed to make the entire dinner tray of red sauce covered pasta land in Tag’s lap. Amazingly enough, Taggart didn’t seem to realize that Brian had now gone a significant length of time without another dose of the drug.

Tag came into the room several times throughout the day. He was always smiling and happy, chattering away all about the happy life he and Brian and Kevan had together. It was hard for Brian not to react to some of the shit the guy was spouting. As far as Brian could tell, Taggart was completely delusional. He kept talking about events that had never happened, except in his overheated mind. At one point he was was going on and on about their wedding day and how perfect it had been. Then he segued into a fond reminiscence of their supposed first date. It went on and on, The descriptions and details he was pattering on about were strangely explicit, which frightened Brian, especially when the captive seemed to actually remember flashes of some of the occasions Tag was talking about.

And, what was even more frightening, was the way Taggart would touch and kiss Brian so familiarly every time he neared. It seemed like every time Tag came within two feet of Brian, he’d reach out a hand and pat his cheek, trail his fingers over a shoulder or his chest, weave his digits through Brian’s hair, or touch him even more intimately on his back or leg. He also kissed Brian repeatedly.

It took everything in him for Brian to sit there passively while the man petted and slobbered all over him, kissing his face, his hands, his shoulder, and even his lips. The most vile moments were when Taggart would dress Brian, which he seemed to do several times a day, treating Brian like a life-sized Ken Doll. Thankfully, except for a little bit of light fondling - a squeeze to his bare ass on one occasion and one inquiring fingertip stretched out longingly to just barely graze against his dick - the depraved man didn’t approach Brian in an overtly sexual manner. If that HAD happened, there was no way Brian would have been able to sit there quiescently. Brian just hoped that his abductor had been equally as restrained during those times when he wasn’t as lucid as he was right then. He purposely shied away from any of the partial memories he had that might contradict this hope. If there was more there, Brian didn’t really want to know.

In between mealtimes, Taggart’s dress-up games and the other random visits, Brian forced himself to sit quietly. He wasn’t sure if Tag had some kind of cameras hidden in the room or not, and he didn’t want to give away his secret if he was being watched. So he just stayed wherever Tag put him and tried not to fidget even when the drug hangover was practically killing him.

The biggest downside of sitting still for so long without any distractions, was that Brian was left with way too much time on his hands. He had nothing to occupy himself with other than his thoughts. Even at the best of times, Brian's thoughts had never been comfortable companions. Now, though, he had no way to escape from them. No way to avoid the unpleasant and long buried truths that seeped up from his subconscious.

Mostly what he thought about was how in the hell he could have ended up in this predicament.

He spent a lot of time in the beginning trying to figure out how he'd become Taggart’s prisoner in the first place. Brian assumed that the drugs he'd been given had something to do with it. But he’d always thought he was smart enough not to fall for the usual club drugging schtick - he never left his drinks unwatched or anything like that - so how did Tag manage to slip him a mickey? No way would Brian have voluntarily accepted anything the stalker offered him. He didn't think a little twinkie like this guy could have overpowered him and forced him to take the drugs, either. So then, the only other explanation was that Taggart somehow tricked Brian into taking the drugs.

But even then, Brian couldn't see how the creep got him here to this apparently remote house. It was inconceivable that he would've just walked away with the stalker who'd been threatening his family. And if he'd been dragged away from one of his regular haunts by the guy, wouldn't someone have stopped him? Brian's friends wouldn’t let some stranger carry him off when he was obviously shit faced, would they? So, even if he'd somehow been tricked into taking the drugs, how the fuck did Taggart manage to physically get him here?

Unfortunately, there was no way for Brian to answer any of those questions. Try as he might, he just couldn't remember anything. He had a few scanty flashes of what appeared to be memories, but which might also have been drug-induced hallucinations. And even then the brief flashes he did have didn't fit together into any decipherable whole. It was like he was trying to put together a puzzle where half the pieces were lost. It felt like a futile effort and was only making him frustrated.

Even more infuriating, though, was the fact that he'd let his life devolve into a place where something like this could actually happen. How had Brian ended up as the object of an obsessive fan’s delusions? He'd never asked for his celebrity status - it just sort of happened along with all the other shit that befell him as a result of his mutant genetics, a broken condom and an uncharacteristic craving to bottom. He’d done the best he could under the circumstances, he thought. But, in hindsight, maybe flaunting himself in front of the camera lenses hadn't been the wisest course of action.

Well, at least that was over. He was sick of the modeling gig and the fans. The last really clear memory Brian did have was of his decision to leave Cancun and to hell with the Armani contract. He was done trying to prove that he was the most desirable man on the planet. He realized now that the whole modeling thing had just been his way of overcompensating for the latent shame he'd felt after finding out he was pregnant. He'd wanted to prove that just because he'd had a baby, he wasn‘t some effeminate, dickless loser. He'd wanted assurances that he was still attractive - still a ‘real’ man. But now that he'd achieved that goal to at least some degree, he thought the price was far too steep. All Brian really wanted now was to go back to his old, nearly-anonymous life.

Well . . . maybe not. At least, not his old life the way it had been. Not without his sons and his blond. Those parts of his new life he wanted to hold onto. Besides, it wasn’t like he ever COULD get rid of them, even if he’d wanted to. And he really didn’t want to.

Shit, he missed them all so fucking much!

The longer he sat there and thought, the more Brian realized that the ONLY thing he cared about was getting back home to his family. All the attention he got from the publicity and the fans and the men who’d been drooling after him for the past six months seemed so empty. When push came to shove, all he really wanted was to be home. To hold Kevan. To smile on proudly as his two sons played together. To kiss Justin’s soft, welcoming lips once more and then to fall into bed with the only man he’d ever dared to think might be willing to put up with him.

Damn! Thinking of Justin might have been a mistake. Once he started thinking about the blond who was - surely? presumably? hopefully? - waiting for him at home, Brian’s mind sped off on one tangent after another, all of which revolved around that tempting little blond.

What was it about that boy that kept Brian interested even after all this time together? He’d never experienced anything like it with any other man - and Brian had been with a LOT of other men. But from the first night, Brian had felt captivated by the boy. He’d tried to get rid of the kid several times, but for some unfathomable reason he’d never managed to shake off the tenacious and indefatigable twat. Brian didn’t understand it at all. Yes, the small, lithe body with that absolutely luscious, perky ass was hot and he could easily see why he’d been attracted to the kid in the first place. No fag in his right mind would say ‘No’ to a chance to get into Justin’s ass. And that’s not even taking into account the nice thick cock that came along with the blond boy ass. But physical attraction alone didn’t explain Brian’s obsession with the kid. He’d had so many hot, tight asses over the years, he couldn’t count them - and he couldn’t remember them either. So Brian didn’t think it was the physical attraction alone that kept drawing him back to the younger man. It had to be something else. Something that he couldn’t name but that always drew him back to his Sunshine.

Sunshine. . . Thinking of that nickname instantly brought up the mental image of his partner’s bright, sunny smile, which was at least a partial explanation. Brian could never get enough of that smile. It was fucking infectious. And usually the smile came along with laughter and fun . . . things that Brian really didn’t remember experiencing much before Justin had come along. Oh, he’d done plenty of ‘fun’ things in his life. Things that he’d describe as ‘amusing’. But that sense of plain, simple, uncomplicated FUN that he got when he and Justin were together was new.

Before Justin, Brian had engaged in plenty of sex. He’d done plenty of drugs. He’d spent plenty of nights out dancing at clubs or trolling at the baths or hooking up with men wherever. But all those things that were meant to amuse him had somehow always felt like serious business. Looking back, Brian couldn’t point to even one instance when he’d felt like sex had been ‘fun’, until Justin had come along. Before Justin, if someone had laughed while he was fucking them, Brian would have been offended and probably kicked them out of his bed. But since Sunshine had arrived, it was a rare encounter when sex didn’t involve at least some laughter and fun and smiles. So maybe that had something to do with it?

Even when they weren’t having much fun though - like lately - Brian still felt drawn to that infuriatingly bold brat. If it was all about fun, then why hadn’t the younger man bailed on him any of the innumerable times that things had become ‘unfun’ over the past year and a half? Why didn’t Justin listen when Brian told him to leave or tried to push him away? Brian fully acknowledged that being with someone as emotionally stunted as Brian Kinney, especially living with him, wasn’t exactly a bowl of cherries a lot of the time. And yet Justin was still there. He still stuck with Brian even at his worst. Justin never judged him, but somehow still managed to get Brian to rethink his actions whenever the younger man thought Brian was acting inappropriately. He made Brian somehow WANT to be a better person. A better father. Maybe even a better partner? Why that was, Brian had no idea, but he had to admit it was another of the things that kept him interested in the boy.

So then, why had Brian felt the need to practically run away. Why was he here, alone, being used as a play toy for some nutcase after running away from home just because he was scared of the domesticated heteronormative turn his life had taken? And if he really didn’t want to be with Justin, then why had he resorted to drinking and anonymous sex in order to avoid having to think about his blond bedwarmer and his fatherly commitments back in the Pitts? Why had he felt so smothered by his life back there and yet, even when he was a thousand miles away and completely free to do anything he wanted, continued to brood over the blond he'd been so anxious to escape? Why did he miss Justin, Kevan and all those family-life responsibilities so badly now that his ties to that life seemed in danger of being severed forever?

None of it made any sense to the confused and frightened man. Of course, not much HAD made sense in his life since that night more than a year earlier when he'd given in to the itch to let the twink top him. Ever since then he'd been living in a perpetual state of bewilderment, so focused on trying to prove he hadn’t lost his studly machismo that he had brought down this newest nightmare on them.  

Well, enough of that! Brian knew that if he ever managed to get home again, he wouldn’t be wasting his time on that shit any more. He’d fucking man up, already, and prove to Justin and Kevan that he wanted to be there with them. That he wanted to be worthy of their love. That he really was the kind of man who deserved it.

But first, Brian had to come up with a way to get out of this hell hole and away from his delusional captor.

Chapter 32 - Rage Is In The House.

Kevan was not a happy boy this morning.

The Papa wasn’t happy either. The entire time they’d been sitting together on the floor today, The Papa had been making his unhappy face. Kevan really did NOT like the unhappy face. He didn’t like the unhappy mouth sounds The Papa was making either. He especially didn’t like the fact that The Papa wasn’t paying much attention to Kevan today. And when The Papa had hugged and kissed Kevan, he ended up getting all wet because The Papa’s face was drippy. That wasn’t the way Kevan liked his hugs and kisses.

Kevan did his best to draw The Papa back to the here and now. He smiled at The Papa. He made his own brand of happy mouth sounds. He waved his hands around in the air and kicked his feet. He held Uglyworm out to The Papa in case the big person wanted to play with his toy friend. He even did some of his special magic, wiggling and moving around so that the world flipped and spun and moved all different directions. But nothing seemed to make The Papa happy though. The Papa barely even looked at Kevan most of the time.

This was completely unacceptable. Kevan was the center of the universe. He was the most important person he knew. Usually, The Papa’s actions reinforced this belief with force since The Papa was generally a pretty attentive big person. Which is one of the reasons that Kevan was so fond of The Papa.

But not today.

So Kevan set out to remedy this problem in his inimitable six month old fashion. After the smiling and the waving and the laughing garnered him no attention, he moved on to a tried and true staple - crying. That was always Kevan’s standby. When all else failed, you could almost always get the attention you needed with only a good wail or two.

Only, today, when Kevan began to wail, so did The Papa.

That was not the correct response at all.

“Sorry, Kevan. Blah, blah, blah, Papa. Papa misses your Daddy blah, blah, blah, Kevan . . .” The Papa’s words were so sad that they made Kevan sad.

He didn’t even get happy when The Papa held up a picture of some big person thing that looked vaguely familiar to the baby. There was something about the soft-looking, dark brown hair and the crooked smile that brought out feelings of safety and comfort in Kevan. He couldn’t quite place the face though. Maybe it would come to Kevan later?

Unfortunately, when Kevan simply pushed aside the picture that The Papa was holding up next to his face, it made the unhappy mouth sounds from the big person thing even louder.

It really wasn’t Kevan’s day.

So he started into crying some more himself.

By the time the sun began to set, Brian was exhausted. It made no sense, since he'd done nothing but sit and think all day. Of course it HAD been some pretty heavy thinking. And there was also the little issue of him still recovering from the whole long-term doping too. But it all combined to make him rethink his plans. There was no way he was feeling strong enough to take on Tag yet. Even though he was feeling mostly lucid now, he didn't want to do anything until he was sure it would work. He didn't want to make an escape attempt, fail and then give Taggart a chance to up the security or find another way to force the drugs on Brian.

When Taggart came in and started to undress him a little while later, Brian didn't resist. It was difficult not to react though when his captor led Brian to the bed, made the passive man lie down and then got into the bed next to his captive. The vile man’s touch on Brian’s bare skin made him shudder involuntarily, but he didn’t let himself actually move away. Taggart then curled himself himself around Brian’s supine form, laying his head on Brian’s shoulder with his one arm stretched across the broad chest. It felt so wrong. The only person Brian had ever lain like that with before was Justin. That spot in the hollow beneath his shoulder belonged to Justin’s head, not this demented imposter! And when a hand started to caress his pec, lightly playing with his nipple, Brian wanted to scream. He felt so dirty. But there was nothing he could do. He just had to endure this and hope it was over really soon.

Luckily, Brian’s fatigue soon reasserted itself and he was dragged off to the welcome oblivion of sleep before Tag’s advances could drive him too crazy.

Justin and Zavi were anxiously waiting for the return of Detective Carl Horvath, the cop that Deb had sent them to with the dubious recommendation that, for a straight guy and a cop, he wasn’t a complete asshole. They’d been sitting there in the man’s office for more than twenty minutes after being summoned with the promise that there was a lead in the case. It was still doubtful whether or not the guy would live up to Deb’s high praise.

It would take a lot to make Justin a believer. So far he wasn’t at all impressed with the police response that had followed his report that Brian was missing. First there were all the borderline-insulting questions about Brian and Justin’s relationship, with the underlying intimation being that, since Brian was gay, it was just assumed that he was unreliable and subject to running off at the drop of a hat. Once they’d cleared up that misconception - showing all the proof Cynthia had accumulated about Brian’s flight to Pittsburgh and his unanswered messages, along with pointing out that Brian was a semi-celebrity who’d already been threatened by a stalker - they still had to deal with an incipient hostility. It was as if the cops thought Justin’s little missing persons case was a burden they were forced to help out with against their will. Horvath had only been marginally easier to deal with than the rest of the precinct. With all that, just filing the police report had taken Justin more than two hours.

Since then, it seemed like very little had actually been done by the official protectors of Pittsburgh's citizenry. Justin was incredibly pissed off that it had taken the cops a day and a half already just to get this far. The day they’d filed the missing persons report, Zavi had told the detective exactly what needed to be done - recommending they pull copies of the security video from the airport around the time of Brian’s arrival and then canvas the taxi’s and car services to see if anyone remembered picking Brian up. How hard could that be? Justin couldn’t see why it had taken the police so long to get that information - didn’t they have warrants and things that could clear the way in a heartbeat? It was a mystery to the worried young man how everyone around him could seem so unconcerned. Every minute that ticked by was another minute that he didn’t have Brian back. It was just plain unacceptable.

While they were waiting for the detective, Justin reviewed in his mind what had been done so far by the Liberty Gang civilians, trying to suss out something they might have missed. Some clue that they didn’t follow. Anything that Justin could do by himself to help move things along faster. So far though he hadn’t found much.

Immediately after they’d hung up from the call with Cynthia, Justin and Em had phoned around to the rest of the ‘family’ to make doubly sure that nobody had heard from Brian and just not told Justin yet. Everyone denied any contact with Brian since before he left for Cancun. Somehow that just didn’t make sense though.

In the past, Brian almost always arranged for somebody to pick him up from the airport if he was coming in late. He hated the hassle of taking a taxi when he was already tired after a long day of travel. So, for as long as anyone could remember, Brian routinely arranged for Justin or - before the advent of the ‘Boy Wonder’ - Michael, to have access to the Jeep and be waiting on hand to pick him up when he returned.

Emmett had recalled that he, Ted and Michael had been together on the night in question and he confirmed that nobody had heard from Brian while they’d been together. Justin wondered though. If the call from Brian had come in while they’d been distracted at Woody’s or maybe later after they’d already hit Babylon, it was possible that whoever it was might not have heard their phone ringing. Justin thought it was also possible that any such call or message might have been missed and maybe even accidentally deleted without the recipient knowing. After much discussion of the matter, Em was talked into calling Michael back, since the ‘Best Friend’ was the most likely person (after Justin) to have been summoned to play taxi for a returning Brian.

Low and behold, after Zavi walked Michael through the process to retrieve the deleted text messages on his phone, it turned out there was indeed a message from Brian. The time stamp on the message showed it was received at 7:03 pm and deleted at 7:04. Michael was adamant that he’d never seen the message at all. He had no clue how the message had got deleted either.

Justin had cursed Michael roundly and repeatedly as soon as they'd hung up. Emmett had been quick to jump in and defend his friend, though. He’d assured Justin over and over that their little threesome had been together all night and that, if Michael HAD received that message, they all would have known.

“I remember that night really well,” Em explained. “You'd just got the message from Cynthia earlier in the day saying that the photoshoot was being extended. When I told Michael, he was actually happy, because that was back when we were still getting those nasty daily love notes from your stalkery friend where either your head was cut off or your picture obliterated, and Michael thought Brian would be safer down in Mexico than here with you. And you know Michael, he was going on and on about it for half the night, practically yelling from the rooftops how glad he was that Brian was still in Cancun. If he'd seen that message saying Brian was actually coming home, trust me Honey, we - along with half of Woody’s - would have heard about it.”

“Wait a minute,” Zavi had interrupted Emmett’s colorful retelling of Michael's antics with a worried frown that made his large face look even more imposing than usual. “You're telling me that this Michael person was discussing Brian’s location - loudly - in a bar full of strangers? At the same time we were all doing our best to protect Brian and the rest of the family from an unknown threat? Did you even look around to make sure that nobody was listening to your discussion?” Em had looked at Zavi, then at Justin, his eyes almost popping out of his head as the implications of what had likely happened dawned on him. Zavi didn't wait for Em to respond though. “If I remember correctly, that was about the time when the gifts and letters from the stalker stopped, right?” Justin nodded at the concerned security advisor with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Did your loud mouthed friend by any chance leave his phone unattended for any period of time while you were there at the bar?”

“I . . . I don't remember,” Em stuttered. “It's possible, though. We always leave our drinks and stuff on the table and our jackets hanging on our chairs when we go somewhere or when we're shooting pool. So, yeah, it's possible . . .”

“Well, I think we have a pretty good idea what, or at least who, happened to Brian,” Zavi had announced with a scowl.

That had been when they'd gone to the police.

Finally, before Justin had time to internally bitch out Michael any further, the door to the office where they were waiting creaked open and the robust form of Detective Horvath barreled inside. “Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting,” the cop demurred briefly before seating himself in the rickety old metal desk chair and turning towards his visitors. “Is this your guy,” Horvath said without any further ado, pulling an 8x10 black and white photo out of a file and shoving it across the desk towards them.

The picture was a still shot taken off an airport video feed. It clearly showed Brian amidst a large crowd of people walking down a narrow passageway. Thankfully, Brian was tall enough that you could clearly see his face over the tops of the other travellers’ heads.

When both Justin and Zavi confirmed it was Brian, Horvath nodded and went on. “That was taken at the security exit point.” He pulled out another picture from the file. “We picked him up again at Baggage Claim. See this guy standing next to him? Either of you recognize him?”

Justin noted the younger man standing next to Brian in the second photo. The guy was wearing one of those black hats that chauffeurs tended to wear, but his clothing was otherwise far too casual for a typical car service employee. The guy was smiling at Brian, who looked distracted but not at all worried or uneasy. The guy in the cap had Brian's carry on in one hand and what looked like a clipboard with a sign on it in the other. You couldn't read what was on the clipboard due to the angle of the picture, but it could easily have been the kind of printout ‘sign’ a car service would use - the ones you see where the passenger’s last name was printed out in large letters and held up at the airport exit gate so that the driver could intercept the person he was supposed to collect.

“Sorry, I don't recognize this guy at all,” Justin sighed dejectedly, shaking his head.

Horvath gave a lopsided half shrug and carried on, pulling one final picture out of his file. “This one's from the car service pick up lane outside the ‘Arrivals’ area.” The picture showed a big black town car pulled up to the curb with the guy in the cap from the prior picture holding the rear passenger-side door open for Brian. “We canvassed all the car services licensed through the airport but so far none of them have any record of picking up a passenger named Kinney at that time. We're still waiting to hear back from a couple of the smaller services, but so far it doesn't look good. Do you know if Kinney regularly uses a particular service? Would his office have sent someone to pick him up without you knowing?”

Justin hadn't answered. He wasn't even listening anymore. He was too horrified by what was shown in that last picture.

Besides the missing man and the guy holding open the car door, there was one other person depicted in that picture - a second cap-wearing ‘chauffeur’. The second guy, who was presumably loading Brian's bags into the back, was only partially visible behind the wide open trunk lid. Brian's back was towards the second man, so even if the guy hadn't been blocked from sight by the trunk, the tired-looking traveller probably wouldn't have seen his face. But even though Justin could only see part of this second person’s profile, and despite the fact that the cap he'd been wearing was pulled down low over the man's brow, he knew exactly who it was.  

This was proof - unwelcome as it might be - that Brian's number one fan, Taggart, was indeed responsible for Justin’s partner's disappearance.

Brian woke up the next morning to bright sunlight streaming in through the large windows and a thankfully empty spot next to him on the bed. He blinked his eyes and then looked around him, carefully assessing his situation. Overall, he felt pretty good this morning. His head was completely clear - finally. His stomach was maybe a little wobbly feeling, but it wasn’t bad enough to slow him down much. His body was still a little achy, too, but at least he didn’t have that same sluggish feeling that he’d been fighting off the day before. And, thankfully, he didn’t have a headache anymore. Using the bed covers to mask his movements, Brian surreptitiously flexed his arms and legs, pleased that it seemed he was almost back to his full strength. The rejuvenated captive nodded his head ever so slightly.

This morning he was going to get himself free from this hell hole.

Without moving too much, just in case his jailor was watching, Brian scanned the room for any tools that might help him with his escape. His first thought was that, whoever the demented queen was who’d decorated the place, he sure as hell liked the color yellow. Practically everything in the room was some shade of yellow and that, in combination with the large bank of windows that were currently unfettered by the floor-length yellow drapes, made for a very, very bright - almost blindingly bright - room.

Besides the furniture - the bed, the armchair in the corner, a dresser, a small nightstand, a tiny bookcase and a small divan against the far wall - there were also a number of knick-knacks that Brian figured could be used as projectiles in a pinch. The best possible weapon, though, would probably be one of the two large glass lamps that flanked the bed. They looked like they were made of heavy sea glass and would pack a wallop when he bashed Taggart over the head with one of them. There was the added advantage that he could most likely reach the one on the side of the bed closest to the door fairly quickly when the time came. If that didn’t work, Brian decided he’d pull down one of the metal ‘suns’ used as decorations on the wall over the bed and jab him in the face with the pointed ‘rays’.

Other than figuring out what weapons he might use, though, there was little else that Brian could do. The plan was, of necessity, very simple. He would lie still in the bed until the last possible moment, just in case there were cameras watching him. Then, as soon as he heard Tag unlocking the door, he’d vault out of bed, grab the lamp and run across the room, standing behind the door so that he’d be hidden when his warden came inside. A quick bash on the head later, and Brian should be free. See? Simple!

About twenty minutes later, it seemed that the time had come. Brian heard footsteps approaching and then a metallic jingle as a set of keys were shaken. Brian was ready to set his plan into action. He swept back the bedcovers, intending to leap out of bed the way he’d envisioned it in his mind. Unfortunately, things didn’t play out quite the way he’d imagined.

First, Brian’s long legs got a bit tangled up in the covers and he almost fell out of bed instead of the graceful leap he’d planned. Then he grabbed for the lamp, but since it was still plugged into the wall and the little bookcase was blocking the plug, he couldn’t pick it up like he’d planned. As the door knob started to turn, Brian decided he didn’t have time to fuck with the lamp. He’d have to do this with his own bare hands. He sprinted over to the spot behind the door and waited the ten seconds it took for Tag to enter and then turn to set down the tray he was carrying on the dresser waiting on the far side of the doorway. As soon as the man’s back was turned, Brian slammed the door closed with one hand and then, as hard as he could, he slammed Taggart face first into the wall with his other.

“B-b-brian? What . . . ?” Taggart tried to stammer out a question but Brian was having nothing of it.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking Psycho!” Brian screamed in the man’s ear, happy to feel the smaller man’s body trembling in fear. “Give me the fucking keys!” He demanded brusquely.

“W-w-why are you doing this, Brian? What’s wrong? You . . . You’re hurting me, Brian. Please . . . Please, stop,” the quaking man stuttered, trying to squirm around so he could look at his attacker in the face.

Brian obliged him by forcibly twisting the slighter man’s body around and then promptly placing both of his large hands around Tag’s neck. “I said, give me the fucking keys or I’ll strangle you till you pass out and then take the damn keys myself.”

Taggart’s hand fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and eventually pulled out the ring of keys. “H-h-here, Brian. T-t-take them . . . But, why? W-w-where are you going?” the tremulous voice asked with apparent sincerity.

“Where? Are you completely delusional? I’m fucking leaving this shithole and then I’m calling the damned police to come over here and arrest your ass, you fucking nutcase! My days as your dress up doll are over, you pathetic, demented fuck!” Brian announced as he wrenched the keys out of the now confused-looking man’s hands. “Get over on the fucking bed and stay there,” Brian ordered, throwing the man bodily in the direction of the bed and laughing a little as the kidnapper stumbled and fell backwards onto the carpet.

“You . . . you’re leaving? I-I-I don’t understand,” the cowering lump of man spoke up as Brian reached out for the door handle. “You don’t want to leave, Brian. Y-y-you can’t leave us. Kevan and I need you. Please. Please don’t leave us. We love you. How am I supposed to raise Kevan all by myself if you leave?”

Brian froze.

A full sixty seconds later Brian finally turned around, glaring down at the man still huddled on the floor at the foot of the bed. “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Just. Say?” he hissed the words in a barely audible and entirely deadly voice.

“I-I-I said, ‘don’t leave us’. Please, Brian. Kevan and I need you. You don’t want to leave us. I know you don’t,” Taggart repeated with what seemed to be complete candor.

“You motherfucking bastard! You better not be saying what I think you’re saying. If you’ve done anything . . .” Taggart shrank back even more, unable to meet Brian’s gaze as he quailed and shook in his spot on the floor. “Where is my SON?” Brian’s voice rose rapidly until the last word turned into a resounding bellow. In two large strides Brian was towering over Tag’s cringing form, reaching down with one hand to grab the man by the collar. “If you’ve hurt a single hair on his head you’re a fucking dead man!” Brian accentuated his threat by shaking Tag until his teeth literally clattered together.

“I wouldn’t ever hurt our son, Brian. I love Kevan. I love him . . .” Taggart fervently declared, trying to talk even though he was currently being jerked around like a rag doll.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Brian screamed and back handed Taggart across the face, the force of the blow knocking the man out of Brian’s grip and sending him flying several feet further along the carpet. “Kevan is NOT your son! You’re not anything to him. Or to me! You’re just a deluded fucking stalker who’s totally insane. Do you hear me! Do you?” Brian screamed in a berserk fury, punctuating each sentence with a kick aimed at Taggart’s body as the whimpering man scrambled desperately away from his attacker. “Now, tell me! What the fuck have you done and where the hell is MY son!”

Brian continued to rain down Haymakers on the simpering coward. He felt himself being overcome by a blinding rage that was so strong he was almost starting to blackout. With a tremendous effort he pulled back on his anger and slowly came to his senses, gradually letting up on the ferocity of  his blows.

Taggart held up his hands in supplication - or maybe just as another way to try to block Brian’s blows. “He’s safe! Kevan’s safe, I swear!” he insisted loudly. When Brian abruptly broke off his attack on Taggart and turned again as if to walk out the door, Tag quickly added, “He’s not here, though. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere safe . . . but if you leave here now, you’ll never see him again.” Brian turned back once more and looked like he was going to take up with the bitch slapping thing right where he’d left off, until Tag spoke up yet again, forcing Brian to pause in his Taggart smacking spree. “Stop. Please stop, Brian. I . . . I . . . If you stay, I’ll bring him to see you again.” When Brian continued to just stare at him without renewing his attack, a heartened Taggart pressed on. “We can still be a real family, Brian. Don’t you see? We’ll be so happy together, just the three of us. You’ve been happy here so far, right? We’ve been together like a real family. I know you were happy. I’ve got proof. I’ve got pictures. See . . .”

Taggart scuttled over to the nightstand in the corner, pulled open the drawer and took out a small photo album. Thumbing rapidly through the pages, all of which Brian could see were crammed full of photos of him and Tag, mostly taken in this very room, until he found the one he’d been apparently been looking for. Holding the book out for Brian, Tag offered up his ‘proof’.

“See, Brian? See your smile? You were happy. WE were happy here. All three of us. And, if you stay, I’m sure we’ll be happy again. We’ll be together forever. Just you and me and Kevan.” Tag beamed a smile up at him as Brian took hold of the book.

There, on the right-hand page was a picture of Brian sitting in the big armchair in the corner. It was night time so the room was dark. Taggart was perched on the arm of the chair, smiling down at Brian proprietarily with one arm draped around the back of the taller man’s shoulders. In Brian’s arms was a small bundle wrapped in a blue knit baby blanket. All you could see in the picture of what was in the bundle was a bare cheek and some auburn hair peeking out of the folds of the blanket. In the image he was looking at, Brian was staring down at the bundle with a silly, happy grin on his face.

Brian gaped at the picture for several minutes, trying to wrap his mind around this horrific development. In his mind, he could see a hazy, dimly-lit image that matched the picture he was looking at. It was only a flash of memory, shrouded by the drugs, but he thought he did remember that same scene. He remembered looking down at his son who, was nestled in the bundle in his arms. He remembered that he’d been so glad to see the little boy at the time. And then he remembered the unutterable sadness he’d felt when Taggart had taken the baby away from him saying something about taking the baby away to feed him and put him to bed. Fuck! It was true. It was all true. The psycho really did have Kevan.

“Fuck!” Brian moaned, his body deflating along with his spirit. “Tell me what you’ve done with my son, you crazy piece of shit! I swear I’ll kill you . . .”

“I told you, Kevan is fine!” Taggart insisted, feeling a bit more in control again now that Brian’s tone had changed. He hesitatingly got up off the floor and crawled over to kneel at Brian’s feet. “He’s safe. I promise. But I won’t tell you where he’s at - not while you’re acting like this, Brian. You’re not thinking straight. You really don’t want to leave us. I know you don’t. You’re just confused. If you’d just calm down, we can talk about this . . .”

“I’m not going to calm down until you tell me where the fuck my son is, you asshole!” Brian hissed back at the man who was trying to destroy him.

“No. If I tell you where he is you’ll leave. And I can’t live without you, Brian. I love you. If you’d just be reasonable, you’d admit that you love me too, and then we can go back to the way it was. Our perfect life together.”

“Did I mention the fact that you’re COMPLETELY DELUSIONAL?” Brian was trying to control himself. Trying not to snap. He was afraid that what this weirdo was saying was the truth and scared out of his mind that the crazy son of a bitch might do something to hurt Kevan if he wasn’t careful. It wasn’t easy though. “I want Kevan, now! You hear me? NOW!”

“No! I won’t do it. I won’t let you take Kevan away from me,” Taggart spoke up more boldly, getting up to his feet so he was almost on a level with Brian. “I won’t just let you leave me and take my baby too! If you leave, then you leave alone. And then I’ll never tell you where Kevan is. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else raising my sweet baby. Never! NEVER!” Taggart’s voice edged slowly up until Brian could hear the panic in it, which scared him far more than anything that this fruitcake had done to him to date. “You can have me arrested if you want, but I’ll never let anyone take my baby away from me!”

Brian backed away from the raving lunatic now spitting angry words in his face. When he felt the edge of the armchair’s seat behind his knees, his body gave out and he sank down into the chair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .” Brian mumbled, his mind swirling desperately but unable to come up with any way this was going to end well.

“If you stay here with me, Brian, and . . . and prove to me that you can be trusted - that you really DO still love me - I . . . I might bring Kevan to visit again. I’ll let you see him. But only if you stay. And you have to be nice. You can’t hurt me again. I won’t let you see him if you hurt me. You have to prove I can trust you again . . .”

Brian listened as Tag started to ramble on and on all about the ‘good times’ that he remembered and how they could have those times again if Brian would only come to his senses. The more the man babbled, the more Brian realized he was totally fucked. He couldn’t take the risk that this nutcase would hurt Kevan. He was barely hanging on the far edge of reality as it was. If Brian didn’t do what he asked, there was no knowing WHAT such an unstable person might do. If Brian did leave, he had no way to prevent Taggart from rushing off to wherever he was keeping the boy and doing something drastic. And even if he didn’t actually hurt Kevan, his vow to keep the boy’s location secret - possibly forever - was just as bad. He didn’t trust the police to be able to find Kevan in that eventuality. Or at least not to find the boy in time . . .

With a huge weight of defeat pressing down on his very soul, Brian realized he didn’t have any choice left. He had to comply with this lunatic’s demands. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put Kevan at risk. He had to stay here, at least for now. Maybe, over time he could glean some information about where Taggart was keeping the boy. And if he could somehow play into the man’s fantasies and get him to trust him, maybe the nutcase would even bring Kevan to Brian. When that happened, though, all deals were off. Then he’d take his son out of here and beat this mother fucker into a bloody pulp on his way out the door.

But in the meantime, Brian would have to play along with his captor’s dangerous illusions and hope for some miracle to save both himself and Kevan before it was too late.

Chapter 33 - Delusional Minds Want to Know.

The Loud Place was always one of Kevan’s favorite outing spots. It was always bright and colorful and happy there. There were lots of colorful people things of all sizes to look at. There were interesting smells and curious things to put in your mouth and his own people things usually seemed happy when they went to the Loud Place. And it was always easier to deal with his people things when they weren’t in a bad mood, so Kevan approved of the Loud Place.

Yes, it WAS rather loud there and the first couple of times he’d been to the Loud Place Kevan hadn’t been sure he liked it, but by now it was old hat for the well-travelled six month old. For the most part, now that he was used to the Loud Place, Kevan didn’t let all the noises bother him. He was an easy going baby and just rolled with it.

Mostly.

The other great thing about the Loud Place was that many of his favorite people things could be found there. The Red One was almost always there - she was nice and soft and liked to pat Kevan’s cheeks. He liked The Red One a lot, even though she was one of the primary reasons why The Loud Place was so loud. Then there was The Silly One, who would either take Kevan to The Loud Place himself or at least show up there during the course of a visit. The Silly One was always good for a giggle or two. He could stay. And there was also The Nervous One - he usually came as a set with The Silly One. Kevan actually liked The Nervous One a lot. He was quiet and didn’t move around a lot, which Kevan appreciated, especially amidst the usual chaos of The Loud Place. But The Nervous One always seemed a little unsure about Kevan. Whenever Kevan was being held by The Nervous One he could always tell that the big person thing was a bit jumpy. Kevan tried to reassure The Nervous One with his happy face and happy mouth sounds, but most of the time that didn’t seem to work. The baby usually resorted to chewing on The Nervous One’s fingers, or any piece of his clothing that Kevan could reach, as a way to show The Nervous One just how much Kevan really liked him.

And even outside the usual contingent of big people things that Kevan was used to seeing, there were lots of other people things to watch at The Loud Place. Some of them were even friendly and would come up to Kevan and talk to him. Kevan always watched The Papa closely when this would happen though. If The Papa seemed to like a stranger person, then Kevan figured he would like them too. Kevan trusted The Papa to be a good judge of the stranger sort of people things.

So there Kevan was, enjoying his visit to The Loud Place one afternoon, happily mouthing away at this intriguingly yummy thing that The Papa had given him to chew on with his brand new tooth, when the baby picked up on The Papa suddenly getting all anxious and not happy. Kevan almost dropped his mouth toy thing in his haste to look around and find whatever was making The Papa so upset. At first all looked normal - for The Loud Place, that is.

Then Kevan saw The Black One.

Well, no wonder The Papa was making his unhappy face! The Black One made Kevan want to be unhappy too. Kevan watched with baby intentness as The Papa and The Black One made mouth sounds at each other for a long time. The more they talked, the more angry and jittery The Papa got. This made Kevan almost as nervous as The Nervous One. After a bit, The Papa became louder and louder and then he was jumping up and moving around. The Red One came over and got even louder and they were all nervous and moving around and upset and Kevan didn’t like it at all. It made his tummy hurt.

By the end of the whole tirade of mouth sounds, Kevan decided he was too upset to even bother with the yummy thing that he’d been gnawing at. Instead of putting the now gooey and slightly slimy yummy thing down on the high chair tray, though, he decided to give it to The Black One. Kevan very sneakily stuck the now yucky yummy thing into a hole in the clothing The Black One was wearing.

Better that both things which made Kevan’s tummy hurt be in one place together, he thought.

Then he picked up the silvery metal thing that was sitting on his tray and started drooling on it instead.

The primary problem with finding this Taggart guy, and presumably, by extension, Brian too, was that he apparently didn't exist.

Or at least that's what the cops were telling Justin. Seeing as they didn't have a full name for the suspect, just the single name ‘Taggart’ - which might have been a first name, a last name or even just a nickname - there was no way to locate him in any directory or database. Nobody on Liberty Avenue seemed to know anyone by that name, even though the boys had run into him there more than once. So far the police hadn’t managed to come up with a clear picture of the license plate for the vehicle that had driven away with Brian, so that was also a dead end. And Brian and Justin were the only two who had seen the man in person often enough to know exactly what he looked like. Unfortunately, any of the gifts they'd received from the stalker that had included his photo had been thrown out by Brian before they knew how serious the situation was. And, without at least something more to go on, there was very little the police could do.

Justin wasn't about to give up though. Someone, somewhere, had to know this guy. The gay community in Pittsburgh wasn't THAT big. Someone out there knew Taggart - even if they didn't know him by that name. Justin simply had to find the right person. And the only way he could think of to do that, was to get the guy’s picture out there. Thankfully, Justin's artistic skills were more than up to this challenge.

It took him several tries and most of the morning, but by noon the day after Justin had met with Horvath, he had a workable likeness of the stalker. Actually, it ended up being a damn good drawing. If he hadn’t needed it for a life-and-death emergency, Justin might have considered turning this one in for credit in one of his classes at PIFA.

With Kevin in tow and the drawing in hand, Justin headed out to Vanguard, where Cynthia was waiting for him. She had promised to digitize the drawing, add whatever text was needed, and then help him make enough copies that he could plaster all of Liberty Avenue with his drawing. Cynthia also had plans to post the image online using social media in the hopes that that might turn up even more help. Brian's efficient staff made short work of the project, and turned out 200+ poster-size copies in less than an hour.

Justin's next stop, was the Liberty Diner. If anyone knew how to mobilize people, it was Debbie Novotny. The indefatigable Diner waitress had already promised to call up her entire PFLAG chapter so that they could canvas the community more quickly. The ‘Have You Seen This Man?’ posters would be parceled out amongst the various volunteers, who were directed to go in all directions across the city, handing out copies as they saw fit, and posting the flyers in any stores that would allow it. Hopefully, with the wide assortment of people they had, they'd be able to cover a wide geographical area. Justin was sure that someone would see the picture, recognize the face and call the police hotline number at the bottom.

When Justin and Kevan arrived at the Diner, Debbie was still busy with the tail end of the lunch crowd and wasn't able to help much other than to send her minions over as they slowly trickled in. Justin didn't really need her assistance to divide up and hand out the posters to the people willing to help. He was gratified to see how many friends were actually turning up. At this rate, he might even have to call Cynthia and get her started on a second batch of posters before the day was out.

Justin had already distributed more than half of his stack of posters when Michael wandered into the Diner followed by Ben. Justin glared at the pair but unluckily for him that alone didn't seem like enough to deter Michael. Before he could even clear away his piles of posters, the unwelcome man was standing next to Kevan’s high chair looking down at Justin with big puppy-dog eyes and a contrite little smile. If he hadn't been in public, Justin might have been tempted to slap the simpering little smile off the moron’s face.

“Hey, Justin,” Michael started off deferentially. When the teen didn't even acknowledge his greeting, Michael looked back questioningly at his boyfriend and then, after receiving a reassuring nod, sighed but carried on. “I know you're probably still pissed off at me. I get that. I know now that I shouldn't have been spouting off about Brian's business like that in public. I guess I just wasn't thinking.” This comment earned Michael a barely audible growl from the still obviously angry blond. Disregarding the subcontext, however, Michael plowed on. “Yeah, I know that wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. I was just too worried about Brian to think straight. And, apparently I was right about Brian being in danger,” Michael added, but looked up when Ben cleared his throat and elbowed his boyfriend in the side in a semi-discrete manner. “Anyway, what I'm trying to say, Justin, is that I'm really sorry. Really. And I hope you'll let me make it up to you and Brian.”

Michael finished his spiel and then just stood there smiling apishly, waiting for the expected reply that would absolve him of any guilt. But if he was expecting to hear something along the lines of, ‘Don't worry about it, Michael’ or ‘No problem!’, he'd come apologizing to the wrong guy. Justin wasn't about to to let bygones be bygones. Especially when Brian was still missing and it was all this idiot’s fault.

“Let's hope Brian actually comes back in one piece so you get a CHANCE to make it up to him,” Justin replied with a snarl that wiped Mikey's sycophantic grin away in two seconds flat. “As for me, I doubt there's anything you could EVER do that would make me want to forgive you after you put my partner’s life in danger. Maybe, if I thought you'd actually learn from your mistake this time and try to change, I MIGHT consider forgiving you sometime in the next decade, but as it is, I know you're not serious and probably couldn't change even if you wanted to. So, no, apology NOT accepted, Michael. Not now and not . . .”

Justin was on a roll. He had wanted to lay into Michael for months and now, finally, his opportunity was at hand. There was nothing that was going to stop him. Justin was going to let it all out and totally ream Michael's ass at long last. And, fuck, was it going to feel sooooo good.

However, right when Justin was building up a good head of steam, Michael lowered his head in well-deserved shame and his eyes drifted down to the tabletop where the posters showing Justin's drawing of Taggart were scattered about. In awe, Michael picked up the topmost poster and stared at it for a full sixty seconds, totally ignoring Justin's ongoing tirade. The smile that broke out on the older man's face in the sixty-first second would have made Justin even more irate if Michael hadn't interrupted him with so much enthusiasm that even the raving blond was momentarily silenced.

“THIS is Taggart? Your stalker? The one who's got Brian?” Michael asked, almost joyfully, stunning Justin into a momentarily confused muteness. When Justin finally gathered his wits enough to figure out what Michael was asking, he nodded. “Ma! Ma, come here! Quick!” Michael bellowed “I can’t believe that THIS is the guy you've been looking for! I didn't know his name was Taggart but I've seen this guy all over. A bunch of times. Ma knows him too - we saw him on tv even, that time you guys all went to New York for that GQ thing at New Years. Ma recognized him standing in the crowd outside when you first got there. Ma! Ma, look at this!”

Michael shoved the poster into Debbie's hands as soon as the busy waitress walked over. “Hey! This is Blueberry Waffles!” Deb exclaimed. “Shit! Don't tell me this little twink is your stalker?”

“You know this guy?” Justin demanded, jumping to his feet and grabbing hold of Debbie by the shoulders. “Tell me everything you know!”

“He comes in here all the time,” Deb continued, smacking her gum as she tried to remember everything she could about the young man. “Always orders blueberry waffles, a side order of bacon and a large orange juice. He always seemed like a pretty nice kid, too. A bit lonely maybe, but I can't believe he'd ever hurt anybody. I guess you never know though, right?”

“A name, Deb. Do you know his name? Or where he lives? Or even who else he hangs out with. Something that will help us find him. Please, Deb. Think!” Justin begged desperately.

“Shit! I'm not sure . . . Let me think. Let me think,” Deb mumbled as she chewed on the eraser of her pencil for one agonizingly long minute. “No. Sorry, Sunshine, but I don't think he ever told me his real name. He was always just ‘Blueberry Waffles’. No idea where he lives either. But I do remember that he'd sometimes come in at odd hours and I'd see him hanging out with a couple of the hustlers that come in really late - I don't think he’s a hustler himself though. He was always dressed a shade nicer and he always had money. I remember him paying for breakfast for some of the boys more than once. Now, if I remember correctly . . . Yeah, the last time I saw him in here he was with Spanish Omelet, Double BS and Twiggy?”

“Twiggy?” Ben asked with that ‘fascinated professor’ gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah. Real skinny little fucker, young too, so I call him ‘Twiggy’” Deb explained further.

“I don't suppose you know any of these other guys’ names either, huh?” Justin asked defeatedly.

“Sorry, Sweetie, no. But they're mostly all street boys anyways so I doubt they'd give me their real names even if I asked,” Deb added consolingly. “I can, however, tell you where you'll most likely find them. Although you'll have to go down there late since the boys usually don't start work until after ten . . .”

Justin looked over at Kevan, who was still happily slobbering all over a teething biscuit, trying to think who he could call to babysit that night while he was out looking for rent boys. Yeah, Zavi was going to love that - the big hulking security monster had only just barely agreed to let him come into the Diner by himself, despite the fact that they were all convinced Taggart wasn't much of a threat anymore now that he had the object of his obsession in hand. Zavi was not going to be fond of the idea of Justin out all night in some of the rougher parts of town.

“We’ll do it. Won't we, Ben?” an unusually un-whiny voice asserted almost immediately. “I mean, you'll need to be home with Kevan, right? But Ben and I can go down there where the hustlers hang out and show your posters around for a few hours. If you want, that is.”

Ten minutes later, Michael headed out with a large stack of Justin's drawings and another big smile on his eager puppy dog face.

“Damn! I'm going to have to fucking forgive the little weasel again, aren't I, Kevan?” Justin groaned as he watched Michael exit through the Diner’s front door.

Sometimes Brian wished that Taggart would just go ahead and kill him already. If he didn't, the boredom surely would before much longer. Or Brian would end it himself, he thought morosely as he paced the length of the tiny room where he was still locked up.

It had been three days now. Three days of nothing to do but pace and worry and think. Talk about fucking ‘stir crazy’! But Brian still hadn't managed to convince his jailer to either tell him where Kevan was or bring the baby to see him. And despite all the time he had for thinking, Brian still hadn't come up with any better ideas about how to get his son back without the baby getting hurt. So he had no choice but to stay where he was even though he was going slowly mad from the boredom.

It was so bad that Brian almost wished he still had some of Tag’s mind numbing drugs. Well, no. He didn't actually wish that. It was just the boredom talking.

That had been Brian's primary stipulation when he had agreed to stay. Brian had made Taggart swear that he wouldn't try to drug him again. So far the twink had been true to his word. Brian was still clear-headed and completely lucid, so he’d kept up his end of the bargain and not tried to leave or hurt Taggart.

He still didn't trust the little fucker though and had stuck to drinking only tap water out of the faucet in the little attached bathroom. He also tried to eat as little of the food Taggart brought to him as possible - he knew he couldn't go without food for long, and that his captor could hide drugs in the food almost as easily as he could in a drink, so Brian just ate the bare minimum to keep himself going. Which actually wasn't really that hard for Brian seeing as he hated the heavily carb-laden food that Taggart tended to serve him. But even considering that he was eating sparingly, Brian continued to be plagued by ongoing stomach problems and nausea - he hoped it was just lingering effects from the prior drugging and not a sign that the drugs were still being administered somehow. He’d asked Taggart repeatedly for assurances that he was keeping up his end on this issue and received them every time. There wasn’t really much else Brian could do though outside of starving himself.

Besides the no-drug thing, the only other rule that Brian had insisted upon was that Taggart was not allowed to touch him or dress him. The kidnapper had been disappointed by that limitation, but eventually capitulated. In exchange, Brian had agreed to let Taggart continue to keep the door to the room locked. Not that that was much of a concession really. Brian figured that if he really wanted out he could simply overpower Tag again or, worst case scenario, he'd throw the big armchair through the window and climb out that way.

Taggart still came into the room several times a day to reminisce with Brian about all the good times they'd shared . . . In the little lunatic’s crazy fantasy world, that is. Brian had given up on trying to sort through the insane blather before the first day was even halfway over. There might have been some kernels of reality hidden in there somewhere, but mostly it was all just pure delusion and Brian didn't care to listen to it anymore. Instead, he let the crazy man ramble on and on while he focused his own mind on things outside this tiny prison room.

While Taggart was babbling, Brian thought about his real life. He thought about work and laughed to himself over how pissed off Vance probably was by now since his best Ad Exec was MIA. He wondered if he'd even still have a job by the time he found his way back to the world. Strangely enough, the prospect of being fired wasn't that upsetting. Compared to being kidnapped, drugged out of his mind and held against his will for fuck knew how long, or knowing that his precious son was being kept hidden from him by a raving psycho, Gardner Vance’s histrionics seemed petty. Brian had always wanted to have his own agency anyway. Maybe now was as good a time as any to pursue that dream.

He thought about the family and tried to imagine their various reactions to his disappearance. He was sure THAT whole mess would be a pain in the ass to deal with whenever he did reappear. Deb would probably slap him upside the head and call him an ‘asshole’ for daring to get kidnapped. Michael would cry and cling to him and generally make a nuisance of himself. Lindsey would also get all teary and moist and then gush over him, acting like she was the only one who'd been hurt by Brian's long absence. Em and Ted would welcome him back at the same time they made sure he knew how hard his disappearance had been on Justin.

And Justin . . . He tried not to think about Justin too often. It simply hurt too much. Brian missed his Pretty Boy more every single day but it didn’t help to dwell on it. He knew the young man must be going insane with worry and grief over Kevan being taken. Brian hoped that someday Justin would forgive him for bringing this nightmare down on their heads. But that was just one more reason why Brian felt he had to stay and try everything he possibly could to save his son - not only would he be unable to bear the guilt he'd feel if something happened to Kevan, but he'd also never be able to look his sweet, loving partner in the eye again.

He also tried not to think about everything that had transpired down in Cancun before he'd come to his senses and flown home. For one thing, Brian knew that regretting the way he'd screwed up wouldn’t fix anything - that would have to wait until he had a chance to talk to the man he hoped was still waiting for him. And secondly, he knew that worrying about his health status after that ridiculous beach slip up wasn't going to do him any good. By this point, he figured it was too late to take advantage of any prophylactic meds anyway, so if he had been exposed to anything he'd just have to deal with it whenever he finally did get out of here. But he still couldn't help it when the tendrils of worry crept into his brain sometimes.

Mostly, though, Brian tried to focus on all the things he’d change when - not, if - he was finally free from this hell. And he did intend to change quite a lot. The first thing being that he would spend a lot more time with his sons. In order to do that, though, he’d have to work through all the inherent limitations he and others had put on his life that had, so far, prevented him from this pursuit.

His work was one of the primary things that had limited his time in the past. Brian readily admitted that his work was important to him. It not only provided him with the income needed to live the life he wanted, but it was also intrinsically tied into his self-image. He supposed that this form of affirmation was understandable considering the childhood he’d had. Growing up he’d never been sure when his next meal would be since Jack and Joan had repeatedly drank or gambled away the grocery money. So, now that he was an adult, having money, and lots of it, not to mention a prestigious job, helped Brian feel safe. He would never give that up. But he could learn to balance his work with his home life better.

Another limitation that had shown itself a lot lately - this one at least not of Brian’s own making, or not entirely - was the way Lindsey kept such strict control over his time with Gus. That was definitely going to change as soon as Brian regained his freedom. He was tired of Lindsey dangling the possibility of more Gus time over his head, only to come up with excuse after excuse when he did try to see the boy. Brian wanted his sons to grow up together and really be true siblings. At the bare minimum, Brian thought he should be able to have visits with Gus for a few hours every weekend and maybe one sleepover a month.  And those visits should NOT include Lindsey every time, either. He didn’t think that was too much to ask. To make this happen, though, he knew he was going to have to play hardball with Lindsey. It was long past time to set some concrete guidelines for when Brian would get to see Gus, and then make sure that they were enforced, even if that meant hiring lawyers. He was really grateful that Justin had talked him out of signing away his parental rights to Gus, otherwise this part of his plan would never be possible.

And finally, the remaining limitation that Brian needed to work through was his own private fears about becoming this new, fully-domesticated, family-oriented person, that circumstances seemed to be pushing him towards. Even though it was something he knew now that he wanted, it still wasn't a role he felt comfortable with. He had no examples of good parenting from his own experiences to use as a template for how he should act, so he’d always doubted that he could do the parenthood thing. His role as a Stud, on the other hand, had come naturally from the very beginning. Which probably explained why he was so reluctant to move away from that part of his past.

But, as his present circumstances clearly proved, it wasn't possible for him to be BOTH the biggest Stud around and a great father at the same time. The two roles clashed in many, obvious ways. He was going to have to choose which was more important to him. Which was more fulfilling. Which was sustainable in the long run. And Brian had to admit, being the ultimate stud wasn't really any of those things.

If he was going to choose parenthood though, it wasn’t going to be easy. Not only did he have to work through his own fears and how that decision would change his life, but he’d have to somehow get his friends on board. Looking back over the past six months, Brian could pinpoint more than a few times where his circle of friends - and most notably, Michael - had undermined his desire to be a good father. There was going to have to be some significant adjustments made in that arena if his decision to focus on his family was going to work. Brian really wasn’t looking forward to that whole discussion, but it had been a long time coming. If Mikey and the Gang weren’t ready for him to grow up already, that was too bad. It was probably going to happen sooner or later anyway. Boy would they be surprised though that it was already ‘sooner’.

“. . . And I can’t wait to get the decorations in the nursery finished! I’m redoing the whole thing in yellow so it’ll be bright and cheerful. Won’t that be great? Then we can bring Kevan home again and we’ll all be together as a real family forever,” Tag was still prattling on about fuck knows what when Brian finally tuned back into the ‘conversation’ upon hearing his son’s name. “You know, Brian, I was thinking . . . what do you think about having more kids someday. Maybe after a year or two, when Kevan’s a little older? Wouldn’t that be fabulous? We could have an entire house full of kids. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I just know you would. Wouldn’t you? Brian? Wouldn’t you just love to have more kids? Brian? Brian?”

Brian finally clued in to what Taggart was raving about and turned to look at his gushing jailer with disbelief. The man was certifiable! Here Brian was, thinking about what a bad father he’d been and trying to figure out how to fix it, and this guy was already planning on subjecting him to a whole houseful of more kids? How insane could you get? Of course, he was still trying to be diplomatic in order to win the nutter’s trust and find out more about where Kevan was being kept, so Brian didn’t say anything to either affirm or deny all Tag’s outlandish statements about how much Brian would ‘love it’. Maybe he should have, though, because Brian’s silence allowed Tag to continue down that dangerous path undeterred.

“Besides, I LOVED it when you were pregnant, Brian. You were so adorable with your big, round belly. I don’t think you were ever more beautiful than when you were just about ready to pop. If I had MY way I’d keep you here, barefoot and pregnant forever! *hahaha*” Taggart chattered on, rhapsodising all about how much he wanted to see Brian pregnant again while Brian was getting more and more worried over the direction this new fantasy was heading.

Then, without warning, the younger man got up off the bed where he’d been perched on the edge and sauntered over to where Brian was sitting in the corner armchair. Brian’s stomach gave a sickened lurch at the vampy way the man was moving. He could already tell that whatever was coming next would NOT be good.

Taggart’s smile turned coy as he reached out with one hand to stroke lightly down Brian’s cheek and added, “you know, even though Kevan’s still a little young and I had originally thought we should wait a while, I could be persuaded to change my mind if you wanted to get started on another addition to our little family right now . . . ?”

Brian, who was thoroughly disgusted by the mere idea of this man touching him, let alone going THERE, took one look at the hungry, lustfilled look in his delusional kidnapper’s eyes and promptly threw up the entirety of the three cheese tortellini with cream sauce that he’d been fed for lunch all over the front of Taggart’s shirt.

Chapter 34 - The Terrible Twinkie Terror!

‘The Papa can take that hard plastic thing with the rubbery little sucking part on the end and shove it, along with all the horrible icky-smelling gunk inside, into his own big person diaper! I’m not going to drink that doo doo! *Pfffttt!*’ - Thoughts of Kevan Donagh Taylor-Kinney, The Terrible Binky Terror, Age 6 1/2 months.

Two more nights went by and there were still no leads on their absentee stalker.

Justin was practically climbing the walls with frustration. It had been more than three weeks now since he’d last seen Brian and he was ready to scream. If it hadn’t been his Spring Break at school, he would have been in serious trouble since there was no way he could have concentrated in class. As it was, he was not only going crazy himself, but driving everyone else he knew crazy too. Kevan, who’d been feeding off Justin’s moods a lot the past few weeks, was too stressed out to deal with his hated formula and had cried himself to sleep. Daphne had finally decided she’d had enough and moved back to her own apartment. Emmett, by default, was on Justin babysitting duty that evening, but even that full-flaming queen had been driven to the safety of the quiet guest room in the now completely refinished basement prior to ten o’clock. Even Lev and Zavi, the evening’s security contingent, seemed to be making themselves scarce.

After pacing the length and breadth of the house for more than three hours, Justin himself finally fell into an exhausted sleep just around 1:00 am.

Only to be woken up about twenty minutes later by his cell phone buzzing on the table next to his side of the bed.

“James Taggart Morgan the Fourth!” The name was screamed into Justin’s ear so loudly that there was a lingering ringing for several minutes afterwards.

“Huh?” Justin managed in a sleepy mumble before his face was practically split open by a gargantuan yawn.

“James Taggart Morgan the Fourth!” The voice yelled again, luckily a little less enthusiastically this time. “Did you hear me? We got his name. We found him, Justin. We found him!”

This time, Justin understood what Michael was yelling at him. He sat up and blinked in the darkness. He was afraid to believe it was true though.

“Are you sure, Michael? How did you . . .” Justin didn't get far with his questions however before the voice on the phone interrupted him.

“We went back down there to where all the hustlers hang out - I almost wanted to give up because, you know, we got nowhere the past two nights, but Ben said we should give it one more try at least. So we're walking around and after about ten minutes it starts to rain. Really heavy rain, too, so there's not much business for all the boys. And this one kid who'd totally blown us off the other times we'd talked to him, well I guess he was desperate or something tonight, cause he finally agreed to talk to us if we bought him dinner. And guess what? It turns out he was Ma’s ‘Twiggy’, although he goes by ‘Hunter’ instead. You should see this kid, Justin. He looks like he couldn't be more than fourteen maybe and he'd be lucky if he weighed a hundred pound soaking wet with all the clothes he owns on.”

“Michael . . .” Justin spoke up before his over-eager caller got totally derailed on this apparent tangent.

“Oh, right! So, anyway, we took him to the Diner and at first he was all, like, cautious about why we wanted to know stuff about his friend and all. I guess this Taggart is pretty nice to the rent boys and buys them food and gives them money sometimes and stuff, so they're pretty loyal. But we explained what was going on with Brian, and Ma vouched for us, so finally the kid fesses up that, yeah, he knows the guy’s name.” Michael’s voice took on a self-satisfied tone, like he'd managed something really remarkable in getting one lousy name out of a starving rent boy.

“Anyway, it turns out Twiggy . . . Er, Hunter, and your stalker had a long talk about their names one day. See, they both have the same first name - ‘James’ - and they both hate it. So then your guy tells our guy that's why he goes by his MIDDLE name. Which is why Hunter decided to go by ‘Hunter’ from then on too. So, that's how we found out the guy’s name!” Michael’s long-winded explanation finally died out leaving Justin stunned.

This was it! This had to be enough to find the guy. It HAD to be! Finally!

It took Justin less than five minutes to hang up on a still smug Michael, get himself dressed and, with the help of Rez - Zavi’s second brother, who'd been on night duty - wake up all the other adults in the house. Emmett agreed to stay and take over Kevan minding with Rez staying on guard over the two of them. Zavi and Lev, who'd both been sacked out on the couches down in the brand new basement Rec Room, agreed to go with Justin to the police. While Justin chivvied and harassed the others to hurry up and get dressed, Rez called ahead to the station and gave the sergeant on duty a quick recap, asking that Detective Horvath be called in at once.

And, by two am, Justin and his Shining Knights were out the door and on their way to rescue the fair maiden in distress, otherwise known as Brian Kinney.

Brian woke up, groaned, shuffled into the bathroom, puked into the toilet, brushed his teeth, showered and dressed. This had become his new morning routine. It was sometimes also his evening routine, depending on how much his stomach was acting up on him. During most of the rest of the day he felt fine, but mornings and evenings seemed to be the times when his body just couldn't take it anymore. Whatever it was that the psycho was giving him really was NOT agreeing with him.

“Brian? You okay, Baby?” His jailer’s hated voice spoke up from the divan in the corner.

“Fuck off!” Brian snarled and then plopped back down onto the bed.

Brian was so tired of this. He was getting nowhere with the bastard, despite trying everything he could think of. He'd tried being nice to Taggart and even playing along with some of the less creepy fantasies. He'd tried reasoning with him. Brian had offered him money, a job, anything he wanted, but it seemed like all he wanted was Brian as a permanent fixture in this stupid fucking room. Brian had then moved on to begging him and even threatening him, but nothing seemed to work. Tag seemed to actually like the begging - the sick fuck - and just acted like he didn't hear the threats. Brian was no nearer to finding out where the mother fucker was keeping Kevan than he had been that first day he'd been wholly lucid.

Taggart got up off the divan and walked around the end of the big bed to come check on Brian. Since Brian had steadfastly refused to allow Taggart to sleep in the bed with him, his ever present Watcher had taken to spending nights on the tiny and uncomfortable-looking couch. This bugged the hell out of Brian, who was not only sick of feeling watched all the time but also because it meant that Taggart wasn't with Kevan.

Since he wouldn’t tell Brian anything about where the baby was or whether there was someone else taking care of the infant when Tag wasn't around, it was entirely possible that the child was just left alone whenever the kidnapper was busy with Brian. That possibility haunted Brian. What if Kevan woke up and was scared? What if he got hurt or sick during the night? All the pleading in the world, though, did nothing. The stupid asswipe refused to leave Brian alone at night and go instead to the baby. All he'd say - over and over again until Brian wanted to strangle him - was that Kevan was ‘safe’.

Strangling the loser wasn't looking like such a bad option at this point, either. Brian was just about fed up. Since nothing else had worked, maybe he SHOULD try beating the information out of the lunatic. All Brian knew was that something had to happen - and soon - or he'd snap and probably kill the guy.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Brian slapped away the hand Taggart laid across his forehead.

“I'm worried that you're coming down with something, Brian. You should let me take your temperature. Maybe I could bring you some herbal tea? Would you drink some tea for me, Baby?” The crooning voice made Brian's stomach threaten to turn over again.

“How about you just stop poisoning me instead, huh?” Brian snarked and rolled to the far side of the bed so that Taggart could no longer reach him.

“Don't be silly, Brian!” Tag sounded a bit peeved by Brian's ongoing allegations that he was still drugging him. “You know I wouldn’t poison you. I could never hurt you, Baby. I love you. Why don't you believe me? Why can't you ever trust me?”

“Trust you?” That was too much for the exhausted and frustrated captive to take. In a heartbeat, Brian was up on his feet, standing in front of the smaller man and glaring down into a now timid face. “You've got to be fucking kidding me! Why the hell would I EVER trust you, you worthless piece of shit? You fucking kidnapped me and my son! How do you expect me to trust you after that?” Brian raged at the man, who was now retreating one step at a time in the direction of the door.

“Our son. Our son . . .” Taggart mumbled, while he dug in his pocket for the keys.

“Fuck this! Kevan is MY son! MINE! And I want to see him. Today! Do you hear me, you stupid mother fucker? I'm through with this shit. If you don't bring Kevan to me - TODAY - then I'm out of here!” Brian yelled after the man, continuing to hurl threats and curses after him even through the once again closed and locked door. “FUCKER!” Brian added and punched the door in frustration so hard that the wood cracked.

‘Great!’ thought Brian as he sucked his split and bleeding knuckles. ‘Now I'm trapped here AND I've got a broken hand to boot. Perfect way to start the day, Kinney!’

Justin was contemplating just how bad the consequences would be if he punched out a Senior Pittsburgh PD Detective.

Not that him punching out Carl Horvath would do much good. Horvath was at least fifty pounds heavier and a couple inches taller than the slim nineteen year old. That didn’t matter though. It was the principle of the thing. Justin really wanted to punch out SOMEONE because of the ridiculous delays he’d been forced to endure and Horvath seemed as good a person to punch as anyone.

Take right now, for instance. Justin and Zavi were basically locked in the backseat of a police cruiser waiting for the next stage of this farcical adventure, while Horvath stood around drinking coffee, talking and joking with a horde of other police personnel, none of whom looked like they were at all concerned about when or even if they’d ever get Brian back from the whacko that was holding him. It was beyond infuriating. It was reprehensible. And as soon as Justin managed to get himself free from this damned car, he was going to hit someone because of it. It really didn’t matter who. He just really needed to hit someone.

“Patience, Little Taylor,” Zavi’s deep voice filled the car as he laid his five pound hand on Justin’s shoulder to try and calm his jumpy friend.

Justin turned to the much, much larger man sitting next to him and pierced him with an icy blue glare. In spite of the fact that Zavi could have physically squashed Justin like a bug with one hand tied behind his back, the big bruiser was intimidated enough by the steel in that stare that he immediately removed his hand. Justin might be small, but there was something about the boy that let you know he wasn’t to be messed with. Not if you valued all your appendages.

“Zavi, let me explain something,” Justin spoke finally, his amiable tenor voice now almost unrecognizable. “If you call me ‘Little Taylor’ one more time, or if you ever again dare to tell me to be patient, I will draw a picture of you naked and give you the smallest dick ever seen on an adult man’s body. A dick so laughably miniscule that a prepubescent boy would be ashamed to show it. And then I will take that drawing, make five thousand copies of it and post them on every street corner, every wall, every fence in the entire city of Pittsburgh. Are we clear on that?”

Zavi looked over at his coldly calculating companion, smiling at him with a look that was half grudging respect and half amusement and responded with a clipped, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, figure out a way to get me the fuck out of this car so I can go hit somebody,” Justin demanded, pounding against the shatterproof glass of the window once more, even though he knew it was futile.

Zavi rapped on the window of his own door with a knuckle and got the attention of one of the more junior policer officers, who unwittingly came over and opened the door in order to find out what their guests needed. Justin didn’t wait for anyone to even ask what the matter was. He simply climbed over Zavi’s mountain of a body, slithered out the door past a surprised Junior and ran over to the gathering of the more seasoned cops.

“What the fuck are you all standing around waiting for THIS time,” Justin demanded, wading into the midst of the ten or so cops as if he was the one in charge.

“I believe we agreed that you would stay in the car until we had the suspect secured, son,” Horvath turned to the unruly young man, talking to him like he would an unruly child.

“And that would have been fine if you would actually do your JOBS and go get the fucker already, Detective!” Justin replied, a sarcastic smile on his lips and a steely edge to his perfectly saccharine words.

“Mr. Taylor . . .” the older detective started to explain, only to be halted with a palm held up in his face.

“Detective Horvath, I’ve been waiting since two am for the police to actually get off their asses and get my missing partner out of the clutches of the kidnapper that’s had him for more than two weeks now,” Justin responded, barrelling on without giving Horvath or anyone else a chance to say anything. “I’m the one who told you in the first place who had taken Brian. My security advisor was the one who told you to get the airport security footage to prove it. I’m the one who prepared posters with the kidnapper’s picture on them so that we could identify the guy. I’m the one who sent out my own CIVILIAN friends to canvas the neighborhood and eventually found the kidnapper’s name. As I see it, I’ve done all the fucking work here so far,” Justin iterated, ticking off every task he’d completed on his fingers as he went.

“And then, after I brought you all that information - basically handing you your suspect on a fucking silver platter - what the hell have you done? NOTHING! I’ve been waiting around in offices and riding in the back of police cars for more than five hours now while the fine officers who are supposed to serve and protect me and my partner are still farting around, drinking coffee and telling jokes.” Several of the men looked a bit guiltily down at the Starbucks cups in their hands and one even surreptitiously moved his cup so that it was partially hidden behind the back of another.

“I don’t care that you couldn’t get into the database because of regularly scheduled maintenance until after four am. I don’t care that you had to wait for a warrant before you went to Taggart’s Pittsburgh apartment - where he hadn’t been for several weeks according to his neighbor. I don’t care that you then had to wait to coordinate with the West Virginia police. And I don’t care that you’re now waiting to get yet another warrant from a West Virginia judge, who’s probably still in bed, before you’ll approach THIS house. I don’t care what your next excuse will be either. I want Brian Kinney rescued immediately and I don’t care what procedures or rules you have to violate to do it. Do you understand, gentlemen?” Justin eyeballed each and every individual who was standing nearby. “Good! Now, you WILL go in there and arrest that fucker and find my partner in the next ten minutes or I’ll be filing complaints against each and every one of you with every single governmental agency I can possible find from the city planning bureau clear on up to the fucking FDA!”

Justin probably would have gone on haranguing the police force for at least another ten minutes if a new police car hadn’t driven up right at that moment and interrupted his train of thought. Luckily for all the uneasy looking cops that had been on the receiving end of the Justin Taylor Talking To a few seconds earlier, the new arrival had the official arrest warrant signed by the sleepy West Virginia judge in hand. That seemed to be the catalyst needed to excite some real action within the little group. They started to scatter like ants swarming an anthill and before Justin had to say another word, the main body of the group was headed in a pack around the corner and up the front walk of a large, well-maintained, split level ranch home situated on at least two acres.

Justin waited behind with Detective Horvath and the WVSP Commander, Captain Jonas, while the rest deployed themselves in strategic locations within reach but out of the direct line of sight near either the front or back doors. When everyone appeared to be in place, Horvath and Jonas began to walk towards the house too. Justin fell into step right behind them.

It wasn’t until they were almost to the front walk that Horvath noticed the extra set of footsteps following behind him and turned to confront the tagalong. “Where, exactly, do you think you’re going, son?” he asked, putting out a hand to halt Justin’s progress.

“I’m going in there to get my partner!” Justin announced without any hesitation whatsoever.

“No. You’re not,” Jonas chimed in, giving young Mr. Taylor his most daunting State Trooper glare, which seemed to have no effect at all on it’s target.

“Yes. I am.”

“Son . . .” Horvath intervened before Taylor and Jonas could get into it further. “You can’t come up there with us. You know that this Taggart fella would recognize you right off the bat and that might cause him to do something rash. Something that could be dangerous for everyone, including your partner. We don’t want to escalate this thing out of control if we don’t have to. We DO want to get your partner out of there in one piece, same as you. But we also want to make sure all our people are safe. And we just can’t do that if you tip off the suspect to what’s coming down before we’re ready.” Horvath put his hands on Justin’s shoulders and physically turned him around so he was facing back towards the road where all the cars were waiting. “So, this is how it’s going to play out. You’re going to wait down here by the road. Jonas and I will go up, play nice and try to get in the house without arousing the perp’s suspicions. Once we’re inside, we’ll secure the area and try to locate your guy. Then, after we’re sure it’s safe, we’ll let you in. But NOT before then.” Horvath explained with more patience than he thought this rash little troublemaker probably deserved. “And please keep in mind, if you don’t do what I say, or if you try to mess this up for us in any way, I WILL have you arrested, handcuffed and carted off to the closest jail and you can wait for your partner there. Are we clear on that?”

Justin crossed his arms over his chest, frowned and huffed an impatient breath, but nodded. Horvath smiled indulgently at the hotheaded young man. He wouldn’t tell him - at least not right that moment - but he thought this kid was a total hoot. Impetuous and stubborn but brave as hell too. If it weren’t for the fact that Justin was a loose cannon who had no respect for police authority and was intent on ruining their well-orchestrated bust, Horvath could really start to like the boy. But, even though he didn’t hate the kid, Horvath didn’t trust him to stay put either, so he quickly waved over Junior and ordered him to mind the young ‘un until somebody gave the all clear.

Justin stood there fuming with poor grace and eager anticipation. He knew they were close. Brian had to be inside. He could almost feel his partner’s presence. It wouldn’t be long now.

Taggart hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when Brian heard a noise that was so welcome he could almost cry. It was the sound of the doorbell ringing. He quickly leaned up against the crack of the door so he could listen in to what was happening. There was the sound of Taggart’s footsteps trotting off towards what would be the southern part of the house and then some deep, masculine voices, talking too quietly for him to hear what was being said. After a few minutes the voices started getting louder, and the tone changed. Brian could hear Taggart’s voice rising with a new and anxious tinge to it.

“Sir, we have reason to believe that you were the last person to see Mr. Kinney on the night he disappeared,” said a loud, authoritarian voice. “We have footage from the airport proving that you were the driver of the car that picked Mr. Kinney up after his flight home. So you can either answer our questions here or we can haul you off to Weirton and you can answer our questions at the police station.”

Brian held his breath, trying not to make any noise so that he could hear better, waiting to hear what would happen next. He didn’t know what else to do. He was so conflicted. Part of him wanted to yell out at the top of his lungs, ‘I’m here! I’m here!’. But then he was reminded of his deal with Taggart that he wouldn’t try to leave if the kidnapper would promise not to hurt Kevan. However, if the cops had come this far, he might not have any choice in the matter. If Brian didn’t say anything and the cops left after alerting the crazy crackpot that he was already under suspicion, then Brian was screwed anyway. In that case, there was nothing to stop Tag from taking Kevan and heading for the hills before Brian could stop him. But, if he did call out and the cops arrested Taggart, then the man’s threat not to tell them where he was hiding the baby would come into play. This was a no win situation.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of any help, gentlemen . . .” Brian recognized his captor’s muffled voice, clearly coming from at least a room or two off. At the same time, Brian heard the floorboards nearer to his door creaking. Five or six creaks later and Brian could tell that someone was now standing right outside the room. He debated with himself for about ten seconds more, but the only answer he came up with was that he had to get the hell out of there and hope that the police could help him locate his son.

Before Brian had a chance to do anything, though, Brian heard a hushed voice coming from right outside the door. “Mr. Kinney? You in there?”

“Yes! I’m here!” Brian responded, hopefully loud enough that the cop could hear but not so loudly that his voice would carry to wherever Taggart was. “You have to stop Taggart. That bastard has my son hidden somewhere. Don’t let him get away or we’ll never find Kevan!”

“I understand. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of things. Now, there’s a pretty hefty deadbolt on the door here, so it’s going to take me a minute. Just hold on. I’m going to go make sure we’ve got Morgan secured and then I’ll be back, okay?”

“Thank you!” Brian answered, and then the creaking floorboards again gave evidence that the cop was walking back in the direction he’d come from.

“Mr. Morgan,” the voice from outside Brian’s door said loudly a minute later. “I have a warrant here for your arrest for the abduction and unlawful detention of Mr. Brian Kinney. You have the right to remain silent . . .”

“What? What are you doing? I don’t understand. Unlawful detention?” Taggart’s voice started off confused but in control and then quickly devolved into a panicky wail. “That’s . . . That’s not right. Brian’s fine. We’re just fine. You don’t need to be here. You’ve got it all wrong. Brian’s my husband. He wants to be here. He wants to be here! We’re in love. We’re a family! Stop it! Stop it! Brian! BRIAN! BRIAN, TELL THEM IT’S NOT TRUE! BRIAN, PLEASE!”

While the now-captive captor was still hollering somewhere down the hall, Brian heard a new voice speaking right outside his door. “Stand away from the door, Mr. Kinney. I’m going to get you out of there.”

Brian backed away quickly. Before he was more that a meter away, there was a banging at the door as if something large had been rammed against it. A second and third thud followed and then the doorframe split apart and the door swung in, crashing violently against the wall behind it. When he looked up, Brian saw that his rescuer was a red-faced, overweight, fifty-something guy in a rumpled suit who was bent over and panting as if he’d just run a marathon. ‘So much for being rescued by a handsome prince,’ thought Brian fleetingly before the man straightened up and waved Brian out of the room.

“Are you okay, Mr. Kinney? Do you need medical services?” the still wheezing man asked between labored breaths, leading Brian down the hallway at the same time.

“No. No, I’m fine, I think,” Brian started to answer, but didn’t get much out before he heard a banshee-like screech and saw a flash of blond hair zipping past the end of the hallway a few feet away.

“Where the fuck is Brian, you motherfucking piece of shit!” the whirling blond dervish howled, flying through the air and taking out the already cuffed Taggart in a football tackle worthy of the Ironmen. “Tell me where he is! Tell me or I’ll fucking bash your head in right here, you sick fuck. Tell me. TELL ME!”

Brian and Horvath had already rushed around the corner and were standing about two feet behind where the raging blond was sitting on top of the cowering kidnapper while he repeatedly slammed the back of Taggart’s head into the floorboards.

“Um . . . Sunshine?” Brian spoke up reluctantly, sorry to interrupt the fun, but figuring that it was best to stop his berserk blond before he really did kill Taggart.

“If you hurt him, I will fuck you up so bad you’ll regret the day you were born. Do you hear me? If Brian has so much as a fucking HANGNAIL I’ll have your balls and then I’ll rip your dick off and stuff them all down your throat. Do you hear me you stupid fuckwad? Do you? Now tell me where he is!”

“Your partner is a crazy little fireball, isn’t he?” Horvath asked with a chuckle, apparently not really in much of a hurry to pull Justin off the struggling perp.

“You have NO idea,” Brian replied, huffing out his own short but affectionate laugh at the spectacle in front of him. “Unfortunately, as much as I really do enjoy seeing Justin beat the shit out of that lunatic, we need him alive. That asswipe’s got my son hidden somewhere and we’ll need him to find Kevan. So . . .” Brian took one more step forward, then leaned over and tapped Justin on the shoulder. “Sunshine, when you’ve got a minute, please . . .”

“Just a sec, Brian . . .” Justin answered distractedly and then turned to continue his verbal attack on the object of his displeasure. It took a another fifteen seconds before reality actually took hold and then, with a resounding *Whack!*, Justin dropped Tag’s head, allowing it to fall back and crack hard against the floor.

In one of the most amazing acrobatic moves Brian had ever seen, Justin then vaulted upwards off of his victim, spinning in mid-air and somehow managing to land in Brian’s arms. There was much kissing after that. It was steamy and wet and Justin seemed to have more hands and lips than was physically possible for one small blond, but Brian wasn’t complaining. In fact, he was close to being lost in the moment, reveling in the warmth of his now happy little Sunshine’s caresses and kisses to the point that he almost forgot about the scene around them.

“Let’s go!” the big WVSP trooper ordered, hauling Taggart to his feet.

“Wait!” Brian yelled, breaking away from Justin’s embrace and grabbing onto the trooper’s arm to halt him. “He’s got my son. I don’t know where he’s been keeping him, but you can’t take him away until I find out where Kevan is. Please. We have to find my son!”

“What? . . . No! No, Brian. Kevan’s fine. He’s fine,” Justin insisted, pulling his partner back towards him. “I promise you. Kevan’s at home with Emmett.”

“But . . . I saw him. Taggart brought the baby to me and I held him in my arms. There’s even a picture. I know I saw Kevan . . .” Brian muttered with confusion, looking from Justin to Tag and back. “At least I think I saw him . . . I made him promise not to hurt Kevan if I agreed to stay. He agreed. He said he’d keep the baby safe. He . . . Shit! He fucking lied to me, didn’t he?”

While Brian was still trying to work out in his mind exactly what had happened, Justin had already determined his own course of action. “You lying, crazy, fucking piece of shit! You kept Brian here by telling him you had our son? Fuck you, you sick FUCK!” Justin screamed as he once again pulled Taggart out of the trooper’s grip, growled like a wild man and, in a surge of adrenaline, picked the horrified kidnapper up off the ground, spun him in the air and then tossed him down in a pretty excellent twink version of a WWF Body Slam.

“Yep. Definitely a fireball!” Horvath commented as he and Brian stood back and let the Terrible Twinkie Terror have his way with a terrified Taggart.

“Like I said, you have no idea . . . And if you think THAT’S something, you should see him in bed!” Brian smiled smugly down at his brave and handsome prince, adding a nice little kick of his own to his former jailer’s midsection before the trooper finally pulled Justin off and carted the semi-conscious perp off.

Chapter 35 - Happy Returns.

Kevan was waiting for The Silly One to warm up his bottle full of gunk when all of a sudden the crazy person thing started screeching and running around. It almost scared the doo doo out of Kevan. He was not used to his people things acting out like that, especially not right before lunch. What was The Silly One thinking?

The next thing Kevan knew, they were flying around the house and then he was practically tossed through the air without any warning. Kevan was too startled to even cry out. Thankfully, he landed in The Papa’s strong arms. Goodness! That Silly One was just out of control today, Kevan thought reproachfully.

But that wasn’t the last of the shocks he was subjected to that morning.

Before he’d fully recovered from his almost fall, Kevan heard the big, deep voice of another person thing. A voice he remembered from somewhere. Before he’d even looked at the person thing that brought the voice, he felt happy just from hearing the mouth sounds it made. And when he turned to follow the voice, Kevan saw HIM.

Kevan stared at HIM. There was just something about HIM . . . The little boy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but HE was so familiar. The soft-looking brown stuff on his head, the shape of his face, the happily crooked smiling lips. Kevan just knew he knew HIM.

Then there was that voice again and HE said the ‘Sonny Boy’ sound, causing some dormant synapse inside Kevan’s baby brain to connect. And then Kevan remembered!

HE was the one who called Kevan, ‘Sonny Boy’. Nobody else ever used the ‘Sonny Boy’ sounds. It was their special thing. HE was the Sonny Boy One and Kevan knew that HE always made Kevan feel good. The more HE made the deep rumbly sounds, the more excited Kevan became. Those rumbly sounds reminded him of all the times HE had held Kevan. All the times he’d spent in the dark of the pretty green and brown room, sitting together in the big brown chair talking and how HE always made Kevan's tummy happy and warm.

“Blah blah blah blah, Sonny Boy. Blah blah, Daddy! Blah blah blah, Daddy, Sonny Boy!” The happy rumbly voice said again . . . and another connection in his brain fused.

HE was THE DADDY! Oh yeah, Kevan remembered now! The Daddy was great. The Daddy always smelled so nice and he was strong and big but soft too and he made Kevan happy all the time. Kevan was so happy to see The Daddy. He smiled at The Daddy. He giggled at The Daddy. He wiggled with happiness.

And then The Daddy was holding him. Oh joy! And even if The Daddy didn't smell exactly like he remembered, still it was close enough. Kevan was ecstatic! He really wanted The Daddy to know how great it was to have him back . . . How did you do that again? Oh, yeah, now Kevan remembered - whenever The Daddy was particularly happy he would put his mouth up against Kevan's cheek. That was always a nice thing.  Kevan could do that.  

So Kevan did the mouth touching thing. The Daddy seemed to like it. He smiled at Kevan and made more rumbly noises. And everything was right in the universe again!

But wait . . . Where the doo doo had The Daddy been all this time anyway? Hmmm . . .

As soon as the WVSP Trooper had pulled Justin away from the kickboxing target otherwise known as Taggart, the tireless twink turned his whole attention back towards Brian. This new subject of Justin's passion welcomed his blond back with open arms. Before the growing crowd of gaping police personnel knew what was happening, Justin had climbed up the Tower of Brian and begun to assiduously apply his lips to every piece of bare skin he could reach. Brian was just as busy with his own brand of lip service. Neither man had any attention to spare for anything going on around them. All that the reunited pair cared about was the overwhelming need to physically reconnect, each making sure over and over again that the other was really there and in one piece.

Commander Jonas eventually shooed all his men off to start on the work of securing the property and gathering evidence. Detective Horvath, who had no jurisdiction in West Virginia and therefore no job at the moment, sat down on a nearby couch and propped his foot up on the coffee table. And, while the amiable detective wasn't precisely offended by the sight of the two men going at each other, he wasn't exactly comfortable watching it either. But since there wasn't really any way to avoid seeing the couple standing in the middle of the room - who now seemed to be trying to eat each other alive - all Carl could do was lean back and try to focus on the ceiling instead.

“You really should stop them before too much longer,” the booming baritone of Zavi The Hulk advised as the big man entered the room and came to a standstill next to the detective’s couch. “It looks to me like they're about to get to the part where significant items of clothing begin to disappear, and trust me, after they reach that stage, it'll be too late.”

Horvath let his gaze flit briefly down from the ceiling onto the pair standing there groping each other and nodded. “You may be right. Mind doing the honors for me though? I think I sprained my fucking ankle kicking in the door to rescue Kinney. Damned dead bolts . . .”

Zavi chortled as the detective muttered another curse aimed at locked doors everywhere and stepped over to do the policeman’s bidding. “Hey, Brian! You two gonna come up for air any time soon? I think you're scaring the straight guy over there!”

“Zavi! Good to see you, man! What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian answered, detaching from the blond’s well-kissed, bubblegum pink lips when he heard the familiar voice.

“You hired me to guard the Twink and the Tyke, so that's what I've been doing,” Zavi answered, grinning with his huge gold-toothed grin at his old friend. “It's good to see you too, by the way! You okay?”

That last question finally pulled Justin back to the present moment. “Shit! Brian, I'm sorry. I didn't even ask - you are okay, right? I didn't mean to practically attack you before you got a chance to say two words. He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“You didn't hear me complaining about the welcome, did you, Sunshine?” Brian replied, cupping Justin's cheek with the palm of his hand and smiling down at the man he'd been missing for too long. “But, no. He didn't hurt me. Just drugged me till I was totally out of my mind half the time. But I think I'll be okay now.”

“Did you say he drugged you?” Horvath was interested in the conversation now.

“Yeah. Until about five days ago, he had me so doped up I didn't really know what was happening,” Brian explained. “Then one morning I caught him dropping a pill in my drink and after that I quit drinking any thing he'd give me. I think he was still dosing my food somewhat, but at least that wasn't enough to turn me back into a total zombie. When I came to myself, I confronted him and was going to bust out of here, but that's when he told me he had Kevan and if I left I'd never find my son again. So I agreed to stay. I was still trying to figure out some way to convince him to let Kevan go when you guys showed up. I can't believe the fucker lied to me and I actually bought it!”

“Don't be too tough on yourself, Kinney. Depending on what kind of drugs he was giving you, it's not surprising that your judgment was affected along with your perceptions. Didn't you say earlier that you thought you even saw the baby?” asked Horvath, making notes in a pocket-sized notebook as Brian spoke.

“Yeah. It was during the time I was heavily drugged. I . . . Shit! I still don't know how he did it, but I could swear I remember Taggart bringing Kevan to me in that room where he had me locked up. I remember holding my son in my arms . . . It still seems real.”

“I can assure you that Kevan's safe at home. I just got off the phone with Rez,” Zavi informed them. “He and Lev are at the house with Emmett and they're all looking after your little man. He’ll be there waiting for you when you get home.”

“Home . . . Shit, that sounds so fucking good,” Brian shook his head, wondering when he’d become the kind of guy who cared about the concept of ‘home’, and then immediately told his internal censor to shut the fuck up because he could be a ‘home’ kind of guy if wanted to be. “How the fuck long have I been gone, anyway? I have no idea how long I’ve even been trapped in this shithole.”

“It’s March 25th,” Justin answered, biting his lip worriedly because he wasn’t sure how Brian was going to take this news. “You’ve been missing since the 7th. About two and a half weeks.”

“Fuck!” Brian dropped down onto the couch next to Horvath and scrubbed at his face with his left hand. With his right hand he reached out and grabbed Justin again, pulling the boy towards him and then settling the trim young man on his lap because, even though he was reeling at the implications of what he’d just heard, he didn’t want to be separated from Justin for even a second. “Fuck! That means he kept me doped up for almost a full two weeks. That fucking bastard. What a nutcase!”

“I’m curious, Kinney,” Horvath interjected with keen interest, now that they seemed to be moving on to more substantive matters. “How the hell did that little guy manage to kidnap you in the first place? You’ve got a half a foot in height and at least twenty five pounds on him and you’re not in bad shape. I wouldn’t think he’d have a chance unless he held you at gunpoint.”

“I actually don’t really remember much,” Brian confessed, feeling a bit ashamed that he’d let himself get captured, especially after the way the detective had outlined the situation. “I can just barely remember getting into Pittsburgh. I was fucking exhausted - it had been a long flight with a ridiculously long delay when I had to transfer planes in Atlanta and I was still a little hungover from an unfortunate drinking bout the night before . . .” Brian looked over at Justin and hesitated, but decided that now was not the time for THAT discussion. “Anyway, that’s where it starts to get all hazy. I remember some guy coming up to me and saying that my office had ordered a car service for me - which was odd, because I didn’t tell Cynthia when I was coming in. And then . . . I remember getting into the car but I was half asleep already . . . there was a mini-fridge console built into the back of the car and I think I grabbed a water or something . . . and that’s all I remember. After that it’s just a blur for the next however-many-days until I caught on to the drug thing.”

“We saw pictures from the airport security cameras. It was your stalker, Taggart, driving the car you got in. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it was him,” Zavi commented. “But, then again, if you were that tired, you probably just weren’t paying attention. I wonder who the other guy was though? The one who helped you get your bags.”

“No clue. I do remember him pretty clearly and I'm sure I had never seen that guy before,” Brian assured everyone.

“My guess is that he was just some random guy that Morgan paid to wear a hat and hold up a sign,” Horvath surmised.

Before the detective could ask any further questions about Brian's recollections, Junior came galloping down the stairs and trotted up to Horvath. “Excuse me, Sir. Commander Jonas wanted me to tell you that the house is secure.”

“Thanks, Trooper.”

“I’m afraid there’s more, Sir. There’s a room up there . . . Well, I think you should just come see for yourself, Sir.”

Horvath got stiffly up off the couch and hobbled up the stairs. Brian and Justin looked at each other and then, without bothering to ask permission, followed the older man. Zavi, not wanting to be left out of the party, brought up the rear. At the top of the stairs there was a short hallway with three doors. The one at the end was ajar and obviously led to the master bedroom. The first door on the right, also open, was a small bathroom. The other doorway was where all the activity was happening, though, so that’s where they all headed.

Jonas, the tall and well-built WVSP Commander was standing in the doorway. “You may not want to see this, gentlemen,” he warned as soon as he saw that Brian and Justin were headed his way.

Brian stood his ground and simply stared the trooper down until Jonas stepped aside. As soon as the large man was no longer blocking the way, the group gathered around the doorway could see exactly why the man thought it necessary to warn the two victims. The wall directly across from the door was covered from floor to ceiling with pictures and other paraphernalia, so densely packed that there wasn’t even a single bare inch of wall space that wasn’t covered. There were even pictures on the areas behind the small couch pushed up against the wall. On closer inspection, it wasn’t really surprising to note that all the pictures were of Brian, Justin and Kevan.

A peek around the doorjamb confirmed that the decorating scheme for the rest of the room was the same. Every single wall was covered in a similar fashion. There were candid shots that looked like they were taken with a cell phone and printed out on a computer. There were polaroids. There were several carefully developed photos - these looking like they were almost professionally done. Intermixed with the photographs were pictures cut out from magazines and newspapers. There were copies of articles about Brian from various media sources. There were printed pictures that must have come off the internet or from social media sites, some that even had Brian photoshopped into various places he’d never even been. There were also a LOT of photos of Brian from that little yellow room downstairs, adorned in all the various outfits that Taggart had dressed him in while he was drugged out.

Centered on the right hand wall there was even one large framed picture. It was the Armani ad from the inside cover of the first GQ issue where Brian had come out about his pregnancy. And it was signed in Brian's own handwriting. Written in Silver marker right across the picture it said, ‘To Taggart, BAK’. Brian remembered that day so long ago when a fresh faced twink had come up to him while he was hanging out in the Diner and asked him for his autograph. He groaned at the memory, as well as everything that had come after.

Besides the walls full of creepy photos, there was very little else in the room. There was the one well-used couch, a desk in the corner with a state of the art computer and printer and, in the other corner, a baby crib. Brian knew he probably shouldn’t, but he simply had to go see what was in that crib.

The crib was set up with the regular sort of crib sheets and bumpers. There was a small pillow at one end of the mattress and a lump in the middle covered by a small baby quilt. Brian reached in and pulled back the edge of the quilt, recoiling almost immediately at what he saw hiding underneath. Brian even retreated a couple of steps until he backed into Justin’s rock solid little body.

“What the fuck!” Justin apparently wasn’t so easily frightened. The blond reached in, threw the quilt back all the way and stared down at the creepiest doll that any of them had ever seen. It was about the size that a real six month old baby would be. The face looked almost alive, only not. The eyes of the doll were closed and somehow not the right shape. But other than that it looked uncannily a little like Kevan.

“Hmmm. Well, I’d say that explains your drugged up memories of holding your son,” Horvath summed up what everyone was thinking. “Seems like this Taggart guy is one totally fucked up psychopath. I smell an ‘Insanity’ defense coming up.” Then, without another word, the detective put a hand on Brian’s biceps, and gently moved the stunned and unresisting man out of the room, his blond protector trailing closely behind.

Luckily, there was a conveniently placed bathroom right down the hall when Brian came out of his stupor just enough to get violently sick to his stomach. He ran for the toilet and promptly emptied out the remnants of last night’s dinner that hadn’t already been thrown up earlier in the day. Justin stood by, rubbing Brian’s back and handing him a glass of water as soon as the worst was past.

“Well, on that note,” Horvath announced from where he was waiting in the hallway outside the little bathroom, “I think it’s high time to get you to the hospital and have you checked out by a doctor.”

“Yeah . . . I think that’s not a bad idea,” Brian agreed, quickly enough that Justin was now the one shocked into silence, since his partner hated hospitals and would never agree to go unless things were really, really bad.

Which was what they were all afraid of.

The next order of business that morning was the trip back to Pittsburgh, ending up at Allegheny General Hospital. Horvath escorted them straight back to the ER where a doctor was already waiting for them. Brian tried to go in alone, but Justin simply refused to let go of his hand and, in the end, Brian decided that he really didn't want to be alone no matter how much more embarrassing it would be to have Justin with him.

Brian was pleasantly surprised, though, at how quickly the doctor visit was over. They were seen by an efficient and no-nonsense Nurse Practitioner - an older lady who treated Brian kindly but who wasn't overly demonstrative about her concern either. That, in Brian's mind, was the perfect approach to such an inherently difficult situation.

The nurse took blood and urine samples in order to run a tox screen for whatever drugs had been used on him. She also clipped off a small lock of Brian's hair, explaining that the types of drugs most likely used in this situation didn't stay in the victim's system very long but could sometimes still be found built up in the hair follicles, especially if they'd been given in large doses over a longer period of time. Brian specifically asked that the lab run a full STD panel as well, which the nurse agreed was a good precaution.

Which then brought them to the whole issue of exactly what might have happened to Brian during the almost two weeks when he couldn't remember anything. The nurse offered to do a complete rape kit on Brian but agreed that it wasn't likely they'd recover any usable samples even if something had happened. Brian had already assured everyone that he hadn't let Taggart anywhere near him for at least the past five days, which meant they were well outside the seventy-two hour window for obtaining DNA evidence. The nurse did persuade him to let her do a brief physical exam though, just to be safe.

Before they started with that though, Brian was asked a series of questions detailing what he did remember about his captivity. He felt Justin's hand tighten supportively around his own fingers when he disclosed the part about Taggart undressing him, touching him and sleeping next to him. Then came the sticky question about what consensual sexual activities he'd engaged in during or right before he was taken. Brian only hesitated a half a second before answering, quickly determining that this was as good a time as any for him to fess up to Justin about the guy in Cancun. He didn't give out any details - he still wasn't ready for THAT discussion - only that he'd had sex with someone while there. Justin's grip on Brian's hand again tightened perceptibly at the revelation, but he didn't say anything and he didn't move away from Brian’s side. Brian wanted to believe that was a good sign.

Next the nurse performed a short visual examination and, finally, a rectal exam. Brian's joke that he'd never had that done to him by a woman before, only just barely masked the anxiety he was feeling. Thankfully it was all over very quickly and the nurse confirmed that everything looked fine. Brian showed no signs of injuries or tearing and while he was sporting a few older bruises on his back, there wasn't anything that could be conclusively tied to a sexual assault. Of course, that didn't mean that nothing had happened earlier in Brian's captivity, just that there was no longer any evidence of it. Before she left, the nurse again recommended that Brian get counseling. Not that Brian intended to follow that advice.  

“So . . . How pissed off at me are you?” Brian asked his still-silent blond as soon as he was dressed - he was too nervous to wait any longer to hear what his fate would be.

“I'm not angry, Brian!” Justin insisted right away. “None of this is your fault. You had no control over what that maniac, Taggart, did to you.”

“Not that. I meant the other . . . The guy in Cancun,” Brian pressed, leaning back against the edge of the exam table in the tiny room and scrutinizing Justin's face carefully for a moment, then quickly looking away again.

Justin sighed, bit his bottom lip and then moved so that he could once again grab Brian's hands. He could see Brian already building up walls and raising his shields, preparing for the rejection and hurt that he thought was inevitable. He was so sure of the negative response he was going to get, he refused to even meet Justin's gaze.

Justin shook his head. He could never hurt Brian like that. Never. He wondered, though, when - or if - Brian would ever finally trust him.

“Well . . . I can't say I'm exactly thrilled by that news, but I can't say I didn't expect it either.” Brian raised his brow questioningly, finally looking the younger man in the eye. Once he had Brian's attention, Justin went on to explain. “Brian, I knew when you left that night - the way that you left - that's what you planned. Yeah, it hurts a little, but that doesn't change the fact that I still love you. And, after everything else that's happened . . . The ONLY thing that's important right now is that I got you back, safely, from that lunatic. Everything else . . . We’ll work it out. Somehow. But not now. Right now I just want to take you home. Okay?”

“Justin, I . . .”

“Shhh. Whatever it is, it can wait, Brian,” Justin insisted, pressing two fingers against Brian's lips to hush him. “Now, come on. There's a short, chubby little brunet waiting for you at home who's gonna be thrilled to see his Daddy again. So let's find Horvath, make sure he's done with us and then get the hell out of here.”

“Brian! Eeeeee!”

The squealing that greeted them when they finally came through the door of Britin’s Chapel just before noon was, surprisingly, issued by the supposed adult rather than the child that was waiting inside. Emmett came running out of the kitchen, a startled Kevan in his arms, as soon as the front door was closed. The tall, gangly man practically jumped Brian, who just barely managed to brace himself before the impact. Thankfully, Justin managed to grab the baby out of the excited manny’s grip right before the child was permanently flattened by being caught up in the enthusiastic hug Em gave his returned employer and friend.

“Honeycutt. I don't remember ever agreeing to become the kind of friends who hug or slobber all over each other,” Brian complained as he peeled Emmett’s arms from around his neck and cringed away from the kiss left on his cheek.

“I’m just so tickled pink to see you, Brian, that I won’t even yell at you for calling me ‘Honeycutt’,” Emmett gushed and then just HAD to hug Brian one more time even though the big guy was still scowling at him. “Oh, it’s just sooooo good to have you back. Baby here has been going crazy with worry about you. Are you okay? Did that stalker guy hurt you? Did he keep you tied up in some horrible, moldy old basement and go all Hannibal Lecter on you or anything. You weren’t ordered to rub lotion on yourself or anything, were you? And you still have all your body parts, right?”

“Fuck, Emmy Lou! You watch way too much fucking television. Of course I still have all my fucking body parts. Where the fuck do you come up with this shit!” Brian batted away his friend’s arms when it looked like he was at risk of a third hug and then moved so that he was standing slightly behind Justin in order to give himself some protection against ongoing displays of affection.

“Movies. I watch too many movies not television. And are you telling me you never saw ‘Silence of the Lambs’? Emmett asked, distracted from his welcoming of the prodigal Brian . . . which just might have been Brian’s plan all along.

“As much as I desperately missed you while I was gone, Honeycutt, there’s someone else I really want to hug more,” Brian turned around and looked over to where Justin was holding Kevan. “Hey there, Sonny Boy. Did you miss Daddy? Or did you completely forget me while I was gone? Hmmm?”

The entire time Brian and Emmett had been talking, Kevan had been staring at Brian so intently that he barely blinked. And, contrary to the usually garrulous little tyke’s more common behavior, the baby hadn't issued a single sound the whole time. Justin had been watching the infant's face as he listened with rapt attention to Brian's voice, his little face actually lighting up whenever his daddy spoke. Then, when Brian turned and focused his attention on his son, Kevan turned his head away, burying his face in Justin's shoulder for a moment before looking back and fluttering his long, dark eyelashes at Brian.

“You don't want to come to Daddy?” Brian held out his hands towards the baby, but Kevan shyly turned away, again hiding in the crook of his Papa’s neck for a few moments before shooting another coy little smile at the waiting brunet.

“Shit! Maybe Sonny Boy really doesn't remember me,” Brian said, looking to Justin as if to ask what he should do.

“Uh uh. I think he remembers just fine,” Justin replied, smiling down at the little boy who was wriggling excitedly even though he wasn't looking at his father yet. “Say something else, Brian. Call his name. I think I know what's going on.”

“Okay . . . Come on, Sonny Boy. You're not afraid of Daddy, are you? Hey, Kevan! Kevan! Look over here, Sonny boy!” Brian cooed at his son.

The three men all watched in fascination as the infant would look over timidly every time Brian said his name or called him ‘Sonny Boy’. And then, each time, he’d look away again but with a lingering smile on his angelic face. Along with the smiles, there was more eyelash batting, more wiggling and even a quiet giggle or two. It was like a game, or something.

“Oh my word! He's flirting with you, Brian!” Emmett exclaimed when he finally figured it out. “Your son’s not even seven months old and he's a total flirt! It must be genetic!”

After one more round of coquettish looks and hesitant smiles - all of which elicited laughter from the three adults - Kevan stretched out one chubby little arm towards his daddy, still looking away flirtatiously, and giggling.

“That's so fucking adorable, I think I'm in danger of growing ovaries!” Emmett gushed again, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Hell! Butch up a bit, Honeycutt! I'm the one who actually HAS ovaries - or at least the next best, most masculine, equivalent thereto - and you don't see me getting all moist,” Brian chided, although his own doting smile betrayed exactly how much he agreed with the sentiment.

“He may have my sunshiney smile but that's definitely the Kinney charm,” Justin agreed wholeheartedly, almost as teary as Em despite trying to hold it back manfully for Brian's sake. “Here, take him, Brian, before I succumb to the adorableness too.”

Brian reached for his coyly grinning and endearingly giggling son. Kevan was so excited to see his daddy and was wiggling so madly now that he was near, that he almost wiggled right out of Justin's arms. Brian managed to get one arm under Kevan’s diapered bottom and the hand of his other arm along Kevan’s back for additional support, bringing him close to his body. The long absent father was immediately engulfed by the feel and scent of his son. The sense of peace that overcame him at that moment was exactly what Brian needed to wash away all the remaining anxiety from his ordeal. Now that he had his son back in his arms, he felt like he was finally home for real.

“Hey, Sonny Boy. Daddy’s home and he is so happy to see you.” Brian spoke softly, causing Kevan to wiggle and bobble in his daddy’s arms even more energetically. In the process, the happy child managed to tip over, planting his wide open mouth against Brian’s jaw and giving his daddy what appeared to be a big, sloppy, wet kiss to his stubbly chin. As the baby bounced a bit more, arms and legs flailing, his pudgy baby hands made contact with Brian’s cheeks as if in a patting motion of greeting.

“Did you see that? Sonny Boy gave his daddy a big fat juicy kiss.” Brian enthused to the other two men, who were both clearly affected by this emotional reunion. “Granted, his technique needs a little work, but he’s got the idea at least. You’re gonna be just like your old man when you grow up, aren’t you, Sonny Boy!” The groaning that met this statement caused Brian to shoot a killing look at his friends. “Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery! He could do a lot worse you guys, and you know it.” Then the doting daddy redirected his attention back to the only boy in the room that mattered at that moment. “Come on, Sonny Boy. Let’s sit down and get reacquainted for a bit and I can tell you all about flirting and kissing and how to get any boy you want . . .”

“Ma! Ma, come listen to the message that stupid little twink put on Brian’s voicemail. The nerve of that kid! Really. Here, listen,” Michael insisted, putting his phone on speaker mode as he strode into the Diner and setting the cell on the counter in front of his mother.

“Hi! You’ve reached Justin and Brian . . . Yes, I did say ‘AND BRIAN’. You weren’t hearing things. He’s home and he’s okay. And no, you don’t need to talk to us to confirm it. We don’t intend to answer the phone right now, and probably won’t be answering any time in the next day or two either, so you might as well give up calling now. No matter how many times you call or leave a message, we WON’T be calling you back till we’re good and fucking ready. This doesn’t mean you should come by, instead - you will not be allowed onto the property. The Hulk Brothers have very specific orders that they are NOT to allow ANYONE to visit. They have also been warned that, if they fail to follow these orders, I will  personally castrate every single member of their family with a rusty palette knife. (Brian’s voice in the background.) He’s totally serious, guys. Trust me, you don’t want to make Justin angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry. (Justin's voice again.) You’re supposed to be in bed, Brian. Get moving! I don’t want to have to tell you again . . . So, anyway, if you want to leave a message at the beep go ahead, but we’ll probably just delete it. Bye! . . . *Beep*”

“Can you believe that? He’s so fucking rude! I mean, really, he can’t just keep Brian away from his family like this. It’s not right. Especially after all we did to help find him . . .” Michael was already ranting, and building up to an even bigger rant than usual, when suddenly a wad of paper napkins was shoved into his wide open mouth.

Michael spun around to look at whoever had dared to accost him in such a manner, only to find Emmett Honeycutt standing behind him, his arms crossed and an unhappy glare issuing from the usually kind blue eyes.

“Michael Charles Novotny . . . what have we talked about concerning your penchant for spouting off in public about Brian’s business? Hmm?” Emmett addressed the muzzled man reproachfully. “Did you not promise me just a few days ago that you would NEVER AGAIN gossip about Brian or shout out information about him in front of every queer on Liberty Avenue? I’m not sure if you just have long-term memory problems, Michael, or if you’re unclear on the concept of what constitutes ‘Brian’s business’, but either way, let me remind you right now. What you were just doing is considered ‘gossip’. And anything to do with Justin or how Brian and Justin interact together is ‘Brian’s Business’, not yours. Oh, and if you’re also unclear on the concept of what's ‘public’ and what's not, the Diner definitely qualifies as a ‘public place’.” Michael had stopped sputtering behind his wad of napkins by this point and was looking decidedly abashed. “Now, is it safe to remove this gag, or do you need a longer ‘Time Out’?”

“If you ask me, I’d leave it in. Michael will be safer that way,” Debbie chuckled as she bustled past with a tray full of lunch orders. “A couple of my regulars who are cops were in here earlier and talking about the way Justin went off on the stalker when they caught the guy. I think they were all scared shitless by the kid. It seems my sweet little Sunshine went completely apeshit and kicked some serious ass this morning! And I don’t think Michael wants to take on the likes of what the police are calling ‘The Twinkie Terror’. Hah!”

Michael opened his mouth, pulled out the wedge of saliva drenched napkins and turned as if to confront the pair of laughing hyenas otherwise known as Deb and Em. But, after staring at them for a full sixty seconds, Michael sighed, tossed the napkin gag on the counter and stalked out of the building. The echoes of of his mother and friend’s laughter followed him all the way out the door and down the block.

Chapter 36 - Yours.

The Daddy was home!

The Daddy had held Kevan and played with Kevan. They’d talked to Uglyworm together. The Daddy had sat on the couch and opened up one of those hard little square things that had pages and pages of pictures inside and he’d made lots and lots of mouth sounds while they looked at the pictures together. The Daddy had watched and cheered as Kevan showed him all the new magic tricks he’d mastered like how he could make the world spin around and move. The Daddy had called him ‘Sonny Boy’ and smiled at him.

Even the horrible tasting gunk didn’t seem so bad when it was The Daddy who gave him the bottle and held him in his warm arms while Kevan had his lunch.

Kevan really did think that The Daddy was great. It was so nice to have him back where he belonged. Back where he could give Kevan all the attention that was the baby’s due.

Kevan decided that he would be very cross if The Daddy went and disappeared on him again.

Something was seriously wrong with Brian and Justin was worried.

Justin wasn't sure exactly what the problem was but it HAD to be serious. The man was just acting so off. So incredibly out of character. Granted, he'd only been home for a few hours after being held prisoner for weeks by a psychopathic stalker, but still . . . Justin was already thinking the worst. Maybe Taggart HAD done something to his captive that Brian hadn’t yet told him or the police or the doctor about? That was the only explanation.

Because something major HAD to be wrong. Nothing else could explain why they'd been home for several hours now without Brian even trying to touch Justin. No groping. No kissing. Not even a thinly veiled sexually-charged joke. So it was either that something was seriously wrong with his partner or else that this man standing in his kitchen was an imposter and not really Brian Kinney at all.

Okay, maybe Justin was overreacting just a bit. Brian actually had been touching him pretty much constantly from the moment they left the stalker’s house. Just not touching him in the way Justin wanted to be touched. But Brian had been holding Justin’s hand, which in and of itself was a little odd since that was a rarity for the normally undemonstrative man. Brian had also been touching his face or his shoulder or his back - little touches as if he was still reassuring himself that Justin was really there. And when they were seated, Brian had sat so close to Justin he was practically on top of him. In fact, Brian seemed to want to be as close to Justin as possible at all times, even going so far as to follow Justin down the hall when he went to take a piss and hovering just outside the bathroom door.

But he wasn’t touching Justin where he should be touching him. He wasn’t touching him THERE. Brian hadn’t yet ventured south of the border at all. Which is why Justin was sure there was something really, really wrong.

And Justin really, really wanted to be touched. He needed to be touched so badly. It had been so long since he’d been touched by anything other than his favorite dildo that he’d almost forgotten what the whole touching thing was all about. And The Mighty Intruder was getting a bit worn looking after all the time Justin had been spending with it - in fact, there was even a small crack starting to develop in the silicone around the tip, which was sad because Justin would miss his favorite sex toy friend, especially if Brian wasn’t going to take over the dildo’s duties once again.

It appeared that might be the case though. Since they’d been home, Brian had spent almost all of his time with Kevan. He’d fed Kevan his lunch bottle, read to him and played with his son - marvelling like any proud father would over Kevan’s new ability to sit up and to belly crawl. Brian had then spent a long time just holding Kevan after the infant fell asleep. When Justin was finally able to convince his partner to put the baby down in his crib, Brian had announced that he needed to call Cynthia and then spent the next half hour on work related stuff. Justin had tried to sit quietly next to Brian and let him get reacquainted with Kevan and then patiently wait while the most pressing matters at VanGuard were discussed, but . . . enough was really enough.

When it seemed that Brian was finally about to wind up his call with Cynthia, Justin got up off the couch - Brian had insisted that Justin sit nearby even though he wasn’t paying the boy any real attention - stripped off all his clothing and then pulled Brian up to stand in front of him. Brian seemed mesmerized by this development but didn’t really take any action on his own. Justin could see there was interest - the growing bulge in Brian’s pants was evidence of that fact - so then, why was the usually aggressive Stud acting so timid? Well, it looked like Justin was simply going to have to take matters into his own hands. Literally. And there wasn’t anything he’d like to do more, so it wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Reaching out, Justin started to unbutton Brian’s shirt. He was still dressed in the clothing he’d worn home from the stalker’s house so this shirt wasn’t something Justin had ever seen. It really wasn’t Brian’s style either, just an inexpensive cotton-poly blend button down. Clearly, the first item of business was to get Brian out of these things and into a nice hot shower so that he could start the transformation back to his real self. Justin was sure that once Brian had washed away all remaining traces of the distasteful experience and was back in his own clothing he’d feel more comfortable.

Once the shirt was off, Justin reached down to start unbuttoning Brian’s jeans. He’d only got one button popped though, before Brian reached down and stopped him. Justin looked up searchingly into Brian’s eyes, seeing anxiety and guilt staring back at him.

“Justin, I . . . Fuck!” Brian, usually so glib and ready with his words, seemed tongue-tied.

“Brian, whatever it is, it can wait.” Justin tried again to get to those jeans’ buttons, but Brian grabbed his fingers a second time, holding both Justin's hands together between their chests.

“No.” Brian sighed “It really can’t. I need to tell you something that I know you’re going to get pissed about and, fuck me, but I have no idea how to start . . .” Brian dropped Justin’s hands and then shrugged, holding his own hands out as if trying to grasp the missing words from out of the air. “Oh, fuck it! We shouldn’t fuck until I get the STD test results back from the hospital because I let that guy in Cancun fuck me raw. There!” Brian practically yelled the anguished and guilt-ridden words and then immediately turned and stomped off towards the kitchen without looking back at Justin.

Justin stood there blinking, unsure if he’d heard Brian correctly. He must have misheard him. That just wasn't possible. Was it? He looked up when he heard Brian first slamming the fridge door closed and then violently rattling through a drawer too. Judging by the actions of his peeved partner, who seemed to be taking out his nervousness on the kitchen appliances, maybe his ears hadn't deceived him?

Justin picked up the jeans he'd shimmied out of just a few minutes before, slid them back on and then followed the sounds of clattering cutlery into the kitchen.

“I don't understand, Brian.”

“What's to fucking understand?” Brian used the church key in his hand to pop open the top of a beer and then tossed the implement roughly back into its drawer.

“You actually let someone fuck you? Someone other than me? Without a condom? You?” Justin sounded so shocked by the revelation, and particularly by the fact that it was Brian admitting these things, that it was almost humorous. Almost.

“Yes, Sunshine. Me. I let the guy into my ass and there wasn't any condom involved. That's what fucking raw means,” Brian replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm but his eyes screaming with pain, confusion, guilt, fear, and a whole lot of self-loathing.

When Justin continued to stand there mutely, clearly too shocked to even begin to ask the questions that would have to be answered, Brian decided to just get it over with. “I was fucking pissed off about the whole stupid shoot from day one. Then, all that shit with Taggart threatening you and Kevan happened and I wanted to be here with you guys, not stuck in Mexico taking orders on how to tilt my damned head from some prima donna photographer. So, like the asshole I am, instead of dealing with it I went and got drunk out of my mind and somehow ended up with one of the other models.”

When Justin still hadn't said anything, Brian continued with his explanation, looking all the while into the bottle of beer in his hand instead of at Justin. “I didn't know what I was doing at the time - I barely even remember most of that night - I was so ridiculously fucked up . . . I didn’t realise just HOW fucked up I was, though, until I woke up hungover and naked on the beach the next morning with a sore ass and not a single condom or wrapper in sight.” Brian was clearly torn apart, Justin could feel the guilt and fear and uncertainty rolling off of him in waves as he spoke. “I still can’t fucking believe I allowed something like that to happen. I've NEVER been so drunk I forgot to be safe. But, I think . . . Well, the guy said I kept calling him ‘Sunshine’ . . .”

Brian slammed his almost full beer bottle onto the countertop. “Fuck it! It doesn't matter. The bottom line is that I screwed up. Royally. And I may be an asshole, but I’m not THAT big an asshole. So, until we’re sure I’m clear, no matter how much my balls are aching for me to do so, I won’t put you at risk and that means I can’t fuck your ass into the mattress until we’re sure it’s safe.” Brian finally looked up and met Justin’s gaze, settling his protective mask back into place so quickly that Justin almost missed the minute shift. “So, I guess the only question now is, am I relegated to the couch, or should I just pack a bag and head off to the loft and promise never to darken your doorstep again?”

The fake bravado that Brian was trying to project was so transparent to Justin. He talked big and acted like nothing bothered him. Like he was immune to the plebeian needs that the rest of humanity had - the need to be loved and cared for and feel like you belonged. He was so convinced that love was always conditional and that, for some reason, he didn’t qualify for that particular benefit. It fucking broke Justin’s heart all over again to watch as Brian systematically detached himself from the scene and prepared himself for the rejection that he knew was coming.

Yes, Justin was hurt. He was so hurt that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like the only thing he could do was run away and hide until the pain receded. He wanted nothing more than to rail and scream at the man who’d betrayed him in such a blatant fashion. To moan about how unfair it was that he’d been faithful the whole time Brian was gone while Brian was living it up in Cancun. He wanted to yell at Brian and hurt him back. He wanted to be angry. To find the ‘other man’ and whup his ass so hard that the man wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else for the foreseeable future. He wanted someone to commiserate with him and tell him it was all Brian’s fault, that Brian was a total shit and that he deserved whatever he got for cheating on poor Justin.

And, if he wanted to, Justin could have all those things. He could indulge his hurt and anger and shock and disappointment. Which was exactly what Brian was expecting him to do. And then Brian would feel fully vindicated in his distrust of love and his dislike of humanity in general. Brian would be reassured that he really was the assshole that people always accused him of being and that he totally deserved to be alone and unloved. Brian would go back to being his lonely, untouchable self and convince himself that the outcome had always been inevitable, that love was for idiots and that he didn’t need anyone.

And then they’d both be alone and miserable.

What Justin really wanted though, more than anything, was to make Brian see that he did deserve love. He deserved Justin’s love. And he deserved to be happy. Because, once Brian admitted to himself that he could be loved, he would finally be free. That’s when Justin would have the Brian he really wanted. The real Brian. The one that he’d always known was there but only got brief glimpses of. The Brian that was playful and fun and could let himself be seen as a father and a partner instead of just an irresistible fuck machine that couldn’t be tamed or touched. Or loved.