Chapter 2 - The Life of Brian.

Becoming a parent is pretty much the very LAST thing any young gay man thinks about. I mean, it's just not even a blip on our radar. It's a damn near impossibility, right, so why would we waste any time contemplating the matter? I guess straight guys don't really have a choice if the woman they're with gets prego, but as a gay man, I didn't think I'd have to worry about that. And I was damn glad about it too.

Now, I know that more and more gay couples are doing the parenting thing these days. Thankfully, every single state now allows gay men to adopt. And there's always the whole surrogacy thing if you need the biological offspring option. But both those alternatives require a certain financial and emotional stability that I always associated with older couples. So, even if I was inclined towards becoming a family man - which I never was - there's no way I'd have dared consider the possibility when I wasn't even thirty-five yet.

Which is probably why I was so blindsided when Gus showed up on my doorstep that night. Seriously, even though I had been thinking about making some changes to my life at that point, taking in a stray preschooler was not what I had in mind. I personally had never thought of myself as being anyone's father. I just never thought I was ‘fatherhood' material. After growing up with Joyless Jack and the Ice Bitch, having kids of my own was probably the furthest thing from my mind. Plus, everyone knows the statistics about how abused kids grow up to be abusive parents, right? Why the fuck would I ever choose to go there? Nope. That was not going to happen. Brian Kinney was never going to head down that heteronormative highway towards family and parenting and all the inevitable pitfalls those concepts encompassed.

So, of course, the only thing on my mind when a kid landed in my lap that night was to figure out how to get rid of him as quickly as possible. I didn't think, for even a minute, that the kid could actually be MINE. I mean, don't get me wrong - Gus is definitely a cute kid, but the idea that I was his father was absurd. He couldn't possibly be mine. So all I was concentrating on that night was trying to figure out who the fuck his mother was and how to contact her so that I could get rid of the annoyance that had interrupted my evening.

Which is probably why I was taken so off guard and the kid was able to worm his way into my heart so quickly.

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

Brian collapsed on the stool in front of the kitchen bar, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the rising headache he'd been fighting off for the past hour. It had taken him that long to get his unexpected house guest settled for the night. Weren't little kids supposed to be sound asleep at like eight in the evening? How the fuck did he get saddled with a night owl kid who was still bouncing off the walls at eleven at night?

After his success in introducing Gus to the joys of guava juice, Brian had managed to toast a couple slices of bread, smeared them with some peanut butter he had in the cabinet, and considered that an adequate dinner. The kid gobbled the food down as if he hadn't been fed in a week. Brian felt a little bad that he didn't have anything more substantial but, then again, he hadn't been planning on feeding a short, starving, midget. He'd planned on a long debauched night of hot sex. So much for the best laid plans... Or was that best plans to get laid? Either way, Brian wasn't getting any.

Once the midget was fed, though, he'd been at a loss about exactly what to do with him. Brian had poured himself a glass of beam, then sat there watching the kid, who had been distributing crumbs all the fuck over everything and smearing his peanut buttery fingers all over the marble counter top. Fucking kids. They were messy as hell. Why couldn't they manage to get their food in their mouths without making everything around them as dirty as they were? The experience only solidified Brian's longstanding conviction that the Breeders could keep their crusty little carbon copies.

"So, now what the fuaaaaa do we do with you?" Brian asked as soon as the toast had completely disappeared, just catching himself at the last moment before he let the f-bomb drop.

The little midget just blinked up at him with those long-lashed, hazel eyes and said nothing. Fuck! Brian did NOT need this shit. What the fuck did he know about the care and maintenance of midgets? He'd huffed a dissatisfied breath, gulping down the rest of his beam. The kid watched him without apparent expectation. After a couple minutes of mutual staring, the boy rubbed at his eyes with a peanut butter and crumb covered fist and yawned. Brian took that as a clue that his next step should probably be to clean him off and find a place for the kid to sleep.  

Cleaning the small hands and leaving Gus with instructions to drink the remains of his juice, Brian went into the bedroom to strip the bed. Not much had happened in it, but with Gus here he'd rather be safe than sorry. He had briefly contemplated putting the kid on the couch, but had some vague memories about kids rolling off couches and breaking their necks or something, so he discounted that idea quickly. The only other sleeping surface, though, was his bed. Which meant he'd be sharing it with his guest midget. Not exactly the kind of company he'd planned to have in his bed that night, but what the fuck, right?

Once the bedroom was straightened out, Brian headed back out to the kitchen to find his midget. Only, the kid was no longer where Brian had left him, sitting quietly on the barstool at the kitchen counter. Before he had time to even question where the scamp had gotten off to though, a crash coming from the area of the entertainment center gave away the kid's location. Brian growled at the noise before he'd even seen the damage it related to. There was nothing he hated more than having the peace and tranquility of his loft disturbed, regardless of who or what was doing the disturbing. Of course, by the time he'd walked over and discovered that the noise had been caused by the majority of his video collection being sent tumbling to the floor, he realized that the noise factor was going to be the least of his worries.

"What the fuck?" Brian had yelled, forgetting to hold back on the cursing in the heat of the moment.

Gus, who was standing there holding Brian's copy of 'You've Got Male' - the best gay porn video ever made, in Brian's humble opinion - immediately began to tear up. So, instead of screaming about the destruction of his video collection and the resulting damage to his hardwood floors from the bulky plastic video boxes scratching the finish, Brian reined in his temper, took several deep breaths, and forced himself to unfurl his fists. Gus sniffled a little but thankfully didn't break out into full fledged tears, thus saving what little of Brian's sanity the man was still holding onto.

"Give me that," Brian ordered, yanking the CD out of the midget's hand and shoving it back on the now almost empty shelf. He'd pick up the rest of the clutter later, after he got the kid in bed.

"I's sowwy, Mister," the sniveling midget apologized. "I din' mean to drop dem. I was just looking to see if you had 'Booty an da Beast'. It's my fav'rite. But Mommy said we din' have room in our su'cases to bring it. Do you like ‘Booty', Mister?"

"I love booty, Midget," Brian answered honestly, even though he was pretty sure that the kind of booty he preferred wasn't what the kid was thinking of. He'd actually loved the BDSM version of the Disney classic, a copy of which was probably in the pile of porn at the kid's feet. He wouldn't be watching it with his guest any time soon though.

"I like the Beast. He's funny. An he turns inta a real Prince at da end." Gus continued to detail the entire storyline of the fairytale as Brian tried to lead him up to the bathroom, laughing so hard at some points of his narrative that he almost couldn't speak. ". . . An then, an then, Lumiere kisses the duster. *hahaha* Innat funny, Mister?"

"Don't call me ‘Mister'," Brian ordered, ignoring the drivel altogether. "I'm not old enough to be called ‘Mister'."

"You looks old ‘nuff to me," Gus tried to reassure him, earning only a glare from Brian.

"Well, I'm not. I'm just ‘Brian'. Okay kid?"

"‘Kay, B'ine," Gus readily agreed, being the easy going midget that he was.

Brian merely shook his head. Annoying kid couldn't even say ‘Brian' correctly. But whatever. There didn't seem to be much reason to correct the boy, since, hopefully, he wouldn't be there long enough to bother with. Brian looked over at the clock on the nightstand as they passed and noted it was now getting past eleven. Even if he had a clue how to go about it or who to contact, it was far too late to do anything about his unwanted midget guest that night. He'd figure out what to do about Gus in the morning. And once he'd foisted the kid off onto somebody else to deal with, the fact that he couldn't say Brian's name correctly wouldn't matter anymore.

Without too many more unnecessary delays, Brian eventually managed to get the kid ready for bed. They'd found the midget's pajamas and toothbrush in his Winnie the Pooh suitcase and made use of both. Brian had directed the kid in the drawn out process of washing up and then ordered the boy to use the toilet before heading to bed. Even that ended up being a drawn out process though, since it seemed like the kid was now wide awake and not in any hurry to change that. Finally, Brian put on some quiet music and hoped that would lull the kid to sleep, and after about a half hour it finally did.

Brian woke up the next morning with what felt like a drooling heating pad flung across his chest. After the initial confusion he felt, he finally remembered what happened after he got rid of the trick the night before. A few minutes later the kid started to wake up, at first he looked scared, but he must have remembered where he was, because he smiled at Brian as he sat up.

"G'mornin, B'ine. I'm kinda hungry. Do you have some more food?"

"Not much, kid. How about we get showers, get dressed, and then go to the Diner?"

"What's the Diner?" Gus asked

"It's a little restaurant. They have all kinds of food and can make whatever you want."

"That sounds good. Can I get ice cream?"

"Not for breakfast. You can get fruit and pancakes, or eggs, or french toast, you know . . . breakfast stuff."

"Okay, B'ine. Can you turn on the shower for me and I'll get washed fast so we can go eat."

"Alright, and I'll get out something for you to wear. After you're dressed I'll put on cartoons so I can get a shower and get dressed, then we'll go."

Gus was happy with that suggestion and happily hopped into the shower as soon as Brian got the water turned on and adjusted to the right temp. Brian followed his example as soon as Gus was done. They made it out of the loft without any further disasters in less than a half hour. Which, Brian thought, should be considered a success.

Once they got to the Diner, Brian unstrapped Gus from the backseat and carried him inside. Luckily it was too early for the rest of the gang to be out, but Deb was working and came right over to him, surprised by the sight of her surrogate son carrying a child. That was such an incongruous sight that it actually did what many thought was impossible - it left Debbie speechless.

"Brian?" Deb asked, wondering if he was playing some kind of joke on her.

Brian let Gus down to stand on his own two feet and, pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, "Don't ask. Just get me coffee and a booster seat please, Deb."

"Fine, but can you at least tell me this little cutie's name?"

"My name is Gus. I'm this many," Gus held up his hand with all five fingers splayed out. "And this is B'ine," Gus added. "Is you a clown?" he subsequently asked, his sincere innocence taking away some of the sting from the comment, but still causing Brian to cover his mouth so he wouldn't laugh in Deb's face.

"He's cute," Debbie opined without answering the boy's question. "Rude as shit, but cute. Reminds me of you, Brian."

Brian might have objected, but Debbie was already on her way, getting his requested coffee and the Diner's one well-used old booster seat. Brian got his Midget set up in a booth and, as soon as he'd had his first sip of sanity-saving caffeine, was able to think clearly enough to order some food for them both. Gus spoke up in the middle of the process and demanded, over Brian's objection, that Deb change his order to pancakes with s'rup and sprinkles. Brian didn't want to get into it in front of the entire Diner, so he relented and told Deb to just bring the kid what he wanted despite the meal's lack of nutritional value.

Once Deb had delivered the requested items, she scooted into the booth next to Gus while Brian proceeded to relate the events that had befallen him since the previous night - albeit leaving out several things that little ears, and Deb too for that matter, didn't need to know. As Brian was finishing up his story, Det. Carl Horvath came into the diner for coffee and to see Deb. Deb and Carl had been dating for about six months at that point and Brian found he genuinely liked the older man. He was warm and honest and cared a lot for Deb. So he didn't object to the detective joining them. In fact, maybe a cop was just the person he needed right then.  

Deb quickly told Carl what was going on. The police officer listened carefully, asking a few pertinent questions along the way. When they were done relating what had happened, Carl asked Brian to accompany him into the back office for a minute or two so they could talk privately, not wanting to upset Gus with his assessment. Brian told Gus to sit and talk to Deb and that he'd be right back. Gus nodded, more than happy to sit and enjoy the hot chocolate with whipped cream Deb had brought him in place of dessert. Brian couldn't help smiling at the whip cream smeared face grinning up at him as he got up to follow Carl.

"First off, Brian, is there a chance he could be yours?" Carl asked.

"No," Brian answered right off the bat, but then quickly backtracking. "Well, if you mean have I ever fucked a woman, the answer is yeah. But it was years ago and . . . I mean, I don't actually remember fucking anyone of the female persuasion around the time necessary to make the midget, but there was that one night at the reunion dinner with . . . what the hell was her name? . . .  Whatever. I don't remember, but I don't think she was from Toronto. I would have remembered that, wouldn't I? . . . But, I guess it's possible, shit . . . I don't know. I don't think so, but I might have . . ."

"Great, then it's a definite, possible, maybe. It's always good to be clear on these things." Carl said with a smile and a chuckle. "Here's the thing Brian. As you know, it's a holiday weekend. Which means that there's not going to be anybody available at social services. On an emergency basis like this, all they'll be able to do is try to find a foster home to stick him in. If they can't find one, he'll be dumped in a group home. That's where he'll stay until everything is resolved. And considering you don't know who or where the mother is, it could be quite a while."

"Shit. There's nothing else you can do?" Brian asked, unhappy to see Carl emphatically shaking his head. "Damn. This fucking sucks. The poor kid was already dumped off once. He sure as hell doesn't need to be abandoned again the next day. Especially in some group home with a bunch of Juvie rejects." Brian grumbled, desperately scrambling for some other solution.

"Well, your other choice is to say nothing, for the time being, and just keep him with you until you figure out what is going on," Carl suggested. "You should still file a formal report with Social Services on Tuesday, and they can help you look into the matter if you can't find the mother on your own. But in the meantime, the kid's probably better off with you than anybody else."

Brian cringed at the idea. He didn't want a kid. Having the midget trailing around after him all weekend would seriously cramp his style. And what the fuck did he know about taking care of a five year old anyway? But he couldn't see making the kid suffer either. He didn't like the sound of this ‘group home' thing Carl had mentioned. Plus, Brian knew how it felt not to be wanted - hell, he was an expert at that feeling - and would never intentionally subject a kid to that same treatment. Still, Brian just could NOT see himself taking care of a KID for a whole fucking weekend . . .

"Don't overthink it, Kinney," Carl interjected, apparently sussing out Brian's thought process from the expressions on his face. "It's not going to kill you to keep the kid for a couple days. It's not like it's rocket science," Carl laughed at the nearly panicked look on the younger man's face. "I'm sure you can handle it. Besides, I'm sure Deb will help you out if she can, although she might be a bit busy - I know she's having a barbeque tomorrow."

Well, there was that, Brian thought to himself. He was sure he could enlist Deb and the rest of the gang to help him out. And Carl was right, it couldn't possibly be THAT hard to take care of one little midget. Right? He could keep the kid at least through the weekend and then, come Tuesday, he'd take him off to the closest Social Services office and they would help him find the midget's mother. It wasn't ideal, but Brian couldn't think of a better solution.

Brian nodded his agreement to Carl and the two men headed back out into the Diner. Brian was anxious to see how much food Deb had managed to stuff into the child. If he was going to be in charge, he didn't want to have to deal with the consequences of an overstuffed and possibly puke-filled midget. He got back to the table and saw Gus forking through the remains of his pancakes, along with a side order of scrambled eggs and bacon. The kid was shaking his head at the orange juice Deb had brought him, though, and asking for ‘pink juice'.

At Deb's confused look Brian explained. "Guava juice. It tastes pink. Right, Gus?"

"Right, B'ine."

Debbie laughed at the big boy as well as the little boy and their demanding tastes, but quickly trotted off to comply with the order.

"Oh, Deb, there's going to be one more for the barbeque tomorrow." Brian announced, nodding towards Gus, as soon as she returned with two glasses of ‘pink juice'.

Deb just smiled, nodded, and went to pick up her next order.

It looked like Brian was going to have a guest staying with him for the weekend, whether he liked it or not.