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Author's Chapter Notes:

One by one the family is finding out. Why is Brian telling people?

I thought it was time for a little levity, and I always find Michael quite good for that purpose. Poor Michael. Please remember that I actually like Michael (for the most part), but the story is being written through Justin's POV, and Justin is less forgiving than me of Michael's foibles.

A long long time ago in the dewy days of early childhood, Justin's parents gave him two rabbits. Their names were Georgie and Cotton Tail. The former was male, the latter female, and they lived outdoors in a mesh-wire hutch separated from each other by a mesh-wire barrier. In the beginning, all was fine and good. Justin had been given the rabbits while they were cute, adorable, little bunnies, and he would play with them for hours out in the yard. Everyone was happy and their days were full of fun and joy . . . but then Georgie and Cotton Tail grew up and became big, fat and ill-tempered. Well, at least Georgie did. It was an alarming transformation that young Justin did not understand. Not only did Georgie turn into a complete asshole, but he started peeing all over Cotton Tail through the mesh-wire that separated them. Soon, Cotton Tail's fur was matted and rank, and Georgie was a psychopath. It was a sad state of affairs that troubled our young Justin who could no longer play with them (and didn't want to - who wants to frolic with a psychopathic rabbit and one that was matted and smelled like piss?).

One day, young Justin came home from school and found that the hutch had been removed and Georgie and Cotton Tail were gone. I'd like to say that our protagonist raged against a cruel world that had taken his rabbits away, but I'd be misrepresenting the situation. In fact, Justin had gotten pretty sick of having to feed them and clean out their nasty hutch, so he wasn't too broken up about it. He was curious though. His mom with gentle words described a lovely place where Georgie and Cotton Tail were hopping and frolicking together in the greenest of green grass. His father, however, sensing that this was a ripe opportunity to teach young Justin the facts about the birds and the bees (and the bunnies), sat him down and told him what the deal was. Basically, it came down to this: Georgie was slowly going insane. The the poor bastard was separated by nothing but a little bit of wire from a fertile female, and every time she came into heat, he went ape-shit. So when he couldn't mate with her, he did the next best thing and peed all over her day and night, marking her as his even though he'd never actually been with her in the Biblical sense.

In other words, they'd been unwittingly torturing Georgie past the point of the poor fucker's endurance.

"But why did he pee on her?" young Justin asked.

"Because he couldn't fuck her," his father replied. "He had to do something though, and pissing all over her was the only solution he could come up with."

And the moral of the story? Fuck the object of your desire or piss on him/or her. That was the option; apparently the only option.

And thus seemed the case when it came to Michael Novotny. Thwarted from impregnating Brian, Michael resorted to peeing on him - well, not onhim, but around him and only metaphorically. Michael had always tried to "mark his territory" when it came to Brian, but Brian's obvious fecundity had pushed him into territory-marking overdrive. In other words, Michael was Georgie, and Brian was Cotton Tail.

It was not a pretty state of affairs, but it was amusing. It even made Brian laugh when he was tossing his cookies in Woody's bathroom. Poor desperate Michael was a source of endless hilarity even to Emmett and Ted, who had no clue regarding the source of Michael's obvious (and increasing) desperation.

Take Sunday morning at the diner for example.

Brian and Justin were running late (thanks to one of Brian's close encounters with the toilet bowl), and the boys were already there when they arrived. The instant they were through the door, Michael leapt up out of the booth he was sharing with Emmett and Ted and made a beeline for Brian.

How was Brian?
How had Brian slept?
How had Brian felt when he woke up? Refreshed? Still tired?
How was Brian's stomach feeling? Did Brian need him, Michael, to go to the store to get anything?
How was Brian's back? Was it starting to ache? What about Brian's knees and ankles?
Was Brian craving any particular food?
Was Brian grossed out by any particular food, because if he was, he, Michael, would tell the cooks not to make it while Brian was at the diner.
Was Brian's week at work too stressful? Should Brian start working part time?
Should Brian still be going to the gym? Should he avoid certain forms of exercise?
Was Brian taking his vitamins?
Was Brian drinking enough water?
Was Brian staying warm enough? How about cool enough?
Was Brian avoiding monosodium glutamate? What about refined sugars and saturated fats?
How were the arches of Brian's feet? Should Brian be wearing special orthopedic shoes?
Had Brian lost weight in the past twenty-four hours and if so, how much?
Was Brian eating fruits and vegetables or were they too rough on Brian's stomach?
Did Brian want a shoulder rub?
Did Brian want a backrub?
Did Brian want a foot rub?
Did Brian want him, Michael, to drop off or pick up his dry cleaning?
Did Brian want him, Michael, to go grocery shopping?
Was Brian lifting things from a squatting position? Or was Brian bending over to lift things, which Brian was not supposed to do?
Did Brian want him, Michael, to throw himself down on top of a puddle so that Brian could walk on him and not have to get the soles of his shoes wet?

"Jesus fucking Christ," Deb shrieked at him. "Will you leave the poor boy alone? Half those questions aren't even relevant yet!"

"That's assuming any of them ever will be," Ted said, giving Michael a wary look.

"You can't be too careful," Michael grumbled. "And I doubt somebody is even paying attention."

Deb smacked him on the back of the head. "Don't you go making trouble where none exists," she said. "Jesus Christ! I had no idea I raised you to be such a nervous nelly! Brian, honey, what'll you be having this morning?" She flipped open her pad.

Brian had squeezed in next to Justin and Emmett much to Michael's obvious chagrin. "Uhm," he said, looking over the menu. "How ‘bout toast and bacon - a double helping . . ."

"What about some fruit?" Michael squawked. "Ma, add some fresh fruit to his order but make sure everything's been thoroughly washed first."

Brian nudged Justin with his foot, and Justin had to pretend to have a sneezing fit to keep from laughing. Deb winked at him.

"I hope you're not sick," Michael said to him in an annoying, supercilious voice. "Brian can't be catching colds and flus, you know."

"Christ, Bri," Ted said. "When did you turn into a wee, delicate flower? One of the costs of sobriety?"

"Ha ha," Brian said without looking at him. He folded his newspaper to the crossword puzzle. "Deb," he yelled. "Gotta pencil?"

Michael's head practically popped off. "Ma, don't give him one! Pencils have lead in them!"

"Actually, honey, I'm pretty sure they don't," Emmett said soothingly. "I think real lead in pencils went the same way as real coke in Coke."

"Better to be safe than sorry," Michael grumbled.

"Hey, Bri," Ted said. "Maybe you can buy a hermetically sealed containment apparatus on Ebay."

Emmett clapped excitedly. "Our very own Boy in a Bubble! Or should I say ‘Stud in a Sack?'"

"Or could you say ‘will all of you please shut the Hell up'? I have a headache."

"Cue Michael," Ted said.

"You have a headache?! How long have you had it? Have you taken an herbal headache remedy? Have you taken Advil? Both are very dangerous! Have you discussed safe medications with your doctor?!"

"I'm pretty sure they're not ‘terribly dangerous' or Sunshine here would've been all over it. He's very fond of drug facts. It doesn't matter though. I'm taking Tylenol."

Michael opened his backpack and whipped out the 2002 Drug Handbook.

"Um, sweetie," Emmett said. "I'm not sure if a drug dictionary is the best bedtime reading for someone who's just weaned himself off of Valium."

Michael ignored him and flipped through the pages with the focus of a squirrel in February digging up its store of nuts. "Ah ha!" he said. "Tylenol!"

Brian looked up from his crossword puzzle with a withering glare. "Give that to me," he said, snatching the book out of Michael's hands. "Tylenol: Contact your doctor before taking any medications when pregnant. Sunshine, hand me my phone. Hello, Doc? Will you please tell Michael, who I'm sure you remember, that I can take Tylenol for a headache? Thanks, here he is."

He handed the phone to Michael.

"Dr. Bernstein?" Michael said. "Yes, it's good to talk with you again too. He's taking Tylenol. Right. No not the sleep aid kind . . . wait, hold on. Brian, are you taking Tylenol P.M.? No, he's not. That's right, just regular Tylenol. Oh, it's okay? Can you fax me the study that confirms that? Thanks so much. Yes, you have a good day too. Good-bye."

"Feel better now?" Brain asked. "Can I go back to my crossword?"

Justin, Ted and Emmett were laughing so hard that orange juice came out of Ted's nose.

"Oh my God! Michael, you've finally gone around the bend. Brian is not pregnant. Last I knew Brian had a penis . . ."

Brian didn't look up from his repossessed paper, but he held up a finger signaling everyone to be quiet. "Two points," he said. "A.) There's no past-tense when it comes to my cock, and B.) You, Theodore, do not have personal knowledge of the fact that, yes, indeed, I have a dick . . . I'm certainly not saying that I don't, all I'm saying is that no one here except Sunshine knows from direct personal experience."

"So, you're saying that that respectable bulge in your jeans might actually be rolled-up socks?" Emmett said. "Certainly had me fooled."

"I know you have a penis," Michael said indignantly. "I've seen it."

"Well, thank God," Brian said. "A witness. Can I get a signed and notarized affidavit in case anyone questions my manhood?"

"Brian," Michael said, pulling the paper out of his hand again. "I don't know why you're not treating this seriously!"

"Treating what seriously?" Brian said, widening his eyes and blinking innocently at Michael.

Michael turned fifty shades of pink. He couldn't answer Brian's question without revealing the pregnancy.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Michael sputtered.

Brian cocked his head and frowned. "Mikey," he said. "I'm worried about you . . ."

Deb suddenly appeared with their orders and smacked Brian on the back of the head.

"OW!" he shouted angrily. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For tormenting my poor baby," Deb said. "Eat your damn toast." She turned to Michael. "Michael, sweetie, you're making your own bed here."

"I'm just trying to help!"

"You can help by shutting the hell up," Brian groused. "Who butters the fucking toast around here? Whoever he is, he's incompetent."

Deb chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Bitchy, bitchy," she said.

"It's because he's pregnant, Deb," Ted said sotto voce.

Everyone cracked up again. Brian had repossessed his paper again; he smiled but didn't look up.

"You're evil," Justin whispered in his ear.

"You shameless flatterer, you," Brian replied, turning his head to kiss Justin's cheek.

 

"Poor Mikey," Brian said as they rode the elevator to the loft. "I shouldn't taunt him. He's just looking out for me."

"He's doing more than that," Justin grumbled. "He's peeing on you, and it's driving me nuts."

"Excuse me? Did you say Mikey is ‘peeing on me'?"

"He's marking his territory and putting me on notice that I need to share you with him."

Brian laughed and pulled his sweater off over his head. "I'm not a fucking dessert," he said. "So don't go asking for two forks."

"It's not me who wants to share you; it's Michael."

Brian gripped Justin's arms and started walking backward, pulling Justin along with him until they bumped into the couch.

"In the mood to fuck?" he asked. It wasn't really a question; it never was.

Justin sighed. Yes, the whole thing with Michael had been funny, but he hated Michael implying that he wasn't taking care of Brian. He was, but within the perimeters of Brian's comfort zone. Yes, Brian would let him rub his back and feet but only if Justin sucked him off afterwards, making it seem like sex not succor. Yes, Brian would let Justin cook and serve "pregnancy approved" meals, but only if Justin didn't announce or otherwise draw attention to what he was doing. Yes, Brian always asked questions about the safety and advisability of this or that, but only if Justin acted annoyed by being interrupted from whatever it was he'd been doing when Brian asked. Michael, on the other hand, didn't give a shit about Brian's comfort zone. If he was worried, he said something. If he thought Brian needed to be educated on a given subject, Michael just went ahead and educated him. If he thought Brian should be doing something he wasn't, Michael would try to make Brian do it. There were no games, no play-acting. Michael laid it all out there and took Brian's abuse.

Justin sometimes wondered if that was because Michael loved Brian more than he did, that Michael was willing to incur Brian's wrath for Brian's sake and sacrifice himself. Much that Justin did or didn't do when it came to Brian involved trying to protect himself from Brian's periodic (and often unpredictable) barrages of abuse. Michael didn't give a shit. He tightened his suspenders, donned his armor, pulled on his galoshes and walked, straight and undaunted, right into the eye of Hurricane Brian. Justin ran away. Michael stayed to fight for what he thought was good for Brian - maybe he was often wrong in what he believed was good for Brian, but he never surrendered the fight if he believed it was worth fighting for Brian's sake.

"Hello, Sunshine," Brian said. "My cock's here on the phone; he's calling to see if your asshole can come out and play."

Justin laughed. Christ. Brian could be such a dork sometimes. It was one of the many things Justin loved about him. It was probably watching Brian be an incorrigible, but adorable, dork for so many years that caused Michael to fall so crazy in love with him.

They fucked on the rug face-to-face. When Brian prepared to come, he lay down right on top of Justin and held him close. The only thing he moved was his hips. Justin wrapped his legs around Brian's waist while Brian buried his face between Justin's neck and shoulder.

"I had a dream last night," Brian whispered breathlessly.

"About what?" Justin whispered back.

"I dreamed I could hear hearts beating"

"Were they the babies' hearts?"

"I don't know, but, yeah, I think maybe so."

"Was it a good dream or a scary dream?"

"Kinda both at the same time. But mostly I just thought it was pretty cool."

They stopped talking when Brian's thrusts grew uneven. Justin clung to his neck as though Brian were carrying him somewhere.

"Can you come like this?" Brian gasped.

Justin was on the edge of orgasm, so he could only nod in response. They were too close together for him to be able to reach between their bodies and jerk off, but his cock was right against Brian's lower belly being rubbed every time Brian moved. Justin closed his eyes and focused all his attention on that point of contact - coarse pubic hair and sweat-slick skin rubbing and rubbing and . . .

"Oh!" he gasped when he came. Brian made a fond humming sound in his ear and then let himself topple over his own edge.

They stayed like that, holding each other close, for a long time - so long, in fact, that Brian dozed off, and they had to go on a fishing expedition for the condom when he woke up.

"Sorry ‘bout that," Brian said yawning. "Fuck, I'm tired. If it's all the same with you, I'm going to sleep for a couple hours."

Justin kissed him. "No skin off my teeth," he said. Neither of them acknowledged that the reason Brian was so tired was that he'd had a nasty case of heartburn the night before that'd withstood the noble efforts of the Tums to alleviate. And then once the heartburn finally went away, the nausea started and stuck around until dawn.

"Poor baby," Justin said, meaning it sincerely. The babies were only seven weeks old! It was going to be a lllooonnnggg nine months.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Brian said as he walked up the stairs.

Justin lay back with his arms crossed behind his head and grinned.

 

Woody's was packed even though it was a Sunday night. Despite trying to kill the people playing with his most malevolent stare, Brian couldn't free up the pool table and had to resort to darts. Justin sat on a bar stool watching him and Michael take turns, giving each other shit when one of them missed the target. Ted sat down beside him.

"Any clue what's up with Michael lately?" he asked. "His Brian radar seems to be beeping constantly. It's always been super sensitive but it's been worse than usual."

Justin shrugged. "Haven't noticed," he said.

Ted looked at him. "It's bugging you, isn't it?"

Justin made a scoffing sound and shrugged again.

"Don't worry," Ted said. "Brian will never sleep with him. No matter how much Michael worships and hovers, he'll never know what it's like to be with Brian. You're safe."

"I didn't think I wasn't," Justin replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Ted patted him on the back. "Good attitude," he said. "But actually I worry about Michael more than I worry about you. Things are rough for him now; what's going to happen when Brian starts to show?"

Justin dropped his drink from his suddenly loosened grip. It spilled all over the table.

"Excuse me?" he squeaked.

"When he starts to show," Ted said. "You know what I mean, when the babies get big enough that Brian wouldn't be able to hide his pregnancy."

Justin stared at him. "How . . . what??"

Ted signaled the bartender for another drink for Justin. "Don't worry," he says. "I won't tell anyone."

"But how . . . who told you?"

"Brian did," Ted said.

"He did? When??"

"He called me this afternoon. Said you were out buying groceries and he wanted to tell me something. And then he just said, ‘Here's the deal, Theodore. I'm pregnant with twins. Justin's the quote/unquote father. Don't tell anyone you know except Justin. Not even Michael even though he knows too.' As you can imagine, I nearly toppled over backwards. I tried to ask some questions, but he told me to just shut up and accept it, and if I couldn't, he didn't want to see my face again. The only thing he told me is that he wanted a few people to know because something might happen to him and you might need help . . ."

Justin grabbed Ted's collar. What the fuck? Had Brian planned on telling him? What did Brian mean when he said "because something might happen?" What was going to happen, and why the fuck wasn't he talking to Justin about it?

"Did he say what might happen?" Justin asked, his voice sounding as panicked as he felt. Did Brian know something? Had Dr. Bernstein told him something when he'd first told Brian he was carrying twins??

Ted gently pried Justin's fingers off his collar. "He wouldn't say. He just said he believed that the more people who knew, the better. That's it, and he told me not to expect to ever discuss the topic with him again, although he said that if you were amenable to discussing it, he didn't mind - that it was up to you - but that you were the only one I could talk to. I don't even know if Emmett knows or whether Brain will even tell him, although I can't imagine why he wouldn't . . . Justin? Are you okay?"

Justin gripped the table. He was shaking. Daphne's words about how having twins could be dangerous for Brian came back to him with crystal clarity . . .

"Justin?"

He tried to give Ted a shaky smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess . . . I guess I'm just surprised he's telling people without talking to me about it first."

Ted made a ‘what-can-you-do-it's-Brian' face. "Anyway," he said. "If you don't want to discuss it, that's fine. I totally understand. But if you ever do need to talk, you can call me anytime . . ."

They were interrupted by a loud yelp of pain. Both their heads snapped around to look at Brian.

"OW!!" Brian yelled at a poor, hapless guy who'd apparently just accidentally hit Brian in the chest with his cue stick while he was preparing to take a shot.

At the sound of Brian's dismayed voice, Michael suddenly transformed into Super Mikey, Protector of Brian Kinney.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he shouted at the astonished cue-stick-guy. "WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING! YOU COULD'VE REALLY HURT HIM!!"

Meanwhile, Brian was rubbing his chest. "Damn," he grumbled. "Right in the fucking tit. Thank you very much. Fuck."

Justin came over, and Brian lifted his t-shirt. "Kiss it and make it feel better," he said in his sluttiest voice. Suddenly Michael was there, shoving Justin out of the way so hard that Justin actually bumped into a table, spilling three other patrons' drinks. He was just about to let Michael have it with both barrels, when Emmett appeared beside him.

"Shake it off, sweetie," he whispered in Justin's ear. "Our dear, poor Michael is not in his right mind."

Justin snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"OH MY GOD!!" Michael shouted. "BRIAN, ARE YOU OKAY?! SHOULD I CALL THE DOCTOR?! DO YOU THINK YOUR MILK DUCTS HAVE BEEN DAMAGED . . . ?!"

Brian grabbed Michael from behind and clapped a hand over Michael's mouth.

"Oh my fucking God, Mikey!" he hissed in Michael's ear. "You have got to get your shit in a pile! What on earth were you thinking just now announcing the fact my tits are sore to the whole fucking bar?"

Michael hung his head. "I guess I wasn't," he mumbled sheepishly. "It's just . . . it's just . . . Brian, I am so fucking scared!"

He started to cry, and Brian wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.

"Ssshhhh," he whispered. "It's fine. Everything's fine. Get a grip, okay?"

He released Michael, who wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

"And use a fucking napkin for that," Brian said, handing Michael one. "That's un-fucking-sanitary . . ."

"I'm sorry," Michael said, starting to sob again. "It's just . . . everything I do is wrong. I'm going to fuck this up, and you're going to die . . ."

"I'm not going to die," Brian said with calm assurance. "Especially not from taking a cue to the tit. Now, let's all head back to my place." He put Michael in a headlock and gave him a fond mini-noogie. "But just one more thing: You can screech about ‘milk ducts' in Woody's, but you cannot treat Justin like you've been doing. That's nonnegotiable. I'm going to cut you some serious slack because I know you love me, and you're freaking out right now, but not when it comes to Justin. One more snarky comment, one more shove, and we're going to be having a serious talk. Got it?"

Michael swallowed audibly and then nodded. He didn't look at Justin or apologize, but Justin was nonetheless sure he'd gotten his last elbow in the ribs from Brian's best friend.

Chapter End Notes:

As you can tell, I'm giving short shrift to one of the mpreg genre's core aspects, namely the revelation by friends and family that so-and-so is pregnant. I'm doing so mostly because it's been done already in this context and done well. Also, I just didn't feel like it. LOL. How's that for a reason? Not to say that there won't be revelations among non-family members, but I'm skipping ahead ;) Also, I'm not spending a lot of time on people not believing that Brian's pregnant - perhaps because it's Brian revealing it, they're less skeptical. That said, there are two people that are going to find the news very challenging, and I can't wait to tell you about it . . . but I must ;)    

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