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Author's Chapter Notes:

Brian and Justin have to stop hurting each other.

You guys are going to want to stop reading at least a hundred times over the course this chapter. Don't! Stick it through to the end.

It was classic Brian.

"I'm off to work. Oh, by the way, I'm going to be busy on Saturdays for the foreseeable future. Deal with it. Later!"

*sound of door clanging shut*

Justin hadn't even had time to open his mouth before Brian had vanished in an Armani whirlwind.

"Okkaayyy," he said to the now-empty loft. The funny thing was that, as lame as that had been, it was still more information about his plans than Brian used to convey. Progress? Maybe. All Justin knew for sure was that if Brian wanted to spend Saturdays at the baths getting blown through glory holes, they were going to have yet another rip-roaring fight.

Oh well, two could play the failure-to-communicate game. He hadn't told Brian he was going shopping with his mom - and not at Nike Town.

"I know this idea may not be the wisest," his mom said an hour later when Justin let her in. "But I think we should at least consider it."

She stood looking around the loft as Justin put his shoes on. "Honey," she said tentatively. "Have you and Brian discussed whether you'll stay here after the babies are born? I can't think of a worse place. There are no rooms! How are you going to be able to sleep when Brian's up nursing? And what about him? Any time you want to give him a rest, you'll have to leave. There are no doors in this place."

Justin wanted to laugh and say something snarky about the loft being as good a playpen as it is a fuck pad, but his mom wouldn't see the humor in it. In fact, it would probably make her even more stressed out than she already was. Justin had seen her a couple of times since the gala, and every time she'd looked increasingly troubled and frayed.

"I almost wished I hadn't told you," he said. "You look like you're not sleeping . . . and were those cigarettes I saw in your purse? I thought you'd stopped smoking ages ago."

His mom blushed with embarrassment. "Just a couple a day - in case I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack."

"Which is probably a lot more than twice a day." He looked at her with dismay, but she waved his words away like smoke.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "You've got more than enough on your plate as it is."

He gave her a sad smile. "I know you signed the divorce papers yesterday," he said, taking her hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to take you out for coffee afterward and make you laugh."

She laughed. "Yes, because seeing you makes all those little worries melt away. God, Justin, life is giving us both whiplash these days. Now come on. Let's go to Babies R Us . . . I hope we're not making a mistake by doing this so soon, but I feel it's important that you two start collecting a few things between now and November. You need to get used to having baby stuff around. You're two men, for heaven's sake. Neither of you are going to be nesting."

They got on the elevator. "Nesting?" Justin asked. "Sounds like something birds and raccoons do."

It was pouring outside, so the two of them ran as quickly as they could to the car. Even so, they were drenched when they got in and slammed the doors shut.

"Ugh!" his mom said. "We should've picked a better day." She turned on the car, cranked up the heat and backed out of the "visitor parking" spot. "Nesting," she continued when they joined the traffic on the street, "is what a pregnant female mammal does while she's waiting for her babies to be born. She wants to make sure there's a safe, comfortable space for them when they arrive. Once her babies are born, she'll have no time and energy to do anything else except care for them."

Justin laughed. Just the thought of Brian "nesting" was hilarious! He'd be squirreling away shoes, porn, Doritos and anal beads.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Brian's not going to be building a nest," Justin said, still laughing at the thought.

His mom chuckled. "I don't think so either, but then again, Brian is very particular about his space. I mean, look at the loft. I've also been to his office - it's very nice too - and very Brian."

"I hardly think we're going to find an Italian leather crib or a stainless steel changing table," Justin said.

"Which is exactly why I think we need to start getting you guys - well, him, I should say - used to baby things. They're neither masculine nor sexy, and you're going to be surrounded by them for years. I know your father had a hard time with that at first. It all felt like silly clutter to him, and if Craig felt that way, you know Brian will. . . . And, Justin, have you considered the possibility that the twins might be girls?"

Justin's jaw dropped as he turned to look at her. She laughed.

"Why am I not surprised to learn you guys didn't even have the idea of girls on your radar? I have to laugh or else I'll cry. Five months is not evenclose to being long enough to prepare you two for the tsunami that's going to slam into your lives right around Thanksgiving."

"Oh God," Justin groaned into his hands. "Girls. Oh my God. Brian and I are totally fucked if the twins are girls."

"Well, I definitely suggest you find out the babies' genders as soon as possible," his mom said as they pulled into the mall parking lot. "Two gay men raising two little girls would be quite a challenge. At least they'd have their aunt Molly."

Justin groaned again as they got out of the car and bolted across the parking lot. As soon as they stepped through the sliding doors, Justin was assaulted by the sight of sheer mountains of baby stuff.

"Holy shit!" he breathed.

"Indeed," his mom said. "Now where should we go? I was thinking it would be a good idea to get car seats so that Brian can see how they work in his Jeep. My guess is that they won't work particularly well, and you guys will need to get an SUV or something. But he needs to see that for himself. If someone just goes ahead and tells him, his kneejerk response will be resistance."

She was absolutely right. Justin laughed. "When did you start knowing Brian even better than I do?"

"He's an open book to me, sweetheart," she said. "I've always wondered why he isn't to you as well; it's all right there in his eyes."

Justin wanted to ask her what she meant, but he had a feeling he might not want to hear the answer, so he left her remark blowing in the breeze like a sheet on a clothesline.

"Okay, well let's go to the car seat section," he said. "Where is it?" He turned in a full circle. Jesus! Who would've imagined there'd be so much shit for babies? Some people were getting very very rich off of expecting parents.

His mom placed a hand on his arm. "Let's start with something smaller," she said.

Justin frowned. "Why? I thought your car seat idea was perfect."

His mom took a deep breath and turned away for a moment. It was obvious she didn't want to answer his question.

"Because," she said. "There may never be babies to sit in them, and having to see them sitting there empty in the back of the Jeep will be devastating. Justin, you have to keep in mind that the odds against both twins surviving sound daunting. I think we should wait a couple more months before buying big items."

"They will survive," Justin said flatly. "I know that will."

His mom cupped his cheek. "You don't know," she said. "You hope they will, but hoping isn't knowing."

"You sound like Brian," he said and started walking for the doors as fast as he could. Why had his mom done that? He'd been so looking forward to this shopping trip, and she'd completely ruined it. He dashed tears from his eyes with an angry, impatient gesture. The twins were going to live. They weren't going to die. Miracles can't turn into nightmares.

His mother came running after him calling his name. He stopped and let her catch up. It was no longer pouring, but a cold drizzle was still falling. He didn't give a shit.

"Sweetie," she said. "Let's either go back inside or talk about this in the car."

"Why?" Justin said. "To make this conversation more comfortable? Fuck the rain! We will not lose the babies! I don't even want to entertain the possibility, so if all you want to do is ‘prepare me ahead of time,' then take me back to the loft."

His mom sighed. Maybe if was just rain, but he was pretty sure she was crying.

"Justin, baby," she said. "You cannot stick your head in the sand. Denying the truth is not going to make it go away."

"We just saw Dr. Bernstein yesterday. He said everything was fine. The babies' heartbeats are normal. Their size is normal. Brian's weight and hormone levels are perfect. There was nothing wrong."

"That doesn't mean there won't be in the future," his mom said. "Honey, let's go back in the store and buy a little something. Just not anything huge and expensive, okay? I'm just trying to look out for you."

"You can ‘look out for me' by not talking about death," he said. "You can ‘look out for me' by being excited for us."

"I am excited for you!" she said. "But I'm also afraid. Complications with this pregnancy aren't possible; they're probable, and you need to be alert for any sign that something is wrong. Denying reality isn't going to help Brian or the babies - in fact, it could make things worse. You're not the one with pregnancy hormones coursing through your veins. You think Brian is going to be able to make hard calls? Right now everything that's happening in his body is preparing him to go to great lengths to insure that the babies survive - even at his own expense. He does not and will not have a clear mind. That's your job, Justin."

He merely stared at her as the truth of her words sank into his bones. Eventually he swallowed the lump in his throat. She was right.

"Are we going to get something or not?" his mom asked. Justin nodded. She hugged him and kissed his cheek.

In the end, they settled on two sea-green baby blankets with whales on them. The fabric they were made from was the softest thing Justin had ever felt. He wished he and Brian had one of their own. They also got two maroon snugglies and two sand pillows that were the size and weight of a month-old infant. They were designed to break in dads with no experience of holding and carrying babies.

"This'll make you an old hand in no time," the cheerful salesgirl told Justin. "Just wear it around the house for a while every day. When is baby coming?"

Justin felt himself beaming. "Actually, it's two babies, and they're due the end of November."

"Oh how exciting!" she said. "Mommy must have her baby bump by now."

Both Justin and his mom had to bite their tongues to keep from cracking up.

"Yeah, there's a bump," Justin said. "It's pretty small though."

The girl looked as though she was doing math in her head for a moment. "The beginning of the second trimester," she said. "It'll happen fast. She'll go to bed one night with a cute little bump and wake up in the morning looking as though she'd swallowed a cantaloupe. And your wife is carrying twins. She's going to be huge! I hope you're good at giving foot rubs, daddy."

Justin couldn't stop smiling. No one, not even Brian, had talked about the pregnancy in such glowing, happy terms. The girl didn't know about complications; all she knew was that two babies were growing and getting ready make their debut.

"Make sure you bring them by," she said as she rang up their purchases. "I'd love to see them. Any guess as to the color of their eyes?"

"I have blue eyes, and my boyfr . . . uh, my partner has hazel eyes. I'm hoping for hazel. He's . . . I mean, she's got beautiful eyes."

The salesgirl blinked and looked confused for a second, but then she took Justin's slips perfectly in stride. She must've figured she'd misheard him. When he and his mom got back to the car, they broke down in hysterics.

"Oh God, I can't wait to see Brian in his snugglie!" Justin said. "That's if I can get him into one." He sighed, feeling wistful. If Brian really was a woman, Justin wouldn't have to twist his arm. He'd be just as carefree and unself-conscious as Justin was.

"He'll figure it out," his mom said as though she'd read his mind. "He'll have to."

She started the car, and they headed for the nearest Wendy's. Justin was quiet the whole way. Should he say anything? He wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he did want someone to talk to, and his mom, having raised two children, was a better source of advice than Daphne would be.

They ordered their meals and parked in a spot at the far end of the parking lot.

"Okay," his mom said. "Out with it."

He laughed. "Will I be as clairvoyant with the twins as you are with me?"

"Interesting question," she said. "I've always thought my ability to read my children came from the fact that I carried and gave birth to them."

"In which case," Justin said morosely. "Brian's going to be the clairvoyant one, not me."

"I have no idea," his mom said, trying to lighten the tone. "Who knows how it'll be with two males. I suppose it's anyone's guess, but I do imagine there will be some kind of a special bond between Brian and the twins. They were conceived and grew in his body, and he'll be the one to give birth to them. It'll be very interesting to see what happens."

Justin took a deep breath and released it. "I've been thinking really hard about whether Brian and I should live apart after the babies are born . . . not break up, but live in separate places. That way he could keep the loft."

His mom turned to him with a frown. "How on earth would that work? And when would it happen? Have you and Brian discussed how long he'll nurse? Depending on how it goes for him and the babies, he might nurse for a year or more. Why would you want to be separated from your children like that and for so long? Those first months are essential for healthy bonding with both parents."

Oh God. How was she going to react to the rest of his potential plan?

"I wouldn't be separated from them," he said. "I'd have primary custody. The babies would be with me most of the time . . ."

"Justin!" his mom interrupted. "Are you serious? I can't believe what I'm hearing! You'd take newborns away from their nursing parent for no good reason?"

"Brian could use a breast pump or something."

His mom shook her head disbelievingly. "Have you run that past Brian? Whether or not he in fact plans to nurse, he's going to be furious if the option is taken away from him. And, seriously, you really expect Brian to use a breast pump? I certainly can't imagine it. My guess is that if he nurses at all, he'll want to do it the way nature intended. And will Brian just give up the babies that easily?"

"When we discussed it, he seemed to agree with me that I'd be the better parent . . ."

"Seemed? Just wait until you try to take those little babies out of his arms and walk out the door! If someone had tried to do that with you and Molly, I would've torn them to ribbons with my teeth! Regardless of Brian's feelings in the long run, after he gives birth every cell in his body is going to fight to keep those babies beside him and under his care. That's how nature designed things. Babies need their mothers . . ."

"But Brian won't be their mother! He'll be their other father!"

"I will be shocked if Brian makes that distinction. Male or not, he's carrying them . . ."

Justin made a gesture of frustration. How could his mother, of all people, think that Brian should - or even could - raise the twins?

"Mom, listen to me," he said. "As soon as he can, Brian will go back to his preferred lifestyle. He'll want to go to bars and clubs. He'll want to have sex with other guys. He might even start drinking and doing drugs again. I have no idea how long he intends to stay sober after the twins are born . . ."

"You have no idea if Brian intends to stay sober," his mom said. She sounded incredulous. "Just out of curiosity, what else do you have ‘no idea about'? Do you two ever talk? My God, what a mess you kids are! And you're planning to raise babies? Forget taking Brian's custody away, neitherof you should have custody until you shape the hell up!"

Justin was appalled. "Me? he said. "I can raise the twins. I know I can. I think about it all the time . . ."

"But apparently you haven't bothered to discuss your thoughts with the person who's actually carrying them . . ."

"We did discuss it the other day, and Brian agreed I'd be a better parent and that he shouldn't have the responsibility of raising them. Even hedistrusts his ability to raise them. It's not just me."

His mom turned on the car. "I'm taking you back to Brian's," she said. "I don't know if I've ever been so angry at you."

He reached out and took the keys away.

"I cannot understand why you don't agree me," he cried. "You don't even like Brian! You probably wouldn't trust him with your houseplants! Before he got pregnant, Brian was adamant about never changing the way he lived. All he wanted to do was dance, party and fuck! If he lives with the twins, he simply can't go back to living like that, and I don't want to have to wonder all the fucking time if he's left them alone to go off doing his thing. He did exactly that with Gus once, and now Mel and Lindsay won't trust him to take care of Gus anymore!"

"But Brian wouldn't be alone," his mom insisted. "You'd be there with him . . ."

"Great. So I can care for the babies while he's out fucking and doing drugs? No way! We'll end up killing each other! It would be a disaster! We'd both end up in jail, and the twins would end up in foster care!"

"First of all, the twins will never end up in foster care. Deb and I would be fighting for custody. Neither of us would ever let them be taken away and raised by God only knows who. And second of all . . . Justin, you cannot possibly predict now what Brian will be like and what he'll want or do. You're so convinced he'll return to his old life. You're right, I have a lot of problems with Brian and his lifestyle, but I still know for a fact that being pregnant and giving birth will change him more than you - or he - could ever even imagine. The fact that you're trying to decide custody when the babies aren't even born is outrageous! Give him a chance, honey. You have to. Go down the lawsuit route and I seriously fear for you both. Unless you know for a fact that Brian will endanger the twins, do not try to take them away from him. The very thought of it breaks my heart. I hate to say it, sweetheart, but you're the one less suited to raise those babies if you could ever imagine it would be good for them to take them away from the person who brought them into the world."

Justin was seriously shaken. And what could he say to defend himself? His mom was superimposing her own experience on top of Brian and the twins. The situation wasn't even comparable. His mom wasn't Brian. And she never had to worry that his father was going to go out partying and having sex every night with complete strangers . . .

. . . but she was right in one sense: Brian was going to change. He'd already started to. But would those changes last beyond the twins' birth?

"All I'm saying is give him a chance," his mom said, reading his mind once again. "If your fears turn out to be justified . . . well, then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. But you don't have a crystal ball, and sometimes the past really isn't the best predictor of the future - especially when there's been an intervening experience like pregnancy and birth . . . and maybe even a near-death experience . . . no, don't hold your hand up. What if Brian almost dies? What if one of the twins doesn't survive? You will not recognize the Brian who will emerge from either of those scenarios - for good or for bad. Stop trying to read tea leaves before the tea's even been brewed."

Justin nodded and handed her back the keys. The conversation had exhausted him. All he wanted was to go home and sleep . . . and hold Brian if he was there. Confused as he was, Justin couldn't imagine a world without Brian in it - and he couldn't imagine surviving if Brian died, which was crazy! Here he was constantly weighing the pros and cons of leaving Brian . . . But leaving him was not the same thing as losing him. Not even close. He could leave Brian - he might even ultimately decide to do just that . . . but if Brian died . . . A glimpse down that path revealed nothing but darkness as thick and as black as tar.

 

Justin had just gotten home from his Saturday afternoon shift at the diner when Brian staggered into the loft, stumbled over the rug and collapsed on the couch. When Justin asked what was going on, he just groaned and shook his head.

"Water," he croaked.

Justin went to the kitchen. Fear pooled in his belly like molten lead. Was Brian drunk? He returned to the living room and handed Brian the bottle. Brian drained it in four gulps.

Ecstasy makes you thirsty. Oh God . . . had he been taking E?

Brian threw the empty bottle in the direction of the kitchen. It didn't get very far.

"Opps," he said and closed his eyes.

"Uhm, is everything alright?" Justin asked. "You seem . . ."

"Pooped. Why, oh why, did I do this to myself?" Brian moaned. "Why on earth did I think it was a good idea?" He sniffed under his arms. "Jesus, I stink! Don't they ever clean that fucking place?"

It hit Justin like a cannonball fired from close range. Brian had been at the baths. He'd been at the baths and gotten completely fucked up. He'd been at the baths, gotten completely fucked up and had sex with God only knows how many guys.

Jesus. What the fuck was Justin going to do? The deeds were already done - what could he do?

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked. "Maybe if you . . . if you get some food in your stomach you'll feel better." Brian must be able to hear his heart pounding with heavy, nauseating thuds.

"Yeah, good idea," Brian said. His voice was hoarse - probably from drinking shots of Beam and shouting during his orgasms. "I didn't eat anything. The food there is disgusting."

Justin pulled out the bread and banged the cabinet door shut. He snorted ruefully. The "food" at the baths really was disgusting. God only knew how old the shit in the vending machines was. Adonis had a ‘snack bar' for people who liked to spend the whole day (and night) without having to leave to grab a burger. Just the smell of the "soup of the day" mixed with the moist, clingy odor of sweat, sex and moldy towels used to make Justin's stomach turn over. He and Brian used to put Vics Vapor Rub on their upper lips if the atmosphere was too funky. Try to breathe through your mouth as much as possible, Brian had advised him the first time they went there together. And avoid the toilet stalls in the bathroom at all costs. If you've gotta piss, use the urinal, and if it's clogged, use a sink. Just, in the name of all things holy (get it? Hahaha), do NOT go into a stall. Sadly, there are assholes (get it?) who don't do their enemas at home like civilized people. ‘Nuff said.

Just where he wanted the babies to spend their Saturday afternoons - it didn't matter that they were in utero, the thought made Justin want to maim someone. Ideally the baths' owners . . . and patrons . . . even whoever the fuck it was who made the fucking soup of the day!

"Sandwich," Brian said from the couch. "Give me. Now."

Justin didn't bother opening the bread bag in the manner the bag designers had intended. Instead, he ripped it open, pulled out a couple slices, slapped on some mustard and threw the knife in the sink, shattering an empty glass that was in it.

"What the fuck?" Brian said without sitting up.

"Opps, my bad," Justin replied. "At least now there's a new ingredient for your sandwich. Perhaps you'd like some broken glass with your turkey, lettuce and mustard on rye? Nice and crunchy, yum yum yum."

This time Brian sat up.

"Okay," he said. "What the fuck is wrong with you? And let me just suggest that, before you answer that question, you pull the stick out of your ass and beat yourself over the head with it." He laughed and collapsed back down on the couch.

Justin froze. Brian must be really hammered! He was always careful not to make jokes about Justin getting hit in the head.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Brian groaned. "Shit," he said. "Sorry. That sucked. It's just that I'm fucking tired and hungry and you want to feed me broken glass for some reason. I fucking hate it when you do shit like this. If you've got a fucking bug up your ass, then fucking tell me what it is. Don't be a dick. I'll ask you again: What the fucking fuck is your fucking problem?"

Justin slapped the sandwich on the plate. "Anything on the side," he asked. "Chips? Pickle? Two aspirins and a shot of penicillin?"

Silence.

And then it happened so fast . . .

Brian was right there, grabbing Justin's shoulders and shaking him with all his strength. And then Brian shoved him against the refrigerator door so hard that juicer fell off and crashed on the floor.

"You think I've been drinking," Brian hissed. "You think I've been at the baths."

"Yes, in fact, that is exactly what I think!" Justin yelled in his face. "I'm not a fucking IDIOT!"

Brian drew back his fist for a close-range punch, but in the last fraction of an instant, he opened his hand and slammed it into the refrigerator within a mere inch of Justin's face.

Justin could barely recognize Brian's face; it was so warped and twisted with rage. If Justin believed he'd seen Brian angry before, he realized that it'd been only a pale shadow of what he was seeing now.

Brian grabbed him by the throat, and it crossed Justin's mind . . . Brian might kill him. When Brian started to squeeze his fingers, Justin struggled with all his might to escape. When suddenly Brian just simply let go, Justin ran to the door. But he stopped before opening it. He was not going to run away.

Brian stalked toward him, his right hand clenched in a fist. Did Brian even know what he was doing?

"Is this going to be what you plan to do to the twins when you come through the door after a binge?" Justin yelled. "I don't want to tell you who this makes me think of!"

Brian was shaking all over with absolute fury. "Five fucking seconds," he said. "That's how long you have to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Justin straightened his shoulders and held up his chin. "Or what?" he said. "I'm not going anywhere. And you are going to take a fucking shower and go to bed. I'm not going to leave! Are you fucking crazy? You don't get to just throw me out! You might go to the liquor store! I have to stay to protect . . ."

Brian's smile turned sickly - scary - sweet. "Oh right," he said. "Someone needs to make sure I don't kill the babies." His laugh made chills run up and down Justin's spine. He'd never seen Brian like this; he'd never even imagined it was possible!

"Justin, I'm serious," he said almost pleadingly. "I think I could kill you right now . . ."

To Justin's horror, Brian turned, went to the kitchen and got a knife.

Things had gottendangerously out of hand.

"Leave," Brian said with a terrible calm. "And go to Lindsay's."

"Why?" Justin asked. It seemed like the last thing Brian should want. What if he told Mel and Lindsay about what'd almost happened - or at least might've happened. And surely Brian wouldn't want Justin to tell them he was drunk . . .

"Because I fucking TOLD YOU TO! Get out, Justin!"

"But . . ." He started to cry. Everything was wrong. Everything in their whole fucking world was wrong

"No buts."

"I can't . . ."

"Oh, yes, you can . . . and you will. This is my home. Give me your fucking phone."

"You're nuts if you think I'm going to get anywhere near you! You've got a fucking knife in your hand, Brian!"

Brian looked at the knife as though he didn't remember having picked it up. He dropped it into the sink as though it'd burned him. And then he stared at his hand; he looked stunned. Then he looked at Justin again.

"Throw it to me," he said.

Justin got his phone out of his pocket, but he didn't throw it. What if he needed to call 911?

"Now," Brian said.

Justin took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them a second later, he tossed the phone into Brian's waiting grasp and watched him dial.

"Hey, Linds, it's me," he said in a perfectly calm, normal voice. "Justin's going to be there in fifteen minutes. Make sure you have tea and cookies ready. Bye."

He hung up the phone and tossed it back to Justin who barely caught before it fell on the floor.

"I'm not going," he said.

Brian ignored him and went upstairs. Justin heard the shower turn on.

Jesus fucking Christ! Was Brian insane? Should he call Dr. Bernstein and ask about hospitalization. Brian was making a good case for involuntary admission!

"GO!" Brian yelled.

"Brian!" he yelled, his voice catching on tears. "How do you expect me to go? What will you do after I leave?

"I'll go to bed," Brian shouted. "Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME! Do not let me see you when I get out of this shower, because God as my fucking witness, Justin . . . I don't know what I'll do! Leave, now. For all of our sakes!"

It was the allusion to the babies that finally made up Justin's mind. Even if Brian did go to the liquor store after Justin left, alcohol couldn't possibly be worse than the violent emotions ripping Brian's mind to shreds . . .

"Okay!" he shouted, his voice still catching on tears. "I'm leaving now! I don't want to, but I will!"

There was no reply.

 

When Mel opened the door, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Justin, baby, sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you okay. Why does your throat look red? Lindsay!"

Justin looked up as Lindsay came running down the stairs. She froze when she saw Justin. Her hand flew to her chest like a startled bird.

"Justin?" she said, clearly already on the verge of tears. "What's going on? Why did Brian tell me you were coming over? Does he know you're upset?"

"Forget ‘upset,'" Mel said. "He looks traumatized. C'mon into the living room, sweetie, and sit down. Jesus, you're shaking all over!"

Justin walked slowly as though his body was made from fine china that'd started to crack. When he reached the sofa, he sat on the very edge, his back straight and rigid.

"Can we get you anything?" Lindsay asked. "Water, tea?"

Justin merely shook his head. He wasn't sure he could speak, let alone swallow something.

"Okay," she said and nodded to Mel who'd been standing wringing her hands. Mel sat down on one side of Justin and Lindsay said down on the other side. For a moment, Justin was powerfully aware of the smell of apple pie baking in the kitchen. It felt so normal . . . so innocent.

He started to cry and couldn't stop. Both Mel and Lindsay rubbed his back soothingly and waited patiently for his tears to stop. When they finally did, Lindsay got up and went to the kitchen. He heard her fill the kettle.

"Bring me a cup too," Mel called to her. "And make it decaf."

"We're all getting decaf," Lindsay called back. "Especially after the afternoon I had, Good lord! Brian kept buying me coffee. I thought my head was going to pop off."

Justin's head snapped up. "Brian?" he said. "You saw Brian today?"

"Mel?" Lindsay said. "Why don't you give Justin the rough outline, and I'll fill in the details when the tea's ready."

Justin turned to Mel. He was holding his breath. What was she going to say that would make any sense in the world that Justin was inhabiting at the moment?

"Well, the long and short of it is that Brian took Gus - and Linds - to Chuck E. Cheese this afternoon."

Justin's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" he said.

"I know," Mel said. "I was shocked to. He showed up around eleven . . . after not having bothered to call ahead of time, I'll add."

"That's not exactly true," Lindsay said from the kitchen. "I'd talked with him about it on Thursday."

Mel made an irritated face. "It would've been nice of you to have let me know."

"I did! You must've just repressed it. I told you . . ."

Justin waved his arms in a "Time Out" gesture. "I'm sorry to be rude," he said, "but I really need to hear about Brian."

"Like I said," Mel continued. "He showed up around eleven and announced he wanted to take Gus to Chuck E. Cheese. After I awoke from my dead faint and rose from the floor, I said something alone the lines of ‘the fuck you are.' At which point, my darling wife intervened and said she'd go too. I still wasn't psyched about the idea, but I couldn't think of a good reason to prohibit it, so they left, Gus squealing with glee as they walked out the door. Fucking asshole . . . not Gus! I mean Brian. Considering how little he's been around, Gus shouldn't even recognize the bastard let alone lose his head with excitement the second he walks through the door. It's fucking annoying as hell . . ."

"Anyway," Linds interrupted, emerging from the kitchen with a tea tray and setting it on the coffee table. "Brian and I took Gus to Chuck E. Cheese, which I confess I'd always said I'd die before going to. And it lived up to my prediction, but Gus acted like he'd died and gone to toddler heaven. You should've seen Brian! It was hilarious! He clearly hated every second of it, but every time I suggested we leave, he refused. He said we'd hang out until Gus wore himself out. All three of us were exhausted when we got in the Jeep. Brian was adamant about taking Gus to that McDonald's by Home Depot - you know, the one with the huge play area. I put my foot down, and said no flipping way. Gus had fallen asleep; I was ready to saw my feet off they hurt so much, and I didn't think it was good for Brian to keep running around after a toddler, so we called it quits for the day."

Mel shook her head incredulously. "Can you fucking believe it? And it gets even weirder: Brian said he wants to take care of Gus every Saturday! Crazy shit!"

Lindsay sighed irritably. "It's not crazy. Isn't it obvious what's going on? He's practicing for the twins . . ."

Justin stood up. He couldn't sit still another second. He braced his hands on the table and stood staring down at his refection in the polished wood. He looked just as stricken as he felt.

"Justin?" Lindsay said. "What's going on? Did you two get in a fight?"

"You could say that," Justin replied ruefully. "It was pretty much the mother of all fights - easily the worst we've ever had." He sighed and began pacing, all the while shaking his hands, trying to get the feeling back into them. They were tingling - probably from a shortage of oxygen.

"Shit," Mel said with a sigh.

"Please tell me!" Lindsay pleaded. "Is Brian okay?"

"Is Brian the only one you can think of?" Mel snapped. "I mean, look at Justin! Whatever happened was obviously terrifying!"

Lindsay stood and grabbed the tea tray. "Can we please stop having this argument. There are more important things to talk about right now. I simply asked how Brian was because he's in a very vulnerable state, and he was exhausted after chasing around after Gus all afternoon. Excuse me, if I'm a bit worried about him."

Justin stopped pacing. His head was going to explode if they didn't stop squabbling. "Please!" he said. "Please don't argue. I can't take it."

Both Lindsay and Mel looked contrite.

"Of course, sweetie," Mel said.

"Is Brian okay?" Lindsay asked again.

"Yes . . . no . . . fuck I don't know. God, I did a terrible thing! As usual, he didn't tell me where he'd been, so when he came home tired and hungry and weird, I just assumed he'd been drinking and fucking all day. We got in a fight about it . . ."

He decided he was not going to reveal how words had almost come to blows. That was between him and Brian, and he shuddered to think how Mel would react.

". . . I accused . . . Jesus fucking Christ! I accused him of being like his father."

"Oh, Justin," Lindsay said sadly. "I know you must've said it because you were so upset, but there really wasn't anything worse you could've said."

Justin covered his face with his hands. He was burning with shame and on the edge of tears again.

"He'd . . . he'd been with his son," he hic-cupped. "Oh God, I deserve to be thrown out of his life forever."

Mel snorted. "It's not like he hasn't said worse things to you."

"I don't care!" Justin shouted. "That was the past! Everything's changed now! God, why can't I trust him?"

"Maybe because he hasn't given you any reason to," Mel replied.

Lindsay returned from kitchen. Her face was pink with anger. "That is simply not true!" she shouted at Mel. "Justin, has Brian ever lied to you? Has he ever said one thing to your face and done the opposite behind your back?"

Justin shook his head miserably. "But . . . it's the babies, Linds," he said. "The babies are making me crazy. They're probably making him crazy too! He used to only hurt himself; now if he drinks and does drugs and fucks indiscriminately, he might be hurting them too. I worry he can't possibly care enough to protect them if the temptation got too great."

Lindsay turned on him. Apparently she was now angry at him. "Then you haven't been paying attention! If that's what you think, you don't know anything. You should've seen him today. I don't think his hand left his belly once unless to play with Gus. I asked him if he didn't feel well, and he looked surprise and said he was fine. I don't think he even realizes that he is constantly touching his belly. It's instinct. He's in love with those babies, Justin. With every fiber of his being, conscious or unconscious."

Justin collapsed in the armchair. He'd never felt so drained.

"I know," he said wearily. "You're right. I'm a fucking asshole."

"It doesn't seem to me like beating yourself up is going to help the situation," Mel said gently. "Let's think about what to do now and not dwell on what's already occurred. Linds? Any ideas?"

Linds sighed. "Well, one thing I know is that he shouldn't be left alone. Justin, why don't you and I go to the loft? Things will go better if I'm there."

Justin nodded. She was probably right.

"I just have to warn you," he said. "He might still be really really pissed."

"Then we'll just have to deal with it," Lindsay said. "What choice do we have? He shouldn't be left alone. What if something happens?" She started to cry. Mel got up and wrapped her arms around her.

"Don't tilt at windmills," she said gently. "Just get your asses over there. And call me if you need to - that's an order."

Lindsay sniffled and gave her a little smile. "Alright," she said. "Justin, let's go."

 

The first thing they smelled when they walked through the door of the loft was alcohol. The first thing they saw was a three-quarter empty bottle of Beam on the kitchen island. And the first thing they heard was a vicious, taunting laugh from the couch. Justin was so stunned with horror that he froze on the threshold. It was Lindsay who ran in; snatched the glass out of Brian's hand; threw it against the wall, and slapped Brian's face so hard that she made his nose bleed. She would've leapt on him and started pummeling him except that Justin ran over and pulled her off him.

"Jesus, Wendy," Brian slurred, dabbing at his bleeding nose with his t-shirt. "You can really pack a wallop for a girl."

"I'm not Wendy!" she screamed at him. "And right now, I'm not even your friend! What the fuck are you doing?!"

Brian laughed until he got the hic-cups. "Holy shit," he said. "You just said ‘fuck.' You must really be pissed off!"

"I hate you!" she screamed. "But not as much as you're going to hate yourself when you sober up!"

"Linds," Justin said, trying to calm her if even just a little bit. He had to admit, though, that he was glad she was saying what needed to be said and not him.

"Now you are going to go to that bathroom!" she yelled. "And you are going to kneel in front of that toilet, and you're going to stick your finger down your throat until you puke!"

Brian stared at her, his jaw dropped. Had she ever talked to him before like that? Justin was pretty sure she hadn't.

When Brian didn't move, she ran to the bedroom and came back with Brian's wallet.

"I am going to do something to you that might cause you to hate me for the rest of your life, but, Brian Kinney, do you want to know something? I DON'T CARE!"

She opened Brian's wallet and pulled something out. For a second, Justin didn't know what it was, and then it hit him. It was the photo from the first ultrasound. They hadn't been able to see much, but it'd been clear enough that they could make out two distinct blobs.

Lindsay marched over to Brian and threw the photo on his chest.

"Remember how many times you showed that to me today? Probably not because you're drunk. I'll tell you. You showed it to me five times, Bri! Five times!"

Brian stared up at her, and their eyes locked, but she didn't look away. It was Brian who did. After a moment, he picked up the photo and stared at it for a long time . . .

. . . then he got up and ran to the bathroom. It wasn't long before Justin heard him vomit and vomit until clearly there was nothing left in his stomach. And then Brian started to sob. The anguish was so obvious that it all but tore Justin's heart out. He looked at Lindsay. All the color that'd been in her face had vanished. She looked like she might pass out.

"Which of us?" Justin whispered.

"You," she whispered in reply. "I'm going to call a cab and go home."

"Are you going to be okay?"

She shook her head but smiled anyway. "I'm not the one you should be worrying about," she replied. "Go to him."

And then she was gone.

Brian was still sobbing when Justin reached the bathroom. He hadn't even bothered removing his head from the toilet bowl as if he didn't feel he deserved to lie down. Justin knelt beside him and began smoothing his hand over Brian's back.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" It wasn't so much words as it was an agonized groan.

"Sshhh," Justin said soothingly.

"You must hate me," Brian said. "I would if I was you."

"I don't hate you," Justin said. "Listen, why don't we get in the shower, okay? And then get you something to eat. I'll call for delivery while you get undressed."

Brian lifted his head out of the toilet and nodded.

Justin went downstairs and called for a pizza delivery. Large, just cheese. When he hung up he headed back to the bathroom. He was astonished at himself. He felt so calm, so in control of the situation. And then it hit him: This is what his mother had been talking about when she said he had to keep a clear head - that keeping a clear head was his job.

Brian was standing under the stream of water, his head bowed. Justin joined him and started washing his back.

"You were right, you know," Brian said after a minute. "I am like my dad."

Justin turned him around and lifted his chin, forcing Brian to look in his eyes.

"You are not like your father," he said fiercely. "I said what I did out of anger. It's not true, Brian."

Predictably Brian said, "You don't know that."

Justin gave Brian's chin a little shake. "Actually I do," he said. He took a deep breath. "Lindsay told me where you were today, and that's why you sent me over there, because you wanted me to know, but because you are who you fucking are, you weren't going to tell me yourself. Brian, your father would never have set foot in a place like Chuck E. Cheese. Neither of your parents would've. But you did, even though it must've rubbed your every last nerve the wrong way."

Brian gave him a tiny smile. "Yeah," he said. "It did."

"But you stuck with it." Justin returned his smile. "You're amazing," he said. "You're going to be the best father ever."

Brian turned his head and started to cry again. Justin wrapped his arms around him and held him as close and tight as possible.

"But . . . But I drank," Brian said, choking on his words. "I was so fucking angry at you. And now . . . God, Justin! What if I hurt them?!"

Justin did his best to soothe him again. "We're going to call Dr. Bernstein as soon as we get out of the shower, and we'll make the earliest appointment possible, even if we have to drag the poor guy out of bed at 4 in the morning."

Brian huffed out a little laugh that made Justin kiss him despite the nauseating mixture of Beam and vomit. "Turn around so I can shampoo your hair," Justin said. Brian did as he was told and sighed as Justin massaged his scalp.

"We have to stop hurting each other," Brian said after a minute. "It stops now." He reached up, took one of Justin's sudsy hands and pressed his lips against Justin's palm. "Okay?" he said.

Justin put all of his heart and soul into his voice when he spoke his simple answer. "Okay," he replied.

Chapter End Notes:

This is a major turning point for our parents-to-be. Stay tuned . . . .    

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