The nice thing about being a pregnant man is that no one asks you annoying questions like Was it planned? or That must be a HUGE baby! Do you feel like you're about to pop? or Should you be eating/drinking that? or Do you have any cravings? or, worst of all, Would you like my seat?Fortunately for Brian's ego, no one gives up their seat for a fat, pissed-off -looking dude or lets him cut ahead in line at the grocery store. If people do anything at all, they look at Brian's beautiful face and then at his belly, and the disconnect makes them so confused that their heads explode.

Brian loved it.

"I might get pregnant again," he said. "I love fucking with people. But then again I love just fucking them too, which I CAN'T DO NOW AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! I WANT MY COCK BACK!"

"I swear," Justin said fervently every time the possibility of another pregnancy was mentioned by anyone in any manner, "after Helen's sister is born, I won't even look at Brian's ass unless I'm wearing a perfectly-fitting, heavy-duty industrial-strength condom."

"Oh, it won't happen again," Deb said once, waving her hand dismissively. "This was a one-in-a-trillion event."

"I'm not planning on testing that theory," Justin told her. "You haven't lived with a pregnant Brian Kinney for eight months. You can't even imagine what hell looks like until you do."

"Poor Sunshine," Deb said, patting him consolingly on the shoulder. She looked like she was about to say something else when the man, himself, walked into the diner with a snuggie-carrier full of Helen. No matter how many times Deb saw her, she still went crazy, cooing and smiling and tapping Helen's little nose.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she said to Brian. "Between the snuggie and the belly, you look like a fucking grizzly bear!"

"Be sure not to poke me then," Brian groused. "Where are my French Fries? I thought we agreed there'd always be a batch set and ready to go anytime I set foot in this lousy establishment."

"Grumpy, grumpy. Your daddy's a grumpy-puss," Deb said, lifting Helen out of her snuggie. Since the yellow of jaundice had gone away, it was easy to see now exactly why Helen was an apt name. She was gorgeous. She was pure Brian - at least that's what Justin thought. Everyone else said she was a perfect mixture of both of them, but Justin was sure they were just being nice. Helen's mouth looked like Brian's; her nose looked like Brian's, and despite the fact they were blue, her eyes looked exactly like Gus's, which meant they, too, looked like Brian's.

Emmett came over. For a nanosecond he looked like he might pat Brian's belly, but the time for touching Brian had long ago expired. Justin thought he heard a feral growl, and Emmett snatched his hand back as though he'd stuck it through the bars of a tiger cage.

"I wouldn't do that if you value your fingers, sweetie," Deb said. "Here, why don't you hold the one that escaped; I've gotta take people's lunch orders."

Emmett took Helen and bounced her up and down. "Hello there, honey . . ."

"I wouldn't do that either," Deb said. But it was too late. Helen spat up down the back of Emmett's new orange valor shirt.

Brian grinned at him evilly. "Just remember, Honeycutt. That's my milk she just christening you with."

Emmett looked like he was going to barf, himself, and quickly handed Helen to Ted.

"Hey," Brian said. "I don't want any loser dust rubbing off on her."

"Ha ha," Ted said, not even bothering to look at Brian and instead wiping Helen's chin clean with a napkin.

Just then Michael walked in but froze on the threshold when he spotted the "Kinney Clan," his eyes wide with dismay like a deer in headlights.

"For God's sake, Michael!" Deb yelled. "Close the Goddamn door! It's fucking one hundred degrees below zero out there!"

"C'mon, Mikey," Brian said irritably. "Stop heating the sidewalk, get in here, and hold my baby. I'm sick of this shit. She won't bite . . . thank God seeing as she spends half the day with my tits in her greedy little maw."

Michael closed the door and approached them slowly. He was giving Helen a wary look.

"Please scream, please scream, please scream," Justin chanted under his breath.

"You're horrible," Mel whispered in his ear making him jump out of his skin.

"Goddamn it, Mel!" he screeched, and Helen burst into tears. Justin had never heard a more beautiful sound.

"You planned that, didn't you?" he said to her. "Admit it. You're evil."

"Possibly," Mel said. "But I'm also fucking sick of people acting weird about the baby." She nodded in the direction of Lindsay. Justin gave her an "oh, shit" face.

"Lindsay, too?"

"Yup. She was able to handle it for about a week, but now she's melting down big time."

"What's wrong?"

"It's seems that everything is wrong in one shape, form or another, but you'll be very surprised when I tell you that she won't talk about it with me. Ssshhh, here she comes."

Justin put on his best WASPy "Why, hello there!" expression. They lovingly air-kissed each other's cheeks. When she pulled away, it became obvious to him that she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"Is everything okay with Gus?" he asked with concern.

Lindsay's eyes filled with tears. "He's fine unless you count the fact that he's not wanted."

"Oh, for God's sake," Mel said rolling her eyes and walking away.

Justin grimaced inside, but he was extra careful not to let it show on his face. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

She sniffled, tossed her hair back, and smoothed down the front of her cashmere Talbot's sweater.

"Nothing," she said, and gave him a watery smile.

Oh boy.

Justin watched her approach Brian as though she barely knew him.

"Hello, Brian," she said primly. "It's nice to see you and Helen here, but are you sure she should be out? It's awfully cold. I didn't think it was appropriate to take Gus outside this morning and he's a toddler."

Brian froze as several expressions crossed his face in quick succession. Then he glanced over at Deb who'd been listening to Lindsay's words. Brian looked panicked. Justin could see the question in his eyes: "Did I fuck up?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Deb said. She went to Ted and took a sniffling Helen in her arms. "Have you seen that snuggie? It's made for exploring Antarctica. It's even got warm water bottles that surround her on every side . . ."

"Plus Brian, himself, is hot," Emmett added.

Deb cackled. "She's fine, aren't you, my little pea who's no longer in a pod?" She kissed Helen's cheek and then turned to her son.

"I am going to give her to you," she said sternly. "You're gonna hold her and you're gonna like it."

It was Justin's turn to freeze. If Michael dropped her . . .

Deb approached her son, who actually took a couple steps back. Deb wasn't deterred. "Hold your arms out. There you go. She's not scary."

Michael's whole body was stiff; it would be a miracle if Helen couldn't sense his discomfort and scream again (an event that would've pleased Justin to no end). But then slowly he began to relax and started looking back and forth between her face and Brian's. Eventually, he smiled.

"She looks exactly like you," he said to Brian. Was that relief in his voice? Justin wanted to strangle him.

"Yeah, Sunshine," Brian said. "Are you sure it was you who shoved your ten-inch cock up my ass and shot your huge load like a stud stallion?" He gave Justin a wink that said loud and clear "just leave it alone."

Mel nudged him in the ribs, and it was all Justin could do to keep from cracking up with laughter. He glanced around; everyone was either shaking their heads or rolling their eyes or both. Except Lindsay.

"Brian," she said. "Can I speak with you alone for a minute?"

Brian had just been served his French fries. Justin expected him to tell her to buzz off until he was done, but he didn't. Instead he took Helen from Michael and gave her to Justin.

"Back in a sec," he said.

Justin was surprised; Brian had said a normal thing!

"I was talking to Helen, not you," Brian said by way of clarification and followed Lindsay outside. Helen reached up for Justin's nose. She was still so small that she could almost get her fist in one of his nostrils.

"Do you think you could work on civilizing him? Please?" he asked her. She smiled and burbled milk down her chin.

"I'll take that as a ‘yes,'" he said and kissed her forehead.

He looked out the window and couldn't see Brian and Lindsay; they'd probably gone to the little park where Ethan sometimes played (hopefully not today) to sit down on a park bench for the sake of Brian's back and feet.

Mel came over. "Christ," she said. "She just has to know that she's on his mind, and if she thinks she isn't, she'll create a reason to be."

Justin frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'll bet you anything that she's out there picking a fight with him over Gus and how now that Brian has the twins, he won't spend time with Gus anymore. She said on the drive here that she thought it was ‘cruel' that Brian had started spending Saturdays with Gus ‘just for practice' and now he'll dump Gus in favor of the twins."

Justin scrubbed his face with the hand that wasn't holding onto his daughter. "I can see that Gus is being used as code for Lindsay, herself," he said.

"That's my guess," Mel said. "Can I hold her for a moment?"

Justin nodded distractedly and gave Helen to her. He really didn't want Brian getting upset. Their OB/GYN, Dr. Russell, had told them that the situation with Helen's twin would be entirely different than the situation with Helen had been. She even thought it was possible for Brian to go into some form of labor, which would obviously be disastrous because if he started pushing, there'd be nowhere for the baby to go. Depending on how strong the contractions were, Dr. Russell said she believed it was possible that the baby's neck might get broken if Brian's pushing squashed her fragile skull against his pelvic bone!

If he does go into some form of labor, Dr. Russell said, you've got to do everything you possibly can to stop him from pushing. It's going to be his instinct, but he mustn't do it.

Great, Justin had thought. Telling Brian not to do something was difficult on the best of days; telling him to not do something in the midst of labor would be tantamount to taking his life into his hands. He desperately hoped they'd have the caesarian before anything like that occurred. It was scheduled for the end of next week. Justin was crossing his fingers that Brian would be able to hold out for that long.

Brian and Lindsay weren't gone all that long (for which Justin thanked the freezing temperature). When they returned, they both looked angry and upset. Brian immediately came over and took Helen from Mel without saying a word. Meanwhile, Lindsay went straight to the restroom.

"I hope you didn't just turn my home life into flaming hell," Mel said.

Brian glared at her. He looked like he was about to say something when Justin stepped in.

"Hey," he said to Brian. "Why don't we head home? Deb? Can we get a box for Brian's fries?" He reached for Helen. "Here, let me put her back in her pouch. Hi there, baby girl, ready to sit on your twin again?"

Once he got Helen settled and put on her knit hat with antennae sticking up (insects were not on the list of prohibited gifts), he took Brian's arm and led him to the door. They were halfway home, their breath smoking in the cold, when Brian finally said something.

"She thinks I'm ruining your life."

Justin almost tripped over his feet. "Excuse me?" he said. "Mel said she thought Linds was angry because we weren't going to be able to see Gus as much as we had been."

"Who knows," Brian replied. "Maybe she's pissed about that too . . . well, actually, she's not ‘pissed' per se about you, she's ‘just concerned.' Goddamn it! I hate it when she does this shit. I know where it comes from, but I still hate it."

Justin frowned. "Where do you think it comes from?"

"Oh, she's feeling insecure. She's worried that between you and the twins, she's going to lose her place in my life. I told her not to be upset because everyone is going to lose their place in my life. That didn't help. I should've known better. Linds is a lot like me; neither of us wants to be treated like everyone else by the other. We're special, you see. It's why I've given her so much shit about Mel over the years."

Justin blinked. He was frankly stunned that Brian had that much levelheaded insight into his relationship with Lindsay. He knew it had to be due to the twins in some way. All of the changes in Brian were.

"But what's all this crap about ruining my life? Where the hell did that come from?"

Brian shrugged. They'd reached their building, and the brief window for meaningful communication was closed. Justin sighed, but then he reminded himself that Brian was doing a better job of communicating than he ever had before. Helen wasn't the only one taking baby steps.

"Wanna fuck?" Brian said when they got off the elevator. Justin instinctively freaked out for a second. Brian had asked the question in front of Helen! He mentally smacked himself on the back of the head.

Did he want to fuck? Was water wet?

He helped get Helen out of her snuggie and took her to the bathroom for a change of diapers while Brian wrestled himself out of his clothes. When he was undressed and propped up on his mountain of pillows, Justin brought Helen to him and watched her eat her lunch with her tiny hand pressed against Brian's chest. Miraculously, Brian didn't have a fit when Justin got a pad and pencil and started sketching. Like everything else, Brian had gradually taken breastfeeding in stride. He simply didn't give a shit, and he liked not giving a shit. Next to fucking, it was his favorite hobby. Once he hadn't given a shit if people had a problem with him being gay and fucking every guy with a mouth and an asshole; now he'd added breastfeeding to the list. Fuck ‘em.

After Helen had finished eating and then burbing it all back up again (at least that's how it seemed to Justin), he put her in the crib by the bed and started kissing Brian as though Brian was air and Justin had been drowning.

Sex was different. It was quieter so they wouldn't wake Helen, but oddly enough - or maybe because it was quieter - it was hungrier. They kissed and touched more; fingers and tongues went everywhere, and the sounds they made were soft and gut-deep. Brian found penetrative sex uncomfortable, so they sucked and stroked each other to orgasm again and again. And they smiled and laughed a lot (although quietly). Justin . . . well, actually both of them had worried their sex life would come to a screeching halt, but it hadn't. It'd just changed, and Justin made sure they did it as often as possible and for as long as possible, even if he wasn't in the mood. It was absolutely crucial that Brian not feel that the sexual/sensual part of his life was over. Justin had a hard time imagining Brian ever resenting Helen for anything, but he didn't even want to testhis theory. Brian without fucking was like him without his sketch pad.

Oh, God, Brian moaned as he came for the third time in Justin's hand, and Justin kissed him, making the moan his own as well as Brian's. It was like making music together; their bodies taut and perfectly in tune.

Justin spread Brian's come on his chest, relishing the scent and sensation. "Time to call a break?" he whispered, and Brian answered him eloquently with a huge yawn. "Do you want Helen with you?" They'd bought a special pillow that permitted Helen to sleep skin-to-skin next to Brian without them fearing he'd roll over and squash her.

Brian nodded and then yawned again. Justin got up to get the pillow. Helen made a grouchy sound when he picked her up, but as soon as she was snuggled up against Brian, she fell back to sleep again. Her dad followed in a matter of mere minutes.

It was midafternoon, and Justin wasn't tired. He got up and started cleaning. The loft was a mess. They really needed to find a new place . . .

The housing situation hadn't been an easy conversation - in fact it had downright sucked. They'd fairly quickly and easily settled on a neighborhood. Justin had been surprised; the area was full of artist-types who'd painted their houses wild colors and put interesting (or, in Brian's words "fucking weird shit") sculptures in their run-amuck gardens ("do these people not know how to use a fucking lawnmower?"). Justin had been shocked that Brian didn't protest . . . but then he'd figured out why. Brian wanted to keep the loft.

He hadn't pretended he was going to use it for anything else than a fuck pad, and *puff* just like that, without any prior discussion, he'd made it clear he was going to keep tricking. Justin felt broadsided. He'd just assumed that Brian would stop. Were the twins really going to grow up with a father who frequented the baths, Woody's toilet stalls and the backroom of Babylon? Was Brian going to come home sated after a night out with God only knows how many guys' spit on his dick and in his ass? Were the twins going to come running to greet him after he'd fisted some guy in a sling? Did he honestly believe Justin would agree to be Brian's fucking sloppy seconds - again?! Did being the other father of Brian's beloved children mean anything? Apparently not.

It'd been immediately clear when Brian told Justin he wasn't selling the loft that they were going to get in a colossal argument, so Brian took Helen to Deb's with a container of milk, her blanket and her drooled-on stuffed squid (squids were okay as long as they weren't pink and didn't have big, sad eyes). It was incredibly weird watching Brian use the breast pump while they were both seething and itching for a fight, but they managed to wait until Helen was settled in with grandma Deb and Uncle Vic. Unfortunately neither of them had calmed down in the hour it'd taken to get her properly situated.

"I'm keeping the loft," Brian had said the instant he closed the door behind him. "It's mine, and I get to do what I want with it."

"And how much is it going to cost?" Justin had said. "Taxes, mortgage, utilities. Don't you think that should be money set aside for the twins' college funds?"

"Oh. My. Fucking. God! I'm sorry," Brian yelled, "but for a second I thought you might be guilt tripping me, but I must be wrong because throwing the twins' welfare in my face isn't something you would do, now is it?" The last words were spoken in a low, malevolent voice. "Justin, if you have a problem with my tricking, then let's not pussy-foot around. Do not make this fight about the kids."

"But why the fuck not?! It's not like they won't be impacted! Do you honestly think that it's not going to get out that their father is a fucking whore?!"

Brian had pounded up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom.

"Great!" Justin had yelled after him. "Talk about passive aggressive!"

"I'm not being passive aggressive," Brian had said through the door. "I'm insuring that I won't slap you so hard you land in next week. If I were you, I'd get a dining room chair and prop it under the doorknob because if you call me one more name, I'm going to lose it. Don't test me."

"The truth hurts!" Justin had yelled, but he'd done as Brian advised and locked him in. Who knew what Brian was capable of with eight months of pregnancy hormones saturating his brain?

"Why do you think I want to keep the loft?!" Brian had yelled back. "I'm not going to fuck in public anymore! I'd bring my tricks here! I'll have ample opportunity to get cleaned-up afterward! Don't try to pretend it's about spit and come! It's about you being jealous! Well, fuck that! I am not going to live my life constrained by your fucking issues and insecurities. Yeah, so I have kids; that doesn't mean I have to live like a fucking breeder!"

Justin had sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. Of course, it was about jealousy - but it was also about wanting to lead a normal fucking life. Was that such a bad thing?

"We're going to fight about this all the time," he'd said. "Parents can't be fighting all the time. How'd that work out for you and Claire?"

"We will only fight all the time if you don't get down off your moral high horse and pull the stick out of your ass."

"And if I don't?"

There'd been a long silence.

"I swear to God," Brian had said. "I swear to fucking God that I will raise holy hell if you treat this as a reason to break up and try to get custody of the twins."

"Now who's blackmailing whom?!"

Brian had made a sound of intense exasperation. "Okay, Justin. What the fuck do you want? Put it on the fucking table. Are you saying I can't trick at all? And if you are, do you even fucking know me?! Just because you stuck your dick up my ass and came, it means I have to be monogamous?! That's bullshit, and it's not going to happen! Either we do this honestly and above-board or I'm going to cheat on your ass and make sure that everyone knows it! Do you think I can't make your life hell? Don't fucking test me because I can and I will!"

Justin had stood up, grabbed the alarm clock and thrown it against the door as hard as he could. "You are a fucking child," he'd shouted. "Do you ever plan to grow the fuck up? So, what then? Are you going to be sticking your dick in random guys' orifices when you're fifty?"

"As long as I can get my cock up, I'm going to be sticking it any Goddamn place I want! Jesus fucking Christ! I've already offered a huge compromise! I'm going to stop fucking in public, which you damn well know I love. I won't even go to the fucking baths! Those are big fucking concessions! Where are yours? Or are you such a total fucking dick that you don't think you have to make any?"

Justin had sunk back to the floor again and stared ahead unseeingly. Could he compromise? Was having an open relationship something he could bear to tolerate? And if he couldn't, what the fuck were they going to do?

He'd drawn up his knees and hugged them to his chest and sat like that silently for what felt like an eternity.

"Never the same guy twice," he'd finally said, his voice hitching on the verge of tears.

"Duh."

"No names or numbers exchanged."

"Like the guys won't already know my name."

"You know what I mean. No kissing."

"Duh."

"Home by eleven."

Silence.

"Midnight."

"Fine. Midnight. No going out if one of the kids is sick."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't even think that, let alone say it. Next."

"You can fuck during the day, but you can only go out at night once a week."

"Agreed."

"I can fuck too."

"Like I give a shit."

"Always shower afterward."

"You know that I already do that."

"No one but me can fuck you."

"Oh my God. You're kidding me, right? You felt the need to say that? God, you can be such a fucking douchebag sometimes."

"No bare backing."

"Again. I will pretend you didn't just say that."

"No sitting on other guys' faces."

"Nope, sorry."

"Okay, well then don't let them finger you. Use beads or a vibrator or something."

*sigh* "Okay."

"No orgies."

"Now, that's just stupid. What's the difference between one trick and ten?"

"Okay, no more than four."

"Six."

"Fine. Just don't tell me about it. No conversations."

"As though I talk to tricks anyway."

"Sometimes you have a beer or a glass of wine with them."

"Not going to be drinking until I'm done nursing, so no need to cross that bridge yet."

"Great. I'm looking forward to that discussion. Just don't come home drunk like . . ."

"Don't finish that sentence."

"No really perverted stuff."

"Why? You want watersports and sounding all to yourself?"

"You're Goddamn fucking right I do."

Brian had laughed an actual laugh. "What about cock and ball rings?"

"I guess they're okay as long as you don't practice orgasm denial."

"How about I can do it to the trick, but he can't do it to me?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Besides I don't let tricks do that anyway. I don't want some guy telling me when to come. Fuck that. Only you have that privilege."

Amazingly, Justin had started getting a hard-on. "No one ties you up."

"Duh."

"No more than two multiple orgasms."

"Him or me?"

"You."

"Two? That's fucking draconian!"

"Okay, then three."

"Five."

"Four!"

"Alright. Anymore? You're going to have to write this all down."

"Oh, don't worry. I will. And one last thing . . ."

"Yes."

"You wear a collar that I put on you before you go out."

The longest silence in the history of silences had ensued.

"You're not serious."

"Oh, I am. I'm very serious."

"No, you're not. You can't possibly be."

"I'll tell you what; you can go to the baths if I get to collar you. How's that for a concession."

Justin actually hadn't considered the idea until he said it. It was too insane! Brian would never agree to being collared, but oh God, just the thought of it! Justin had opened his jeans and started jerking himself off. The image of Brian in a collar! God, he'd known he was going to come in record time!

"You're jerking off."

"Yeah. So? Are you?"

"Fuck, yes."

"So then you agree?"

"I choose it."

"Fair enough."

"And nobody knows about it except the tricks, and they won't know what it means."

"Fine with me just as long as you're wearing it when you fuck them."

"Jesus fucking Christ! Why does that fucking turn me on so much? Am I a fucking closet sub or something?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Get in here and choke on my cock, Sunshine. You're going to swallow it so deep it'll trigger your gag reflex, and I'm going to shoot a gargantuan load down your throat. It'll be so big you wouldn't have room for dinner tonight and possibly even breakfast tomorrow."

Justin had laughed, but he hadn't needed coaxing to comply.

Brian was sleeping the sleep of a new father who's eight months pregnant when Lindsay called Justin on his cell asking him to come over for lunch. He agreed - and he also decided not to tell Brian where he was going. The caesarian was planned for that Friday, and Justin was trying to keep him as calm and housebound as possible. He had a feeling that Brian wouldn't be crazy about Lindsay's invitation, but Justin was curious as hell.

When he arrived, Lindsay greeted him cheerfully at the door and let him in. That's when Justin saw him. The PIFA's fucking assistant dean! What the fuck? He stood when Justin walked into the living room and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Justin Taylor," he said. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Assistant Dean Hamilton."

Justin shook his hand and then glanced at Lindsay. She wasn't just cheerful, she was beaming!

"Sit down, Justin," she said. "I've made some finger sandwiches and tea."

He sat down on a chair Lindsay had brought over from the dining room table. He was still curious, but his curiosity was now mixed with more than a pinch of trepidation. Lindsay gave them all teacups and poured their tea from a cute like teapot she'd bought at a flea market last spring. Justin knew because he'd been with her at the time.

"Lindsay and I are old pals. Her parents and mine are close lifetime friends," Mr. Hamilton said with a warm smile. "Even though I'm a few years older, I feel as though Lindsay is a sister, as does Lynnette. We spent much of the summers visiting each other's second homes on Martha's Vineyard. In fact, our parents had chosen Martha's Vineyard so that all of us could spend time together."

"Uhm, that's nice," Justin said, stuffing a cucumber sandwich in his mouth. Lindsay handed him a napkin. The gesture reminded him of his mother, and he almost laughed.

"Anyway, to cut to the chase, Justin" Mr. Hamilton said. "Lindsay and I have been discussing for some time your extraordinary talent. Both of us agree that you have a bright future ahead of you, which is why I'm giving you a fully-endowed scholarship to spend the spring term in London studying at the Slade School of Fine Arts, which, as I'm sure you know, is one of the top five art schools in the world."

Justin's jaw dropped. Slade! He'd known about the scholarship but hadn't even bothered applying. He was a good student, but he wasn't that good. An opportunity to study at Slade was, without a doubt, a career-maker. If he did well there, he could do anything he wanted!

He looked at Lindsay. There were happy tears in her eyes.

"Now, I know there are a few things that need to be ironed out," said Mr. Hamilton. "Lindsay tells me you've recently become a father - it strikes me that you're a little young for such weighty obligations. I hope you're not offended; I am merely speaking frankly as a friend. For someone your age and with so much talent, I would hate to see you have to sacrifice important opportunities. Furthermore, the scholarship is only for a few months. Lindsay tells me that the mother of your children has an extensive network of family and friends to assist her while you're away."

Justin's jaw dropped again. They were kidding him, right? Leave Brian to care for two newborns while he, Justin, went waltzing off to London?

"Thank you, sir," he said slowly, "but . . ."

"But he needs to think about it," Lindsay cut in.

"Well, of course, you do," Mr. Hamilton said. "I won't need an answer until Friday. But at the risk of appearing to pressure you, I believe it would be a terrible shame to reject such a prestigious opportunity."

Lindsay came over to sit next to Justin's chair and took his hand. "I'm sure the . . . the mother of your children would understand. In fact, I emailed information about the scholarship to her this morning. I wanted you two to be able to discuss it as soon as possible."

Oh. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

"You emailed Bri . . . ?"

"Brianna? Yes, I did. I didn't want her to feel like I was cutting her out of the loop in any way. I know she wouldn't like that."

"Listen," Mr. Hamilton said. "Why don't you go home and discuss this with . . . what's her name again?"

"Brianna," Lindsay said.

"Right, why don't you go home and discuss this with Brianna. I hope very much that she won't prevent you from seizing this once-on-a-lifetime opportunity. If she truly loves you then I'm sure that she won't."

Justin stood although he had to hang onto the chair because he was shaking so hard. Brian knew. Brian knew! Lindsay smiled up at him, but he couldn't return it because he'd forgotten how to use the muscles in his face. He shook Mr. Hamilton's hand and thanked him, and then he bolted for the door.

When he got back to his and Brian's building, he parked the Jeep in the reserved spot, turned off the engine, and proceeded to sit staring into space for an hour. His brain was having a hard time processing what'd just occurred. God! Before Brian got pregnant, he would have snapped up the chance to study at Slade - Slade! - in a nanosecond . . . but now? Jesus. How could he possibly leave Brian from the beginning of January until the end of May? That was FIVE MONTHS! Five months without the babies; that was practically an eternity in baby development time! They'd be able to lift their heads and roll over by the time he got back. Would they even be able to bond with him? And Brian! "A close network of friends and family" - what total bullshit! As though Brian would ask for help or even accept it if it was offered! He couldn't go. He couldn't believe he was even contemplating the possibility! But now Brian knew. Jesus. What was Brian going to do? Justin had no clue.

Just then his cell phone rang. It was Brian.

"Where are you?" he asked. His voice sounded very strange.

"In the parking lot," Justin replied.

"Get the fuck up here!" Brian yelled.

"Brian, what's going on?" he yelled, but Brian had already hung up.

Jesus, he must be fucking pissed. That's what had to be wrong. Had he read Lindsay's email and was furious that Justin might even consider taking the offer??

The elevator was too slow, so Justin ran up the stairs two at a time. When he opened the door, he heard Helen screaming her head off from her crib. Brian wasn't moving. He was merely sitting on the couch!

"Brian!" Justin yelled. "What the fuck? Helen's crying! How long have you been sitting there while she's been screaming like that?"

Brian's only answer was an agonized groan.

What the fuck?

Justin walked over to him. Brian was clutching a pillow as though it was a life buoy and he was about to drown. And then he suddenly curled around his middle with a cry.

"Oh my God!" Justin yelled. "What's going on? Are you losing the baby?"

"What's going on," Brian said savagely, "is that I'm trying not to push! Call the ambulance and tell Dr. Russell to meet us in the emergency room!"

Justin dialed 911 with trembling fingers and gave the operator the address and told her that "someone's in labor." Then he got on his knees in front of Brian.

"I think it might help if you close your legs," he said as calmly as he could. "That's right. Please, Brian, you can't push."

"Don't you think I fucking know that already?" Brian yelled. "Oh, fuck!" He curled around his stomach again.

"Don't push, don't push, don't push," Justin chanted over and over while he squeezed Brian's legs closed. "I know you want to, but you can't."

Brian's hair was soaked with sweat. "Oh God," he gasped. "You have no idea how much this fucking hurts!" He arched his back and struggled to spread his legs. It took all of Justin's strength to keep them together.

"Just remember," he said. "She has nowhere to go. If you push, she could die."

Brian whimpered with pain and fear. Where the fucking fuck was the ambulance?!

"Should we cut me open?" he panted.

"NO!" Justin yelled. He didn't know what to do, but he was sure that cutting Brian open was not the answer.

Finally, the buzzer rang, and Justin ran to the door. When the EMTs reached the top of the stairs, he told them Brian was in labor, and they were just going to have to believe that. There was no time for an explanation. Just then his cell phone rang. It was Dr. Russell.

"Where are you?" she shouted.

"We're still at home," Justin replied. The sounds Brian was making had gone from frightening to positively terrifying.

"Jesus," Dr. Russell exclaimed when she heard them. "Look, I don't think there's time to go through all the emergency room procedures. I'm coming there."

Justin gave her the address and went back to Brian just in time to hear one of the technicians tell him to push.

"NO! DON'T SAY THAT!" Justin yelled at her. "HE'S A MAN, NOT A REALLY MANLY-LOOKING WOMAN! THERE'S NOWHERE FOR THE BABY TO COME OUT!"

He literally shoved the technician out of the way and squeezed Brian's legs shut again. "Don't do what she said!" Justin shouted at him.

"I'M NOT!" Brian shouted back. "I'M NOT A MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT!"

And then he froze. He must've become aware of Helen. The poor little thing was almost hoarse. Brian made an anguished sound.

"Can someone please comfort the baby?" Justin asked desperately.

"Helen," Brian said weakly.

Justin smoothed the wet hair off his brow. "She's okay. You just concentrate on not pushing."

Brian nodded frantically, his eyes wide and staring into Justin's.

"I can't lose the baby," he rasped. "You know that. If it comes down to her or . . ."

"Just shut the fuck up!" Justin yelled at him. "The baby is going to be fine; you're going to be fine. I can't bear to lose either of you. So, just shut the fuck up, Brian!"

Justin was just beginning to realize he didn't have the strength to keep Brian's legs closed, and Brian was rapidly losing the strength to stop himself from pushing when Dr. Russell came running in.

"You!" she said to one technician. "Give the patient a local anesthesia. You, restrain him. You, give me a hand doing the caesarian, and you," she said to Justin, "take Helen away from all this noise."

Justin almost argued with her. He didn't want to leave Brian's side, but when the technician who was comforting Helen put her down to assist Dr. Russell, the poor little thing started screaming again. Justin scooped her up and carried her down to the Jeep where they cried together until they were both out of tears.

After God only knows how long, Justin's cell phone finally rang. It was Dr. Russell. Justin was just about to scream at her to tell him how Brian and the baby were when she said, "Brian wants me to tell you that he's already named your daughter, and apparently you have to ‘deal with it.' He's calling her Maeve after the famous Irish warrior queen. Why don't you and Helen come up to meet her? There's some blood around, but it's not a lot, and Brian is fine . . . and, to be honest, Maeve miraculously is too. There is no reason that she should still be alive, but she is. And not just alive, she's a healthy 6.8 pounds!"

Justin ran up the stairs and burst into the loft. Brian was lying on a sheet with his head propped on a pillow. He looked like total shit, but he was smiling. On his chest was a tiny, fussy, squirmy red baby.

"She's already going for my tits," Brian said. "She's clearly your daughter."

Justin laughed and knelt down beside him. "Good job," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

"Don't say ‘good job' to me," Brian said. "This little girl kicked serious ass. Hey there, Ellie. Want to meet your twin?"

"Brian and the baby should go to the hospital," Dr. Russell said. "One of the things we don't know yet is what will happen to the uterus-type organ the babies grew in. It's not clear whether it needs to be removed and if so how much of it. One of the things you two will need to decide beforehand is whether you plan to have more children."

Both Justin and Brian boggled at her.

"You're not serious," Brian said and then looked at her earnest expression. "Oh my fucking God, you are serious! No. Fucking. Way! Do whatever needs to be done so that there isn't even a snowball's chance in hell that this could happen again! And as for you," he said, fixing Justin with a dick-shrinking glare. "We're going to have a very long talk about whether your dick gets anywhere even remotely near my ass ever again."

Justin held up his hands in surrender. "I won't even raise the topic unless you do."

"Good," Brian said as though they'd just completed a business deal. "OW! I am NOT a bag of fucking cement!" he yelled at the technicians who were trying to get him on a stretcher. "Jesus fucking Christ. Here, give me Maeve. She and I'll bear the indignity of getting poked and prodded together. Justin, bring Helen along as soon as you can. See that face she's making? That means ‘where's my fucking dinner'?"

Justin gave him a sunshiny grin. Just before the EMT's took the stretcher down the stairs, he kissed Brian's mouth.

"Congratulations, Dad," he whispered. "The Taylor Kinney Clan is now all present and accounted for."

"Jesus, I fucking hope so," Brian whispered back. "It's about fucking time."