This time he won't be leaving. He won't be leaving.

The thought kept playing, louder and louder, in Brian Kinney's mind.

Justin watched, leaning quietly against the door frame, as Brian stood in the middle of the large family room, his tear-bright eyes taking in the remnants of the celebration. The wads and strips of paper in brilliant gold streaked magenta and blue striped silver fairly covered the dark wood of the floor. Metallic bows of every color sparkled beneath the twinkling lights wrapped around the oversized Douglas fir standing proudly against the bank of frosted glass on the room's north wall. Brian leaned down and retrieved a handful of the gaudy plastic tinsel that had been brushed from one of the large branches. He smiled as he recalled his less than wholehearted fight to avoid this particularly tacky addition to the season... a fight he had happily lost. His boys both loved every ounce of the tasteless decorations and, admitting defeat in the face of such overwhelming enthusiasm, Brian ultimately conceded.  

Anything... he would do any fucking thing to see the joy that had been shining on those two beautiful faces this morning.

It had been a difficult couple of years. Years that had cost him a trusted friend and had nearly put Kinnetik on the skids in the wake of a prolonged, expensive and sometimes painful custody battle. At times he had almost given up, completely...

If it hadn't been for Justin...

Brian shuddered to think of the grief he had caused that amazing man as he himself threatened to sink deeper and deeper into some of the old coping methods he hadn't needed in so many years. But Justin had known and had never wavered in his understanding and love. They had both been witness to the hopelessness and depression that had begun to threaten their son as he grew toward adolescence - had watched him devolve from a happy child into a pained and lifeless one. Had agonized over the unpleasant changes that his mothers either chose to ignore or were incapable of acknowledging.

Moving to Canada had appeared, at first, to be a good thing for Gus and his mothers. They had all thrived in the more accepting social atmosphere of Toronto. After an initial period of financial and career adjustments, both Lindsay and Melanie had succeeded in finding fulfilling and lucrative work. Gus and JR became enmeshed in their environment, with school and friends and community. Brian visited as much as his own career and life could possibly allow. Everything was good.

As Gus matured, however, it became painfully obvious to everyone that he was beginning to struggle with his behavior. By the time he was eight, he had already been placed on probation by his school and was becoming withdrawn from his supportive social circle. He began developing obsessive and compulsive behaviors that baffled his family, teachers and friends. The tension of his shoestrings became of paramount concern for him, as did the feel of the weight of certain fabrics against his skin, and he would scream and cry if they felt at all ‘wrong'. Just dressing for school became a horrendous battle. He began insisting that everything he owned had to be purchased in quantities of three and, again, tantrums ensued if that didn't happen. He consistently fought with his mothers over his ‘need' to make sure he touched everything he possibly could three times when walking through a store. He began spitting - on the ground, on his hand, on his mothers. Lindsay and Melanie were both at their wit's end. Both were concerned with Gus's behavior, at the reason for his acting out. But both were sincerely convinced that it was just that - acting out. A means to garner attention. And they both refused to give into what they saw as his manipulations.

The happy, guileless young boy was slipping away. He was being replaced by a saddened, exasperatingly difficult child.

During the course of the next year Gus's behaviors exacerbated. School and social functions became a hellish experience for all involved. By the time he was nine, Gus's life had dwindled down to the torture of classroom attendance and the blessed reprieve of his own room. He had all but withdrawn from life. Lindsay battled with her motherly concern, but ultimately gave into her trust in the teachers, school psychologist and her pediatrician, all of whom had berated her as a too-tolerant and too-lenient parent. She just needed to take a firmer hand, they assured her. Melanie placed a significant amount of blame squarely upon the shoulders of Gus's father and insisted on limiting Gus's exposure to Brian.

And so the battle began.

Now, as Brian felt the soft silk of a handful of tinsel and wrapped himself in the memory of unfettered joy that had permeated the room earlier this Christmas morning, his shoulders began to shake with great sobs of regret and blame and self-condemnation.

"Hey... Stop that," the soft voice called from behind him. "It's all different now, Brian. We understand. We know. Gus is happy."

Brian flinched slightly at the unexpected feel of arms wrapping around him from behind, then sank back into their warmth.

"Yeah, but I should have..."

"Should have what? Been there?" The question was soft, un-accusing. "You were, Brian. In spite of Mel... in spite of everything. You were there every fucking moment in the only way you could be. And now Gus knows that you will be there every moment of every day from now on." Justin gently turned his lover around and smiled into those confused hazel eyes. "He. Is. Happy. And he knows that you love him - we love him. Warts and all."

At his core, Brian knew Justin was right. Gus was happy, so damned happy! This week marked an entirely new life, a new beginning for all of them. Not an easy one, but a happy one. He pulled his lover close and buried his face in the beautiful blond hair, breathing in the assurance the man exuded. Justin had never once doubted that Gus would be fine, that he would be facing a positive future. That they would find an answer.

But Brian was Brian. Guilt was his stock in trade.

The months of separation from his son had been painful for Brian. Not knowing what was happening with the boy, not being allowed to see him or even talk to him on the phone had been agonizing. Lindsay and Melanie had both been adamant that it was what Gus needed, what was best for him, that Brian's presence in Gus's life was the harmful factor bringing on all the behavioral problems. They had almost had him convinced that the Kinney curse had been at work, that he was the bad father he had always assumed he would turn out to be. That he had somehow irreparably damaged the one person he had vowed to never, ever bring harm to. Wasn't that why he had given up his parental rights? Wasn't that why he had agreed to allow the move to Canada? Wasn't that why he had always tried so hard to make every moment with his son count as two?  

Justin had seen the damage the separation was doing to this man he loved above everything else. He had also seen the kind of father Brian had ultimately turned out to be, the loving and caring parent. In a quiet and understated campaign, so out of character for the outspoken and driven young man, he had gently convinced his partner of the good he had brought to Gus's young life. Reminded him of the value he presented as a father. Of how Gus would always need him to fight for him.

And eventually he did fight. He fought to have visitation with his son. He fought to have his son evaluated by the best psychological and medical experts on the continent. He fought to have his son treated with the basic respect and dignity which all children should be afforded.

And he won.

All of it.

Better yet, Gus had won.  The months of painful and confusing separation ended on a beautiful fall day just shy of Gus's eleventh birthday. On that September morning, armed with the results of medical tests and the abysmal parenting history of both mothers, with testimony from Gus's psychologist about the damage the boy had suffered to his self image under their care, with the verification of financial support and visits and thwarted visits by Brian, the court granted father and son liberal and unrestricted visitation.

A little over one year later, on Friday, December 21, 2012, Brian Kinney regained his parental rights and was awarded possessory custody of Gus Peterson-Marcus. They flew home from Toronto that evening. Bright and early the next morning, the three men of Britin purchased the largest Douglas fir they could find to fill the family room. They shopped all day, eventually succumbing to fatigue, burdened under balls and bells of every color, under the weight of festive boxes and gaily painted paper.

And tinsel... Lots of gloriously tacky tinsel.

Brian thought he had never seen anything more wonderful than his son that night, standing tall on the ladder decorating the tree. He watched as Gus's eyes blinked rapidly, his nose scrunching up repeatedly, sputtering under his breath to withhold the spit he so badly wanted to expel. He saw him touch each ornament within his reach three times. He listened as his son repeated ‘We three kings of... We three kings of... We three kings of...' again and again, knowing Gus wasn't consciously aware of what he was actually saying. And he smiled, knowing that this was just... Gus.

Justin's arms tightened slightly around Brian's waist, bringing the man from his recent memories. As Brian looked down into the still startlingly blue eyes he knew everything was going to be fine.

"We have to remind him that we're on to him about the cursing. That isn't one of his tics, Brian."

Brian smiled shyly and admitted, "No, I think he came by that through osmosis. It's not the Tourette's."

"Although I wonder now if you don't suffer from coprolalia." Justin winked and slapped Brian's ass.

"You..."

"Me what?"

"You twat."

"See what I mean? You exhibit a laundry list of socially inappropriate phrases... and behaviors." Brian snorted at Justin's implication.

"My laundry list, despite often being alluded to as Tourette Syndrome, is entirely intentional. Gus, on the other hand," he sighed, "is going to have a difficult time ahead. He actually has TS. Along with all the damage it's done to him so far."

"You know it wasn't the TS that caused that damage, Brian. It was ignorance of the fact. His, ours, the school's, his moms'... But now we know. And he's already so much happier. He's strong. He can deal with the condition. He couldn't deal with not knowing, with being punished continually for something he couldn't control. The stress was making it worse."

"Christ, I don't know why Lindz and Mel couldn't see that he needed help! They just kept punishing him, telling him to stop. They were pushing him further and further into that black hole he was being swallowed up by. Shit!"

"Language, Dad. If you're not gonna let me get by with it, neither can you." Both men turned at the admonition coming from the doorway. Gus stood, hands on hips, a smirk on his face so like Brian's.

"When you're my age, Sonny Boy, you can use all the language you want and I promise not to say a word about it. Right now, however, I'd appreciate a little less melted snow on the floor." Brian tented one eyebrow toward the pool forming at Gus's feet. "I'd say you've been enjoying your sled a bit, eh?"

Gus's face lit up. "Yeah, it's cool! But you have to see what I did, Dad. You, too, Jus!" He pulled both men toward the wall of windows at the north of the room. "Look!"

Brian and Justin gazed out the window and saw three slightly off-kilter snowmen staring back at them. Each was sporting a brightly colored towel affixed like a cape with a wreath of greenery on its head.

"Good job, Gus, but... supermen? You've been spending entirely too much time around your Uncle Michael."

Justin and Gus both rolled their eyes. "No, Dad. They're us. We're kings..." The happy grin on Gus's face almost matched the one on Justin's.

Brian stood slightly speechless for a brief moment. He fought the sudden tears that threatened to fall. Brian Kinney did notfucking cry. Much. He gazed back at the three snowmen and knew he had never felt so loved in his life. Brian reached out and pulled both his boys into his arms, holding them as close to his heart as he could get.

"Yeah, son, we are kings."

~~ FIN ~~