Chapter 42 - Don’t Fence Me In.

Brian led the way out of Duckett’s Passage and down the street. Much of the debris and other refuse from the prior night's air raid had been cleared away, or at least moved to the sides of the roadway so people could get around, but it was still clear that this area of the city had recently been bombed. If that didn’t convince Cynthia that Brian had been telling the truth about this time traveling stuff, nothing would. She was absolutely silent for the entire walk, staring at one incongruous sight after another, none of which would ever have been found in the future London that Cyn was used to seeing.

About two blocks away, they passed by a large stretch where almost a whole block seemed to have been hit, leaving nothing but devastation and piles of rubble. There were still a number of civilians as well as city workers digging through the site despite the later hour. At one point, they came across a housewife - probably one of the residents of the building that was no longer standing - who was seated amid the mess, her hair tied up and a housecoat covering her clothing to protect it from the dirt - as she perched next to a pile of items she must have somehow managed to rescue from the devastation. The woman was obviously taking a bit of a break, though, and sipped at a perfectly preserved china tea cup, completely disregarding the chaos going on around her. It was clearly NOT a sight Brian could have manufactured and undoubtedly went a long ways towards convincing Cynthia that Brian wasn’t just making up the outrageous story he’d been trying get her to buy. Which was good because the sooner Brian managed to convince her he was telling the truth about all this, the sooner he could go back - he was still very uncomfortable being here so soon after almost getting trapped, but he needed to get Cynthia on board with his plan first.

Brian led his guest past the wreckage and down the street till they got to the public house he’d been destined for. He calmly pushed open the door to the White Lion and showed his guest inside. Cynthia looked around the pub with a mixture of lingering confusion and wonder on her face. Brian had felt the same way on his first trip to 1941, so he could empathize.

“Well, well, well, who yer got wiv ya, ‘ere, ‘Andsome?” Daphne gave a little whistle from her place behind the bar. “Wouldn’t expect the likes o’ yer to be steppin’ out wiv a bird, though.” Daphne’s jubilant laughter took any possible sting out of the words.

“Daphne Chanders,” Brian nodded to the ebullient hostess, “I’d like you to meet my Assistant, Cynthia Morgan. Cynthia, this paragon of beauty is the daughter of the proprietor of the fine establishment we find ourselves in tonight. She’s also Justin’s best friend. And, might I add, a lovely person to while away an air raid with.”

“Oh, ain’t you a sweet talker, now,” Daphne giggled at Brian’s over-the-top flattery, then turned to a gaping Cynthia. “Lovely to meet ‘ya, Miss. Any friend of ‘Andsome’s is always welcome ‘ere. So, what can I get yer, dearie?”

“We’ll have two pints of your best, Daphne,” Brian spoke up for Cynthia, hoping to head off the exclamation of disbelief he knew she was only just barely holding back.

“Will do, ‘Andsome,” the jovial barmaid replied as she began to pour two half-pint glasses of ale. “Where’s me Sunshine, t’night, eh? Ain’t seen ‘im in ‘ere all day.”

“Pretty sure he’s already headed out to the base for tonight’s mission. I kept him a bit late today . . .” Brian explained, giving Daphne a suggestive waggle of his brows and leaving her giggling.

“You are a naughty one, ‘Andsome!” Daphne handed over the two beers and took Brian’s proffer of the old-fashioned Five Pound note with a nod. “Oh dear, I ain’t got near enough change on hand t’night for this ‘ere. Yer either gonna have to drink a lot more or wait for a bit. That okay?”

“Keep it for your tip; you deserve it,” Brian winked at her.

“Thank yer kindly, ‘Andsome. I kin use it to buy meself somethin’ nice and swanky for the Squadron Ball Sunshine’s taking me to this weekend.”

“That’s this weekend?” Brian questioned with a tilt of his head as he thought about it.

“Yeah. An’ I’m right lookin’ forward to it - havin’ an excuse to get all dolled up fer a change, yer know?” Daphne enthused with a dreamy look on her face. “I ain’t been out dancin’ in ages - well, ‘cept for the nights you took me to The Palace.”

“Then you should definitely get yourself a new dress and go enjoy yourself. It’ll be good for Justin too; he needs someone to keep him out of trouble.”

Daphne got another good laugh out of that statement. When Daph’s attention was diverted by another customer arriving, though, Brian took the opportunity to lead Cynthia away to a more private table in the back. Several of the irregulars nodded to him or said hello as he passed on the way, but he didn’t accept any of their offers to join them. He could tell Cyn was about to burst with questions and they needed quiet for the talk he knew was coming.

As soon as they sat down, they each took a hefty swig of their drink before Cynthia plunked her glass down and started in on Brian.

“This is all real? What am I saying, of course it’s real - I can see that with my own eyes - but how?” she demanded.

“No fucking idea,” Brian admitted as he too pushed his drink aside.

“Wow. Just . . . Wow! So . . . that funny ‘costume’ uniform Justin was wearing . . . it’s real?” Brian nodded. “Fuck . . .”

“It’s all real, Cynthia. On this side of that time portal I took you through, it’s 1941 and, as you could clearly see with your own eyes outside, this is London in the middle of World War II,” Brian elucidated, his voice lowered to the point that it was barely audible above the background noise of the bar. Cynthia sat there just shaking her head, apparently having a difficult time wrapping her head around the reality she was seeing. “The good news is that the worst of the German air raids that came with the Blitz are pretty much over now that it’s the end of May. Not that it’s exactly safe or anything. Especially not for Justin . . .”

“Damn, he’s in the RAF in WWII?” Cynthia finally cottoned on. “Didn’t they suffer pretty huge casualties? I watched some documentary about the RAF a couple years ago and it wasn’t good, Brian . . .”

“Yeah, that’s a fucking understatement if I ever heard one.” Brian frowned. “Which brings me to why I brought you here . . . well, one of the many reasons I brought you here, actually.” Reaching across the table, Brian took hold of Cynthia’s hand and held it tightly. “First, though, I need you to promise me something, Cynthia.”

“I won't tell anyone . . . if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, not that anyone would even believe me anyway,” Cynthia assured him.

Brian looked at her seriously. “I know you won’t say anything . . . but that’s not what I’m talking about. Just, promise me.”

“I have no idea what it is you want me to promise, Brian.”

“Promise me,” Brian’s voice was stern and demanding.

Cynthia looked uncomfortable. “Okay . . .”

“I mean it, Cynthia. You have to promise me that you will NEVER, ever try and come here on your own, you hear me?”

“Brian, I don’t understand . . .”

“Promise me.”

Cynthia swallowed loudly and nodded her head but qualified her answer in the next breath. “I can’t agree to something if you won’t tell me EXACTLY what it is you want me to promise, Brian.”

“It’s just not safe here.”

“If I didn’t know you better, Boss, I might think you were worried about me,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Brian gave her hand a little squeeze to show he was kidding. “Who would cover for me with the clients, though, if you weren’t around?”

“That is true - you couldn’t possibly do without me and no one else would ever put up with your shit. But that’s not all we’re talking about here, is it?”

“No. It’s more that . . . it’s fucking dangerous here for pretty much everyone, Cyn,” Brian tried to explain why he felt so strongly about this. “There was another small raid last night, and this morning I thought for a bit that the time portal was gone. That it had been destroyed by the raid. I thought I was trapped back here and couldn’t get home. And I don’t want anything like that to happen to you. Not to mention the fact that you could get hurt or sick or lost or fuck knows what else while you’re on this side. That’s why I don’t want you coming here without me, okay?” Cynthia smiled at him and nodded reluctantly. “Good, because I need you to be safe. Especially since I need you to keep me safe.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Cynthia asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

“I need someone in our time - 2016 - that knows where I am and what I’m doing,” Brian explained. “When I’m here with Justin, I’m completely cut off from everyone back there. Nobody else even knows I’m here. So, if something were to happen to me while I was out of touch, my friends and family would think I just disappeared. And, while I’ve got a Will and all my other estate planning is taken care of, if I just disappear and there’s no body to prove I’m dead, Gus and the rest of them wouldn’t be able to get to the money I want them to have. Which is why I need someone back there that can see to things and make sure they’re all taken care of if anything does happen to me.” Brian summed it all up by adding, “I figured I could execute a Power of Attorney that would give you the right to take control of my finances if I wasn’t otherwise able to be there.”

Cynthia looked at him with a serious expression while, behind her eyes, Brian could see the thoughts flittering as she worked out a logical way to deal with this possible eventuality. “That’s a huge responsibility, Brian . . . but, yeah, that should work,” she eventually agreed. “Maybe there should also be a letter - with the date left blank so I can fill it in whenever I need it - that gives some kind of innocuous explanation as to why I’m using the Power of Attorney? That should satisfy most everyone who might question me. At least for a little while.”

“Exactly. So, you see why I need you there and why I need you to stay safe?” Brian implored.

“I get it. You can count on me, Boss.” Cynthia tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before getting back to the business at hand. “But you said there were other reasons why you brought me here? Like what?”

“Like Justin.”

She smiled. “And what about Justin do you need help with? I’m assuming you’re not in need of romantic advice,” she teased, causing Brian to shoot her a nasty look. “Didn’t think so. From everything I’ve seen so far, you two seem to have that area covered. So, what DO you need?”

Brian rubbed at his face. He fucking hated talking about this. Because talking about it made it more real. And he sure as hell wasn’t ready to accept the reality of what was to come.

“One of the scarier things about visiting the past is that . . . you know stuff . . . stuff that is about to happen to those that you, uh, care about.” Brian was finding this harder than he thought.

Cynthia downed the rest of her drink. “Something happens to Justin?” She stated quietly, the comment more of an assertion than a question.

Brian could only nod.

“When?”

“July 10th.”

“Damn . . . That’s barely,” Cynthia quickly calculated the time in her head, “six weeks.” Brian nodded but didn’t say anything because he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of his voice. “Shit. Poor guy . . . Wait, does HE know?”

Brian shrugged, “I told him . . . I couldn’t NOT tell him, you know?”

Cynthia gave Brian a weak smile of understanding. “I bet THAT was a fun conversation. And I’m assuming the information didn’t go over well on Justin’s end. If it were me I’d have freaked out, big time. ‘Hey, by the way, you’re gonna die in less than two months’ is definitely not something anyone wants to hear.” Despite the seriousness of the topic, Cynthia’s approach forced a tiny huff of amusement out of Brian, something he appreciated more than he let on.

They both fell silent for several minutes after that. Brian silently sipped at his beer while he waited for Cynthia to work through all the many ramifications of the bombshell he’d just dropped on her. All things considered, his Assistant seemed to be taking the revelation of Brian‘s time traveling, his finding a boyfriend in this other dimension, and the impending death of said boyfriend, quite well. Not that he expected any less of Cynthia. She’d always been a bulwark of calm rationality. And she was more than intelligent enough to work through all the logical steps and come to the proper conclusion as to what they needed to do next. Brian merely had to wait for it.

“The way I see it is this,” Cynthia stated as she reached across the table, grabbed Brian’s drink out of his hand - much to his dismay - and took a large gulp before she set the glass aside again. “Since you obviously understand the dangers of coming back here repeatedly, and yet you’ve not only kept coming but brought me here in order to make sure you’ll be safe while you continue traveling through time, I’m going to assume it’s not just the fun of the adventure that keeps bringing you back.”

“You would be assuming correctly,” Brian confirmed without further comment.

“All right. So that means that the supremely attractive blond whom you’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time with both here and in our time, must be the draw.” Brian shrugged a concession. “Interesting. And, since I’ve never known you to waste your time on a mere trick - no matter how luscious that trick’s ass might be - you wouldn’t keep coming back here unless you really, truly cared for our Mr. Taylor.” Brian raised his glass in a silent toast to the lady’s logic skills. “That being the case, it follows that you would never just sit around and wait for the vagaries of fate to take the only man you’ve ever admitted to caring about away from you. Which leads me to the conclusion that you somehow plan to cheat death . . . Which is a pretty tall order even for you, Mr. Kinney. Precisely HOW do you intend to work this, then?”

Brian was proud that this woman, who’d always been more than just an Assistant to him, so easily worked her way to the crux of the problem. “That, my dear, is the second thing I need your help with,” Brian said, leaning forward even more so there would be no risk of any eavesdroppers. “The history books say he’s killed on the way home from a bombing mission to Germany. My plan was to get Justin to come to 2016 with me -  and STAY there - so that there wouldn’t be any chance of his fucking plane being shot out from under him in 1941.”

“That makes sense,” Cynthia surmised. “If he’s not here, he can’t die here.”

“Exactly! The only problem is that the stupidly brave little fucker refuses to do it. He keeps going on and on about how he pledged his oath to the RAF to protect England and can’t abandon his post in a time of war and blah, blah, blah . . . Which is, of course, fucking admirable and shit, but how the fuck is that going to save his ass from getting shot to hell? And how much good will he be to the allied cause when he’s fucking dead?” Brian’s angrily raised voice at that point caused several nearby heads to turn towards them, but he ignored the repeated cautions about his foul language being offensive to his lady companion and continued, albeit much more quietly. “Which is where you come in; I need you to help me think up some way to talk Justin into my plan. We need to prove to him that he can have just as great a life in 2016 as he can here, and somehow prove to him that his death would not only be useless but unnecessary.”

“So, basically, we need a campaign to sell him on the twenty-first century and life with Brian Kinney. That’s a pretty tall order, you know,” Cynthia teased. “I don’t think our regular marketing strategy will work. We can’t simply inundate him with pictures of your dick - although that would sell just about anything else.”

“As enticing as my dick is, in this case, I think it’s going to take more than that. Justin’s a stubborn little shit. He’s ridiculously noble and opinionated. And once he saw all the stuff on the Net about the Nazis and concentration camps . . . Let’s just say he’s more determined than ever not to run away from this fight. Plus, he refuses to believe that we can change fate, so he’s pretty much resigned to dying already. But . . . Fuck it, I’m NOT going to let that happen, Cynthia. I just can’t. I can’t let him . . .”

“I get it, Brian.” Cynthia reached across the table and grabbed his hand with a reassuring squeeze. “And we won’t let anything happen to him. Not if I can help it, anyway . . . I’m sure we can come up with some way to entice him to the future. There are plenty of noble and heroic causes even in our time and, unfortunately, the type of evil he is battling here in 1941 still pops up in our time.”

Brian could see Cynthia already mulling over ideas in that resourceful little brain of hers and knew he’d done the right thing by asking for her help.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. And, in the meantime, I’ll keep tempting him with my cock,” Brian suggested with a trademark leer that caused Cynthia to chuckle. “Oh, one other thing, WHEN we do get Blue Eyes to the future, he’s going to need ID and credentials and shit in order to stay there; I’m sure you can figure out a way to get that squared away too, right?”

“You don’t ask for much, do you, Boss,” Cyn frowned at him. “And I’m offended that you’d think I would know anything about getting someone a fake ID. Who do you think I am?”

“I think you’re the most capable and ingenious Assistant anyone could hope for and that you’ve always come through for me in the past,” Brian summed it up with an ingratiating smile. “Now, let’s have one more beer while we plot Operation Blue Eyes and then get the hell out of here; I’m still feeling a bit itchy about being here after my close call this morning and I want to get back to the safety of 2016 before something else happens.”

Brian woke up the next morning to a warm body sneaking under the covers of his bed. He mentally congratulated himself for remembering to give a spare key card to his favorite blond. It was especially nice when that same blond almost immediately focused his attention on Brian’s nether regions, rooting around under the blankets, sniffing and kissing as he explored.

“Mmmmmm,” the noises coming from around Brian’s bellybutton were decidedly happy ones. “You smell so good. All toasty warm and sweaty . . .” Brian could feel the kissing slow as the invader in his bed reached his abs. “Yummmmmm . . . You were a good boy and followed orders I see.” There was lots of licking going on under the sheets at that point. “You taste so good, Brian. All salty and tantalizing. Applesauce, I could eat you alive.”

Brian was pleased with himself for pleasing his Blue Eyes so well. He’d intentionally jerked off before falling asleep the night before, rubbing the spunk into his skin rather than showering it off. And, as unpleasant as it usually was to wake up crusted with jism all over your chest and stomach, it was worth it to indulge his boy’s kink for sweaty, smelly, spunk-covered lovers. Justin was - literally - eating it up, licking away at every salty patch as he rutted against Brian’s leg.

It was a VERY nice way to wake up.

One very enthusiastic morning blow job later, the two men made their way to the shower, laughing and kissing, Brian making fun of the fact that his Blue Eyes had come, untouched, all over Brian’s leg right at the same moment Brian had erupted into Justin’s welcoming mouth. Privately, Brian marveled over the revelation that he actually liked waking up to this man day after day and that it somehow never seemed to get old. He’d never experienced this with any other man before. He always seemed to want Justin, even when he’d just had him mere seconds before. It was remarkable, really. And even more of an incentive to find a way to ensure he didn’t lose this man - this feeling - regardless of what fate supposedly had in store for Justin.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Justin asked as he bent over to pick up the bar of soap, causing Brian to groan at the sight of those beautifully rounded globes of plump, perfect ass.

And because he could, and it was there, Brian reached out, grabbed hold of what he wanted with both hands, and sighed. Life was good. This was good. He was NOT giving this up. He was going to find a way to make sure this became his new - permanent - morning routine.

“Well, Blue Eyes, First I’m going to fuck you into the shower tiles,” Brian began a run through of the day’s plans, starting with his top priority, of course. “But, once we’re done here, it’s off to pick up Sonny Boy. Since it’s his last day in London, I was thinking we’d take him to the Science Museum today. Maybe lunch at Atheneum’s. And then an afternoon at Regents Park, meeting up with Lindsey for dinner at Nobu. How does that sound?”

All the time he’d been outlining the day’s schedule, Brian had been fingering the younger man’s ass, using lots of slippery soap, so by the time he finished detailing the agenda, all he got in response from his writhing blond was a happy little moan.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Brian chuckled as he rolled a condom down his straining dick and proceeded to make sure Justin was nice and clean from the inside out.

About forty-five minutes later, they were finally out of the shower and dressed. Both of them were also wearing identical, sated grins. Brian thought it was a good look on his plucky pilot. When they headed out, hand in hand, they were happy to be together and eager to see their Gus.

As soon as the two men stepped foot in the lobby of Lindsey’s London hotel, Brian’s arms were instantly filled with an excitable Gus. Lindsey followed at a more sedate pace.

“Hiiiiiiii, Daddeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Gus wrapped his little arms around Brian’s neck and squeezed tightly. “Hi, Jussin,” the little boy smiled, as he leaned out of Brian’s arms to greet Justin with a kiss on the cheek as well.

Gus then returned his attention to his father, pouting sadly as he stroked Brian’s cheek.

“Daddy, “I goes home tomorrow.” The little frown that appeared on Gus’s face as he spoke was enough to break Brian’s heart into a million pieces. How could someone so small have so much control over his emotions? Damn it, he was going to miss having his Sonny Boy only ten minutes away. “I’ma miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Sonny Boy. But I’ll be home soon. And, in the meantime, I have lots of fun stuff planned for us today. I thought maybe we could go to the Science Museum; they have a huge space exhibition. You like space, don’t you?”

“I do, but I no wanna go to a museum today, Daddy. I just wanna play wiv you and Jussin at the hotel today.”

“Oh, Lambskin, I think your Daddy was really looking forward to taking you out.” Lindsey cut in as she fussed unnecessarily with Gus’s hair, annoying both father and son.

Brian adjusted the little boy on his hip and rubbed his nose against Gus’s soft cheek. “It’s your last day in London with your old man - are you sure you want to stay at the hotel?”

Gus nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I wanna go swimming and play sharks and color wiv Jussin and watch a movie and eat pizza and cuddle and eat Symonym Rolls and . . .”

“Cinnamon Rolls, Sweetie, they’re called Cinnamon Rolls. And somehow I don’t think your Daddy will eat those,” Lindsey tried pointing out.

“You know what, Sonny Boy - if you want to call them ‘Synonym Rolls’ you go right ahead,” Brian commented, shooting a disparaging glare at Lindsey and earning himself a smile from Justin at the same time. “I think we can accommodate your requests, Sir,” he added. “Pizza and Synonym Rolls sounds excellent - just what I always wanted for breakfast - how about you, Blue Eyes?”

“You know me; I’ll eat anything,” Justin agreed as he accepted the child’s backpack from Lindsey.

“Fine. Just don’t let him eat so much junk food that he gets sick, please. I don’t want to deal with an upset tummy all the way home on the plane tomorrow,” Lindsey conceded with an indulgent shake of her head.

“That’s just what I was planning to do, Lindz,” Brian rolled his eyes.

After they’d sent Lindsey off in the direction of Oxford Street for some hardcore retail therapy - with his credit card, of course - they made their own way back to The Palace. While the ‘boys’ settled in and started on their coloring - at Gus’ insistence, Justin was drawing them pictures that they would later fill in with the child’s crayons - Brian called the concierge and offered him a really large tip if the man could somehow scrounge up a pizza and cinnamon rolls for their breakfast even though it was barely nine-thirty in the morning. As an afterthought, he requested that a large bag of M&Ms be added to that order because, if they were going to pig out on junk food, Brian figured they might as well do it right. Brian then joined the other two lying on the bed, and followed Gus’ directions about which of the trees he was supposed to color green and which he was supposed to color purple.

After the breakfast feast arrived, Brian’s two boys dug in as though they’d never seen food before. Brian forced himself to eat some of the greasy pepperoni pizza, but his brain couldn’t quite get over the fact he was eating lunch for breakfast. He wasn’t going to indulge in the Cinnamon Rolls at all, but then Gus held up a piece he’d broken off his own roll and Brian couldn’t say no. Justin was grinning at him over the child’s shoulder the whole time, probably thinking something totally lesbianic about what a cute scene they made. Or how he couldn’t wait to draw the two of them later.

“This is the BESTEST,” Gus exclaimed as he shoved another bite of gooey roll into Brian’s mouth with his grubby little fingers. “I’m so happy, Daddy.”

Brian was thankful his kid was so easy to please, but somehow he knew that as long as he and Gus were spending time together, his boy would be happy.

“After you’ve both eaten your body weight in junk food, how about we go swimming and work off some of these calories?” Brian proposed when only a few crusts of pizza were left.

Gus pumped the air excitedly and little pieces of cream cheese icing flew out of his mouth as he cheered. Brian cringed at the mess but, hey, that was what hotel cleaning services were for, right? He’d just mention it at the reception desk on their way to the pool and by the time they were done swimming it would be all better and he could forget about how gross children - even his beloved son - could be.

“How about I go get our swim stuff ready and you go wash your hands; they’re all sticky.”

“Nuh huh. No they’re not,” Gus argued, and tried to hide his hands behind his back so Brian couldn’t see them.

“Gus . . .” Brian said in a stern, fatherly tone.

“See,” Gus pulled his hands out and began furiously licking the icing off, “they’s awl clean now, Daddy.”

“That doesn’t qualify as clean, Sonny Boy,” Brian said, his face screwed up in disgust at the kid’s antics. “Now they’re dirty AND covered with saliva.”

“Aww, come on, Daddy,” Justin butted in, probably just because he was a total tease. “What’s wrong with a little spit?” And then, while both Brian and Gus watched, the annoying blond began licking his own fingers too.

Brian growled at his incorrigible blond and sent both boys off to the bathroom to wash their hands.

“Naughty, shameless, teasing little twat,” Brian mumbled as he tried to will down the instant wood he’d popped as a result of those damned fingers and that quick pink tongue. “You’ll pay for that later, Blue Eyes.”

As the boys were busy washing their hands, Brian rummaged through the kid’s Paw Patrol backpack looking for Gus’ swim shorts. It didn’t take him long to determine that there were no shorts in the small bag; Lindsey must have forgotten to pack them. No problem, he figured, they’d just stop in at the hotel gift shop and buy Gus a new pair.

What should have been a quick and easy transaction took longer than thirty minutes as Gus oohed and ahhed over the wide selection of swimming shorts. Brian was just about ready to pick a pair and tell Gus they were done, when the little boy started jumping up and down and pointed excitedly to a pair of mannequins in front of him. “Daddy, I WANT US TO HAS THESE ONES.” Well, now everyone in the entire shop knows, thanks kid.

“Us?” It was only when Brian got closer to the mannequin that he noticed the ‘father and son’ in front of him were wearing matching swim shorts. Hell no. “Are you sure you want these ones, Gus?” Brian asked carefully. “Really?”

Gus nodded his head and looked up at Brian with the biggest smile on his face. “Yesssss! And look, Daddy, they do big peoples’ ones too. So you and Jussin can get the same as me. We kin all be twins!”

Brian could hear Justin chuckling from his spot a few meters away, where he was already rifling through the shorts and picking out their sizes.

“They has turtles on them, Daddy. They're sooooo cool.” Gus accepted the smallest pair of shorts from Justin and shoved the brightly colored fabric in Brian’s face, waiting patiently for Brian’s reaction. “See!”

“They’re great for you, Sonny Boy,” Brian tried to explain. “But I don’t know if they’re my style.”

“Don’t you like turtles, Daddy?” the boy asked sadly. “I guess thas okay . . .”

Brian could tell by the pout on Gus’s face that it was not okay and he suddenly found himself grabbing all three pairs of shorts and walking to the check out to pay. Fuck it! It didn’t matter that Brian found the pastel fabric with the giant turtle print horrid. What mattered was that his Sonny Boy wanted them and Brian would do fucking anything for Gus. Even if it meant he looked like a model - albeit a rather hot one - that just stepped out of a damned Toys ‘R Us ad.

“We kin get them? Really, Daddy? YAYYYYYY!” Gus was cheering so loudly that everyone in the store, and even some passersby in the hotel lobby, were now looking at them.

“Of course we can get them, Sonny Boy. Whatever you want, kiddo,” Brian agreed and whipped out his credit card.

Fifteen minutes later they were all three in the pool together, dressed in their matching swim shorts, playing a game Gus called ‘Sharks’. The game consisted mostly of Gus and Justin swimming around - Gus wearing inflatable arm floaties so he wouldn’t sink - while Brian chased after them pretending he was going to eat them if he caught them. They had the pool to themselves at first, so Brian felt free enough to act silly and dorky, making ‘shark’ growling noises while Gus screeched and paddled away. Justin was laughing so hard at Brian that he had trouble swimming, which was fine with Brian since it meant he was repeatedly able to catch and ‘eat’ the giggling blond. Justin didn’t seem to mind being eaten either, so it was all good. If Gus hadn’t been there, the eating might have led to something even better, but Brian was fine leaving that till later. In the meantime, Gus was laughing and ordering the shark around and having so much fun that Brian completely forgot to be self-conscious about how ridiculously domesticated the whole thing looked.

At least until he heard an unknown voice announcing, “you three are simply adorable.”

Brian let go of the fish he’d just caught, allowing Gus to swim away with more giggles, and turned to look at the older couple who’d just come into the pool area. The gentleman had already gone over to a lounge chair and wasn’t paying much attention, but the woman was standing right on the edge of the pool beaming down on them like a proud grandmother. Brian felt himself start to flush with embarrassment. It was one thing to indulge his boys, but another thing altogether to be caught in the act like this.

“Daddy! Jussin Fish is getting away. You gots to get ‘im,” Gus called from where he was paddling around in circles across the pool. “Hurry, Jussin Fish. Hurry or the Daddy Shark will gets you.”

Brian looked over his shoulder at the grey-haired women who was not only avidly watching the game but was now cheering on the ‘fishes’ and teasing the ‘shark’ right along with Gus.

“Damn it,” Brian muttered under his breath before diving under the water and swimming along, undetected, below the surface, to come up underneath an unsuspecting Justin. “Gotcha, Blue Eyes!”

After that, Brian for the most part ignored the nosy woman. He had always tried not to worry about what people thought of him, and he wasn’t about to let some old straight woman get to him now. He even gave in and let the woman take a picture of the three of them with Brian’s phone when they finally got out of the pool several minutes later. Gus was grinning from ear to ear in the picture, which made even the embarrassment worth it as far as Brian was concerned.

After all that swimming, his boys were hungry again. So, once they were back up in the room, had showered off the chlorine from the pool and were all dressed again, Brian dug out the M&M’s he’d got from the concierge earlier in the day and let the two junk food addicts have at them. Even Brian felt the term ‘adorable’ bubbling up in his thoughts as he watched Justin and Gus sorting through the colorful candies and trading so they each got their favorites. Damn it, maybe he was going soft, what with all this family shit surrounding him all day every day. Not that he really objected all that much, but he still felt it was his studly duty to at least mentally object every so often.

“Daddy, we gots to watch Paddington Bear, now, ‘kay?” Gus requested, sticking to his pre-planned itinerary for the day.

Ever the indulgent father, Brian found the requested movie on the television and then joined the M&M fiends on the bed where Gus insisted Brian climb under the covers with him. Brian followed orders, curling around his son, with Justin doing the same thing on the other side, allowing the two adults to link their fingers together on top of Gus’ stomach. Gus happily added his little hands on top of theirs so that they were basically all holding hands together, cuddled into one big ball of contentment.

“This is the bestest day ever of my whole wide life, Daddy. I was sad this morning when Mommy tolded me it was my last day here wiv you and Jussin, but now I’m happy cuz we haded sooooooo much fun,” Gus proclaimed happily looking from the television to Brian and then to Justin. “Kin we do this again when you gets home from London, Daddy? Jussin kin come too and we can play at my house wiv all my toys and I gots Toy Story so we kin watch that. Kin we, Daddy? Please?”

As soon as Gus mentioned seeing Justin again, Brian could feel the blond start to pull his hand away from the small boy’s grasp and untangle himself from Brian’s long legs, but Brian wouldn’t let him. The more Justin tried to pull away, the more weight he used to pin his runaway boy down. As cruel as it sounded, Brian needed Justin to hear how much his kid worshipped the blond; how the thought of seeing ‘His Jussin’ again was possibly one of the only things keeping Gus from having a melt down at the thought of going home and leaving them both behind.

“That sounds like fun, Sonny Boy,” Brian mumbled into the top of Gus’s head, his gaze however remaining locked on Justin. He hated the pain he saw in those gorgeous blue eyes, but if Brian had any hope of keeping Justin here in the future with him, Brian needed him to hear this. “I doubt Justin has seen Toy Story, so that’s a pretty good plan. What do you say, Blue Eyes? Is it a date - you, me, Gus and Woody?”

The sadness in Justin’s eyes was evident, but his calm, strong voice betrayed nothing when he answered the sleepy child, saying, “I’d like that, Gus. We’ll have to see, though. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” Gus replied around a yawn as the warmth from the bed and the bodies curled around him, combined with the fatigue from all their swimming, finally worked it’s magic, leaving Brian and Justin still lying there, holding hands, while the television flickered unnoted in the background.