March 31 (Part One)

"I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband," Justin muttered under his breath, adopting his mantra from months before, although for different reasons this time. "It is illegal and I look horrible in orange, and I would be missing out on years of glorious sex. I will not kill my husband."

He sighed and rubbed his crusty eyes and then sneezed violently; sniffling a bit, he grabbed a tissue as he blatantly ignored the loud voices outside his studio door, thanking his foresight for putting a lock on the door. Now, if they'd just get the hint and fucking leave him in peace already, he'd be a much happier man.

Blowing his nose, he rolled over onto his side and cuddled up on his body pillow that he dragged in and placed on the futon this morning when it looked as if Anna was going to start hovering like everyone else. Christ, you'd think that no one had ever gotten a cold while pregnant; not that he actually had a full blown cold. And no, he wasn't in denial. This wasn't at all like Brian's not-cold in December. This truly was just the sniffles.

He wasn't coughing; he wasn't running a fever. He did have a few minor body aches and he was sneezing and sniffling, but there was no real congestion to deal with. It was a mild thing, likely due to the fact that he had been stressed recently and had been running around more than usual. But, he couldn't help that – between the show, and the fights and the baby shower, he'd been busy and had worn himself down more than he'd realized at first.

But it was nothing serious.

Unless you asked his friends and family; Christ, he was about ready to ask Carl if he'd mind helping him hide some bodies if this kept up.

It had started yesterday, when Brian came back from the visit with Ted and Blake that he wasn't supposed to know about; but did because like he couldn't figure out what Brian had been planning when he'd muttered something about shopping for Luc. He had known that it would only be a matter of time before Brian confronted Ted and Blake.

His husband wasn't a stupid man; and Justin had known that eventually Brian would put the pieces together and realize that Blake had been the friend present when they'd overheard Simon. From there, it wouldn't be all that hard for him to figure out that Blake had likely spilled the beans to Ted, because Blake could never keep things from Ted. But Justin hadn't done or said anything because he knew that Brian needed to hash this out with Ted without his interference if they were going to keep working together smoothly.

Plus, he'd been feeling a bit under the weather since he'd gotten up that morning; and the less he had to deal with Brian's hovering, the better. A thought that proved correct when Brian came home from Ted and Blake's and discovered him hiding in his studio.

"Justin?" Brian called as he lightly knocked on the door; Justin grimaced and tried to clear his throat of any congestion. "Are you in here?"

"Yeah," Justin called from where he'd been huddled on the futon, cringing when he heard how rough his voice sounded. "Just working on something; I'll be out later."

There was a long pause, and for a brief moment, Justin had thought that Brian had accepted his excuse and walked away; but he quickly realized that Fate hadn't been on his side that day there when were no familiar footsteps heading away from the door. Fuck.

"Are you okay?" Brian asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice. "You sound funny."

"Fine, it's likely just the door muffling my voice," Justin grimaced again, feeling a tad bit bad about lying to his husband; but then he remembered Brian's reaction to his first dizzy spell and the way he'd hovered over Justin despite his protests, and he clammed up.

"Right," Brian said, a suspicious note creeping into his voice; Justin cursed under his breath. He was so fucked. "And is there a reason you're yelling at me through the door instead of opening it and speaking to me like a normal person."

"Uh…" Justin hedged, trying to think of a good reason for not opening the door when he'd first heard Brian. "My hands are covered in charcoal?"

"Was that a statement or a question, Sunshine?" Brian asked with not little amount of exasperation; Justin huffed and buried his face into his body pillow. There was no way that he was going to get rid of his husband now.

Not that he was ready to concede defeat by any means.

"A statement," Justin said, but he knew that it was futile; Brian had caught the scent of his fabrication and was now going to hold on like a terrier with a bone.

"Sure it was," Brian drawled; and Justin could so see the look on his face as he said. Fuck, and double fuck. "Open the door and prove it to me."

"Brian…" Justin whined; and then he scowled when Brian just banged on the door once more, not at all taken in by Justin's act.

"Open the door, Justin," Brian commanded. "Or I go and get the key; and I will open it myself."

"Fine," Justin muttered, not that he expected Brian to hear that.

He threw aside the mound of blankets that he'd been curled up under and crawled off the futon, straightening out his clothing to make himself more presentable. Hopefully he didn't look as bad as he felt and Brian would walk away satisfied with Justin's little white lie.

Yeah, he didn't really believe that one himself.

Shuffling away to the door, he rubbed his eyes and nose and dreaded opening it, especially when Brian began to tap an impatient rhythm on the door with his fingertips. Justin huffed, braced himself and then slowly opened the door to meet Brian's very unimpressed look. His husband's assessing gaze slid over his face and body, and then quickly took in the futon topped with a little mound of used tissues and frowned.

"Allergies?" Brian asked as he flicked his unhappy gaze back to Justin.

"Maybe?" Justin hesitantly said, his voice lilting in the end, turning the statement into more of a question.

"Please tell me you're not getting sick," Brian said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not getting…" Justin began to parrot dutifully, but halted when his nose tickled and he ended up sneezing three times in a row. Sniffling miserably, he grimaced, but continued as if he hadn't just given himself away. "…sick."

"That doesn't reassure me any, Sunshine," Brian said, arching a brow.

"I'm fine," Justin insisted, even as he sniffled again; Brian pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest and just stared at Justin until he was squirming.

"Sure, you are," Brian said; and then he turned on his heel and headed towards their bedroom with Justin following on his heels. "I'm calling the doctor."

"Brian…" Justin huffed, and then he sniffled again belying his early comments; Brian glared at him over his shoulder, but kept right on walking towards the room and likely his cell phone. "It's just the sniffles; I don't need to see Liz."

"Still calling her," Brian said, picking up his cell phone and hitting a couple of buttons; Justin huffed again and threw himself on the bed.

He couldn't believe that Brian actually had his doctor on speed dial.

But Justin hadn't gotten irritated by that.

He fully acknowledged that calling Liz had been a wise idea so that he knew what to do and how the cold might affect Sunbeam if it ever developed from the sniffles into a full blown cold or the flu. He even tolerated Brian's hovering and pampering for an hour or two because it felt nice; but then, he started making noises about calling his mom and asking her advice before long and then Justin wanted to do nothing more than to drop kick him out of the house. Like hell was he going to deal with her mother henning too.

He had even thought that he'd gotten his way when he glared at Brian and told him that if he even thought of calling his mother or Deb, he would be enjoying the guest room for the next couple of weeks. Brian had huffed, rolled his eyes and stalked away; leaving Justin bundled up on the chaise in the living room.

Justin had laid there, reading, and feeling quite smug that he had won for about two hours, and then Brian's reinforcements had shown up.

Justin stared balefully at a cheerful Emmett and an amused Blake, the latter of whom was sitting on the edge of the chaise with a face mask on and laughter in his eyes. Emmett set a picnic basket, of all things, down on the floor and sat on the foot stool.

"Why are you two even here?" Justin asked with no little amount of exasperation before turning to Blake with a frown. "Especially you! You could get Luc sick, you idiot."

"Hence the mask," Blake said, tapping the mask with his finger and shrugging. "Plus I'll shower and change once I get home. I just needed an hour or two away, and this was as good of an excuse as any."

"Honestly," Justin rolled his eyes; and then he looked at the picnic basket with curiosity, the smells coming from it making his mouth water and his stomach rumble. "It's a minor cold, not the plague. Not even that; it's more like the sniffles and it's annoying more than anything."

"We know that, Baby," Emmett smirked, opening the basket to reveal several tubs of chicken with rice soup and a couple of loaves of his crusty, homemade bread. Justin licked his lips. "But Big Bad was a wee bit panicked and it was just best to humor him rather than reason with him at the time."

Justin scowled, but did accept the bowl of soup that Emmett had just poured. What? He may be irritated that Brian had called them, but he wasn't stupid enough to turn away freshly made bread with butter and steaming soup.

"And to give him credit," Blake said, snickering when Justin moaned in appreciation at the first bite of soup. "He only called Emmett to ask if he could make you some chicken soup. I'm only here because Ted and I were visiting with Em and Drew when he called. Bad news is, Ted was on the phone with Todd when he did."

Justin froze, his eyes widening with horror as he stared at his two friends.

"Oh, God," Justin groaned, smacking his palm against his forehead. "That means that it will eventually get back to Deb and I'll never get any peace."

"Please," Emmett snorted as he sliced and buttered a piece of bread for him and Blake each. "Like that was going to happen with Anna here; you know damned well that if Deb didn't hear it from someone in passing, Anna will be on the phone with your mother and Deb the second she shows up tomorrow."

"Maybe I'll just hide in my studio all day," Justin hummed and then took a bite of bread, his eyes closing in pleasure as the taste of yeasty bread and creamy butter burst across his palate; Emmett always made the best stuff..

"Good luck with that," Blake snorted. "You know that if you're in there for longer than four hours, she'll call Brian and find out anyways."

Justin groaned and leaned against the back of the chaise, but didn't say a word. He didn't need to. They were all well aware of Anna's tenacity and resourcefulness.

"On the positive side; you do have plenty of homemade soup," Blake said with a grin, snickering when Justin glared at him.

"Someone shoot me now," Justin grumbled around a mouthful of bread; and then smiled beatifically at Emmett as there was no reason to upset the chef of this glorious soup and bread. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture; but I could have done that myself."

"Not according to Big Bad," Emmett said, chuckling when Justin's expression soured at the mention of his husband; Brian was so going to pay for this. "He said, and I quote, 'Please bring me some soup so that I don't walk in tomorrow and find my idiot husband passed out on the kitchen floor;' unquote. Face it, Baby; the man knows you well."

"But Anna…!" Justin huffed, and then quickly snapped his mouth shut and stared at his laughing friends in utter annoyance.

"Like you wouldn't find a way to get her out of the house and do it yourself," Blake pointed out, a knowing look on his face. Justin scowled.

"Look at it this way," Emmett smirked. "At least he isn't trying to cook it himself."

"Yeah…" Justin shuddered, recalling all too well what had happened the first, and last, time Brian had attempted to make him soup. "I still have no idea what he did to that one batch that made the broth turn green."

"It's probably best that it remains a mystery," Emmett wisely said.

And while Brian calling in reinforcements annoyed him a bit, it still wasn't really what put Justin over the edge. He'd happily deal with the coddling if it meant that he can actually eat something that didn't look like a science experiment gone wrong. And as much as he loved Brian, cooking was not his forte. That's why they had Anna to make and stock their refrigerator with casseroles and the like for when Justin was busy.

Brian was well versed in take-out; and he was a whiz at reheating food, or making a simple sandwich. He could toast bread like a fiend, build a salad like a dream and microwave with the best of them. Get him anywhere near a stove, with raw ingredients, and you were taking your life in your own hands. He never even bothered to lie about his skills or attempt to better them. Cooking was just not his thing and he wasn't even going to pretend to have an interest in it.

Sighing, Justin blew his nose and looked out the window, watching the black SUV still sitting in his driveway, irritation crackling along his nerves as he recalled the near fight that he and Brian had this morning because someone was being a mother hen.

Justin shuffled down the stairs, his hair tousled and his nose red and running, as he staggered into the kitchen for his one cup of morning coffee. His body ached and it was days like this that he wished that he wasn't allergic to Tylenol, since it was the only over-the-counter drug Liz recommended for pain relief. Sometimes, life just fucking sucked.

Flicking the machine on, he pressed his head against it and began to systematically stretch out his muscles a bit, hoping that it would ease come of the ache and lethargy. Maybe after breakfast, he'd go back upstairs and take a warm, soothing bath with some of the Epsom salts that Emmett had given him last night. Or well, maybe not.

On the one hand, the thought of a twenty-minute soak was almost too good to pass up; but on the other, the thought of trying to climb in and out of the tub at this stage in his pregnancy sounded a bit sketchy, even with the bench and skid proof mat. It would be just his luck that he'd hit the one sliver of tub that had no protection and end up slipping and falling. So, on second thought, maybe he'd just wait until tonight. A shower would have to suffice.

Grumbling, Justin poured his coffee and added the appropriate sugar and cream, and then inhaled half of it in one slurp. God, he needed that. Setting the cup aside, Justin turned towards the pantry and then froze as he found Brian, still sitting at the table, watching him in amusement. Justin frowned, glanced over at the clock, which read 9:30 a.m., and then turned back to Brian questioning look.

One that Brian blatantly ignored; Justin's frown deepened because like hell was this happening. No way was he going to put up with Brian hovering all day. Eyeing his husband with no little amount of exasperation, Justin walked over to the pantry for his instant oatmeal, as he was in no mood to cook today and Anna was out doing the food shopping.

"You're getting a late start today," Justin commented lightly as he came back out of the pantry with a box of apples and cinnamon oatmeal. He set it on the counter and then grabbed a sauce pan, filled it with water and set it to boil

"Not going in," Brian said with a shrug, sucking down the rest of his coffee; he set the mug aside and continued to read the paper as it were perfectly natural for him to skip out on work without a concern; Justin had a bad feeling that he knew where this was headed.

"Why not?" Justin asked, watching his husband suspiciously from the corner of his eyes as he pulled a couple of eggs out of the refrigerator. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Brian said, flipping the page over without so much as looking up at Justin, much to his annoyance. "I just decided to work from home today."

"Really?" Justin said in a flat tone, his lips compressing as he faced his husband.

"Yup," Brian said, offering up a bland smile that Justin wasn't buying one bit. "I didn't really feel like dealing with the drive and traffic today."

"Uh huh," Justin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. "And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have a cold?"

"No," Brian stated blandly; he got up and moved over to the coffee machine, to set another pot on to brew since Justin had only brewed enough for his one cup. You know, because he thought Brian was actually at work. "Why would it?"

"Why would…?" Justin huffed again, even as he accepted the soft kiss against his temple; although, he didn't return it as he didn't want to get Brian sick if he could at all help it. Brian with a cold was a fucking nightmare to deal with. "Brian…I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself; I don't need you hovering."

"Of course, you don't, Sunshine," Brian agreed, mixing enough sugar into his coffee to give a small mammal sugar shock. He took the mug and walked back over to the table and sat down, leisurely flipping his way through the paper.

"No," Justin stated succinctly, his hands on his hips; because like hell was he going to deal with an over-attentive Brian underfoot all day.

"No, what?" Brian asked mildly, as if he wasn't fully aware of what Justin was protesting. Justin pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for strength.

"I mean; no, there is no way in hell that you're staying here today," Justin said between grit teeth. "You have a meeting with Hell's Half Acre Brewery. You can't miss that."

"Ted and Cynthia can take care of it," Brian said, shrugging lazily, as if he hadn't just spent the last two weeks busting his ass on this presentation, only to hand it over because Justin had the fucking sniffles. Fuck that.

"Ted and Cynthia could take care of it," Justin agreed with a sweet smile; Brian paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he was all too aware that there was no way in hell that Justin was actually conceding the argument. "But they won't because you are going to work and doing it yourself."

"Justin…" Brian huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Brian…" Justin mocked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sunshine…" Brian tried again and then sighed when Justin just shook his head.

"Not happening," Justin huffed, turning to pour the packets of oatmeal into a bowl and then adding the boiling water until it was at the desired consistency; and then he carefully added the eggs to the boiling water and put the timer on.

"You are a stubborn twat," Brian groused, making Justin grin as he knew that he won when Brian made comments like that; he turned and arched a brow.

"You knew that before you married me," Justin stated unsympathetically.

"I just want to be here in case you need something," Brian grumbled, but started cleaning up as he knew that he'd lost the fight.

"Brian, it's the sniffles." Justin rolled his eyes as he grabbed a bowl of berries out of the fridge and added them to a small bowl of yogurt. "I am more than capable of walking into the kitchen or the bathroom or the bedroom and getting whatever I need. I do not need you hovering over me, fretting over every single raspy breath I take."

"You're having trouble breathing?" Brian demanded, his eyes widening in alarm; and shit! Justin should have just kept his big mouth shut because now he was right back to where they started and he was so not dealing with this today.

"Brian!" Justin growled in frustration, glaring at his now hovering husband; he pointed to the kitchen door. "Go! Just get the fuck out of here and go to work before I kill you."

"Fine," Brian growled in return, stalking over to the door; but then he paused, a thin smile on his face as he tossed over his shoulder. "It's not like Anna won't be here all day; I'll just be sure to mention your not-cold to her."

Justin bit back another scream of frustration as he watched his husband sail out the door, his phone out and at his ear as he made good on his threat. Glowering at the space that Brian had just emptied, he muttered under his breath.

"I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband. It is illegal and I look horrible in orange, and I would be missing out on years of glorious sex. I will not kill my husband."

Justin fully admitted to being a bit aggravated by that incident; especially when Anna had cut her shopping trip short in order to be home by the time Brian was leaving. He distinctly recalled Brian's smug little smirk as he headed out the door, just as Anna walked in; really they couldn't have planned it better.

And they likely had; planned it that is.

Justin had glowered at them both and stomped off up to his room to have a shower and then holed himself up in the living room, only speaking to Anna once when she'd asked him if he wanted something more than soup for lunch. Not that it bothered her any; she was quite used to Justin's surliness when it came to be coddled while sick, and easily ignored it much to his irritation. She'd taken on more trying patients than he as she liked to remind him and his pouting wasn't going to deter her any.

But even with that, he still hadn't reached the point of being done; he could deal with Brian and Anna's machinations as they tended to let him do his thing and just worked around him much to his never ending irritation and amusement.

No, what had pushed him to the point of locking himself in his studio, bundled up on the futon, watching a black SUV in his drive way was the moment his mother and Deb showed up and wanted to 'take care of him.' He'd known it would happen eventually; and he'd known that they wouldn't be able to resist babying him, but he had hoped that he would have a little more downtime before they pushed their way through his door.

He should have known better.

"What are you doing here?" Justin asked, a scowl on his face as he opened the front door to his mother's and Deb's concerned faces. He had briefly considered not answering it, but he knew that they'd just keep knocking on the door and ringing the bell until he finally caved to their whims.

"Hey sweetheart," his mother said, pushing her way past Justin with, what he assumed, was her typical care package – soup, crackers, ginger ale and magazines. Deb followed closely behind. "We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd drop by for a visit."

"You know, that didn't work the first time you tried it," Justin huffed, closing the door with a bit more force than necessary; but all he had wanted was a quiet day, resting on the couch in the living room. He didn't need this. "It's not going to work now given the fact that you live over thirty minutes away, in an entirely different state. Try again."

"Well, he's definitely not feeling good," Deb cackled taking her own care package into the kitchen; only this one likely contained lasagna, garlic bread, hot chocolate mix and ice cream. Apparently Deb's method of dealing with illness was to kill it with an overabundance of garlic. "He only gets this pissy when he's sick."

"Well, I didn't doubt Brian,"  his mother said in a mild tone as she started filling his fridge with soup containers, completely ignoring the other four containers that were already in there. And why they thought he'd need that much soup for sniffles, he didn't know. "He was far too stressed for it not to be legitimate."

"Yeah, but he's also been acting like a first-time daddy," Deb said as she stacked a couple of lasagnas and two tubs of ice cream into the freezer. Justin pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if his presence was even necessary for this conversation. You know, since they hadn't even acknowledged him since entering. "You know how he tends to overreact."

"You know, I am still standing right here," Justin reminded them, feeling decidedly pissy. "Maybe, instead of listening to Brian, you should ask me what I think on that matter."

"Oh, please, sweetheart," his mother snorted as she stacked small bottles of ginger ale into the fridge. "I know you far too well for that; I remember that time when you were about fifteen and you kept trying to convince me that it was nothing but the sniffles; and then, when it wouldn't go away after two weeks, I dragged you to the doctor, only to find out that you had pneumonia. Like I'd listen to you."

"Really?" Deb asked, as she put away the hot chocolate mix and then added a couple of loaves of bread to the fridge. "I wish Michael had been like that; it seemed that every single time he got so much as a hangnail, he was bemoaning his fate as if he'd gotten the plague. Brian wasn't all that much better."

"Justin would always hide it from me," his mother said, making a clucking sound with her tongue; Justin averted his eyes to the ceiling and asked the Gods or the Fates or whatever the hell was up there why they insisted on testing his patience this way. He, of course, got no answer. "He has always been far too independent for his own good."

"No, just no," Justin growled; he'd finally had enough of all this nonsense and was not going to deal with it anymore. "I have been dealing with Brian, Emmett, Blake and Anna all over here trying to help me. I'm not dealing with you too. Go home."

"Justin," his mother said in that tone that told him that she thought he was being unreasonable; Justin didn't care though and would be very happy to show them just how 'unreasonable' he could be.

"What part of 'go home, I am fine' did you not understand?" Justin asked point blank; not that he thought it would get through to them, but it needed asking.

"Don't be difficult, sweetheart," his mother said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand as she turned back to Deb and resumed their unpacking.

"Don't be…?" Justin groused; and then he went silent for a minute, making the overbearing women in his life look up in concern. Justin glared at them and then hissed as he turned on his heel. "You know what, fuck this."

"Wait, where are you going, Sunshine?" Deb asked, following him out of the kitchen, a frown on her face.

But Justin didn't bother to answer; he just took the stairs as quickly as he could, strode over to his studio and slammed the door, thankful that he'd had the presence of mind to put one of the containers of Emmett's soup in his mini-fridge in case he needed it. He quickly locked it, and then plopped down on his futon, shoving his iPod player ear buds into his ears to block out his mother's and Deb's knocking.

That had been two hours ago.

Since then, Justin had laid on the futon, alternatively sketching or reading; and then listening to music whenever his mother or Deb would try to pry him from his self-imposed exile. Not that it worked. In fact, the only reason he'd even turned off his mp3 player was that he knew that Brian would be home soon and he was more than capable of dealing with the motherly-menace downstairs, enabling Justin to leave the studio.

Perking up when he heard a familiar motor coming up the drive, Justin sighed in relief when he saw Brian pull up to the garage and open it. Sitting up, Justin leaned against the pillows, his eyes still glued to the black SUV; and then twenty minutes later, he gave a mental cheer as the SUV pulled away with both his mother and Deb in it. But he didn't leave just yet; he didn't want to risk coming out, only for them to turn around for just one more thing like they were wont to do.

Tapping a pencil against his lips, Justin kept watch over the driveway, only turning away when he heard a key being slid into the lock. Looking up as Brian entered; Justin rolled his eyes as his husband strolled through the door in his sweats, a smirk firmly planted on his face. He walked over and flopped onto the futon.

"Honey, I'm home!" Brian exclaimed, spreading his arms wide.

"I knew I should've hidden that key better," Justin snorted, but did smile at his husband's antics; shaking his head, Justin carded his fingers through Brian's hair.

"You do know that I could've just gotten a locksmith in here or found a way to remove the door had I wanted to," Brian snorted; and yes, Justin did know that. However, he also knew that Brian would never follow through on the threat unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Are they actually gone?" Justin asked warily, stretching out his neck muscles; Brian laughed. "Or is this a ruse to get me to surface?"

"I have sent our mothers on their merry way," Brian snickered, his eyes closing as Justin continued to pet him. "It is now safe for you to come out."

"Thank fuck," Justin groused; he let his hand fall away and then slid down to lie next to Brian, just enjoying his husband's presence. "Fucking overbearing mother hens."

"You love it," Brian teased, yelping when Justin jabbed him with his elbow.

"No," Justin grumbled, stretching out fully on the futon. "I really, really don't."

"It couldn't have been all that bad," Brian mildly stated, snickering when Justin turned and glared at him. "Anna said she left you pretty much alone and that the moms hadn't shown up until two hours ago."

"You have obviously not seen our refrigerator," Justin said with a wry grin. "Between Mom, Emmett and Anna, I think we have enough soup to feed an entire hospital ward."

"We can freeze it later," Brian shrugged, and then turned on his side to pet Justin.

"We'll need to," Justin hummed, closing his eyes as Brian's fingers carded through his hair. "There is no way I could go through all of that even in a month."

"Hmmm…" Brian hummed in response, still petting a happily purring Justin. "Oh, by the way; I meant to ask you earlier, but you were too busy trying to shove me out the door and I didn't have time to ask."

"What's that?" Justin asked a bit sleepily; God, he hated being sick. It always made him lethargic; and then add the pregnancy on top of that and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for several days straight.

"Where did you get that herbal tea that you gave me when I was sick," Brian asked, his hand sliding down and coming to a rest lightly on Justin's baby bump "I was thinking of stopping by and seeing if you could drink it since you can't take Tylenol. I know that it helped me a great deal when I had a cold."

Justin eyes popped open, panic flooding through his body at Brian's innocuous words. Shit. He had almost forgotten about that! Wincing, Justin turned towards Brian, wondering if he'd figured it out what he'd done and this was his way of getting Justin to confess; but Brian just stared back with honest curiosity, making Justin cringe and curse internally at his little white lie from months ago. Well, fuck; what should he do now?