After the worst day at Kinnetik in a very long time, I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone.

So the last thing I needed was to be ambushed by an overexcited seven year old when I got home. Sadly, I knew I'd be alone with both kids until Justin returned from the parents meeting at school.

“Guess what I did with Aunty Emmy!” Patrick said excitedly, bouncing around me.

“Eat all the candies in the house?”

“No! Guess again!”

“Stop running around me and tell me already.”

“Nope.” He shook his head, his hair flying around. He needed a haircut. “You have to guess.”

“Munchkin, I've no clue what you did. You have to tell me.”

He stopped in front of me, making me nearly run into him. His little hands thrust up, his fingers wriggling in front of my face. “So pretty! Don't you think so?”

“Honeycutt! Kitchen! NOW!”

“The big bad monster is home,” Emmett joked, coming down the stairs with Ruby in his arms.

She reached for me, smiling.

Christ. On days like these, all I wanted was to lock myself away from any social interaction.

“Hey, Peanut.” I kissed her cheek, before checking her nails. She hadn't escaped the manicure, either.

I put her down. “Go play with your brother. I have to talk with Aunt Emmett alone.”

“Don't be mad at Aunty Em. I broke—”

Patrick lunged to clap a hand over Ruby's mouth. “Shut up!”

I narrowed my eyes at all their guilty expressions and at that point, I didn't even want to know what was broken.

I seized Emmett's collar and dragged him into the kitchen, kicking the door shut.

“What the fuck did I tell you about painting Patrick's nails?”

“He came to me. I tried to explain you'd be mad, but he begged. You know I can't say no when he begs.”

“Fuck!”

“You can take it off tonight before he goes to bed. Or indulge him since it's Friday...”

“Or shut the fuck up! He's my kid! When you'll have a kid of your own, you can paint his nails all day long. Until then, don't fuck up my kid!”

“Really now? So I'm fucked up because I like my nails done every now and then?” He snapped.

I was surprised I'd managed to infuriate Emmett, which was hard to do.

“What I'm saying is don't make him think gay equals effeminate!”

“No, gay means fucking everything available! Right?”

“Oh, that's great. Throw ancient history in my face, Honeycutt.”

“Stop calling me Honeycutt!”

“Stop making Patrick think painting his nails is okay!”

“It's for fun and he understands it! I mean, he even asked if it was a bad thing he liked his nails painted pretty, because he didn't see other men with painted nails and well...you're against it.”

“Of course, I'm against it! I won't have him laughed at and mocked because he likes his nails done! Sure, what the fuck, if he'll still like this shit when he's old enough to defend himself, I will try to be understanding. But not now!” I shouted. “Kids his age are very judgmental. Especially the ones coming from homophobic families. I don't want him attacked verbally or physically at school or on the street because you caved to his puppy eyes.”

Emmett kept opening and closing his mouth. “I didn't think of it that way.”

“Well, try to analyze it next time. You know why Justin is at the parents' meeting? Because Patrick told us that some other kids asked him who he calls mommy and he was so fucking confused at what to answer...and I'm so fucking mad. If I went to school, it wouldn't have ended up well, so Justin decided to go and have a talk with all the parents. If they hate us, they should tell us, not hurt Patrick.”

“Oh, God! Did this really happen? So fucked up.” Emmett frowned.

“Yeah, it did, so tone it the fuck down with painting his nails. Anyway, what's broke?” I asked casually, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Emmett shifted nervously from one foot to another.

“Emmett?”

“I wanted to tire them earlier and took them to the entertainment room,” he answered quietly.

My favorite room in house. “Go on.”

“I asked them what cool stuff you have around to dance on.”

“Aaand?”

“And Ruby showed me a CD case and said it was your favorite and she saw you dancing on that with Justin sometimes.”

“WHAT?” Not that CD, for fuck's sake. “Did she drop it or something?”

“She placed it wrong in the player. It's scratched. I'm really sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” I mumbled, taking a gulp from my beer.

“It looked like a blank, but now that I see your face...”

“We have a few...HAD a few songs there. It was sort of important. Anyway, how the fuck did she find it?”

“She told me to get it from the top shelf.”

We shared a knowing look because the kids knew stuff they shouldn't.

“Can I ask what songs did you have there? I could try burning you a new CD.”

“Don't bother. I have the whole playlist on my laptop, but we kept the CD too. The sound is different on the stereo.” When Emmett kept eyeing me expectantly, I went on. “Yes, I know the curiosity is eating at your gut. Justin burned that for us a long time ago, like way behind...when he was out of the hospital time. One of the songs was the one we danced on prom. Justin insists we play it every now and then, but I'm worried. I'm not even sure if I want him to remember.”

Emmett surprised me by hugging me tightly. “If he remembers the nice parts...like the dance...”

“But we don't know what memories it might trigger. Can we not talk about that?”

“Of course. I have to go anyway. Drewsy should be home from practice by now.”

I snorted at his nickname for big, butch Drew. “Just keep in mind what we talked, okay?”

“Sure thing, Brian. Now I know. I'll try not to cave next time. I'm going to say goodbye to the kids.”

I nodded, following him.

A teary goodbye later, I had two high on sugar kids. I planted Ruby in front of a game on my tablet and gave Patrick a set of pencils and one of Justin's sketchpads, while I lounged on the sofa in the sitting room with my beer.

When I finished the bottle, I sat up ready to grab another, but got a loud groan of protest from Patrick. It was scarily similar to Justin's when I disturbed his karma while painting.

“What's up?”

“You moved!” Tears sprung into his eyes.

What the fuck? “Uh, I'm still alive. So yeah...I moved.”

“I was drawing you!”

“Oh...” He'd been so quiet I hadn't even dared ask what he was doing. “Can I see?”

“It's ruined now!”

“No, it's not. Let me see.” I went closer, but he hugged the sketchpad to his chest. “Okay, be that way. I'm gonna grab another beer, then try resuming my position.”

He brightened immediately, nodding excitedly.

With a cold Beck's in hand, I slumped back on the sofa. “Like this?”

Patrick regarded me for a long minute. “Closer to Ruby. Your left foot on the table and your right leg bent, knee on the outside.”

“If the artist says so,” I joked, complying.

“The bottle in your left hand. Your right hand on your stomach. Lower. Lower still. There!”

I burst out laughing.

“Now your head resting on the back of the couch. Tilted up. Perfect. Now don't move.”

As demanding as his dada.

Of course I moved. A lot. My leg cramped up. Then I managed to spill beer on me so I took off my shirt, ruining everything.

Thankfully Justin chose that moment to return, when Munchkin was in full blown tantrum.

Justin shot me a panicked look, before glancing back to the front door.

“Look who's home!” I shouted, before he could dare escaping the madness.

“Dadaaaa!” Patrick sprinted to Justin, clinging to his leg. “Daddy moved!”

“Shouldn't he?” Justin asked confused, picking Patrick up and carrying him to the sofa. He sat next to me.

“No. I was drawing him real pretty.”

“Now Brian, I thought you learned from me. Never move when you're posing for the artist.”

“I spilled beer on my good shirt because I wasn't allowed to sit up like a normal person.”

“Let's see what you drew. I can help you rectify it,” Justin offered. While Patrick rushed to grab the sketchpad, Justin leaned closer, kissing me. “We have a lot to talk when they go to bed.”

“That bad?”

“Mhmm. Oh, this is beautiful!” He gushed over the drawing Patrick showed him, keeping the pad angled so I didn't see.

When I tugged at the sketchpad to see for myself, Patrick slapped my hand. “You're not allowed. Dada has experience.”

I raised my hands, laughing. “If you say so.”

“I'll show you how to correct it tomorrow. It's late now. You should be in bed.”

I glanced at Ruby and found her fast asleep, curled on the other side of the sofa, the game long forgotten.

Patrick was so upset, he didn't even want me to read him the bedtime story. So I took Ruby to bed, then went to our room to wait for Justin. I was truly worried of what was happening at Patrick's school.

After a quick shower, I changed into my pajamas and slipped under the blankets. I made the mistake to check my email, where I found ten new emails from the head of the Art Department. In all of them he was complaining about how inapt the teams were and we had a big deal coming in only a week.

I was in the middle of answering him when Justin came into our room.

“One second,” I told him, finishing typing my lengthily email, pressed Send, then focused on Justin. He was going through his nightly routine, but I could see he was upset.

“So how did it go?” I inquired when he snuggled into my side. “Cold!” I shouted when his freezing feet touched my warm calf.

He giggled, pressing even closer. “It was a good thing you didn't go to the parents' meeting.”

“That bad?”

“Horrible. They're kids, for fuck's sake! Sam's parents are the biggest homophobes I've ever met!”

“Ever,” I repeated skeptically.

“Ever! His dad dared to tell me to pull Patrick out of the school.”

“What?” I could feel the blood raising to my head.

“He said Patrick shouldn't be allowed around other kids, that he's a bad influence. And then some other parent, I think Betty's dad, said that people like us, as in gay, shouldn't be allowed to adopt. A child needs a mom and a dad.”

“What a fucking asshole! I'd have punched him.”

Justin smoothed a hand over my chest to soothe me. “I was so angry by then that I told him I had a mom and a dad, and when my dad found out I am gay, he disowned me.”

“To that they answered 'because you're an abnormality' and people like me shouldn't exist.”

I always got irrationally angry when mindless idiots accused us of various things, but when Justin was attacked that way, they had a new one coming their way.

I hugged him tightly, kissing his head. “What did you tell them?”

He giggled, meeting my eyes. “I said it's not my fault straight people keep giving birth to gay people.”

I snorted, kissing him soundly. “That's my boy!”

He beamed proudly. “Anyway, I explained to them to try to allow their kids to make their own opinion on queers. Most of them don't give a fuck if another kid has two dads or two moms, unless they hear bad stuff about it at home.”

“Yeah, that's true.”

“And I also told them that Patrick doesn't have a mom, but he doesn't need one. He has two dads who love him more than anything else.” He left the last word hanging, making me realize there was more to it.

“Did someone have to say something against that?”

Justin bit his lip, sitting up, crossing his legs as he faced me. “Yeah. They asked how do we show him that love,” he whispered.

“So he's a brat, but that's your fault,” I joked. “He totally inherited it from you.”

Justin shook his head slowly. “That's not what they meant.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted to say. “Oh, same old stupid connection? If someone is gay, they are pedophiles? What the fuck is wrong with people?”

Justin shrugged, looking away.

“Come here.” I pulled him closer, knowing he was close to tears. “This is the society we live in. I thought you knew it by now, Justin.”

“But it fucking hurts when I'm accused of something like this! When I'm treated like dirt just because I like dick.”

“It's true. You liking dick, I mean.”

“We're having a serious conversation, Brian.”

“I always take seriously every dick conversation.”

He burst out laughing.

“Anyway, so how did it end? The meeting at school? Will Patrick be harassed again?”

“I can't promise that it won't happen, but Patrick said he'll always tell us if it happens again.”

“I'm going to raise hell if he comes home asking whether or not he should call one of us mommy. I thought I'd lost my hearing for a second when he asked that.”

Justin sighed loudly. “Do you think Linz and Mel had this problem too and never told us?”

“I doubt it. Besides, straight men get turned on by two chicks kissing.”

Justin shuddered. “Which I'll never understand.”

“Because you like dick. We established that.” I grinned, leaning for a kiss.

His tongue peaked out to trace my lips. “These idiots have no idea how hot it is to kiss a man, to feel a hard dick up your ass.”

“Speaking of dick up ass...” I slipped a hand over his bubble butt.

“You want me to top?” He asked eagerly.

I pushed him on his stomach. “I want you to stop guessing wrong and shut up.” I tugged at his sleep pants, lowering them enough to have access to his glorious ass.

Justin handed me lube and a condom, wrapping his arms around his pillow, wriggling his ass, pushing against my hard dick. “Fuck me.” He started moaning loudly when I had two slick fingers into his hole, stretching him.

“Shhh!” I pushed his face into the pillow. “Don't wake them, for fuck's sake!”

He quieted until I had my dick in him. Then he startled mewling my name, pushing back and meeting me thrust for thrust. The least of my concerns was the headboard banging into the wall, more importantly was to keep Justin quiet.

I pushed in deeper, bracing on his shoulder with a hand and the other clamped over his mouth. Of course, the kinky boy in him loved it, and groaned loudly.

“Harder,” he begged, moving a hand under him to fist his dick. “Faster, Brian! Yes! Holy fuck!”

When his ass clamped around my dick, I managed two more pumps, before spilling into the condom, but I continued moving knowing he hadn't come yet.

“Coming! Don't stop!”

I pushed my thumb into his ass, along with my dick.

“Briiiaaan! So close.”

I was about to give him a hand, when the door of our room opened.

Instinctively, I tugged the blankets closer around us, staring shocked at Patrick.

“Can't you wait to hammer whatever until morning?”

“Sorry?” I slipped out of Justin, making him whine and wince at the separation.

“You kept going bang, bang, bang,” Patrick explained. “Is Dada okay?” He eyed Justin warily, when Justin tugged the pillow over head. I could bet all the money in the world his hand was gripping his dick hard somewhere under the blanket.

I tucked my dick in my sleep pants after snatching the condom off it. “He's fine. Let's get back in bed. It's late.” I chucked the condom in the bin on my way to him.

I hated leaving Justin in that state, but it had been a long time since one of the kids had interrupted us.

“Did the sounds wake you?” I checked.

“I thought someone was at the door, then I realized it came from your room. What were you doing?”

I decided to go with some of the truth. “It was the headboard hitting the wall. We'll move the bed away from the wall.”

“But why?” He insisted, getting in his bed.

I tucked him in, kissing his head. “I was fighting dada over the blanket. You know what a hogger he is.”

“Yeah, he's really mean. He stole my blankie the last time we slept together.”

I laughed, remembering how put out Munchkin had been the last time he shared a bed with Justin on an afternoon.

“You should get two blankies,” he told me seriously.

“But I like sharing the blanket with him. And he's really warm and usually sleeping in the middle of the bed,” I explained.

“I guess. Anyway, two blankies will save you from fighting over it and waking me up.”

“We're really sorry we woke you.” I pecked his forehead, and turned to leave. The sketchpad on his nightstand grabbed my attention, and after I checked to make sure his eyes were closed, I took it.

“Put it back.”

I dropped the sketchpad, shocked. Patrick's eyes were wide open, glaring at me in the dark room.

“It's dada's. He will need it tomorrow.” I bent to pick it up.

“You can't see the drawing.”

“I won't,” I lied. “Now sleep.”

Not believing me, he snatched the sketchpad and tucked it under his pillow. Crazy much?

Back in our room, I found Justin sprawled on the bed. There was a huge smile on his face and a vibrator in his right hand. He showed it to me, still grinning.

“Best invention to humankind.”

“Sorry I left you hanging.”

“s'okay. What did you tell him we were doing this time?”

“Fighting over the blanket, thus the headboard banging.”

“You're so smart.”

“Yeah, and Munchkin totally understood my pain. He remembers the time he napped with you a few months ago.”

“It's not my fault I like to be snuggled in the blanket and when I turn around, I take it with me.”

“Because you're a blanket hogger.” I took the toy to the bathroom. We'd wash it in the morning. “Feeling better?”

“I was so fucking close when he disturbed us. Like, seconds away. Damn.”

“Yeah, well. The joy of having children, dear. No more intimacy,” I joked.

Justin huffed, snatching the blanket off me.

“Hey!” I pulled at it. “Give it back.”

“No.” He cocooned himself into the blanket, rolling away from me.

I pulled at an end of the blanket. It was October and even though the central heating was working, it was still chilly. “Justin!”

He had the audacity to chuckle.

So I grabbed one corner of the blanket with both hands, braced on my knees on the mattress and tugged violently. I expected the blanket to rip, not for Justin to be thrown out of his cocoon and land on the floor.

“Shit!” I lunged across the bed. He had his hands over his face. “Did I hurt you?”

His shoulders started shaking and I felt like an ass, kneeling at his side. “I didn't mean it, Sunshine. Let me see. Where are you hurt?”

He sat up, pressing his face into my shoulder and that was when I heard it. He was laughing his ass off, not crying like I initially thought.

“What's so funny?” I demanded. “I thought I really hurt you.”

The door of our room opened again.

What now, for fuck's sake?

I turned to see a sleepy Munchkin, hair mussed up and yawning. “Now what are you doing? Jumping in bed?”

“Dada fell out of the bed,” I explained.

“I was thrown out of the bed,” Justin said between peals of laughter.

Munchkin rolled his eyes. “Can you guys be quiet? I need to sleep.”

Justin lay back on the ground, holding his stomach as he kept laughing, probably at Patrick's words.

“That's what I'd like too—to sleep,” I muttered.

“Then kick Dada out and you'll have the blanket all to yourself.”

“Kick me out?” Justin gasped in a fake-hurt voice. “Where is the love, Munchkin?”

“I'm tired. Daddy is tired. You hog his blanket. You have to sleep somewhere else.”

“Isn't he a problem solver?” I beamed.

“Don't make me kick you out of the room,” Justin threatened lightly, digging his toe into my hip.

“Stop with the noise already,” Patrick mumbled, shuffling out of the room.

“That kid.” I pointed to the door. “Is too much. I have no clue where he comes up with half of the stuff he says.”

Justin snorted. “He's learned it from the master.” He kissed my lips softly. “If I get in bed, do you promise not to push me off again?”

“I seriously didn't think that could happen.”

“Well, it did. I have a sore ass to attest to it.”

“I'm really sorry, Sunshine. Let me make it up to you.” I tugged him on the bed, wrapped the blanket over both of us, slipping my hands into his pants and stroking his dick.

“I really think we should sleep. Munchkin might kill us if we disturb his beauty sleep again.”

“Fair point.” I spooned him, keeping my hand on his dick, because it had been forever since we'd fallen asleep like that.