At precisely four pm, we stepped into the clinic with Justin muttering under his breath about me queening about my pants not buttoning up.

I ended up wearing one pair of his sweatpants. We had to go shopping. Again. From the fat people section.

“Hi!” Justin came to a skidding halt in front of the reception desk. “We have an appointment with Dr. Hump. HUNT!” He threw me a dirty look, like it was my fault he used my nickname for the doctor.

Tiffany, the receptionist, knew us by now. Just like we knew where to go, but Justin always asked.

I shot her a smile, before grabbing my twink by the ear and dragging him in Dr. Hump’s office direction.

“What if he has someone in there?” He protested.

“He has us scheduled for a reason…”

“But it’s polite to always ask.”

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your WASPy standards.”

We stepped into the office with Justin still complaining about my behavior.

“Hey, doc. I think you should check Justin too. He has these terrible mood swings,” I joked.

“I’ll show you swings! Of my fist swinging into your jaw.”

“And he gets really violent,” I added quietly.

“I want to punch you so badly.”

“See?” I laughed.

“This is common behavior from the partner, Brian. Your moods are transmitted to him. Besides, I’m sure it has been a few stressful days for Justin.” Meet Dr. Hump, the Voice of Reason. “While you undress, why doesn’t Justin tell me about how his patient has been lately?”

“I wanted to smother him with a pillow last night.”

“No joke,” I said seriously, pulling my shirt off.

Justin kept rattling off about what a bitch I’d been, but he was glad I’d at least stayed put and didn’t fuss too much about not being able to move around.

“That’s good to hear. You really need to take it easy, Brian. I know it’s hard for you to cut back work and other activities that prove you’re a man, but think of your baby. On the scale.” He gestured to the devil device.

“I’m going to make some changes. Don’t worry. Less work, less stress. You have my word,” I promised.

“Have you eaten well lately?” He asked, frowning at the scale.

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t show. Actually, you’ve lost three pounds.”

I grinned, but soon wiped the smile off my face when I met his disapproving look.

“Don’t make me put you on bed rest from now til the end!”

“Geez. You’re allowed to make the most fattening food you can think of for dinner,” I told Justin.

He shook his head, but smiled.

The rest of the exam went well. We saw Munchkin again. He was sucking on his thumb, which was too cute for words.

Justin had Dr. Hump make multiple copies for all our friends.

oOo

From: Justin Taylor
To: Brian Kinney
Date: June 17, 2005 11:45
Subject: MY COCK

You’re reading this email, aren’t you?

I know you’ve been ignoring all my previous emails. I’m onto you!

Haha! You have to hand it to me for being clever and using such a devious way to make you open my emails.

Anyway, before I bore you too much and you close this before you get to the good part…

1. What do you want to eat? I’m thinking pizza (from scratch. I found an awesome recipe) or do you want chicken with mashed potatoes again? I’m becoming intolerant to mashed potatoes. Please, choose the pizza! I promise to top it with anything you want, even though it might make me sick.

2. I caved and went shopping with Auntie Em. WHY? I ended up buying five onesies, two pairs of socks, and a bag of toys (for Munchkin!!!)

3. Speaking of him…week 26? I think I’m not losing track of time. So here are some facts (I know you’re missing these things. I heard you asking when you thought I wasn’t paying attention about how big Munchkin is) Here’s your answer: he’s the size of a scallion and weighs about 1 2/3 pounds and has 14 inches.

More cute stuff: his ears are better developed and more sensitive than before. He may now be able to hear both your voice and your partner's as you chat with each other. ---> which means I’m going to charge you ten bucks at every cuss word you say. I’ll put the money in Munchkin’s fund. He’ll be rich before he is even born!

Also, he’s inhaling and exhaling! So cute!

This is awesome shit. You’d like this part! If you’re having a boy, his testicles should soon begin to descend into his scrotum – a trip that will take about two to three months.

1. Now shit about you. Childbirth classes? I doubt we need these. We have to ask Dr. Hunt. Don’t pull that face on me, mister!

It says your blood pressure might increase slightly, but it is lower than before you were pregnant. This is confusing. Besides…was your blood pressure ever low? You were always moody.

If your feet or ankles are more swollen than they should be, or you gain more than 4-5 pounds per week (you actually lost some so I’m going to force feed you), if you have headaches or problems with your vision then you might have…preeclampsia (whatever the fuck that is) and have to ask your doctor. You’re not, are you?

Your back aches are explained here—growing uterus, your center of gravity shifting. Hormonal changes are mentioned again. And again, I call bullshit. This doesn’t apply to you. You were always hormonal.

Warm baths and hot compresses might bring relief. Good thing Deb gave us the heating pad. I’ll find it and warm it for you tonight.

Now, read this part carefully!!! Try to maintain good posture during the day, avoid activities that require bending and twisting at the same time, take frequent breaks when sitting or standing, and sleep on your side with one or both knees bent with a pillow between your legs, using another pillow to support your abdomen.

Health lesson done.

You’re still coming home at 2? You promised to cut back hours, Brian.

Love,

JT

I knuckled my forehead. Why did I have to open his email?

I was doing so wonderfully at ignoring his previous ten emails.

Oh, right. The subject title.

I hit reply to call him on his fake promises and let him know I really didn’t give two shits about his stupid facts.

I was experiencing all that and more. I didn’t need the reminder. The only nice thing about his research was knowing about Munchkin.

From: Brian Kinney
To: Justin Taylor
Date: June 17, 2005 12:15
Subject: RE: MY COCK

What about your cock, Sunshine? You left me hanging. It’s not nice.

As for the lengthy novel you sent me… let’s see.

Pizza sounds good. What I want on top: corn, tomatoes (cut round and baked crusty), chicken breast, olives, quail eggs on the crust or in the plate (but I WANT THEM!), spicy salami (the small one I got), pineapple, cranberry jam… did I forget anything?

I’ll remember and try to say fuck less. I don’t promise anything, though.

A hot bath sounds great…though, we don’t have a bathtub at the loft. Does that mean we’re going to visit the new house? Which…we should name. I’ll let the christening to you.

I’m actually coming home in less than an hour. I’m waiting for some files to sign then I can leave.

PS: Did you get an answer from the queers in Canada? You did send them an email, didn’t you?

Brian Kinney
CEO Kinnetik

From: Justin Taylor
To: Brian Kinney
Date: June 17, 2005 12:30
Subject: RE: MY COCK

If you get home, I might introduce you up close and personal with my cock. *wink wink nudge nudge*

Oh, shit! I knew I wanted to tell you something this morning, but you distracted me with sex. Not that I’m complaining.

Yes, Keith answered me. He was actually very cooperative. He wants to talk to you. They wanted to visit the States, but never got around. I think they found a reason to do it.

Want me to send him your email address or your phone number?

That topping for pizza is so gross I don’t have words. You aren’t fucking with me, are you?

Love,

JT

I was too lazy to answer him via email again, so I picked my phone and called home.

“’lo?”

“’lo yourself,” I said laughing.

“Oh, hey, Bri! Shit. Ow.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making the pizza dough, and working on a surprise. I just burnt myself. I’ll survive.”

“Oh, my multitasking twat,” I praised him. “I’ll write Keith when I get home. Did he leave a phone number by any chance?”

“Yeah. Want it?”

“Nah. I told you I’m coming home. If only Ted would bring me that file. Oh, speaking of the devil.” I glowered at Ted when he stepped into my office, a stack of files in his arms.

“Sorry for the delay. I was waiting for an important—”

I waved him off. “I’ll leave these here on my desk. Come get them when you see me leaving. Bye.”

“Jeez. You’re so nice to your friend,” Justin chided me.

“Some of these have to be faxed to my accounts by three. He’s irresponsible.” I focused on signing my name at the bottom of each page after scanning through the files. “I wasn’t joking about the pizza topping. And I forgot the cheese.”

“Jesus, Brian! I’ll make you a small one, and one for me. I doubt I can eat that.”

“Make me a big one and I might blow you.”

“That’s so considerate of you.”

“I know. I’m a very considerate person.”

He snorted. “I have to go. I was great at multitasking when I didn’t have the phone to hold too.”

“Later, twat.”

“Later.” He hung up, cursing loudly as something dropped.

I appreciated his Julia Child tendencies on a whole new level ever since I was eating for two.