"Dunno, Daddy." Gus dubiously eyed the pumpkin sitting on the newspaper-covered picnic table between him and Brian before shaking his head. "I don' think thash the right one for your first time. Lemme get more."

But this pumpkin was literally made for him! Brian narrowly resisted shouting, ‘Come back!' after the seven-year-old, who'd already scampered off to the other end of the porch. His gaze dropping back to the beautifully shaped gourd, which was actually two pumpkins that had grown together, he eyed it appreciatively.

He reached out a finger to caress the seam between the two halves, when someone hissed, "No, Brian, absolutely not."

Brian darted a glance to the left, where Justin appeared to be quivering in outrage. Brian suspected the outrage was an automated response - there was no removing the WASP from his blond - but it seemed to be warring with amusement. A squeaked, "Brian!" followed by a quickly smothered giggle, proved him right.

Brian affected a wounded mien. "But- but, it's perfect!" It really was, he thought, giving the two plump halves of the pumpkin, the left side ever so slightly larger than the right, a wistful look. All it needed was for the cleft to be made a little deeper and for a whorl to be added near the bot-

"This a new kink?" Justin teased, keeping his voice low so Gus wouldn't overhear.

Justin's query interrupted a fantasy about hollowing the pumpkin out, very carefully doing a bit of carving and then using it as a model for a bronze replica. He could always have Cynthia check around for him for someone good at casting bronze.

It wasn't like he planned to stick his dick in there or anything, but he might use it for target practice the next time Justin was out of town for a show and Brian didn't feel like finding a subpar trick to fill in for him.

"It is!" Justin crowed, barely managing to keep his voice under control.

As it was, Gus heard him and mistook it for his father liking one of the pumpkins he was inspecting. "This one, Daddy?" The young lad gave it a closer look. "It's a defnit' poshbilty," he announced seriously, sounding far older than seven.

Brian smiled weakly, but it was good enough for Gus. His son lifted up the pumpkin, which probably weighed around eighteen pounds - roughly a third of the boy's weight - and toted it over to the table. He followed that with another gourd of comparable size before scampering back over to study the remaining pumpkins.

"You know," Justin murmured, "you've got the real thing at home." His bare arm brushed up against Brian's, causing fine brunet hairs to stand on end.

Brian wasn't about to say he wanted the gourd for when Justin wasn't around; he wasn't up to explaining that. He'd just have to tell Gus to keep it for him, maybe lie about how one of his uncles would like it and that he planned to give it to them. 

Not Honeycutt. One look at the pumpkin and Emmett was all too likely to guess why Brian wanted it. He'd never let Brian hear the end of it.

Maybe Michael could help him out? It was unlikely that Mikey would quiz Brian about why he wanted the pumpkin; all he cared about was his honeybun's latest accomplishments - teething and drooling.

Wait, there was a better option. Rather than Cynthia, he'd task Theodore with locating a foundry. His CFO had untapped depths of knowledge about the most esoteric things. Plus, Ted knew when to keep his trap shut.

Brian's enthusiastic young tutor in the arts of pumpkin carving plunked two more sizable orange gourds down on the table. One was taller and had an oblong shape, while the other one was squat and rounded. "Whaddaya think?" he asked, all bright blue eyes. 

Brian was momentarily distracted by the blue of his son's eyes, puzzled yet again by how the kid could've ended up with that color, when as far as he knew, there was no blue on either side of his family tree. You'd almost think Justin had been involved if the boy wasn't a total chip off the Kinney block.

"I shoulda shoosen bether ones," Gus apologized. "This one's no good" - he pushed the coveted double pumpkin to one side - "for a beginner." He critically eyed two of the gourds. "And theesh are too small for the stenshells Jushun helped me make."

Brian sighed, certain the designs wouldn't be nearly as intriguing as the double-buttocked gourd, which was perfect as is. 

Misconstruing the reason for his father's disappointment, Gus reached out and patted Brian's hand. "'shokay, Daddy," he lisped.

Losing another baby tooth had done the lad's pronunciation no favors, Brian reflected, making the gap at the front of his mouth even larger. One of his permanent teeth was finally peeking through the gum, but it was barely a third of the way into view and didn't do much good by itself.

"Everybody's a beginner at shomeshin," Gus went on. "Doeshn't matter how old you are."

"That a pearl of wisdom from your grandma Deb?"

Gus merely shrugged in response.

"She's right, you know," Justin put in his two cents. "I mean, I'd never kicked a soccer ball till you coerced me into playing with you and Gus."

The coercion had been fun, Brian thought, smirking at his blond. Still was since Justin insisted on being convinced every single time that another player was needed to round out the father and son team.

"Yeah!" Gus enthused. "That goal yesherday was the besh, Jushun! The way you kicked it between Daddy's legs!" Excited all over again, he pumped a fist in the air.

The other boy imitated him, looking almost as excited - and young - as Gus.

Little sneak'd had Gus distract him; otherwise, they never would have scored. Brian's idea of having his boys double-team him had been a good one, and they definitely provided him with a challenge, but they weren't that good. They'd had to trick him to score off him. 

Of course, when he'd tried to make that point to Justin, the blond refused to listen, claiming they'd outwitted him and teasing him about being a sore loser. Brian was still thinking about the best way to avenge himself.

"Debbie was right about carving pumpkins for Thanksgiving too," Justin interrupted his vengeful musings. "I mean, why didn't I ever think of that? It's, like-"

Gus chirped, "Double the fun! Halloween and Thanksgiving!"

"Plus" - Justin made a show of rubbing his flat stomach - "there'll be more pumpkin seeds, pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie-"

"And cushard!" Gus yelled excitedly. "Mommy makes a shuper good cushard."

Hmm, maybe he could snitch a couple bites of that custard. His sonnyboy was right about his blonde mother's culinary skill. 

An extended pumpkin-carving season did have some benefits.

Brian had initially pooh-poohed the idea of carving pumpkins for Thanksgiving, but then Deb belligerently questioned, "Why the fuck not, mister? I had Christmas in February. Besides," she'd gone on more quietly, just for Brian's ears, "Gus wants to do it with you. You gonna pass up the chance to have some fun with your kid?"

His surrogate mother had a way of making him see what was important, Brian allowed. Now, looking at the gap-toothed smile his son was sporting, he was glad he'd given in - even if he ended up making a fool of himself with this carving business.

As Gus pushed the pumpkins he'd deemed too small over to join the curvaceous gourd, a scowling bulldyke slammed the sliding door open and barged onto the glassed-in back porch, a tray in her hands. "Chr-" she started to say, which had her son perking up and holding out a hand.

"Cripes," she amended the word that had been about to fall out of her mouth, smirking at her son.

Brian had to laugh. If Gus hadn't given himself away like that, there'd be five more dollars in the vacation fund.

"It's fu- uh, flipping hot out here," Melanie complained, awkwardly attempting to wipe her brow on the sleeve of her tee without dropping the tray.

Brian would've described it as pleasant, the fall sunshine warming up the space to a bearable temperature. The dyke couple that'd lived here during the girls' temporary sojourn to Canuck Land had been inspired to enclose the porch with thermal windows that not only warmed the space appreciably in winter but kept it from getting unbearably hot in summer. That and other improvements meant the munchers had had to pay considerably more to reacquire their house than what they sold it for, but since Brian was bankrolling the acquisition, it had all worked out. 

The she-devil set one foot down hard, in what was presumably meant to be a loud stomp, punctuating the scowl on her face. It didn't work out very well, the foam sole of her slipper barely making a noise. "Fu- fu- fu-" she grumbled, abbreviating the word that was clearly on the tip of her tongue.

Brian grinned. He could practically see the steam coming out of the dyke's ears. 

Melanie came closer, her gait ungainly. "Fu- fu-" she huffed, setting her left foot down flat in a natural motion before gingerly moving her right foot forward and balancing on the heel.

Brian knew better than to ask what had happened - he liked his balls where they were - but he couldn't deny being curious about why she was limping.

Gus hastily moved the pumpkins out of the way, making space.

Brian inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

"Here," Melanie grunted, plunking the tray down, the dishware, cutlery and other items clattering and clanging. Milk sloshed over the edge of the creamer and a couple of small items sprang out of a bowl, like they were jumping beans.

In desperate need of caffeine, Brian immediately reached for a cup and the carafe. His partner had roused him far too early this morning, insisting Gus would be waiting for them. You'd think he'd be allowed to get a little extra shuteye on a rare day off - how long could it possibly take to carve a pumpkin? - but you'd be wrong.

If not for a leisurely sixty-nine and then a shower fuck, Brian would've been cranky, but he could hardly complain about getting off twice. The only problem was that he needed more than just a ‘protein shake' to get him going in the morning. Their fucking expensive DeLonghi coffee machine had gone on the fritz last night, which meant they couldn't fuel up before leaving. To add insult to injury, the Starbucks located between the loft and the girls' house had had a line a block long. Admittedly, the coffee chain didn't have the best coffee, but all he'd wanted was quick and convenient. So much for that idea.

"Wush that?" Gus demanded, his indignation coming through loud and clear.

Already pouring coffee into the cup he'd snagged, Brian paused, looking up. He followed Gus' pointer finger, his gaze landing on an offensively pink item with a green blob on it.

Mel growled, "Your juice," the warning plain in her voice.

"But it's a sippy cup," Gus protested. "A Little Mermaid sippy cup!"

The dyke bared her teeth at her son. "If it's good enough for JR, it's good enough for you. Capisci?"

Gus wisely backed down, although his lower lip stuck out mutinously.

"You know, Ariel can be totally badass," Justin interjected.

"Yeah?" Gus looked up hopefully.

Adding more joe to his cup, Brian waited to see how Justin was gonna back up that outrageous claim.

"Mhmm," the blond hmmed thoughtfully. "The prince gives up eating sea creatures, right?"

Gus' brow furrowed. "He does?"

"You betcha. You think a mermaid's going to marry a prince who eats her friends?"

"Um, no?" his sonnyboy stated uncertainly.

"Definitely not," Justin assured Gus.

"Thanks, baby." The tired-looking muncher smiled at Justin. "Just don't put him off seafood, 'kay?" she muttered under her breath.

Justin nodded back in understanding.

Melanie glanced toward the far end of the table, and the three carvers followed her gaze. Along with masking tape and scissors, various implements had been laid out next to an open black case with orange trim, which contained more carving tools. Brian resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the tools in the case; Gus probably got a charge out of the black handles on which orange eyes and teeth were outlined.

He figured the empty metal tins were meant to be filled with pumpkin goop and that someone - it sure as heck wouldn't be Brian - would extract the seeds for roasting. A shallow bowl was half filled with flour, although Brian had no idea why it was there. The box of toothpicks was also a mystery. The toothpicks couldn't be meant for poking holes in one of these gourds; they'd just break in half.

Mel looked from the carving tools to her son. "You be careful with those, you hear? Do what Jush- er, Justin tells you."

Gus' head bobbed up and down. "I will. Promish."

The bulldyke studied her son through narrowed eyes but then, apparently satisfied, she pivoted on her left foot and limped back into the house without saying another word.

"Thanks, Mama," Gus shouted after her, earning a negligent, backward wave of one hand before she disappeared from view.

"I asked Mommy to roash pumpkin sheeds yesherday," Gus confided, moving the bowl so that they could all reach into it and sticking his hand inside.

Stirring the barest pinch of sugar into his coffee, Brian gave a mental nod of approval. The seeds should taste good and wouldn't be loaded with carbs.

He joined Gus and Justin, dipping his fingers into the bowl and popping some of the pepitas into his mouth.

A crunching noise was all that could be heard for a bit.

Raising his cup to his lips, Brian took a sip and quickly set it down again. Linds might've done a good job with the seeds, but she'd obviously left the coffee to Mel. 

Brian peered down at the motor oil in his mug and sighed. It was better than no coffee at all but was going to require twice his usual amount of sweetener. He stirred in another pinch of sugar and then, to be sure it was palatable, added a little bit more. The coffee was so muddy, it rivaled the stuff the diner occasionally produced - when the pot sat untouched on the hot plate for an hour or more.

Nevertheless, he knocked back the java, too in need of a caffeine infusion to wait any longer, and immediately refilled his cup.

"That bad?" Justin mouthed, warily picking up the thermal coffee jug.

Watching Brian pour such an exorbitant amount of sugar into his cup warranted a cautious approach.

"Milk won't be enough," he advised Justin, who needed the petrol almost as much as Brian in order to be functional. Justin switched up between taking his coffee black and adding milk, which Brian didn't see the point in - why bother, unless it was a latte or a cappuccino?

"You're gonna need sugar," Brian added, in case he hadn't been clear enough.

The kid scrunched up his nose, which had Brian leaning in for a nose rub. How that nose scrunch could be so fucking adorable, Brian didn't know, but whatever the reason, it was almost irresistible. 

The blinding smile he got might be what made the nose rub worth it. That and the happy giggle from his sonnyboy, who just loved it when they Eskimo kissed in front of him.

"Sugar?" Justin scrunched his nose up again, with Brian narrowly resisting temptation this time.

Christ, you'd think the lad never consumed anything sugary.

Justin poured his cup half full, then added milk until it was about three quarters of the way to the brim, and took a tentative sip. "Ugh," he muttered, pouring in more milk until it was just shy of overflowing the brim. Another cautious taste and he declared, "That'll do."

More than once, Brian had pointed out that milk had sugar, but Justin always blew that off as being of no consequence. All because it was natural sugar. Brian snorted. What the fuck was sugar from sugarcane? Unnatural?

The lengths the twat would go to to avoid processed sugar in his coffee never ceased to amaze Brian. Yet, he'd turn around and shovel in lemon bars and bear claws like there was no fuckin' tomorrow.

"Your mama make the coffee?" he asked his son, wanting to find out for certain who was responsible for this caffeine outrage before he plotted his revenge. 

Lindsay would never try to poison him, so it had to be Melanie. Unless one of the neighbor dykes had come over and brewed it. The two lesbian couples spent so much time in each other's homes that they should just take his advice and join their houses together. 

The neighbors seemed like a longshot though, which only left Mel.

"Mommy got the coffee ready and told Mama all she hadda do was turn it on," Gus explained. "Then, 'cause she was busy with a proshet, she asked Mama if she could roash- do the sheeds instead of her."

Kid was definitely an apple from the Kinney tree. Brian'd gone through an equally awkward in-between, toothless stage when he was about Gus' age. Until yesterday, he'd seen no reason to dent his mystique; anyone who thought he'd sprung from Joan's loins fully formed, exactly like he was now, could just keep believing that. But then Gus had been near tears, mangling every other word, so Brian shared that he'd had just as bad a lisp, if not worse. What he hadn't mentioned was that Jack had yelled for him to shut his yap and keep it shut until his teeth grew in. Or else.

He'd never reduce his sonnyboy to a mute shadow, instead of the lively chatterbox sitting across from him. He smiled at the way his son's obvious excitement had him spewing out the words in a fashion that was even more garbled than usual.

Shaking off the childhood memories of Jack, Brian stared into the murky cup of coffee. He still wasn't sure what had happened to make the java taste so bad. Mel must've let it stand on the hotplate forever. Or maybe she forgot Linds had prepared the coffee and threw in more grounds before turning the machine on?

"So who roasted the seeds? Your mama?" Justin inquired, his brows rising.

"Yeah, shay-" Gus immediately stopped speaking, enunciating carefully when he resumed. "Mama tried to get out of it 'cause she can't cook."

At least Mel recognized her weaknesses, Brian thought approvingly as he took two more long swallows from his cup and then refilled it.

It was weird that the seeds had come out not only edible but were actually tasty. Usually, Brian avoided the dishes that the girls prepared, so really, who cared which muncher had cooked it? He'd been certain they were responsible for the vegetarian dish that was inflicted on the family at a recent Sunday dinner; Carl had tried to be polite by sampling the dish but then had to hurry out back to hurl millet and soy cheese off the stoop. Turned out it had been Ben's contribution, which had everybody cracking up, while the professor spluttered an incoherent defense. 

"Mommy inshishted she hadda do it though, so Mama shaid the F-word twice and the S-word once." Getting excited, Gus bounced in his seat. "That made fifteen dollars for the vakey fun." 

Curious how his offspring's lisp practically vanished when it came to discussing his ‘earnings,' Brian noted in amusement. He might almost suspect Theodore had been tutoring the lad; his CFO's language was never crisper than when he was discussing money.

"Anywaysh, it was when Mama kicked the spot 'neath the cabinet really hard that it got really good," Gus exulted. "Mama, was screamin' the F-word plush the S-word. Again and again."

Brian, who'd kicked off his shoes as soon as he realized they'd be in the sun room, almost echoed what the bulldyke must've said, his bare toes curling under. At least Mel wouldn't have been barefo-

"Ouch!" Justin exclaimed. "No shoes?"

"Nuh-uh. Mama shaid her cal- calfsh, you know" - the boy waved a hand in frustration, getting nods from both men - "were killin' 'er, so she wushn't wearing shoesh."

Brian scooted both feet under the bench he was sitting on, protectively wrapping the toes of his left foot over his right. 

Justin, laid a consoling hand on his thigh and kneaded the suddenly tense muscle.

"It was grrrrreat!" the boy enthused, his missing teeth only hindering him a little as he rolled the ‘R'.

Brian winced as he sipped at his second cup. Gus sounded like Tony the Tiger touting that horrible, over-sweetened cereal. Fucking striped cat was still popular. He'd better have a word with Linds, make sure none of the stuff was in the girls' cupboards.

"Nice Tony," Justin complimented Gus, holding out his hand to high-five the boy.

Gus beamed at the blond, the large gap between his teeth evident as they slapped palms. "Thanks, Jushun." Turning to Brian, he explained, "I waited till Mama calmed down - Mommy told me to let 'er shimmer - before I asked-"

"-for money for the vacation fund?" Brian supplied.

Justin leaned in and whispered into his ear, his breath wafting across sensitive skin and making it pebble, "Finishing someone's sentences, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian whipped his head to the side, his mouth open to issue a retort, when he stopped, appalled. He really had done that. Christ, he was turning into a-

"Nuh-uh, Daddy," Gus denied Brian's assumption. "I wanted to know what that playsh 'neath the cabinet is called, but Mommy didn't know. Mama either. Wush it, Daddy?"

Gus turned an expectant gaze on him, certain his dad would have the answer.

Jesus. Like he could come up with an answer to that; it would be like explaining Gus' blue eyes. Why was his son asking him anyway? Kitchens and carpentry were muncher specialties.

Justin started giggling again. "It's a toe kick, Gus."

Brian sent a baffled stare Justin's way. He had to be making that up. How the fuck did he know that? Was it some weird kind of osmosis from cooking in the loft kitchen?

"It's wasted space," Justin informed Gus. "What would be really cool is if there were toe-kick drawers there. Space for cookie sheets and racks. Or muffin pans."

Gus' eyes lit up, to Brian's exasperation. Unlike him, the kid had a sweet tooth. He took after his Jushun that way.

"What happened next?" Brian prodded his son to return to his tale before he got the idea in his head that the pumpkin carvers needed sugary treats in addition to roasted pumpkin seeds to fuel their endeavors. 

It wasn't like he needed to feign interest. He didn't mind hearing about Smelly Melly's latest mishap.

A guilty look flitting across his face, Gus related, "JR got hold of the lids of a coupla pansh and started bangin' 'em together. Like thosh shymbal things, y'know?" He clapped his hands together to demonstrate cymbals clanging. "It was really loud an' Jenny wouldn't schtop."

Demon spawn for sure. JR was a chip off the old block - on both sides of the family.

Justin couldn't hold back the laughter any longer, a spate of giggles escaping. That set Brian off, a loud guffaw bursting out of him.

Gus started giggling too. "JR was sittin' in the middle of the floor, bangin' away and singin' - leashwaysh she thought it was singin'," Gus revealed with a philosophical, brotherly shrug. "Anywaysh, Mama shaid one bad word after 'nother for, like, half an hour. She jush couldn't stop."

The seven-year-old looked both awed by and elated about his mother's prodigious cursing powers. He'd probably been hearing ‘ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching' and seeing dollar signs the whole time, Brian figured.

"It smelled kinda bad all af'noon 'cause two trayfulsh of sheeds burnt. Mama kept curshin' and curshin'."

"Holy fuck," Brian breathed out. The whole thing was kind of awesome, he couldn't help thinking. He just wished he'd been there to take a photograph. Then again, he'd probably have gotten a fist to the eye from an irate bulldyke for his troubles.

"Five dollars, Daddy!" Gus immediately piped up, his countenance brightening.

Brian heaved out a sigh. The advance he'd made on Mama Mel's curses at Halloween had long since evaporated; the surprise was that it had lasted until the morning of November twentieth.

Fishing out his wallet, he extracted a twenty and slapped it down on the table in front of his son.

Gus quirked an eyebrow in an exact replica of Brian and looked from the wallet to his face and back down again.

Brian sighed again and took out two more twenties. 

"Thanks, Daddy!" The boy snatched the twenties and stashed them under an uncut pumpkin on the edge of the picnic table. Gus then paused, frowning in thought. "Are those jush for you or Mama too?"

Mercenary little shit. "For me, your mama and mommy and Justin."

The blond seated next to him smiled smugly. "I won't need that," he proclaimed.

Maybe not, Brian acknowledged. He could hardly use tried and true methods to get Justin to scream ‘fuck' in front of a seven-year-old; besides, he didn't want two pissed-off lesbians laying into him.

"That helps, Daddy," Gus carried on excitedly. "I mean, after all the curshin' from Mama, Mommy shaid a ‘blue streak' was only worth five dollars. I hadda ask what a blue streak was, and she shaid it's when the bad words come out nonschtop."

The boy's lower lip jutted out. "Only ten dollars for the vakey jar," Gus mourned the loss of the money the blue streak should have produced.

Brian's eyes narrowed. Did the bulldyke think simply doubling the sum would pacify his son? After watching what should've been a significant contribution to the vacation fund vanish into thin air? By now, Melanie should know that he'd cover any shortfall... although he had to acknowledge that he'd be reluctant to ask if it was the other way around. Years ago, it had been fucking painful to accept help, just so he could get back on his feet financially. And that had at least been cloaked under the guise of donations to the Concerned Citizens for the Truth, even if by that time most everyone knew there was just one ‘citizen.'

Justin, looking puzzled, inquired, "Ten?" 

"There were two streaks," Gus explained dolefully.

Okay, that was pretty funny and made Brian chuckle. 

"It's still not fair." Gus pouted, showing his dissatisfaction at having a sizable number of curses parlayed into a measly ten dollars.

"Did you count up all the curse words?" Brian asked, betting his son had done exactly that.

Gus nodded, his head bobbing up and down. "Fourteen, Daddy! But that wushn't all."

"Your mama took a break in between?" Justin guessed.

"Yeah," Gus agreed. "But jush for, like, a minute. Then Mama shaid seven more bad words. I tried, but I couldn't cash Jenny. She was runnin' all over the playsh and knocked over a vase Mommy got from her mommy and broke it. Thash when Mama started curshin' again." The boy shrugged. "I don' know why Mama got upshet; she thought the vase was ugly. She's shaid so lotsa times. I thought it was ugly too," Gus confessed.

If it was the fugly vase Linds'd had forever - he'd have to check whether that one was missing - it was a case of good riddance. Stifling a laugh, Brian inquired, "You understand why you just got ten dollars?"

"Yeah," Gus reiterated, looking mournful. "I jush wish Mommy had told me before Mama shaid all the bad words."

Brian had to agree; setting a rule after the fact wasn't fair. "What if I put the difference - ninety-five dollars - in the vacation fund?" he proposed. "Just this one time though, okay? Otherwise what your Mommy said stands."

"Thanks, Daddy!" Gus gave him a gap-toothed smile. "You know, Mama wouldn't have been curshin' if it wushn't for JR," he tacked on. "It's her fault Mama burned the first bash of sheeds."

Justin prodded, "Hmm? I don't follow. Unless" - a stern note crept into his voice - "you were supposed to be keeping an eye on your sister."

At being chided by his beloved Jushun, Gus burst out, "I only looked away for a second! I- I was jush tryin' to eshimate how much money was goin' in the vakey jar."

"Hmm," Justin reiterated, although Brian was fairly certain that he was trying to hide amusement this time. 

Gus added, "But Jenny's so fash!" He shook his head in disbelief.

A rueful laugh from Justin bore out his amusement. He confessed, "I might've lost track of Molly a time or two. She was faster than a bolt of lightning."

"Aunt Molly?" Gus got all big-eyed. He adored Molly and had a major crush on the strawberry-blonde girl, who had less than eight years on him.

Brian felt a spurt of sympathy for his son. Fucking Taylors were dangerous.

"Mhmm, ask your grandma Jen sometime," Justin advised.

Brian would remind Justin that he'd thrown himself under the bus when Gus did just that. In the meantime, he decided to pursue his original line of inquiry.

"After the wick-" Brian paused to correct himself. "-your mama was injured, your mommy saved the day?"

"Nah," Gus refuted. "Mommy shaid Mama should know how, so she shupervised. And made me watch Jenny. Again."

His son looked so put out that Brian had to laugh. 

"Jenny's a sweetheart," Justin claimed.

Father and son swiveled their heads toward him. "The demon spawn?" Brian choked out.

"JR?" Gus echoed, his tone making it sound exactly like Brian's ‘demon spawn.'

"Sheesh, guys," Justin reproved the Kinney men, "she's been teething."

When Brian had run into Mel at the diner a week ago, the butch lawyer had been all smiles because it looked like JR's teething woes were over - she'd been quiet for two nights straight. Figured Mikey and the she-devil's kid wasn't done being an outlier.

The blond stressed, "You'd be fu-" Blue eyes twinkling, he paused for half a beat.

Gus sat up straight at the near slip, but he sank bank down when "-rious," followed.

That was pretty clever. Maybe Brian should brush up on words that started with ‘fu' and suggest to Mel that she do the same. He'd even be willing to share any good substitutions he came up with.

"Did I scream like that?" Gus wanted to know. "Like, all the time."

Images of Gus as a baby flashed through Brian's mind. His sonnyboy had squalled his head off, refusing the binky, even when his dad stuck it in his own mouth to demonstrate how tasty it was. He didn't think the binky crisis was related to teething however.

"God, yes," Justin replied authoritatively. "You'd scream for hours when I babysat you."

Gus goggled at the blond.

Brian wondered where he'd been when that was going on, but then he realized that it must have been during that dark period when he and Justin weren't together.

"You didn't like the teething ring or the teething star; you'd just throw them at me," Justin divulged. 

Brian grinned, picturing Justin in the munchers' kitchen, dirty dishes and bits of food everywhere, the blond futilely bouncing his wailing, inconsolable sonnyboy in his arms. Almost exactly like he'd discovered Melanie and JR a few weeks ago - with the addition of a teething ring stuck in blond locks and a teething star sliding down inside his T-shirt. The ‘bite me' orange tee that fit him like a second skin and always led to Brian doing exactly that. He might have to dig that shirt out from where he'd hidden it...

Gus' shock transformed into a giggling fit.

Seeming unoffended by the boy's reaction to his younger self's obnoxious behavior, Justin chuckled. "You were turning my hair gray, I swear." He pulled on a long strand of blond hair and side-eyed it suspiciously, making Gus laugh some more.

Brian cast a sidelong glance at the blond. Gray hair, his ass. The twat didn't have a single gray hair, and if he did get one, it'd doubtless be such a pale shade that you wouldn't even see it. Unlike Brian.

Granted, his lover hadn't wanted to upset him and tried to unobtrusively remove the evidence of Brian aging, but his plan backfired. A sharp pain from his buttocks had awakened Brian a week ago, and he reared up, screaming, "Ow!" and caught Justin red-handed. The curly, thick gray hair - it must've been two inches long - gripped between the pincers had him gaping in horror. How the fuck could something like that have been growing out of his ass? 

Christ, what if a trick had been the one to discover that monster of a gray hair? Brian would never survive the humiliation. He now lived in dread of gray hairs springing up elsewhere in his nether regions, but he hadn't figured out a means to prevent them. He knew Justin would be willing to inspect and tweeze - he'd offered more than once, both during and after Brian's hissy fit - but that was hardly a long-term solution.

Justin's voice recalled Brian from the all-too-real, recurring nightmare about the most monstrous gray hair ever to afflict a gay man. He wasn't sure at first what the blond was rattling on about - surely nothing as critical as gray hairs in unsightly places.

"I was at my wits' end." Justin let go of the blond strand of hair he'd been examining and scratched at his head, his forehead furrowed. He then widened his eyes dramatically, signaling an aha moment was imminent. "But then I remembered how when Molly was teething-"

Teething. Who gave a fuck? Brian started to tune out again. Sure, the Wicked Witch's get was making everybody miserable with her caterwauling, but it was up to the munchers and Mikey to deal with the tot.

"-after chilling it with a couple of ice cubes, my mom would dunk a washcloth in chamomile tea - and let Molly suck on that. That did the trick." 

Brian fleetingly considered trying chamomile tea on his pubes. 

"You stopped wailing right away," Justin concluded.

"Tea?" Gus scrunched up his nose.

Stifling a laugh - he'd only just now realized Justin was talking about Gus' teething history - Brian commiserated with his son. Tea was gross. But he was positive that a trace of chamomile tea was nowhere near as bad as the yak-shit tea the blond had once foisted on him.

"Hmm." Justin tapped a finger against his chin, appearing to be deep in thought. "I could carve a teething pumpkin-"

"No!" shouted Gus.

Justin shrugged. "I thought Pumpkin Jenny would make your mama smile, but..." he trailed off.

"Oh," the seven-year-old said in a small voice, a red tint to his cheeks.

His sonnyboy might be embarrassed, but his chin had a stubborn tilt, Brian noted, grinning. There wouldn't be a ‘Pumpkin Jenny' if Gus had anything to say about it.