Merry Christmas - Love, Gus

Justin had never really wanted children. Well, no more than a twinge of longing when he'd occasionally reflect on the serious unlikelihood of his ever having one. He'd read somewhere that the human animal still had some throwback instinctual need to get their genes out into the pool, to continue themselves on into the genetic mix for posterity's sake. So his occasional twinge was easily dismissed as some subliminal, primordial call to survival. No, he'd never really wanted children at all.

Then there was Gus. All boy and all Brian. Sometimes when Justin looked at Gus he'd feel that occasionally familiar little twinge. Everyone could easily see the boy's resemblance to Brian - the hair, the eyes, even the mannerisms to a great degree. Gus tucked his tongue inside his cheek just like his father, rolled his eyes in that same Kinney-esque tell of exasperation. And sometimes when he watched Gus sleeping, Justin could almost hear that soft nasal wheeze that had lulled him to sleep so often in Brian's bed. Almost. It was only natural that Justin would feel a little pull of affection for this child who carried so many reminders of the man he loved. Right?

And they shared a history. Justin had, after all, been there, being introduced to this softly squirming bundle of humanity only hours after his appearance in the world, hadn't he? Complete with having a not insignificant part in providing him with his good butch name. There'd been a lightness, a sunlight on snow kind of feeling he'd gotten in the middle of his chest at that moment. But there'd been the E Brian had slipped him on his tongue an hour or so earlier, and his head was still whirling from that kiss, so a warmth spreading through his chest right then wasn't all that out of place. And if he'd sought to spend more and more time holding and playing with and babysitting the little boy over the past three years, it was simply a natural extension of his feelings for Brian, wasn't it? Justin loved Gus' father madly, truly, deeply, after all.

No, Justin had never really wanted children. He was going to be an independent man, like Brian. Fully realized and actualized by his career and his passionate non-relationship with the man he loved. His life was filled with Brian and school and his art. There was little time left over for things like fatherhood activities and paternal nurturing and filling a child's life with happy memories. So, when he urged Brian to understand they should have at least some kind of Christmas tree in the loft this year and, yes, Brian, I'll make sure it isn't some hetero-normative, assimilationist Hallmark card clone, it was simply his artistic spirit spreading its wings in challenge. It had nothing to do with the fact that Gus would be opening presents there on Christmas morning for the very first time.

Lindsay sat near the unique Christmas tree Justin had designed, whispering in Gus' ear, both of them giggling like school girls sharing a secret. Brian and Melanie both sat on the sofa in the middle of a wasteland of discarded wrapping paper. The morning had gone brilliantly, everyone getting and giving and laughing. Brian had even been relaxed, his eyes glowing brighter with every squeal Gus gave as he ripped the paper from present after present. And Gus, himself, had earlier given each of his three parents a special gift, one that was entirely his own doing. He'd drawn pictures of things that made him happy and completed them with his signature. At three, his purchasing options were necessarily quite limited, so he'd fallen back on the tried and true do-it-yourself method of gift selection.

Justin held a trash bag half filled already with wadded up balls of garishly decorated paper, bows and ribbon still clinging in places, and looked over at his own collection of gifts. He'd received the requisite art supplies from Lindsay. They were excellent quality, of course. Mel had given him a book on the art of Frieda Kahlo, which both awed and amused him. Leave it to Melanie to transform her feminist idealism into a gift for a gay male artist. And Brian had actually given him a gift, an extreme gesture on the man's part and one which floored Justin. Brian had given him a pair of tickets to a gallery showing in New York in late January. The implication, of course, was that an actual trip to New York for the both of them was included.

"Justin, there's one more gift here," Lindsay said, followed by a hushed, "Go ahead, sweetie," and a gentle push on Gus' shoulder. Justin looked up and saw Lindsay and Mel smiling, Brian with his eyes widened in some kind of anticipation and his lips pulled in. And Gus was beaming, his hand out toward Justin, holding a small bow bedecked gift.

"Thank you, Gus." Justin smiled at the suddenly shy little boy. "This is beautiful. Is it for me?"

Gus giggled and nodded. "Momma wapted it."

"It's very pretty. Can I open it?" Gus nodded again.

Justin carefully pulled the elaborate bow from the small package. He really didn't want to admit it, but he'd been a little saddened when he'd not received a gift from Gus. He knew the boy had drawn those special moments for his parents, and Justin certainly wasn't that, but he'd still felt a bit sad. As he opened the gift, his eyes got a bit brighter.

It was a drawing. One of the Gus specials. Only a stick drawing with the coloring lines blurred, but it was a masterpiece as far as Justin was concerned. Three figures. A tall man with brown hair and big feet holding the hand of a small boy with brown hair and a big smile, who was in turn holding the hand of a medium size man with bright yellow hair and blue eyes. A huge sun over head and green scribbled grass below. On the side, Gus had printed, in the painfully imprecise hand of a three year-old - Merry Christmas. Love, Gus. Justin's eyes grew even brighter.

"This is..." he started and stopped. He knelt down and drew Gus into a tight hug. "This is great, Gus."

"We was in da park, me and my daddies," said the now grinning boy. Justin forgot to breathe for a moment.

"You and your... daddies?" Justin's voice caught and he looked over to see Mel and Lindsay wiping a few tears and nodding. He saw Brian smile his proud smile and nod slightly. "You knew? About this? You all knew?"

"Merry Christmas, Sunshine."

"He likeded it, daddy!" Gus cried as Justin picked him up.

"Yeah, I likeded it very much, Gus. I've never likeded anything better. Ever."

And he hadn't. Justin knew he'd never received a better gift in his life. "Merry Christmas, Guster," he said. "I love you."

No, Justin had never wanted children. But he knew he'd love being one of Gus' daddies.

Merry Christmas, everyone.