Chapter 19 - Pinkie and Brian’s Brain.

Kevan was beginning to wonder if The Daddy had doo-doo for a brain!

When he’d first caught on to the fact that The Daddy was going to stick around for the day, Kevan had been thrilled. The Daddy was so nice smelling. He was usually the calm one who liked to cuddle and who always made Kevan feel so warm and full and loved. Of course Kevan loved The Papa too and he tolerated the Silly One and all the rest of his people things, but he’d always felt a special connection to The Daddy for some reason. So, yeah, he was pretty excited to spend a little extra time with The Daddy.

At least until The Daddy started to act like a complete doo-doo brain!

What WAS The Daddy thinking today? Every time Kevan turned around The Daddy was doing something totally unexpected. Kevan wasn’t sure he felt secure having The Daddy being his person thing for the day. Kevan really preferred having a more reliable person thing - someone who he could count on to do his bidding and not panic. But, oh well. Sometimes it was very hard to manage these big people things and Kevan would just have to do the best he could with whatever he had to work with.

And today, that looked like it would be The Doo-doo Brained Daddy!

Kevan decided to work on his ‘resigned baby’ smile for the rest of the morning.

Sometimes Brian Kinney was so predictable! Before the bell over the front door at the Liberty Diner had even stopped ringing following Brian’s dramatic exit, Justin already knew precisely what kind of fallout he’d be looking at now that Brian had been exposed as having working tits. Yep, for a guy who fancied himself an iconoclast, he certainly seemed to covet the stereotypical role of macho stud. Justin would have laughed if it hadn’t meant that he would likely bear the brunt of Brian’s ill humor for weeks to come.

So it really wasn’t any surprise to Justin - or anyone else who knew him well - when Brian virtually disappeared after the ‘Tittie-gate’ incident.

He didn’t make it back to Britin’s Chapel that evening until almost three am. Justin had worried that he’d take out his anger on the baby who’d unintentionally caused all this uproar by refusing to nurse him, but Brian reluctantly headed off to the nursery before he crawled into bed. Instead he ignored Justin. Justin figured he could live with that - for now.

The next day, even though it was a Saturday, Brian was up at eight, nursed Kevan - albeit with poor grace - and then was out the door on his way to the office before Justin had even finished making breakfast. There was no discussion about where Brian was going, or when he’d be back, and if he hadn’t been wearing a suit Justin might not have even known he was headed into work. Justin didn’t even get a peck on the cheek in goodbye.

The only relatively good part of this newest development was that Brian was far too embarrassed to be seen on Liberty Avenue so Justin didn’t have to worry about him tricking.

However, after four days of this sullen, silent treatment, Justin had had enough. He figured that he’d been more than understanding. Brian had been allowed sufficient time to sulk. And frankly, Justin really didn’t see what the big deal was. After dealing with the really BIG news that Brian was the only male in North America to get pregnant in modern history, was it really so astonishing that part of that diagnosis included the fact that he could breast feed their son? Duh!?! Justin was of the firm opinion that Brian just needed to grow up and get over this last little awkwardness already.

Accordingly, on Wednesday morning, Justin set his phone alarm for a half hour before Brian’s usual alarm. He got up and was ready, dressed and halfway out the door when Brian finally rolled out of bed. As soon as his still-sleep-addled partner was done with his morning duties in the bathroom, Justin plopped a newly wakened Kevan - still wearing his soppy overnight diaper - into Brian’s arms.

“Tag! You’re it!” Justin announced blithely.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” was Brian’s predictable, confused, pre-caffeinated response.

“You’re ‘IT’! It’s your turn to play daddy today. I’m taking the day off,” Justin stated, his tone clearly indicating that he would not tolerate any opposition to this plan. “I’ve already had Cynthia clear your schedule for the day. Emmett has the day off and YOU are taking Kevan to his four month check up with Dr. Dahl. The appointment is at 10:00 am.” Justin pulled his old blue messenger bag over his shoulder. “After class I’m going to the Library to work on a project I have to finish up for Ryder’s and then I’m meeting Daphne for dinner and a movie. Don’t wait up!”

“But . . . But, Justin!” Brian yelled after Justin’s back as the younger man was already most of the way down the hall to the back door. “I’ve got shit I have to do . . . And I was supposed to go to Lindsey’s tonight for some alone time with Gus . . .”

“Too bad, so sad. Guess your ‘alone time’ will have to be with Gus AND Kevan! Later!” Justin hollered over his right shoulder as he practically bolted out the door.  

“JUSTIN!” Brian yelled ineffectually at the door as it slammed closed. Then, looking down at his happily drooling son, Brian relented. “Shit, Sonny Boy. Did you know that your Papa has an evil streak about a mile wide? Well, fuck it! I guess it’s just you and me today, kiddo. But don’t worry - your Daddy can handle this, right?”

Brian was NOT reassured when even Kevan looked a little doubtful about the day’s prospects.

An hour and a half later, Brian was still flailing around and not noticeably closer to leaving the house for the doctor’s office.

It was more difficult than Brian had expected to get the both of them ready to leave the house. He’d changed Kevan’s diaper and then nursed him - and then had to change his diaper again immediately afterwards, of course. But then he didn’t know what to do with the baby while he took his own shower. Usually Justin would be there and take the baby for him during this particular part of the proceedings. Not today, though. So Brian had to improvise - he brought the baby’s bouncy chair into the master bathroom and set it up on the floor where he could keep an eye on Kevan while he showered. Of course Kevan let out a really ear-splitting wail right as Brian had started to shampoo his hair, causing him to dart out of the shower with soap stinging his eyes in fear that something terrible had happened, only to discover that Kevan was just fine and simply exercising his vocal chords.

Next, Brian ventured into the kitchen in order to get himself some breakfast. Unfortunately he’d left the bouncy chair in the bathroom and had nowhere to stash Kevan while he made himself some coffee and toast. Looking around desperately for a temporary solution, Brian spied the big pasta pot that Justin had used last night and which had been left out on the stove to dry after it had been washed. Brian shrugged, but didn’t see any better solution, so he gingerly sat Kevan down in the big pot on the stove. Kevan, who’d never before been subjected to confinement in a large cooking implement, got wide eyed and quiet at first, but soon decided he didn’t like the experience much and started crying. Brian had to abandon his toast in order to rescue his child and thereafter was forced to make the rest of his breakfast one-handed.

It took Brian another twenty minutes to gather together everything he could think of that he might need for the day and pack it all into the diaper bag. He made sure he had a couple of clothing changes for the baby, all his favorite toys, four bottles full of expressed milk, the changing pad, baby lotion, powder, a full box of baby wipes, the rain drape for the stroller, a sweater, a coat, a hat and at least four baby blankets in case it was cold out and about a dozen burping cloths. He didn’t remember the bag being quite that full when Justin packed it, but oh well - he didn’t want to be caught without when he was out with Kevan and didn’t have any back up.

When it got to be time to get Kevan dressed for his outing to the doctor, Brian was a little flummoxed by the sheer number of outfit choices. His kid must be even more of a fashion queen than he was, since the four month old had at least fifty outfits to choose from. (Brian refused to admit that at least 90% of the outfits had been purchased by him). Brian laid Kevan on the changing table and pulled five or six out of the drawer, then spent several minutes laying them out, one at a time, across Kevan’s torso trying to find just the right look for a doctor’s visit. Kevan seemed amused by this endeavor. He was giggling and babbling and grabbing at each outfit his Daddy considered. Brian was rather enjoying this part of the morning. He didn’t really think about the fact that he was still wearing only a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist after his earlier shower. At least he wasn’t thinking about that fact until Kevan reached out one fairly strong little fist just as Brian twisted enough so that the towel gaped a significant amount, allowing Kevan to grab ahold of his Daddy’s manly bits, squeezing with a vice-like grip which subsequently brought his Daddy to his knees.

As soon as Brian had freed his balls from his son’s talons and recovered enough to be able to stand, he dressed the kid in the first t-shirt he found handy - one that seemingly had come from the Children’s Museum they’d visited the weekend before - a random pair of baby pants with an easily accessed snap up crotch, and decided to call it good.

Next, there was the whole parental dressing debacle, wherein Kevan indicated his dislike of the first two outfits Brian tried on by violently spitting up on them both. Brian was NOT impressed with Kevan’s taste in clothing and swore repeatedly that he must have got his taste for fashion from his Papa. In the end, Brian went with an old pair of blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt and decided that the tiny amount of additional spittal that Kevan deposited on the shoulder of that shirt didn’t warrant changing for a third time.

Finally, Brian thought that they were both ready to go. He looked up at the clock and realized they only had ten minutes to get to the doctor’s office which was normally at least twenty minutes away. Brian hoisted the overfull diaper bag to his shoulder, grabbed Kevan in one arm,  scooped up the stroller in the other and sprinted for the car.

The pediatrician’s office was something Brian thought was only possible in one of his more bizarre nightmares.

There were dripping, coughing, sneezing, screaming, running, crying children everywhere around him.

There were toys and magazines and coloring books strewn everywhere across the floor so that it wasn’t safe to take even two steps in a single direction.

All the chairs were too small.

The huge television screen in the corner of the room was showing some absolutely inane children’s show that seemed to involve overstuffed, costumed characters - one blue, one yellow, one green and a particularly annoying one in red - that had antennae coming out of their heads and television screens in their bellies and who all frolicked around in an artificially green landscape decorated with obviously fake plastic flowers and which was inhabited by far too many rabbits.***

Worst of all, Brian was the ONLY man in the fucking place.

Seriously, this place scared him so bad he could feel his testicles shriveling up even before he’d checked in at the reception desk.

After he’d given the nurse at the desk his name, Brian huddled, frightened, in the farthest corner of the waiting room, one ass cheek hanging off the too-small hard plastic chair with Kevan’s baby carrier at his feet, while he tried NOT to watch the deceptively hypnotic television drivel. He failed miserably. It was like watching a train wreck - or one of those horrible ‘America’s Funniest Video’ shows - where you find yourself laughing at people getting seriously injured even though it’s not really all that funny and actually looks incredibly stupid and painful. Brian couldn’t stop himself from watching the odd costumed creatures as they went on and on about eating their morning ‘tustard’. He could feel his brain dying a gruesome death even as he watched. It was probably liquefying and about to leak out of his ears. He fleetingly wished he’d kissed Justin goodbye that morning before he met this macabre end and he worried about leaving Kevan an orphan.

“Kevan Taylor-Kinney,” the heroic woman dressed in pale pink scrubs announced from the door into the inner sanctum of the doctor’s office just before Brian lost all hope. Brian had never been more grateful to anyone in his life than he was to this saviour in pink who rescued him from certain brain death. He leapt up from the small plastic chair and sprinted towards the woman with Kevan’s carrier in his grip.

He really, really, really needed to get out of that waiting room.

Brian followed Pinkie into the office proper and waited while she weighed and measured Kevan. She also took his temperature with this nifty wand thing that she rolled across the baby’s head. Brian was reassured that his little Sonny Boy was being cooperative throughout this process. He was sure that if the thermometer had been stuck inside any part of the baby - like the thermometers he remembered from his own childhood - Kevan wouldn’t have been so happy and quiet. Ah, the joys of modern technology!

Once Pinkie was done, the nurse handed Kevan back to his Daddy and ushered them into a claustrophobically small exam room. As she left, Pinkie assured Brian that Dr. Dahl would be ‘right in’. Brian seated himself on the chair wedged in between the exam table and the sink - thankful that at least this chair was adult sized - and prepared to wait. And he waited. And waited. And waited and waited and waited and waited . . . And almost decided it was less painful to have his brain jellified by the television in the waiting room than to be forced to wait in the non-waiting room alone and with nothing whatsoever to do.

To keep his frontal cortex from completely imploding out of sheer boredom, Brian finally resorted to creating mad science experiments using the tongue depressors and cotton balls left out on the counter near the sink along with some band-aids and a few stray rubber bands he’d found in a drawer.

Dr. Dahl did not look at all amused by the miniature trebuchet he’d built by the time she did make it to Kevan’s exam room. Brian just smirked and fired off a cotton ball cannon at Dr. Dahl’s head. Kevan laughed from the depths of his baby carrier. Luckily, Dr. Dahl was a pediatrician and was used to dealing with infantile behavior - although usually it was seen in her patients, not their parents.

Without further ado, the doctor started into the meat of the Well Baby Exam on Kevan. She listened to his heart and lungs and stomach. She tested his reflexes. She took off Kevan’s diaper, checked for jaundice and diaper rash and then palpated his abdomen to make sure there were no blockages. She asked all sorts of questions of Brian about the baby’s sleeping habits, how many diapers he went through in a day, how he was sleeping and how often he was nursing. Brian fumbled through the answers as best he could and mentally berated himself for not being as aware of his own son’s daily schedule as the Doctor seemed to think he should be. Then Dr. Dahl used that weird little lighted eyepiece thing to check Kevan’s eyes and did a perfunctory check to make sure of the baby’s hearing. At that point, Brian thought she was done, and had already started congratulating himself on surviving his first pediatrician’s visit.

“Well, Kevan certainly looks good! He’s a healthy, happy baby and I don’t see any problems so far,” Dr. Dahl announced with an approving smile right before she turned around and started to busy herself with the small metal tray covered with a blue cloth that she’d brought in with her at the start of the exam. “Now for his vaccinations and then you’re all done here.”

“Vaccinations?” Brian froze at the words. “You mean shots? He has to have shots? Justin didn’t tell me about any shots . . .”  

“Well, one of the vaccinations - the one for rotavirus is given orally - but yes, the others are given via intramuscular injection, or what you would call shots. Kevan needs his second dose of  vaccinations for Diptheria, Tetanus, Pertussis, Polio and a couple others. We combine them though, so the baby only gets two shots total this time around.”

“But . . . but, won’t it hurt?” Brian’s voice was subdued as he asked this vital question.

“Well, yes. It will hurt a little. But it’s a lot better for Kevan to have a couple quick jabs that only hurt for a couple seconds than to have to face these potentially deadly diseases. Now, I suggest you sit in the chair here and hold Kevan while I do the honors. Ready?” Dr. Dahl efficiently maneuvered Brian into the chair and deposited Kevan into his lap before grabbing a small plastic vial and turning back to her patient. “First the oral dose. He won’t like the taste of this, but I’ll be fast. Hold on.”

The doctor used one gloved finger to pry open Kevan’s mouth and then quickly squeezed the small dose of apparently foul tasting stuff into the baby’s maw. Kevan made an unhappy face, his tongue licking and moving around as if to try and rid itself of the substance, but he didn’t cry. Brian took a relieved breath.

“Okay. Now for the hard part,” Dr. Dahl announced, with a syringe in her right hand as she grabbed the infant’s right thigh with the other.

The actual needle jab took less than ten seconds. Kevan’s little eyes popped wide open at the introduction of the needle but it took him another fifteen seconds before he realized that the correct response to the pain was to cry. Brian’s shoulders were tensed up and he was cringing in advance long before he heard his son’s actual sobs. But by then Dr. Dahl had already slapped a band-aid on the first injection site and was holding the baby’s other leg readying for the second shot. Kevan was already in full wail at that point though and managed an almost instant increase in the volume of his cries at the second jab. Of course the doctor wasn’t fazed at all by the experience and simply covered up the second shot site with another band-aid.

Brian, on the other hand, looked like he was in more pain than Kevan. He was sitting there tightly gripping his son’s writhing body with tears rolling down his cheeks, clearly too upset by watching his son’s pain to actually do anything to comfort the child. Dr. Dahl patted the big man’s shoulder a time or two but when that did nothing she was done helping. Brian continued to silently hold his son to him and just cried all over the baby. The doctor rolled her eyes, shook her head and then promptly retreated out of the small exam room.

By the time that Pinkie - who had been designated by Dr. Dahl as the consoler of all inconsolable fathers for that morning - reopened the exam room door, Brian had managed to get himself back under control. Mostly. Kevan’s crying had also subsided. Pinkie bustled around and cleared away all evidence of the horrible experience, depositing the used syringes in the ‘sharpes’ box and throwing away the vaccine vials, while Brian rebooted his brain for the third time that morning. “Fucking hormones . . .” was all Ms. Pinkie heard as Brian wiped away the last telltale tear. At that point Pinkie thought that Brian was stable enough to handle leaving.

Brian gathered up Kevan’s clothing and started to redress his son. After he got the little Children’s Museum shirt on, he rifled through the diaper bag looking for a fresh diaper before he put Kevan’s snap up pants back. It was difficult to find anything in that overstuffed bag, and Brian ended up having to excavate more than half the contents in his search for a diaper.

Which is when Brian discovered that he’d packed half of Kevan’s nursery in that bag but had somehow forgotten to restock it with clean diapers.

“Fuck!” Brian’s curse was heard throughout the entire pediatrics office.

Brian briefly contemplated crying again, but then shook himself and reminded himself he wasn’t a lesbian. He could do this. This was NOT the end of the world. He would simply have to improvise until he could get to a store and get more diapers. Of course Brian Kinney could handle something as minor as a diaper shortage.

Using one the burping cloths he HAD packed, Brian folded it into a triangle, packed it full of cotton balls from the doctor’s stash off the counter and then tied the corners together. And just to be on the safe side, he also pulled out an empty plastic bag that Justin kept in the outer pocket of the diaper bag for use in disposing of particularly nasty stuff, tore leg holes in the bottom of the bag and shoved Kevan into that as well, taping the bag tightly around the baby’s waist using more of the doctor’s scavenged band-aids. When he was done, Brian looked at his work - it wasn’t pretty, but he thought it would last him until he managed better.

Brian gathered up all his and Kevan’s paraphernalia, ready to escape this place of horrors. Delayed only by a short stop at the front desk to schedule Kevan’s next exam, Brian practically ran out of there. He didn’t even stop to return Pinkie’s friendly and concerned goodbye.

Less than a mile away from the doctor’s office, Brian saw a grocery store and wisely decided not to push his luck. He pulled into the parking lot, made sure he had his wallet and jumped out of the car, intent on getting to the store’s diaper supply before Kevan had cause to test out his jury-rigged alternative. The harried father dashed around to the passenger side of the Audi in order to retrieve his son’s baby carrier. He tried the door handle and was annoyed to find it was locked. He dug into his jacket pocket to get his keys . . . and didn’t find them there. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Brian raced back to the driver’s side of the car and tried the door handle there. It was locked. Cupping his hand to the side of his face to cut down on the sun glare, Brian rested his forehead against the side window.

There, on the driver’s seat, Brian saw both his keys and his cell phone.

When Justin pulled up next to Brian’s car in the grocery store parking lot he was worried since he didn’t immediately see his partner. He didn’t think Brian would leave Kevan in the car all alone, but . . . Justin leaped out of the jeep with keys in hand and rushed to unlock the Audi. At the first *beep beep* of the car alarm when the electronic lock clicked open, Brian’s head popped up from the far side of the car.

“It’s about fucking time,” Brian groused right before he tore open the rear door and unlatched Kevan’s baby carrier from the base unit.

Kevan appeared to be happily asleep and none the worse for having been locked in a parked car for the past twenty five minutes.

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t been planning on having to drive halfway across town on a rescue mission during my lunch hour,” Justin snarked back before bending down to give his son a kiss on the tyke’s forehead. “Kevan looks fine,” Justin added, trying to dispel the lines of lingering worry he could see on Brian’s forehead. “Good thing it’s January and not a hot summer day. Now, tell me again, without the panic, exactly how this happened, Bri.”

“Fuck you,” was Brian’s only response as he unstrapped the baby and pulled him out of the carrier to make doubly sure there was nothing wrong with Kevan.

As the blanket that had been wrapped around the child fell away, Justin noted the baby’s odd ensemble. “Uh, Brian . . . is there a reason my son is wearing a plastic garbage bag instead of pants?”

“Shit! The diapers,” Brian groaned. “Here, hold this. I’ll be right back,” Brian ordered as he stomped off towards the entrance to the grocery store without further explanation.

Justin gave Brian a curious look when he came back a few minutes later with two CASES of diapers. Brian just shook his head and mumbled something about an emergency stash as he put one of the cases in the trunk of his car. After that it was short work for the two daddies working together to get Kevan cleaned up, dispose of the mess he’d made of Brian’s makeshift diaper and then get him redressed.

“This is cute,” Justin commented as he pulled the unfamiliar Children’s Museum tee back over Kevan’s head. “I didn’t know you bought Kevan a shirt when we were at the museum last weekend.”

“I didn’t,” Brian replied, looking confused. “I thought you must have got this.” Justin simply shook his head and frowned indicating that it wasn’t him. “Hmmm. That’s . . . weird.”

And Brian might have continued to ponder over the strange shirt for longer, if Kevan hadn’t spoken up right then and, with a prodigious wail, let his daddies know it was now past time for his lunch. Brian looked around desperately for someplace he could go to nurse the baby that was at least a little bit private. Here in the middle of the grocery store parking lot there wasn’t anything in sight. Which meant Brian was going to have to do this out in the open.

As if he hadn’t already had enough fatherhood moments already this morning.

“Well, if you’ve got this now, I should get going,” Justin announced as soon as Brian and Kevan were comfortably ensconced back in the car and Kevan was happily nursing.

Brian’s spirits dropped even further at the thought that his blond was abandoning him to further solo parent degradation. He just didn’t think he could do this anymore today. The fleeting thought that he didn’t know how JUSTIN did it on a regular basis even passed through his tired, over-stressed brain. All he knew was that he needed Justin to stay with him. He needed Justin’s guidance and calm and optimism. Brian could NOT do this parenting thing alone for the rest of the day.

“Please don’t leave us, Sunshine,” Brian heard himself begging, even though he hadn’t really given his mouth permission to voice that pathetic sentiment. “I need . . . Kevan and I need you. Please?”

Justin chortled quietly at the neediness he heard. Apparently his big stud had finally met his match. He really did want to get the whole story about whatever the fuck had happened to his boys this morning, though, so he figured he’d stick around and help out the pleading man who really seemed to need some help.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you guys. But, I think we’ll call Lindsey and Debbie and both cancel our dinner plans for tonight. I think we need to just go home, relax and take it easy tonight. How does that sound, Stud?” Justin proposed.

“Heavenly,” Brian sighed, finally able to relax once he’d been assured he wasn’t being left to his own devices any longer.