Chapter 7 - It's A Snore!

*Snore*

-Thoughts of Kevan Donaugh Taylor-Kinney, age eight weeks, one day.

"Brian Kinney, you put that coffee maker down right this instant!" Jennifer ordered as soon as she had the attention of the two clearly insane men.

Brian cautiously lowered the coffee maker he'd been about to smash against the far wall. Jennifer walked up, glared at the much taller man like he was a naughty toddler, removed the appliance from Brian's hands and replaced it on the counter where it belonged. Neither Brian nor Justin said a single word. Jennifer spun around on the heel of her stylish low pumps and surveyed the surrounding destruction. With a disapproving huff she squared her slim but strong shoulders and mentally took charge.

"Justin, you go sit on the couch. Brian, you take the chair. If either of you move a muscle before I have a chance to sort this mess out I'll kick your pretty little asses with my size five Jimmy Choos," Jennifer threatened, obviously not emptily. Both men followed her orders without discussion and retreated to their assigned seats in the Greatroom. "I'm going to see to Kevan. I'll be back in five minutes and your asses better be where they are now. And NO talking either!"

Grandma Jenn gathered up the crying infant out of the baby carrier that had been awkwardly propped up on the end of the kitchen counter. The baby's howling abated a little into a slightly less shrill pitch. It was almost as if the baby could sense that things were finally about to turn around. He seemed a lot less frantic now that someone with real authority, who wasn't on the verge of a total emotional breakdown, had appeared and was taking charge.

Jenn carried the baby off to the nursery, made sure his diaper wasn't wet and then placed the overwrought infant into his crib. She pulled a soft baby blanket up over her grandson's tummy, turned off all the lights except for one small nightlight near the floor, unplugged the baby monitor and then shut the door behind her as she left. From outside the door, Jenn heard the panicky sobbing of the child slow and eventually quiet. With a satisfied nod of her head, she headed back down the hall, ready to deal with the other two babies.

"Okay. Now, who wants to go first," Jenn said as soon as she’d returned and seated herself on the spare couch. Neither man volunteered. Brian was staring at his shoes. Justin was quietly sobbing again and trying to wipe away his tears without it being too obvious.

"Fine. Then I'll choose," the authoritative woman stated. "Justin, tell me why you look like a refugee from a prisoner of war camp."

Justin accepted the tissue his mother held out to him and loudly blew his running nose before answering her question. Then, to the accompaniment of almost as many tears as Kevan was wont to show of an evening, Justin related the saga of their past week from hell. Interspersed among the stories of disaster after disaster, Justin consistently bemoaned his unworthiness as a parent and confessed that he just didn't seem cut out for fatherhood. About halfway through the recitation, Jennifer raised her hand to stop him. She figured she'd already got a pretty good picture of Justin's state of mind.

"Brian, did you want to add anything?" Jenn asked of the taciturn man sitting across from her who had yet to say a single word.

"Not really. I think Justin pretty much covered it . . . I feel ridiculously guilty over the fact that I now pretty much hate my son. Justin is annoying the hell out of me on a regular basis, too. And this whole experience feels like it's sucking my soul out. Other than that, though, there's not much to say," Brian tersely summed up what both men had been feeling over the past couple of weeks.

"So, if it's been that bad, why the hell didn't one of you call me? Huh? Or call Deb or some one else . . . ANYONE else?" Jenn's exasperation over the stubborn stupidity of the two men momentarily outweighed her sympathy for their predicament. "You aren't the first parents to ever have a colicky baby to deal with you know. And you've got a lot of people, family, friends, who wouldn't hesitate a moment to help you. But NOOOO . . . You two know-it-alls think you don't need help, hmm? Jeeze! You know, I should just leave you here wallowing in your misery as a lesson to you, but I won't do that to poor Kevan."

Both men sat hunched over, dejectedly taking their dressing down and feeling all kinds of stupid. Their only defense being that, in the middle of the night when you're exhausted past anything you ever dreamt of and confronted by a screaming infant, your logic skills kinda go down the crapper. Nevertheless, it did seem sort of ridiculous to have let things get as bad as they had. The trail of detritus from the earlier kitchen destruction episode, which could still be seen from where they were sitting, was pretty convincing evidence that they really hadn't been handling things well.

"All right," Jenn stood up so she could use her five foot five height to its best and most authoritative advantage. "This is what we're going to do. You two are leaving. Go sleep at the loft for tonight. I don't want to see either of you back here before ten tomorrow morning. I'll clean up your mess and stay with Kevan for the night. Tomorrow we'll get you some real help."

When both boys just continued to stare up at her looking dazed and confused, as if they doubted that real help had truly appeared, Jenn went over and physically pulled Brian to his feet. When he still didn't start to move, the frisky grandma actually swatted the big guy on his ass to get him started. Justin, who'd been watching in awe from his seat on the couch, let out a strangled giggle at his mother's liberties, earning him dirty looks from both Jenn and Brian. Jenn followed up with a finger pointed at her hysterical son, then crooked her finger to indicate he should follow his partner and get moving as well. With only a couple residual giggles, Justin trotted after Brian's retreating back.

It took them only a few minutes to throw some clothes and toiletries into an overnight bag and then Jennifer was practically shoving the two men out the back door. Justin followed Brian to the new Audi, hoping that the older man was awake enough to drive, since he was sure he couldn't. The short drive over to the loft - which they still hadn't decided what to do with - happened in complete silence.

Brian parked on the street right in front of the building, grabbed their bag and started shuffling toward the entrance. His usually graceful stride had been replaced with a tired hobble reminiscent of a ninety year old man. Justin, with his sprained ankle wrapped up tightly, followed in his own zombie-like halting gait. They made it through the main door and then stood together listlessly waiting for the elevator, still without saying a word. When the elevator stopped at the correct floor, they lumbered in tandem towards the loft door, and as soon as Brian unlocked it and pulled it open, trudged inside.

Justin headed straight for the couch, plopping down in a lump as soon as he reached it. Brian managed a short detour to the kitchen where he grabbed two bottles of water out of the almost empty fridge and then, as an after-thought, grabbed the bottle of scotch off the kitchen counter as well before heading off to join the blond.

Slumping down next to the other couch lump, Brian rumbled an inarticulate growl in Justin's general direction to get the boy's attention and then held up both drink offerings. Justin grunted a wordless 'thanks', grabbed the bottle of alcohol and chugged a good mouthful before passing it back to Brian. With a reciprocal grunt, the big brunet took his own swig from the bottle of whiskey and then sighed deeply.

"It's quiet," Brian commented in a neutral tone of voice that gave away no emotion.

"Yeah," was Justin's erudite response.

The silence was allowed to persist for several more minutes without further interruption. The peaceful quiet was almost disconcerting it was so all pervasive. Neither man had the energy to break the silence, even if they had known what to say at this point.

"Wanna fuck?" Brian offered when the utter lack of noise finally got to be too much for him.

"Sure. I guess," Justin replied a bit unenthusiastically for him.

"Here or the bed," Brian asked, just to be polite.

"Meh," Justin apparently really didn't have a preference.

"The lube's in the bedroom," Brian brought up the most salient point that came to mind.

*shrug* . . . *yawn*

And since Brian wasn't getting much input from Justin either way, he made an executive decision and decided to just stay where they were - it was easier and meant less unnecessary movement. Without any further preliminaries, he reached over and grabbed at the hem of Justin's tee, yanking it off over the boy's head. Justin returned the favor by loosening Brian's tie and then unbuttoning his dress shirt. Brian helped out with the last few buttons and then they were both naked from the waist up.

With a pale imitation of his usual sexy smirk, Brian pushed the yawning blond backwards so he was reclined across the couch cushions. Almost as if he was on autopilot, Brian shoved down his blond boy's loose jeans and bent over to steal a first taste of the treat he knew was nestled there in the thatch of thick dark blond pubes. The blond's half-hard cock twitched half-heartedly when Brian's tongue swiped a long swathe up its length with his tongue. Unimpressed, Brian determined a little more effort would be needed in order to get this party going. He opened wide and swallowed Justin's entire length in one fell swoop. Sucking hard, swirling his tongue and bobbing his head as needed, Brian employed several of his best tricks in an effort to get the youth interested in what would be coming up next.

*snore*

Brian was startled by the rude noise coming from the pile of cushions at the other end of the couch. He raised his head from what he now suspected was a futile attempt to rouse the beast. As Brian expected, the blond beauty he'd been trying to ravish was completely dead to the world. With his slack mouth emitting a series of snuffling snores, a trickle of drool already escaping the corner of his lips, Justin was very clearly out for the count!

"Shit!" A dissatisfied Brian cursed the only man who'd ever fallen asleep while Brian 'Fucking' Kinney had been trying to give him a blow job.

Grumbling about ungrateful twinks, Brian pulled a throw off the back of a nearby chair and covered the blond 'snorlax' haphazardly. Then he grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed off to bed by himself. After a therapeutic fifteen minutes of muttered complaints about being driven out of his own home by a sniveling infant and then being left unsatisfied by an annoying blond boy who had the temerity to fall asleep on him - HIM! - the not-so-studly-at-the-moment Daddy Stud finally drifted off to sleep himself.

*snore*

Parenting 101 class was now in session.

Brian and Justin were presently seated next to each other on the couch in their own home. They'd been set upon as soon as they'd stumbled in around noon after both sleeping more than fourteen hours in the quiet of the loft. Without benefit of even a morning shower fuck - which Brian was angrily maintaining Justin didn't deserve after falling asleep in the middle of a perfectly good blow job the night before - they had hastily rushed home, embarrassed now in the light of day at their parenting incompetence. They hadn't even made it as far as the nursery when they were rounded up by Jenn and marched straight off to begin their lessons.

Almost immediately, the new fathers were embroiled in a series of lectures on baby care being given by the family's greatest experts.

Jenn lectured them again on the importance of getting help when they needed it. 'It Takes A Village', and all that. There was no reason to wait until they felt completely overwhelmed before asking for family and friends to step in. She emphasized that just because they needed a hand now and then, it didn't mean they weren't good parents. But if they didn't ask for help when they needed it - and judging by the Kitchen War she'd walked in on the night before, they'd more than needed help by that point - they were just being stupid.

Then Daphne appeared with a stuffed bear and a book recommended by her biology professor, who just happened to have been a pediatrician for twenty five years before she retired and began teaching instead. The bear supposedly made sounds similar to those a baby would hear when it was still in the womb. The idea was that these familiar noises would help comfort a fussy baby and help him sleep better. Daphne had all sorts of research backing up these claims which she was eager to share with everyone, until Jenn elbowed the girl and suggested she move on.

Dex Baby Mommy Bear

The book - 'Babywise' - was supposed to provide step by step directions for getting a fussy or colicky baby onto a more parent-directed feeding schedule with the goal of relieving the colic. Daphne explained that it was sort of a happy in between approach to parenting - somewhere in the middle of the sometimes overwhelming, always-there attention of attachment parenting and the too-cold approach of strict scheduling. According to Daph's professor, the book offered practical advice and seemed like something Brian and Justin could actually handle.

On Becoming Baby Wise

Justin accepted both the bear and the book with overflowing gratitude.

Then it was Debbie's turn. With her usual no-nonsense approach, the experienced mother explained to them every single thing they'd been doing wrong so far.

First of all, Debbie had permanently confiscated their baby monitor. She berated them long and hard about how they needed to just back off a bit and let little Kevan be. Justin especially was wont to jump up and run to Kevan every single time the baby so much as whimpered in his sleep. All that did, according to Debbie, was disrupt the baby's sleep cycles and leave them with an overstimulated and cranky baby. She maintained that they'd hear the kid cry when he was really in need of attention and the rest of the time they should just leave him be.

Debbie also made it a point to impress upon them both that it was okay to actually let the baby cry sometimes. This sentiment was backed up strenuously by Jennifer. Both women told the new daddies repeatedly that they wouldn't be 'bad parents' if they sometimes just put Kevan in his room and let him cry himself out alone. As long as they'd assured that the baby wasn't hurt or in physical pain, and so long as he'd been fed, had a dry diaper and there was no other visible problem that might be causing him to cry, they were perfectly justified in simply leaving the baby alone in the nursery and shutting the door. Over time, the baby would figure out how to comfort himself. In fact, Daphne posited, in the long run it would probably help Kevan to develop a stronger sense of independence, learning to be a little self-sufficient so early on. And, as long as Kevan wasn't being neglected by being shut up alone in his room all the time, it was a great way for the stressed out daddies to get a temporary break from the colicky infant.

Finally, Debbie offered her own, uneducated but logical, explanation of colic. She said she suspected that it had a lot to do with the baby not getting a chance to fully digest its meals. When an infant cried, most parents just automatically assumed it was because the baby was hungry. So they'd feed the baby. But, because the baby's digestive system wasn't very sturdy yet, sometimes the milk from a prior meal wasn't fully digested quickly enough and he'd get gas. Either way, if he cried because of this pain, and the parents wrongly assumed it meant the baby was hungry again, they'd feed him even more. And just like an adult who eats too much, the baby would get indigestion, gas and just generally feel uncomfortable. So Deb's advice, which sounded perfectly reasonable to everyone present, was not to feed the baby too often or too much. She recommended spacing feedings out at least three to four hours apart unless the child's pediatrician advised differently or the baby seemed inordinately hungry.

About the time these parenting experts had finished their lectures, a distant uproar was heard from the back of the house, indicating that the subject of all this discussion was awake and needed some attention. Justin had to concede that he'd heard the kid just fine without the baby monitor. So, after clearing it with his mother and Deb, the young dad got up and went to see to his son.

Kevan seemed happy to see him, gurgling and smiling contentedly while dad changed his diaper and then carried the boy out to visit with their guests. As soon as he'd been sufficiently cooed over by the grandmothers and Aunt Daphne, Brian took the little one off to nurse, emerging about a half hour later looking calm and almost as content as Kevan. After a bit more socializing, the ladies recommended putting Kevan down for another nap. To everyone's approval, the infant fell peacefully asleep almost immediately and all the women departed soon thereafter with warnings to the boys that they'd be back to check up on everything very soon.

Both Brian and Justin looked around the tidy house which had been sorted out the night before by Jenn. With the baby sleeping quietly and all, they were momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Both were a bit surprised at how much they'd missed the baby the night before, even after the weeks of colic. And now, when they were home and well rested for a change, they wouldn't have minded a little more Kevan time. But, even so, they weren't stupid enough to wake him.

"Got homework?" Brian eventually broke through the silence.

"Always. You got stuff for work?" Justin asked in return.

"A bit. It could wait till tomorrow though," Brian wasn't really in the mood for work.

"So, uh, wanna fuck?" Justin asked with an impish grin.

"Not if you're gonna fall asleep on me again, Sunshine," Brian teased, his tongue in cheek smirk proving he wasn't really that angry.

"I can't help it if you've lost your touch, Brian," Justin joked right back while at the same time sidling away from his lover in expectation of the certain retribution.

"Lost my touch? Fuck you! I haven't lost my touch, you little twat," Brian said with mock outrage, standing up and starting after his annoying Twink who'd taken up a defensive position beyond the far end of the couch. "Come over here, little boy, and I'll show you whether or not I've lost my touch!"

*giggle* Justin stuck his tongue out playfully and darted around the couch so that Brian wouldn't catch him.

"Justin! Get that blond boy ass over here right now so I CAN touch it," Brian ordered making a feint to the right and almost catching Justin who tried to run around the left of the couch,

"You'll have to catch me first if you want to touch any parts of me, big guy," Justin taunted, scrunching up his little tuned-up nose adorably (not that Brian would admit to noticing any such thing, of course) before making a break for it and sprinting off down the hall towards the bedroom, laughing loudly.

And, with a chuckle of his own, Brian took off after his wayward blond. He'd show that naughty little boy he had NOT lost his touch. Even if it took All. Night. Long!