Chapter 9 - Revenge of The Hormones.

Kevan was just over two months old and had already discovered the concept of being ‘worried’. Maybe he was genetically predisposed to it - his Daddy was always a worrier himself. Or maybe he was just so advanced that his little baby brain caught on to the fact that all was not right in his world a little sooner than most babies would have noticed. But, either way, Kevan was already worried about things.

It had been building up a little bit at a time. First, Kevan had noticed that the dark, good-smelling person had been acting very odd. Instead of being all calming like he used to be, the good-smelling one started yelling a lot. It was quite upsetting to a sensitive baby like Kevan. He didn’t like yelling at all. Especially since the yelling made the yellow one sad. And, with the yellow one sad and the good-smelling one yelling, Kevan’s whole world seemed topsy-turvy.

Tonight, things were even worse than usual. Kevan woke up hungry. It was very dark out and nobody had turned on the little lights over his crib that he liked to look at. He’d cried loudly because he didn’t want to be alone and hungry in the dark. Usually when he cried in the dark times, the good-smelling one would come to him and they would sit together in the big comfy chair and the man would make his tummy all warm and happy. While Kevan enjoyed his midnight snack, the good-smelling one would make his calming happy noises until Kevan would get sleepy again and drift off while still being held comfortably in the person thing’s arms. It was almost always a good time.

Tonight though the good-smelling one didn’t seem happy. He didn’t make any happy noises while Kevan nursed. He was actually making angry, unhappy noises and it was making Kevan uneasy. Tonight the good-smelling one’s noises sounded more like the noises Kevan made when his tummy was hurting. Kevan was still not all that familiar with the concepts of sad or happy, but if he’d understood more, he would have thought the sounds were sad.

“Daddy’s sorry, Kevan. Blah blah blah. Blah blah bad daddy. Blah blah blah. So, sorry, Sonnyboy. Blah blah blah blah . . . *sniffle* I’m sorry blah blah blah. I’m sorry blah blah blah blah. I’m sorry blah blah. Daddy blah blah blah, Sonnyboy. Blah blah. So blah blah sorry . . .”

That new noise - ‘sorry’ - kept repeating a lot tonight and Kevan didn’t think he liked that noise. The good-smelling one’s face would get all crumpled looking every time he made that noise. And usually the good-smelling one - who he was coming to think of as ‘Daddy’ since that was the one noise he made the most when they were together - would make a happy face when he said the ‘Kevan’ noise or the ‘Sonnyboy’ noise. But not this night. This night, the man made sad faces even when he said those things. It did not reassure Kevan.

Even when his tummy was all full and warm, Kevan didn’t drift happily off to sleep like he normally would. One of his most favorite persons was unhappy and he didn’t know what to do about it. Kevan reached one chubby little hand up towards the face he loved so much, patting the man’s cheek. He didn’t think it was a good thing that Daddy’s face was wet - that was something he hadn’t ever experienced before.

When Daddy put Kevan back into his bed, the boy lay awake for much longer than he had ever done before. He could hear that the good-smelling one - Daddy - hadn’t left the room yet. His baby vision still wasn’t very good, but when he turned his head a little to the left he could see a blurry outline in the dim light. It seemed like Daddy was still huddling on the big comfy chair, all curled up in a ball and he could hear more sad noises coming from that direction. Kevan knew that this wasn’t good.

Was it any wonder that Kevan had taken up worrying at such a young age.

“Daddy’s sorry, Kevan. I’m so sorry. I’m a bad daddy. I can’t help it, though. So fucking sorry, Sonnyboy. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. I just can’t do this shit, you know. I just don’t fucking know how. I had shitty role models for my own parents, but I want to do right by you. I really do. I love you so much . . . *sniffle* I’m sorry I’m so useless at this. I’m sorry I’m a complete fucking failure as a father. I’m sorry I’m letting you and Justin down. Your Daddy is so fucking useless, Sonnyboy. Big surprise, right? I know - I’m pathetic. I’m so fucking sorry . . .”

Justin had been worried about Brian for days now. Actually, to be honest, he’d been worried about his partner for almost two full weeks; ever since that day that Brian had lost it and slammed his fist into the cabinet in the kitchen. That kind of violent behavior was just so out of character for the man he thought he knew. But, if anything, things had been getting worse since then instead of getting better. At this point, he was frankly terrified at the changes he was seeing and completely at a loss as to what was happening. Justin was more than worried.

Tonight had seemed particularly bad. Brian had said less than a dozen words all evening. The grunts in response to his questions were not in the least reassuring. Neither was the fact that Brian had merely picked at his dinner - despite Justin having made one of Brian’s favorite high protein, low carb meals - and almost immediately thereafter declared that he was tired and was heading for bed. The biggest tell was that Brian hadn’t even made one single suggestion that Justin go with him to bed. In fact, Brian hadn’t make a single sexual advance towards him in more than four days.

FOUR FUCKING DAYS!

That was the clincher for Justin. Something was seriously wrong with his partner. Justin had always thought that the world could be ending and Brian Kinney would still be clamoring for sex. Even when he was nine months pregnant, the man had still been demanding sex several times a day. The fact that he hadn’t even mentioned sex for FOUR DAYS was just so wrong on so many levels. With his stomach roiling in fear, Justin followed Brian to bed before 8:00 pm only to lie there sleepless, brooding and worrying and clandestinely watching while his partner pretended to sleep.

When Kevan woke at around one in the morning, Brian crawled out of bed as usual to feed him. Even then Brian was moving so lethargically - his usually graceful, cat-like prowling movements all but gone - that Justin watched him with growing dread. Every moment that Brian was gone, Justin simply worried more. When it felt like he’d been gone far longer than usual, Justin crept out of bed himself and tip-toed down the hall. He paused outside the nursery door, intentionally eavesdropping, trying to discover some clue about what the fuck was going on with his man.

Which is when he overheard Brian’s conversation with baby Kevan.

Shit! It was worse than Justin had suspected. Brian was sobbing and apologizing to his son for being such a shitty father. This was not Brian Kinney. Not Justin’s version of Brian, at least. Something was very, very, very wrong here.

Eventually the quiet words stopped. A few minutes later Justin could hear a rustling and assumed that Brian was putting Kevan back in his crib. He was poised on his toes, ready to sprint back to the bedroom as fast as possible to ensure that Brian wouldn’t catch him listening in, but something held him back. Justin hesitated. He waited by the open doorway, listening intently to try to catch some hint about what was going on inside. When several minutes passed and Brian still hadn’t come out, he daringly peeked around the doorframe.

What Justin found in the little room was one of the saddest things he thought he’d ever seen. Poor little Kevan was lying awake in his crib, looking through the slats at his Daddy with worried wrinkles crossing his forehead. Brian was huddled in the armchair nearby, not making any sound. Justin could just make out, through the smattering of moonlight coming through the window, Brian’s heaving shoulders hiding the suppressed sobbing that must still be wracking the man. Kevan’s little hand was stretched out towards his father as if to reach out and comfort the man in his distress. Justin felt like the infant’s gestures were an entreaty to him, a plea that he somehow fix this and make his Daddy better.

Shit! Things were even worse than he’d expected if whatever was happening had reduced the imperturbable Brian Kinney to tears. Justin silently pulled away from the nursery door. The one thing he did know was that approaching Brian now, even to comfort him, would do more harm than good. Having to acknowledge that anyone had seen him in his moment of vulnerability would just further damage Brian’s faltering self-confidence. It had been a tricky enough thing simply dealing with Brian’s pregnancy without permanently harming the man’s dignity. Justin wasn’t about to undermine him now. No. He’d just have to come up with a plan to somehow find out what was wrong and fix it without Brian realizing he was being fixed.

When Justin heard a rustling noise and the creak of metal and wood that indicated the foot rest on the big armchair Brian used for nursing was being folded up, he quickly retreated back to the bedroom. By the time Brian made it back to bed, dragging his feet along in utter dejection, Justin was already under the covers and seemingly fast asleep. Brian got in on his usual side of the bed. The huge plaintive sigh when he laid his head on the pillow was almost enough to break Justin’s resolve, but not quite. Justin forced himself to lie still, even manufacturing a bit of a wheezy snore to help with his ruse.

Brian lay there in bed stiff and tense for what seemed like forever. If he peeked out from under his eyelids, Justin could almost see the miasma of evil, self-doubting thoughts circling over his lover’s beautiful and sad mien. Waves of anxiety virtually rained off the big brunet’s skin. It was going to be a very long night if Justin didn’t do something to derail the train of Brian’s apprehensions.

Still feigning sleep, Justin rolled over so that he was lying on his right side, his nose just brushing against Brian’s shoulder. He’d also managed to make it seem that his sleepy roll just happened to end with his left arm draped across Brian’s middle and his left leg curled around the larger man’s thigh. Seeing as his bedmate was ostensibly sleeping, Brian allowed himself to relax into the caring embrace. It didn’t count as cuddling if at least one of the parties was unconscious, did it?

Within fifteen minutes, Brian was finally asleep. Satisfied that the big lug was safe for the moment, Justin gently extricated himself from under his partner’s heavy, warm arms and crawled out of bed. He glided soundlessly out through the bedroom door and down the hall. He had a date with Brian’s laptop this evening. Justin was already well into ‘Research Mode’ and he wasn’t about to stop until he knew what was wrong and exactly how to help his stud.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!”

The piercing, heart-stopping, scream coming from the bedroom interrupted Justin’s research several hours later. Justin jumped and the laptop almost crashed to the floor before the youth grabbed ahold of it at the last minute. Shoving the computer aside, he took off at a run towards the back of the house, his panic filled mind already shying away from the horrors he thought he might see. His stocking clad feet slid on the hardwood floor as he tried to zip around the corner but he managed to prevent a fall by grappling onto the door jamb.

“Brian? What’s wrong? BRIAN!” Justin shot into the bedroom to find his devastated baby daddy standing in front of the mirror and staring into his hands with the most dejected look on his face that anyone had ever seen. “BRIAN? Are you hurt? I-I-I don’t know what to do . . . tell me what’s wrong . . .”

“It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s . . .” Brian didn’t seem able to complete even one sentence. He was just staring at his hands which were now lying limply on the top of the dresser in front of the big mirror. “I don’t understand. This CAN’T happen . . . It can’t . . . It can’t . . .”

A freaked out Justin looked down at the large supplicate hands and saw there was something twined around Brian’s fingers. Bending over slightly, Justin could see there were fine strands of auburn laced through his long, expressive fingers. From Brian’s expression, it was clear that there was far more auburn there in his hands than he’d expected or wanted.

“Whatever’s the matter, is it really worth pulling out your hair over, Brian?”

“I’m not pulling it out. It’s fucking falling out. My HAIR IS FUCKING FALLING OUT, JUSTIN! What the hell . . .” Brian moaned as he ran his hand across his scalp one more time and pulled it away with a few more strands of hair caught between his fingers. “Damn it to fucking hell! What the hell is happening to me, Justin? Why is this happening?”

For a man as egocentric as Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue, newly-signed Armani supermodel and worldwide celebrity thanks to Kevan, the prospect of something as momentous as losing his hair was simply devastating. The look of sheer horror on his face was telling. He just really could NOT handle such an eventuality. Of course Justin would never dare laugh at him, no matter how humorous he found the look on his lover's face.

“I don’t know why your hair is coming out, Brian. I’m sure it’s nothing serious though. Everybody loses a few strands of hair here and there,” Justin tried to calm him but his words had no obvious effect.

Brian swept all the hair that had accumulated on the dresser top into a neat, and admittedly rather substantial, pile. "This is NOT a few strands. Just look at this! What the fuck am I going to do? I don't think Armani wants a balding model for their Spring line. Especially not a fat balding model."

"You're not fat, Brian! You look great. Really. In fact, since you quit smoking, drinking like a fish, snarfing down drugs like they were candy and staying out all night, you look better than ever. I think you're probably in the best physical shape you've been in your whole life. The numbers on the scale don't mean anything," Justin tried again to placate the obsessing narcissist.

"Yeah, right, Sunshine. I'll believe THAT when The Ford Agency starts promoting the 'cheeseburger and milkshake' diet for all their top models." Brian replied in his bitchiest Queen voice, reminding Justin that his normally macho and studly boyfriend was still a true fag at heart.

Before Justin could rally and think up a more compelling way to reassure the big raving pile of insecurities, Brian reached his inner self-restraint limit. "FUCK THIS! I did NOT sign on for being perpetually fat and bald even after the damn parasite was out of me. This is just so fucking wrong, in so many ways. And I'm fucking out of here!" Brian announced regally and then stomped out of the room in a perfectly righteous, perfectly queenly, huff.

"BRIAN!" Justin yelled after the man's retreating back.

His only response was the slamming of the back door as Queen Brian left the building!

"Not schupposed to be like this, ya know! Not schupposed to turn into a whimpy little hausfrau. I'm Brian Fucking Kinney!" Brian loudly slurred out his latest string of complaints, wagging his index finger as if lecturing a recalcitrant audience even though it didn't look like anyone was listening to him anymore. "No 'pologies, no 'scuses, no egrets . . . No fucking egrets at all, hehehe. And no cranes or storks or fucking pidgeons either! Hah!" He cackled loudly at his drunken jest, startling the other bar patrons who were sitting nearby trying to ignore the loud drunk at the bar.

"It's s'all 'cause of the fucking hormones, ya know," Brian continued with his rant, completely unaware that not even the bar tender was listening to him any more. "Damned hormones. I don't fucking want 'em. You know, you know, you know . . . I'm done with s'em! All the damn 'mones: Hormones, pheromones, fuckin' moaning Myrtle - I don't care - I'm not doing any more damn 'mones! From here non out, the on'y 'mone I wanna hear 'bout is te Shunshine moans as I'm plowing into his tight hot ass. Now THOSE are my kinda fuckin' moans!"

"He moans so good too, ya know!" Brian segued easily away from the horrors of hormones and moved onto one of his favorite topics. "My Shunshine makes the best moans. 'Specially when I'm fuckin' him inta the damn mattress, hehehe. He's got the bescht ass! It's so fucking pretty. I love his ass! No, really, I fuckin' LOVE Shunshine's pretty ass! It's soooooo pretty it should be a piece of art, ya know? Like in a fuckin' museum or something. The Museum of Ass! I'd fuckin' go there! And Shunshine's ass would be like the star attrastion. The God damned Mona Lisa of asses. Peopl'd come from all round the world to worship his ass! On'y I'd be te on'y one who'd get to plow that perfect ass. Hehehe!"

While Brian was continuing his spiel in praise of his Sunshine's beautiful ass the front door to Woody's Bar was yanked open and a small blond man ran inside. He scanned the occupants, zeroing in on the big brunet pontificating to nobody while perched on a seat at the far end of the bar. Relieved that his quarry seemed safe for the moment, Justin heaved a big sigh of relief and ambled more sedately towards the bar.

"Hey, Justin," the bartender waved at him cheerily.

"Hey, Bryce. Thanks for calling me. I was starting to get worried," Justin beamed his gratitude at the bar keep along with his usual mega-watt smile.

"No problem, man," Bryce waved off Justin's gratitude. "He hasn't been too much trouble, although I don't remember Brian Kinney being such a lightweight. He'd only had three whiskeys before he started babbling shit about hormones and praising your tight hot ass. By the way, in case you didn't know it already, this guy REALLY likes your ass. He's been ranting about it off and on for the past two hours. I think the last I heard he was going to mount it in a museum, both literally and figuratively," Bryce announced, laughing as much at Justin's embarrassed blushing as he was at the content of Brian's ranting.

“Shit!” Justin muttered under his breath as he sidled down the bar closer to the still babbling, drunken brunet.

“Don’t worry, Justin. I’m sure that no more than, say, a hundred - maybe a hundred and fifty people - heard the great god Kinney rambling on about your perfect ass,” Bryce continued to razz the already flustered young blond who was trying to get the babbling brunet’s attention and hopefully shut him up before he did even more damage.

“Shunshine! You’re here!” Brian shrieked as soon as he managed to focus through his alcoholic haze on the blond youth. The big drunk draped his arms over the smaller man’s frame and practically enveloped him with smothering limbs and groping hands. “I was jussss shaying how much I wanted to PLOW your perfect ass, Shunshine! And now you’re here. Thass great! Did you bring your ass? ‘Cause you know, I really love your ass. Did I tell you how much I love Shunshine’s ass, Bryce?” Brian hollered his question over his shoulder as Justin towed him away towards the front door.