Brian's POV Everyone at the table might as well be speaking Greek around me, and shit like this pisses me off. I can only make out bits and pieces of what they are talking about, but then I’m only half listening at this point. My thoughts have been since distracted by the seat at the table. I continuously stare at the back of Blondie’s empty chair, and I can’t help but begin to worry about him. He has been gone for... well, shit. Probably only couple of minutes, but, hell, it seems like forever. God, what the fuck is wrong with me? I feel a pair of eyes on me, and shift my gaze to the right to find Gus’ twinkling dark eyes staring at me, and a foolish smile outlined in tomato sauce playing his lips. Inwardly I cringe at the mess he’s managed to make, but barely keep a straight face. Sonny Boy is such a messy eater. It’s disgusting. What kind of table manners have they been teaching him? Christ, when I was his age, I knew how to eat properly, and, if I made a mess, there would be hell to pay with Jack’s good ole belt. With that thought, I mentally encourage Gus to make as big of a mess as he wants. Hell, it’s not like I have to clean him up anyway. I wonder if the boy knows who I am, or even if I exist. Surely Michael has told him. Then again... maybe not. I mean, it wasn’t like he told me he took Gus in the first place. I look away unable to take anymore of Gus’ widdle beady eyes, and I focus back on the lonely chair when I hear my name. “Brian?!” Debbie exclaims angrily. “What did I tell you, Michael Charles Novotny!” “Mom it’s not that! Jesus, give me some more credit than that. Besides, I told you it’s been taken care of.” “Oh, really... because it sure doesn’t look like it. I’m not blind. Hell, if you call that taken care of...” “Mom...” “Don’t you mom me, buster.” “Fine if you don’t want to listen to me, Brian, will you tell her?” I raise my eyebrows. “Tell her what?” “Brian...” Michael grinds his teeth in frustration. “What?” I ask looking at Mikey. I sigh and turn to Debbie. “Okay, I have to take a piss, excuse me,” I announce and get up. “Good,” Debbie replies. “You can take Gus with you and get him cleaned up.” Fuck! I look over at Debbie to say something that would get me out of hauling Gus with me, but Debbie’s glare of death erases all coherent excuses from my mind. With a low grumble and my tail between my legs, I call out, “Come on, Sonny boy.” Turning his head to me, Gus gawks at me with wide eyes which he abruptly turns into a big toothy smile. He hops up out of his chair and skips over me. “Up,” he demands, waving his arms around at me. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him. He has got to be kidding. “Up, pleaz...!” “You got two feet. Use them.” Gus frowns. “UP!” “Is there a problem, Brian?” Debbie demands. “No, Deb. No problem.” Gus grins up at me. I bet he thinks so he clever, but just wait until I get him upstairs and out of sight. I pick the little runt up and carefully hold him as far from my body as possible. Gus giggles, “You’re silly.” “And you’re a little menace.” As soon as I reach the top step - clear out of sight, I place him down on his feet. Gus pouts with confused look that darkens his face. “You’re quite capable of making the rest of the way yourself. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t pull that shit on me again, or you will regret it. Because...” “I know who you are,” Gus bluntly interrupts. I feel a lump in my throat and mouth becomes dry. My lips mange to form an, “Oh...” until it is necessary to breathe again, and I clear my throat. “And who am I?” I wearily ask the boy unable to make eye contact with a fucking four year old. Jesus Christ! “You’re Rage,” he says with pride and confidence. “What?!” I choke staring down at him. “Don’t worry. I can keep a secret,” Gus informs me with a wink before heading down the hallway. “Great…” )=( Justin’s POV I walk into Michael’s old room. Most of Michael’s belongings have been moved into our apartment, but he still has a few things here and there lingering about. Wandering over to the dresser, I look over the collection pictures and stickers that outline the mirror above the dresser. It was a shrine to his childhood of bad hairs cuts, comic heroes, and Brian. I glance over Michael and Brian’s prom picture. Despite their bad taste in suits and hair dos, they look happy and hot in a dorky kind of way. Michael is clearly on cloud nine with Brian’s arm swung over his shoulder possessively holding him closely in the picture. I vowed to myself I would replace that picture with our own prom picture. Sighing, I slowly push back my bangs to reveal my three year old scar. I run my index over the inch length mark and close my eyes. I can only remember a few blurry images and sounds about that night, and they come to me when I’m completely stressed out or having one of my infamous panic attacks. Like laughter, a beat to a familiar song, flashing lights, and dark red liquid of what I can only assume to be her blood. Sometimes I wish I could just remember what happened, but mainly I wish it never had happened in the first place. “Daddy, Daddy... Save me...” Gus bursts into the room, running to me. “Huh...” I reply as Gus wraps his arms around me. “Hey, Gus...” I start to smile before feeling the dampness. “Gus, why are you all wet?” “Because, Sonny Boy, thought it would be funny if he got me wet,” Brian explains standing in the door way. Turning to face Brian, I snap, “So because a four year old got you a little wet, you decide to drown him?” I glare. “And he should learn not to start something if he can’t finish it,” he carelessly answers with a shrug. “You’re one to talk,” I reply with a glare before returning back to Gus. “Gus, why don’t we get into some dry clothes before you catch a cold.” “Okay, Daddy.” I ignore Brian as I help Gus into some of his extra clothes that were stored in the dresser for when he visits his Grandma. Once changed, I dismiss Gus to go get his dessert. He didn’t need to be told twice, as he scampers off with a shriek of excitement. I start gathering up Gus’ wet clothes when a voice startles me, “You’re good with him.” I jump a bit and found Brian standing against the wall. I had forgotten that he was here. Staring at him for a moment, I blink and mumble, “Thanks.” I reply as I walk out of the room. Halfway to the bathroom to hang up the clothes, I hear Brian behind me. “Just so you know, Michael took care of it,” he says with a lopsided smile and makes his way down the stairs. “Took care of what?” I inquire, wearily. )=( Michael’s POV I let out sigh relief as Mom serves Gus his slice of cake. “He’s just going to end up wearing it,” Brian states from behind me. I quickly pull him away from the group to the stair case. “Thanks a lot, Brian,” I whisper bitterly. “You’re welcome,” he smirks. “You know it wouldn’t have killed you to have told my mom that you weren’t best man anymore.” “And it wouldn’t have killed you to have told me that Gus is my son or that Lindsay and Mel are dead,” he snaps back flatly. My mouth drops open. Shit… “Shit, Brian, I…” “Michael…” Justin comes down stairs with a smile plastered hard on his face, and I swallow hard as he asks to talk me. Looking back at Brian, “Brian…” I say with guilty look. “You better not make your husband to be ask twice,” he mumbles as he leaves my side. I watch him for a moment. I let out a sigh, and I follow Justin out to the front porch. “Tell me it isn’t the truth, Michael. Tell me that you didn’t just make Emmett our best man again,” he begs with his hands on his hips. Shocked by his mood on the subject, I‘m too dumbfounded to form a coherent sentence. Shouldn’t he be happy about this new development? “God, Michael, I can’t believe you.” He runs his hand through his hair and begins to pace. “Do you even care about what I want?” “Of course, I do,” I snapped a little louder then I meant to. “I thought it was what you wanted.” “What I wanted?” he chuckle dryly. “What I WANTED! How the hell do you know what I wanted when you didn’t even bother to ask me?” “But you were upset when you found out that I asked Brian to be our best man,” I grumble. “It’s not about who our best man is, and who isn’t. This is about you making our decisions without me. It’s like all of a sudden I don’t have a say anymore.” )=( Brian’s POV Pretending to be deeply interested in Teddy and Carl’s debate about Christ only knows what; I steal short glances out the window watching the Michael and Justin’s drama unfold. I can see Michael and the back of Blondie’s head. “How does it feel to be the center of all the tension?” Ian asks as he invades my space taking a seat next to me despite the “fuck off” scowl I give him. “You should know.” He grins proudly at the remark. Staring out the window, he chuckles, “I’m not sure if Michael is more threatened by me, or if Justin is more threatened by you.” “Well, they obviously have some commitment issues. But then again, all couples do.” “True. But not all couples should be together.” I can’t argue about that. My parents are the perfect example. “In fact, you’re the reason they become a couple in the first place. It seems fitting that you’re going to be the one breaking it up.” “What do the mean I’m the reason they’re a couple?” I inquire in a dull tone. “They met the day you left town.” “So…” I utter acting as if this is the most pathetic reasoning ever. But honestly it made sense. I figured that Michael would latch on to the first person who showed interest. He continues, “Michael was lost in thoughts of missing you as he was heading out of Babylon. He collided into Justin knocking him down into a puddle. A meal, a birth, and two deaths later that night brings us today. So you see, it’s your life he’s filling in for, but it will never be his own.” Letting the info spin around in my head, I wonder if I hadn’t left if Justin and I would have… “Justin and I have decided to make a slight change in our wedding,” Michael announces out loud holding hands tightly with Justin. The house grows silent. “Since there are two of us…” Blondie starts. “Instead of on having one best man…” “We are going to have two.” “Emmett, of course, is one.” Blondie makes eye contact with Ian. Figures. Of course he’s going to pick the fiddler. “Brian…” he looks over at me, “will you be another one?” You could probably hear a pin drop. Even Michael seems surprised by Justin’s choice. I smirk widely. “Sure, I’ll be your best man.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This fic was edited by The Slash Faerie.