*** 

It is after the party and presents and cake and all that bullshit that Gus finally manages to sneak outside for a cigarette. 

Justin is standing there too, leaning against the wall of the house with a cigarette in his mouth. He offers it to Gus, who gladly accepts, inhaling the smoke in the same casual way his father does. "Happy birthday, kid," Justin says, leaning over to ruffle the boy's hair. 

Gus glares. He hates being called a kid. "I'm seventeen," he points out dryly.

"And you know what? I know that better than anyone," Justin brags. Gus raises a single eyebrow delicately, something that Brian can do perfectly but Justin has never been able to master. 

"How's that?" Gus asks.

For Gus and Jenny, the story of how Dad (Uncle Brian for J.R.) and Justin met has always been kind of hazy. They know the basics – that Justin was a trick at first and was never intended to be anything more than that. They know that Justin had to stalk Brian to get his attention, and that once they finally were together, there was more bullshit in their relationship than in an overpopulated cow pasture. 

"Your dad was twenty-nine when I met him," Justin begins. "You know he's twelve years older than me – I was seventeen. 

Gus gets it. 

"I was your average closeted high school senior," he continues. "My parents were conservative as fuck – my dad was a homophobic asshole. So naturally, I had never acted on the fact that I wanted to get fucked by dick. Until this one night, that is, when I decided to check out Liberty Avenue." 

"And Dad was there," Gus interrupts, catching on.

Justin nods. "Exactly. I was standing under a streetlight near Babylon. The music was blasting like crazy. All I could think of was that I would kill to get into that club. And then this incredibly hot guy – " 

"I wouldn't go that far," Gus interrupts.

Justin swats him on his arm. " – walked right up to me and asked if I was having a busy night. I made up some bullshit about checked out the bars. And he saw right through me. Asked me if I was going anywhere. I told him, 'No place special.' So he leaned in closer and told me, 'I can change that.'"

In his mind, Gus visualizes his favorite actor – a hot teenage stud with platinum blond hair and a perfect body – propositioning him in the same way. A little tremor runs down his spine. "Wow," he breathes. 

Justin grins. "Yeah. And he took me home. Naturally, I was fucking terrified. He brought me up to the loft and started stripping and pouring water all over his head. It was hotter than it sounds, believe me. And I was babbling like crazy. Some shit about how codeine makes me puke all over the place. Somehow – in the middle of all that – he managed to shut me up. Just with how he looked. And before we knew it, we were sitting on his bed and he was jerking me off, telling me not to come yet." 

"Let's skip the sex," Gus interrupts. "Not because I don't want to hear it, but because, um, ew. He's my dad. Ew." 

Justin shrugs, a little twinkle in his eye showing how much he'd like to relive every second of the sex. "Well. Anyway." He clears his throat. "Then… while I was making an ass out of myself when he asked me if I liked to rim, and I had no idea what that was but said I liked it anyway – " he pauses for Gus' laughter to subside " – then the phone rang. And it was Melanie, telling Brian that Lindsay had just had a kid." 

Clapping his hands like an infant, Gus murmurs, "And that's when I popped in." 

"Right," says Justin. "So Brian dragged Michael away from his evening's trick, and since I told Brian I was seventeen and had nowhere else to go, he let me come along. To the hospital. Michael was pretty fucking pissed, let me tell you." 

Gus rolls his eyes. "Like that's anything new. But when you told Dad you were seventeen, didn't he freak out?" 

Justin gives him a pointed look. "This is Brian Kinney you're talking about. Calm, cool, and collected in any situation that doesn't damage him financially or sexually." 

"Dad's two favorites, money and sex," Gus concedes. "Now. Get back to the story."

"Fine, fine," Justin mutters. "Okay. Now. We got to Lindsay's room in the hospital, and there she was, in the bed curled up next to Melanie, holding this little kid in a baby blanket. And all I could think of was, 'shit! Is he straight or something?' Like Lindsay was his wife and this little fucker was his newborn son." Gus cackles, trying to imagine his father as a straight married man. "But no, then I realized he was just the sperm donor, and by then I just wanted to disappear." 

Gus nods sympathetically. "If one of <i>my</i> tricks brought me to the hospital to see his kid, I'd freak out, too." 

"So then," Justin continues, "Lindsay was talking about names. It was Abraham – Mel's choice – or Gus, and when Lindsay asked Brian, he turned around and asked me. Or maybe he was asking Michael, but I thought he meant me. And I said… I said…" Justin squints, trying to remember. "I said you wouldn't survive a day in school being named Abraham, but Gus was okay. And Mel bitched at me, leading Brian to bitch back at her, and before I knew it, I was back to blending in with all the dykes in the room. And Michael." He winces. "God, there were so many fucking dykes." 

"So… why the fuck did Dad let a trick name his kid?" Gus asks, apparently still unclear. 

Justin has no idea, and says as much. "But anyway, Gus," he says, "the point is, I met your dad seventeen years ago to the day, and I was seventeen then, and the second I saw you, it completely changed my life. I mean completely. Before then, I was a closeted virgin teenager with country club parents and no inclination to stand out. As far as I'm concerned, I was born that day – so in a way, I'm seventeen today too, Gus." 

"Drama," sings the boy under his breath. 

Justin digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. "This," he says, extending a card to the younger boy, "is your present from me." The card in question is a Pennsylvania State Driver's License identical to the one in Gus' own pocket. The only difference is that instead of listing Gus' birthday in 2000, it says that he was born four years prior. Making him twenty-one. 

"You," Gus says slowly, "my dad's lover, just gave me a fake I.D. so that I can go out to clubs and bars and fuck everyone in sight." 

"Pretty much, yeah," Justin agrees. "Is that a problem?" 

Gus grins. "Fuck no. It's just kind of a weird present, that's all." 

"And we're kind of a weird family," Justin remarks. "What'd your moms give you?" 

"Mel gave me a hundred bucks," Gus replies promptly, referring to Melanie, "and Mom gave me a new iPod video." He beams, clearly satisfied with Lindsay's present for him. 

Justin smirks. "And how about your dad?" 

With a knowing grin, Gus replies, "A box of dildos." 

"Now, isn't that a weirder present than this?" Justin clarifies, indicating the fake I.D. "Oh – and there's something else your father asked me to give you." From his wallet, he pulls out another card. This one is blue and shiny, with the words Babylon Membership Card stamped across the front. A picture of Gus, his name, birthday (according to this card, in 1996), and address are listed below that. 

"In honor of turning seventeen," Gus says slowly, "I can now go to Babylon and Woody's." 

Justin shrugs. "It's what I did when I was seventeen," he says. "It's what your dad did on his eighteenth birthday. Hey, you're getting a head start. Better get ready with those tricks." 

"Sure," Gus says, looking over the cards in his hands. "I'll do that." 

And with that, he crushes the cigarette in his hand and runs back in the house and up to his bedroom to get changed for the real celebration of his seventeenth birthday.

Justin watches him go. He's content with being thirty-four, but there isn't much he wouldn't do to try another day at seventeen.