The contracts for The Account That Makes Up For Motherfucking Motorways weren’t signed in time for Gus’s birthday. Brian decided to pretend like this didn’t irritate the shit out of him, because that would require admitting he actually gave a shit that Gus’s birth may have coincided with the worst batch of E ever cooked up in a bathtub in Tijuana.

And even though Brian doesn’t celebrate birthdays, he figured surviving five years with The Munchers and having Brian Kinney as a father was a pretty hefty accomplishment. Gus got a week-long visit from Dada, and enough fucking toys to stock his own toy-store.

(Justin got a plane ticket to Toronto, a blow-job in the limo that picked him up from the airport, and a use-it-before-I-change-my-mind-Sunshine free-pass into Brian Kinney’s ass.)

The worst part of The Munchers’ move to Canada was the potential for having to buy a car all by himself. Not knowing exactly what he wanted to buy meant trips to dealerships and dealing with irritating salesmen. Not being able to take Lindsay and Gus with him meant there would be zero entertainment value in the trip.

Brian decided to take Molly along instead.

“You want to take my fourteen year-old daughter car shopping?”

“At least you know I won’t be trying to fuck her.”

Jennifer looked aghast for all of ten seconds before rolling her eyes and demanding he stay for dinner when he brought her back. Another successful graduate of the Debbie Novotny School of Over-bearing Mothering.

“I don’t get it, Brian.”

“It’s very simple, Princess. When the idiot car salesman assumes something ridiculous and insulting about the nature of our relationship you simply don’t correct him.”

“Okay. But why?”

“Because it’s fucking funny.”

Molly peered at him from under blonde eyelashes with a look that clearly stated ‘you are so fucking weird.’

They started at the Jag dealership. Not that there exists a universe in which Justin would let Brian buy him a Jag; Brian just wanted to drive them. A completely non-descript sales guy met them in the lot while they were looking over the new XK’s and introduced himself as Todd. Brian found this immensely funny and was rather disappointed to realize that the Taylor he had with him wasn’t going to get the joke. Brian shook the guy’s hand and introduced himself.

“Buying a sweet-sixteen for your lovely daughter today?”

Even though she acted older than she was, Molly was still pretty small and covered in freckles so most people assumed she was actually only about twelve. Brian was laughing at the thought that Molly was sixteen… when he realized exactly what Todd was assuming.

While Brian was struggling to breathe, Molly didn’t even hesitate. “No, this is a big fat ‘forgive-me’ gift for mom. I’m getting a BMW for my birthday.” Brian had forgotten how precocious the Taylor spawn were.

The dollar signs were practically glowing in Todd’s eyes when Brian recovered, sneered, and said, “I’m tired of sleeping on the couch,” and sent him off to get the keys.

“Fucker.”

“Well you are old enough to be my dad.”

He narrowed his eyes as menacingly as he could and replied with a vehement “Fuck you.”

Molly had never looked more like her brother than when she leaned her head against his arm and snickered. “You were right, Dad, this is fun.”

Brian growled and wrapped an arm around her head. “I was hoping for cradle-robber. That would have been so much more fun.”

“That’s really gross, Brian.”

The Molly-trip had been a bust. They hadn’t found a single car they could agree would suit Justin. They’d had an awful lot of fun test-driving everything under the sun though; especially when they figured out that everyone assumed they were buying for Molly’s sixteenth birthday and the thrill of what was obviously going to be a cash sale inspired the salesmen to forget to ask for a copy of her drivers permit.

“Oh my GOD, Brian, we can’t tell mom. She’ll never let me hang out with you again!”

“Of course she will. For some unknown reason she adores me. That was a stop sign.”

“Oops.”

By the end of the day Brian had begun to accept that he was in fact old enough to have a fourteen year old daughter. Or a sixteen year-old daughter for that matter, even if that thought made him distinctly ill. But Molly was inclined to act her age more often than not, so Brian used it as an excuse to try and shove those thoughts from his mind and joined in (because she would never tell anyone or he’d never let her drive a BMW ever, ever again.) By the time they got back to Jennifer’s condo for dinner, Molly had been dubbed ‘Pinky’ and Brian had rather graciously accepted the part of ‘Brain,’ and they’d developed an entire plan for World Domination.

Then Molly went back to acting like the angsty teenager her mother was familiar with, Brian readjusted his expression to that of pretending-I-really-hate-this, and they made it through dinner without Mother Taylor ever suspecting that her daughter still knew how to smile and Brian had a near-encyclopedic recall of every episode ever aired of Pinky and the Brain.

Afterwards, Brian spent the entire night at The Baths trying to get clean.

When Monday morning rolled around Brian was more than a little amused to find an e-mail detailing how they could use the color pink and fruit roll-ups to aid them in their Quest to Take Over the World, Love (ew! Not like that! You’re old enough to be my dad!), Pinky.

And if Brian spent forty-five minutes on eBay looking for a Pinky and the Brain watch that was small enough to fit Molly’s tiny little wrist, well, no one needed to know about that, either.

Daphne proved to be almost as much fun when he took her along the following weekend. She’d long since seen straight through his bullshit and was even less afraid to call him on it than Justin. And she had a great fucking sense of humor. He figured he was in for a fairly low-stress and probably fairly amusing day.

Until he lost his temper at the Mercedes dealership.

Apparently inter-racial couples were as appalling as queers and the fact that Daphne seemed more than a little used to it mostly just pissed Brian off more. He was pretty fucking pleased that she didn’t stop him when he made a big fucking scene. (Which may have started with something like “Listen you racist little fuck—” but fortunately ended before Brian hit anyone.)

So they went to the Jag dealer and found Todd. He lit up like a fucking Christmas tree when Brian told him he was back to look at ‘apologies’ for his girlfriend, “This is Daph. She’s not real thrilled that the Ball-and-Chain got a new Mustang; give her keys to whatever she wants to try.”

She totally got into her role as a trophy-mistress and spent the next hour batting her eyelashes and giggling at Todd’s stupid jokes, while Brian pretended not to notice the flirting. When they left she declared him “kind of sweet, actually, but what man would ever be attracted to a woman that dumb? Seriously.”

After that they genuinely started looking for a car for Justin. Brian admitted that Justin probably needed something that was functional and got decent gas mileage so they checked out a couple of ‘average’ dealerships. Mostly he let Daphne do the test-driving and ask whatever questions she thought would be important to Justin. He was capable of admitting he actually wanted something that would make Justin happy.

Of course, they still had to fuck with the salesmen as much as possible, so Daphne couched all of her questions in really hysterical terms of “will a stroller fit in the trunk? What about a collapsible playpen? How many car-seats will fit in the backseat? Triplets are a common occurrence in my family.” She even faked nausea a couple of times, running off toward the restrooms with first-trimester urgency. It was pretty fucking funny how solicitous everyone was after that.

They discussed various road-side assistance plans “for the trips to the summer-cabin in Canada,” and side-impact safety features “because I’m horrible about running stop-signs.” Warranties “in case Mr. Fix-it here tries to change the oil and forgets to put the oil-cap back on again,” and dealer service centers that will put the chains on winter “because he actually broke the stupid bumper trying to get them on last winter and I have no idea how he managed that.”

In the end they didn’t have much more luck than he’d had with Molly. The cars that would have worked for what Justin needed, Brian flat out hated, and everything else was too small for him to move any canvases of a decent size in.

“Don’t worry, Brian, you’ve got plenty of time before his birthday.”

“Who the fuck said it was for his birthday? I don’t do birthdays.”

“Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s a very belated ‘congratulations’ on getting a 1500 on his SATs.”

She actually snorted at him.

Brian came home on a Wednesday to find Justin sketching in bed, completely naked.

Justin wasted no time divesting Brian of his clothing and wrapping his mouth around his cock with great enthusiasm and lots of tongue; and after Brian came so hard he was seeing stars and got a little light-headed, Justin sat him down at the counter and made him drink water and re-heated the Thai he’d ordered earlier.

As they were eating, (in bed, with chopsticks, but most definitely not feeding each other because that would be cutesy and romantic and shit and Brian Kinney doesn’t do cutesy and romantic and shit,) Justin explained that he’d worked the early shift that day and wound up with Thursday and Friday off and, “okay, just don’t even fucking think about making fun of me or you won’t like where your chopsticks end up,” really missed Brian and the bed in the loft and a shower he could turn around in without knocking shit over, but has to go back Friday night so he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s in town because otherwise he can’t spend the next forty-eight hours with Brian’s dick up his ass.

Thursday morning, Brian must have “caught some bug” and was going to be in bed “trying to recuperate,” so Cynthia and Theodore were just going to have to manage without him for the next couple days.

When Deb asked why Brian wasn’t at the diner for lunch Ted conveniently “forgot” to mention his suspicion that it was a blond-haired blue-eyed variety of ‘bug’ only found in the wilds of New York.

Friday morning, Mikey showed up with Debbie’s chicken soup and an herbal stomach-soother from Ben.

He was remarkably good humored about finding Brian and Justin fucking on the couch instead of Brian puking in the bathroom (“It’s always better to find you fucking than actually sick, Brian,”) and promised to tell Debbie and Ben that the soup wasn’t immediately rejected and that even though Brian refused to admit it, the tea really helped, and if Brian were one for expressing appreciation, he would have sent his thanks.

In return, Justin promised to get the next set of Rage drawings done within the week (even though he hadn’t even started on them, let alone had any ideas, but buying silence—even Mikey’s—wasn’t cheap nowadays).

Later that evening, they decided to eat the soup after all so that no one had to leave for take-out and they didn’t have to stop touching each other just so someone could get the door when the delivery guy showed up.

They kissed in the kitchen when Justin was rinsing out the bowl. They kissed in the bedroom when Justin finished packing his bag. They kissed against the door while waiting for his cab. They kissed in the elevator while it was going down. And they kissed outside while the cab driver rolled his eyes (but fortunately didn’t honk the horn or Brian might have killed him.)

Brian really, really, really hated the leaving part. He didn’t think Justin was all that fond of it either.

Brian stayed awake until Justin called to say he’d landed in New York. He didn’t answer the phone—he never did—but he saw the call come in. Once the voicemail message pinged, he turned off the phone, unplugged the landline and proceeded to get very high, and maybe a little morose.

Right before he fell asleep (on the couch, which he would so regret in the morning,) he realized exactly what kind of a car he was going to buy Justin, for absolutely no reason at all, and figured it was so brilliant there would even be lesbianic tears of joy involved. That he would hate, but tolerate, because it would mean a better blow-job later.

Monday morning he went online and custom designed the perfect vehicle with all the best options. It would be delivered just in time for Justin’s birthday.

Brian figured that it was either a really bad idea, or some fucked up subconscious desire for approval, when he told Theodore what the many-thousand-dollars charge on the AmEx was.

He was pretty sure it was probably the approval thing when he didn’t mind too much that Debbie kept randomly hugging him and petting his hair and fucking beaming at him like she did that time with that thing that got him fired from that company he never really liked anyway.

And when Ben—fucking Ben—clapped him on the back and said he wasn’t around for the first year but it had been apparent to him from the beginning that Justin was special and he was glad to see that Brian was finally willing to admit it.

And when Cynthia declared it “a much better gift than the new spring line from that Ty Whatshisface”.

And then Lindsay ended a webcam meeting with Gus by telling him how really thoughtful it was, and how proud of him she was, and how really special it would be to Justin to know that Brian was learning to express his affection even if he still had trouble with the words, and promised that everyone was determined not to ruin the surprise because they all knew how important it was for Brian to be able to make this loving and remarkable gesture to Justin on his own.

The manufacturer couldn’t cancel his order so he called Justin to break up with him.

“You can’t break up with me Brian; that would require admitting to being in a relationship with me.”

“I was fucking going to marry you, you little shit, how much more admitting do you need?”

Justin’s snort could have been heard without the phone connection. “You still would have found a way to get out of ever referring to it as a relationship. The word gives you hives. Just like ‘boyfriend’ does. You were willing to skip straight from ‘guy I fuck more than once’ to ‘husband’ just to get out of ever having to introduce me as your boyfriend.”

“I do not get hives from some stupid words meant to restrict and overly-define personal interactions and place unreasonable expectations on two people who mutually enjoy fucking and occasionally spend time together that doesn’t involve stiff cocks and not entirely hate it.” He wished he hadn’t already finished off the Beam because a glass—or half the bottle—would have been nice while he waited for Justin to finish laughing.

“So what did you do?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that nobody I’ve talked to for the last week has called you an asshole and now you’re trying to be one. Obviously you’ve done something nice and it’s killing you that people know it. So, what did you do?”

Brian made up some bullshit story about helping some little-old-lady-lesbo across the street and saving her from on-coming traffic and then distracted him by describing exactly how it was going to feel the next time he covered and slicked up his cock and pushed it slowly, but slowly, into Justin’s hot, tight ass, and then slid it slowly, but slowly, out again, over and over until Sunshine was begging to be reamed harder and faster before coming in hard, messy spurts all over the slate grey Egyptian cotton sheets.

It devolved pretty quickly into raunchy phone sex after that and Brian forgot to convince Justin they were breaking up.

On the morning of Justin’s birthday, Brian loaded Michael into the Corvette and drove to the dealership closest to the exit that leads toward New York.

Mikey agreed that it was pretty much the perfect car for Justin, especially if it was the first present Brian was going to admit to buying for his first boyfriend ever.

“What about that fucking computer? And the fucking house? And don’t call him my boyfriend, it sounds… juvenile.”

“You bought the computer so he didn’t throw away his opportunity at the IFA because he was frustrated. That doesn’t count, it still falls under the ‘accomplishments’ umbrella. And the house wasn’t a present, it was a grand romantic gesture. And kind of ridiculous.”

Brian cuffed him upside the head and tossed him the keys to the ‘vette. “You better wash it this time. I’ll be back in three days.”

“Hey.”

“Hey. Get your ass downstairs.”

Justin didn’t say anything, he just hung up. Barely a minute later he came bursting out of the building’s side doors and hurtling past the open air seating of Anthony’s Ristorante and nearly knocked Brian over. They stood, leaning up against Justin’s gift, kissing and groping for what seemed like forever before Brian remembered they were standing on a busy street in front of a busy restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. He swore and pried his lips off Justin’s right as Justin’s hand snaked into his pants.

“Shit. Sunshine—”

Justin groaned, and then laughed and pulled back slightly. “This is a little public, even for us, huh?” Brian grinned and pulled him close for another soul-searing kiss. “You know, you keep this up and people are going to start to think you actually have a heart. You won’t be able to be the Tin Man for Halloween anymore.”

“Since when have I ever celebrated Halloween?”

Justin let go of Brian and threw his hands in the air. “Ha! You didn’t deny it! You came to see me for my birthday. You love me.” Brian couldn’t help but laugh, because while Brian was still really awful about saying it he’d gotten better about showing it on purpose, and Justin seemed pretty fucking content with that.

“Well don’t get too excited yet, Sunshine.” He almost felt bad about the way the smile fell off Justin’s face. Almost.

“Fuck. You have to go back tonight don’t you?” Brian nearly kept the smirk off his face but it obviously didn’t work. Justin’s face lit up again and he bounced back into Brian’s arms, “Oh my God. You got me a present.” Justin leaned up to kiss him again but stopped suddenly and leaned back, “Is this that nice thing you did? You didn’t buy me another house did you?” The look of reproach on Justin’s face sent Brian into a laughing fit because if Justin was afraid of a house he was going to accept the car, no problem, and be grateful about it. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of Justin’s nose. He watched the blue eyes grow wider, questioning.

Brian pushed Justin backwards, turned so they were standing side by side, and watched as his blue eyes took in exactly what Brian had been leaning up against since their suffocating kiss.

The reaction was everything Brian’d imagined, and he was quietly relieved by the lack of tears, happy or not. But he couldn’t figure out why Justin was walking around to the other side. “Justin?”

“Humm? Oh, I was just checking to see if this one has pink spray-paint on the side.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “If you’ll recall, it didn’t have pink spray-paint on it the first time you got into it, five years ago, either. But we can fix that in the morning if you really want.”

Justin walked back around the Jeep and looked at Brian, very seriously. “You bought me a birthday present.”

“I bought you a birthday present.”

“This is that thing that made you want to break up with me.”

Brian tucked his tongue into his cheek. “Yeah.”

They stood on the sidewalk for long moments silently regarding one another. It felt like Justin was trying to look into Brian’s soul. Finally, nodding as if he found what he was looking for, Justin gripped Brian’s arm and said softly, sincerely, “Thank you.”

Brian shoved down his reflexive smart-assed response and just dropped his chin slightly in acknowledgment. Justin smiled and turned back to look at his brand-new, jet-black, fully-loaded Jeep Wrangler. Brian slipped up behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and tucking him close.

He ducked his head to whisper in Justin’s ear, “So what do you say we go for a ride, find a nice secluded spot to park—” Justin tilted his head to look up at him and Brian smiled as sweetly as he could manage. “—and you can… blow me.”