A/N: This isn't terribly Mikey friendly, although he's just sort of whiny, not evil-- *snicker*. This is one morning in the week the boys have to wait for blood test results... -------- I wake up bouncing on the mattress- the hell? The mystery is solved when a squealed "YAY!" fills the air and I make out the blur next to me as Gus jumping excitedly between me and Brian, making the mattress leap. "PANCAKES!! PANCAKES!!" he yells. "Shhhhhh... Sonny Boy, quiet down! You'll wake the whole building!" Brian giggles- yes, *giggles*. He obviously doesn't know I'm awake, though how he could think I'd sleep through this mini-earthquake, I don't know. "Maybe not the whole building, but you certainly woke *me*!" "DUS!!" Gus shrieks and I find myself giggling too. "DADDY SAID HE'D BUY US PANCAKES DIS MORNIN'!!" "Really? For himself, too?" "YES!!! GET UP! C'MON!" I rub my eyes and when I open them, I find Brian's already up, pulling on some soft, faded jeans. Yum. The pancakes sound good, too. Smiling, I get up, swaying and stumbling only slightly, and start getting dressed- a glance at the clock tells me it's only 7AM. Brian's up and it's only 7AM! "Diner, Brian?" I ask. I've never been, but Brian's talked about that place. "I guess. It's Tuesday- it'll be crowded, but everywhere will. Deb's working today- you should meet her. And with her working, Sonny Boy will get more pancakes than he can handle. Instead of winding him up, I'm hoping they'll act like a narcotic. There's a 50/50 chance either way." Gus' enthusiastic mania hasn't waned a bit by the time we're seated at a booth. 'Deb' is delighted and gushing all over him- and all over me, too, even though I only just met her 10 minutes ago. Deb's that guy Mikey's mom- and is like a surrogate mom to Brian, I think. He's talked about her several times- always a little flippantly, but the affection he has for her is obvious. I'm a little shocked at how brassy and in-your-face she is. She doesn't seem like someone Brian would associate with, let alone quietly cherish. But he said she came into his life when he was only 14. He hasn't talked about that particular time in his life, but I'm not stupid. Every day Brian lived in the Kinney house was torture. As loud and brash as Deb is, I can immediately tell she's fiercely loving, loyal and protective of the special people in her life. And Brian's second only to Michael in that department. I like her. "Gussy Gus, sweetie, here you go! Pancakes with extra syrup!" she exclaims with a chortle, plunking an enormously high stack of pancakes in front of the child's nose. "And here's your milk!" She places the sippy cup Brian had handed her next to the plate. "Eat up, honey! You're already so tall! You'll be a giant soon!" "I wanna be as tall an' han'some as Daddy!" He grins. "Tall an' pretty! All the boys and girls like Daddy!! I don't like girls though." Deb and I laugh. "You will, Gussy Gus. Girls still have cooties when they're your age!" Deb tells him. I glance at Brian, who I swear is blushing. "Deb! Shut up! Gus, girls are nice too. Like whoever you want, but never be mean to anyone just because they're a boy or a girl or anything they have no choice about." Huh. Odd. Then a wisp of realization creeps into my mind; he's thinking about Mel and how she puts Gus down for simply being Brian's child. "And don't call Daddy 'pretty'," he adds with a slightly ill expression. But Gus hardly listens to his father, having eagerly attacked the pancakes in front of him. "Briiiiannn!" I know that voice! I look up and a short (well, my height), dark haired man is standing right next to Brian. Whining, for some reason. "You haven't returned any of my calls! What's happening with you? You don't come around the comic store or Woody's or the diner anymore! It's been like, weeks! You even blew off meeting me at Woody's a little while ago!!" "I'm right here, Mikey. I'm right here, in the *di-ner*," Brian articulates slowly and patiently, picking at the short stack in front of him. Mikey! Ah. I knew I'd heard his voice somewhere. He glances over and seems to recognize me. "HIM??!! That dead-end druggie, that *twink* you carried to the loft that night is still AROUND!? What has gotten into you!!?" I don't think I like 'Mikey' so far. Brian takes a deep breath- I see that he's had a lot of practice dealing with whiney immaturity. Gus is a piece of cake compared to this guy. Well, that's my impression so far. "Mikey, this is Justin, a good friend. I told you Justin was sick the other night- he's NOT a 'dead-end druggie'. Or a twink. And it's not the first time I haven't shown up to meet you at Woody's- and it won't be the last. You'll live. You always have before." "He's a 'good friend'??? Since WHEN??" Michael seems to have a selective sense of hearing. "Briiiann! I don't get it! I don't know this little twink!! We're best friends! You tell me everything!!" No, he doesn't. I don't even know what Brian talks to him about, but I can just about guarantee Brian doesn't tell 'Mikey' everything. "Michael, I haven't known Justin very long- we just kinda clicked, that's all. There's nothing to tell. And I do NOT tell you everything. Your wee brain would vaporize if I told you everything." Michael looks affronted. "Nuh-uh!" Fuck. I hardly went to school but I know that expression was popular among 7th grade teenage girls years ago. "You do too tell me everything! How do you know this guy?" "I told you- community serv—" Deb, who's been busy with other customers, comes back to the table; Brian sighs in relief, appreciating her timing. "Hey, baby!" She beams at her son. "Want somethin' to eat, pumpkin?" "No, Ma," he answers dejectedly. "What's the matter? Some salt peter fall into your oatmeal?" "Maaaa!" "'Course not," she chuckles. "Even if it did, in your case, Brian'd cancel it out!" Whoa. Huh? I'm beginning to realize there's quite a bit about Brian I don't know. "MA!" Brian rolls his eyes and pushes his barely-touched pancakes away. "Deb, it's nothing, okay? It's just that I haven't been around much recently. Mikey's having a hissy fit over nothing. Must be that time of the month." I suppress a laugh and avert my eyes, looking over at Gus who is completely absorbed in eating his gooey breakfast. "Michael, stop expecting Brian to be there for you--" What? "He's always got his dick in some new perfect ass. You count on him too much." Deb smacks her gum and crosses her arms. "He's my best friend, Ma! He's always been there!" Fuck, do these people not see Brian right here? Or me and Gus, for that matter? The fuck! Brian wets his napkin in his water, wipes Gus' syrupy mouth clean, stands and gathers up his child. "Let's go, Sonny Boy. You've eaten enough for an army." Gus, instead of being upset by his interrupted meal, claps his hands. "I ate a lot!" he says proudly. "Yep, you did. You comin', Sunshine?" Brian asks impatiently, glancing over his shoulder as he starts towards the door. I'm up in a flash, tossing my napkin on the table and ignoring my inadvertent stagger from the sudden motion. I pause a moment to excuse myself politely; Deb's chuckling deeply and Michael's pouting. "Be good to this young man, Brian. He's got manners,” she calls after him. "And you're coming to dinner Sunday! You've missed family night twice in a row. Now that I see this cute lil' bubblebutt, I know why- but I want details. Good ones!" I hurry after Brian and Gus who are practically already out the door. I vaguely notice that, just like when Brian walked through the halls at the residential center, most if not all eyes are following him- hungrily, longingly, enviously, jealously. It's unnerving. And right now, Brian's oblivious; he just wants to *get out*. All in all, I don't particularly like how the few folks I've met in Brian's life treat him (except Gus, of course), but it's not entirely unexpected. He's cultivated the asshole rep to the hilt, and it seems that people play along with it (Michael is a bit clueless and needy, though). But I can see that they're just playing roles; it's easy to see that underneath, they love him. Pfft. I dunno. Right now, the only ones I care about are the ones I can barely keep pace with; Brian's long strides are out-distancing me and I can't keep up without stumbling. Fucker. But I know where his mind's at… not Michael, Deb, his work, Lindsay or even Gus. It's me. Me and test results that we'll hear about in 2 days.