The flutter of wings. The yawning of metal (the heater?). A whoosh and an arc of black, like paint tossed into the air.

“What the hell?”

Molly placed her hand on her hip, wagged her finger at Justin, and in a fair approximation of her mother’s voice reproved him: “Justin (pause for effect) Taylor! Language!”

Gus rolled over onto his back (he was still on the floor playing with Sweetie) and said, “Ooooooooo, you’re in trou-bbbllleee!!” Then he started giggling.

Justin ignored both Molly and Gus. He turned his head right and then left and then tilted it back, each time staring for a few seconds, trying, somewhat desperately, to descry the interloper.

More finger wagging. “Don’t ignore me, young man!”

More giggling.

Flap. Flap. Flap.

The interloper (was it a bird? a bat?) dove in Justin’s direction. Justin cursed (“Fuck!”) and turned his head slowly, scanning the air.

“You’re only digging yourself deeper, young man! That kind of language is inappropriate for young ears!” (and to Gus) “Cover your ears!”

Gus, still lying on the floor, happily complied.

Exasperated, Justin hissed, “Molly, please!” and unbuttoned his shirt.

A thoroughly shocked Gus dropped his hands (from his ears) and pointed! “Not in the living room! Mommies yell at you for that.” He nodded solemnly and turned a little red. The last time he’d taken his clothes off in the living room, during a party, his mommies wouldn’t let him eat any cake. Not even a little.

Bare to the waist now and clutching a cuff in one hand, Justin started waving his shirt into the air. A soft, soft, soft cotton, it glided and curled, never once meeting its target.

Flap. Flap. Flap.

Long sleek ‘wings’ and a furry belly. The interloper was a bat, Justin now realized. It dove and glided in Justin’s direction. Justin ducked.

The kids hearing the flapping for the first time, Molly dropped her hand (the wagging finger hand) and looked up, her eyes wide with terror, and Gus, still lying on his back, started screaming.

Brian, who was still in the bathroom sitting on the closed toilet, deep in contemplation, stood (on both feet) in alarm when he heard Gus scream, yelled (he nearly yowled the pain was so acute), and fell back into a sitting position. When the pain subsided (dropped to a manageable level), he lifted himself up again, this time more carefully (using the sink to steady himself) and balanced himself on his good foot. He grabbed the clothes he’d set on the sink and dressed as quickly as he could.

Justin yelled, “Into the bedroom!”

Molly grabbed Gus’s hand and pulled him to a standing position. Gus protested, “No, wait, I need to get Sweetie,” and wriggled until his hand was free. He dove for the mouse but in his haste sent it skittering across the floor. Molly shrugged and ran for the bedroom, but kept the door open and yelled, “Come on, hurry up!”

Justin scanned the room again.

Gus crawled across the floor so quickly his knees started to hurt, all the while alternately looking up nervously and searching the floor desperately for Sweetie. He breathed a sigh of relief when found her underneath the couch (next to a balled up wife beater and a coffee mug). He cupped her in his hand and stood.

Justin, growing more and more tense with every second that passed, and the kids’ screaming and panicked movements, waved his shirt at anything that moved, shadows, a lone fly, Gus …

Gus, carefully shielding Sweetie, screamed again and ran for the bedroom door.

The bat dove once more, this time whooshing toward Gus.

Molly, panicked, yelled, “Come on, hurry up! Hurry up!”

Gus nearly tripped on the stairs he was so scared and he would have had Molly not caught him and pulled him inside, immediately sliding the door shut, with a loud thwack. Molly, still holding Gus, threw herself back against it (the door). Just when she’d caught her breath, her eyes regained focus and landed on a still damp, but clothed Brian looming over her and Gus, balanced on one foot, arms crossed, looking annoyed (and he was extremely annoyed, now that he saw both kids were safe). For the first time that night, Molly screamed.

Brian glowered.

Molly stepped to the side and slid the door open.

Brian grabbed his crutches and moved through and down the stairs.

Molly waited until Brian was a foot away from the stairs and then slowly slid the door shut, though she kept it open a crack. She peered through. Mimicking Molly, Gus sat down on the floor and peeked out. He even held his hand out so Sweetie could see, too.

Justin, finally giving up on his shirt, which had barely managed to graze the bat, let alone fell it, tossed it behind him. It landed on Brian’s head. Brian, still unaware of the imminent danger, grinned, pulled Justin’s shirt down over his face (though he still held it), and watched Justin in amusement as Justin grabbed the broom Molly had been playing with (he just remembered it was there) and start swinging it wildly.

Molly watched, too, squinting her eyes and scanning the living room and kitchen.

After a few minutes of swinging, Justin let the broom fall, the handle sliding through his now damp hands. The metal squeaked. Breathing heavily (in gasps), Justin ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

A few seconds after Justin stopped swinging, Molly finally caught sight of the bat. She ripped the door open, stepped over Gus (nearly tripping), jumped the stairs (Brian started a little at that), and ran past Justin yelling “I see it! Over there!”

Justin’s eyes snapped open. “What? Where?”

Gus, seeing it now, too, ran out into the living room and began jumping and pointing. He went off like an alarm: “There, there, there!” Then he grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it in the bat’s general direction. But he put too much of a curve on it, so it flew to the left, hitting Brian in the head. Brian frowned and narrowed his eyes. Gus hung his head and muttered, “Sorry.”

Justin, oblivious to everything, was staring in the direction Molly had run, but couldn’t see the bat. After a minute, he asked again, even more frantically, “Where? I don’t see it!”

Molly pointed. “There! By the bookcase” and Justin sent the broom aloft again and swung. He actually hit the bat this time, sending it careening through the air and into the loft door (it hit with a loud thump and fell to the ground), but Justin swung so hard that he spun around and lost his balance.

Justin flew into Brian, more specifically into Brian’s arms. Somehow, in all the hullabaloo, Brian had thought to toss his crutches. In fact, if Justin wasn’t mistaken, Brian had opened his arms to receive him (and pulled Justin closer, until Justin’s face was buried in Brian’s neck). Justin’s skin burned.

Despite all his body’s responses, which if they could articulate a desire would have urged (most desperately) Justin to remain exactly where he was, and indefinitely, Justin tried to step out of Brian’s arms. His embarrassment trumped everything: the hairs on his arms, his legs, and the back of his neck, which prickled, producing simultaneously the most uncomfortable and the most delicious sensation, his slowly hardening cock, his even more ragged breathing, his rapidly beating heart, which had stopped cold the second Brian grabbed him and had raced faster and faster with every second Justin’s lips lay on Brian’s neck, on Brian’s warm, damp skin.

But Brian refused to release him. Brian held Justin tighter and lifted Justin’s chin with a finger. Their eyes met. Justin suddenly felt like he were both falling and melting. Brian laughed. “Sweaty and half-naked and flying into my arms…” He unexpectedly stopped, midsentence, biting back his automatic retort: “What would your boyfriend say?” He didn’t want to talk about Joe. Not now. Not ever. And most of all, he didn’t want to joke about Justin’s being with anyone else, let alone the snuggler.

Gus giggled. “You look like a tomato!”

At that, Justin grew even more tomato-y.

TBC…in a day or two