Justin's POV

"For fuck's sake, we're already half an hour late! What are you doing in there?" I hit the bathroom door with the heel of my palm.

"I died!" Brian moaned, finally opening the door. "I'm never leaving the house again. Now, get out of my way. I'm going to crawl under the blanket and die in peace."

"Why aren't you dressed? And what are you mumbling about?"

"My life is over. Caput. Finite."

Taking a calming breath, I followed the drama queen to the bed. "What's wrong? Are you in pain? Anything hurting?"

Brian pulled the blanket over his head. "It was too good to be true. I could have lived thirty nine more years without seeing that thing on my body."

"What thing?" He was freaking me out.

"Go, tell the others I'll send a postcard from the asylum."

I snatched the blanket away, narrowing my eyes at him. I didn't even care how miserable he looked at the moment. "Talk to me, Brian!"

He rolled on his stomach, pulling the pillow over his head, mumbling something unintelligible.

"Christ! Stop being a drama queen. Tell me what's wrong." I sat next to him, rubbing his lower back. I was so scared of what he'd found. "It's not…you know…" I couldn't even say it. My hand moved lower, brushing his ass, and stopping between his thighs.

"It's not that," he said softly, turning his head and meeting my eyes. "It's worse."

I choked on my spit. "Worse than fucking cancer?"

"A lot. It's here. Mocking me." He tapped his temple.

"What's there?" I leaned closer, but he quickly turned his head away.

"No. I'm all gross."

"Jesus, Brian. If you're queening over nothing, as I suspect, I'm going to kill you. Show me what you found!"

I forcedly moved his head to the other side. It wasn't hard to miss the object of his problem. It stood out amongst his otherwise dark hair—one lone white hair.

"I don't see anything," I lied.

"How can you not? I'm getting old. I have gray hair—testimony of my imminent death."

"As you said, you're lucky this is your first. Though, I still don't see it. Now, get dressed." I slapped his ass, getting up.

"I'm not going anywhere like this!" He whined.

"Do you want me to pull it out?"

His lack of dirty jokes showed how worried he was about the situation. "So now you suddenly see it? And don't you dare touch it! If you rip it off, five more will grow in its place."

Christ. I ran my hands through my hair, aggravated. I grabbed his clothes from the bathroom and threw them on top of him. "Get dressed this instant! Or I swear to God…"

"Usually, you're fucking hot when you're bossy," he mumbled.

"Brian, Debbie will rip our balls and cook them for dinner if we're any later."

He scowled at me, but took his shirt off mechanically.

By the time he was ready, both our phones were on fire. I ignored them.

During the drive to Debbie's, Brian kept touching his right temple, making me swat at his hand.

"No one will notice if you don't draw attention to yourself."

He stopped fidgeting, and regained some of his usual confidence.

When we arrived, Debbie hugged us fiercely, exclaiming how much she'd missed us, then she slapped us behind the head for giving fashionably late a whole new meaning. One hour and a half was simply not acceptable to be late.

Brian bristled. "Do you think I roll out of bed and look like this? Perfection takes time, Debbie."

I knuckled my forehead, joining Emmett in the kitchen. He hugged me, whispering in my ear that everyone was starving.

"Don't look at me. I married the biggest queen on the face of the earth," I defended myself.

"I heard that, dear." Brian appeared from behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders bringing me to his chest. He kissed my cheek soundly.

I opened my mouth to call him out on denying my words weren't true, when Michael and Ben descended, joining us.

"Mikey, Professor." Brian went to them, and I knew he was going to say something totally stupid. "Had a quickie in your old room? Naughty, naughty."

Michael rolled his eyes. "We almost lost all hope in seeing you today. And no. We weren't fucking."

"Too bad." Brian threw me a smile. "I'm sure you remember being a newlywed."

If only his words were true. That would have been a good excuse, but it was only his fault we were late.

"You've always acted like newlyweds. Ever since you met," Debbie declared.

I turned red, knowing she was right.

"No need to be embarrassed, Sunshine. You have a healthy relationship." Emmett patted my head.

"Maybe a little too healthy," Ted added from his seat at the table next to Blake. The look on his face proved he was thinking of Brian and my sexcapade at Kinnetik earlier that week.

"So do you want presents now or later?" Brian changed the subject, already taking a seat at the table.

"After we eat. Everyone is hungry." Debbie shook her finger at Brian, who didn't even look at her.

He pulled the chair next to his out from under the table and patted it, grinning at me. I sat down, whispering in his ear, "Behave."

He gave me a mock-scandalized look. I returned it, earning a bigger smile from him. It made me smile back.

Brian combed his fingers on the side of my head, pressing his lips to my neck. In turn, I stroked the back of his head, keeping him close.

"Look at them! Aren't they sweet?" Emmett gushed, wiping a fake-tear from his eye.

"Fuck off, Honeycutt," Brian snapped, pulling away from me.

Yeah, fuck off. I glared at Emmett.

Brian leaned over me to stab his fork in a cherry tomato and a ball of mozzarella. I touched his shoulder to let him know I wasn't happy about the interruption, either.

Thankfully, the conversation wasn't centered on us.

Emmett kept talking about one of his upcoming parties, Michael threw out ideas for the new Rage issue to me, while Brian and Ted talked about lining up guys for interviewing regarding the event organizer for Babylon.

By the time Debbie served dessert—ice cream—we were somehow discussing organizing the nursery room, and how I had to focus on that, but my upcoming show was a priority. If I estimated correctly, I could be done two weeks before the opening.

Brian surprised me by all of a sudden bringing a teaspoon of ice cream to my lips. After accepting the cool dessert, he leaned closer, kissing me. I felt him smiling against my lips.

"Ice cream kiss," he whispered, licking at my bottom lip.

I grinned, amazed he remembered the time when we'd shared a bowl of vanilla ice cream at the loft. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"More," I whispered back, pressing my forehead to his.

Brian brought another teaspoon to my lips, smearing the ice cream on my lips before devouring them. I had to remind myself we were at the table with our family.

"Look how lovey-dovey they are!" Emmett boasted.

It made Brian pull away, narrowing his eyes at our friend. "Don't use that horrid expression when you're talking about me!"

I tried to shift his attention from Emmett by feeding him some vanilla and strawberry ice cream.

Despite everyone watching us amused, we kept feeding each other until Debbie broke the silence, asking me about Daphne. It distracted me from the task at hand and I managed to get ice cream on Brian's cheek.

"Sorry." I wiped his face with my thumb, kissing him for good measure. "She's fine. We're going to her appointment on Monday."

"You're going with them, right?" Michael gave Brian a stern look.

"I guess so." Brian shrugged. "Someone needs to catch Sunshine when he faints."

"I won't faint!"

"Okay, then I'll gag you. Daphne made the mistake of sending us pictures on the honeymoon. He was glued to the laptop wooing and ahhing for hours!" Brian explained with a roll of his eyes.

"You were, too."

"Don't pay attention to him." Michael waved a hand dismissively. "After Lindsay's first ultrasound when he saw Gus, he was in shock for hours."

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth. "There was something small and alive inside my friend. Something—someone I helped create. I was allowed to be in shock."

I stroked his head, kissing his temple. "I have a feeling it will be the other way round. You'll be the one doing the fainting," I teased.

"I don't do fainting. Fainting is for dykes."

I was about to point out he said I'd faint, and I definitely wasn't a dyke, when Emmett pointed at Brian, chuckling.

"You got a little ice cream. Right there." He gestured to Brian's temple.

I cringed, expecting the ticking bomb Brian had been ever since he discovered the white hair, to explode.

"It's not ice cream," he answered calmly.

"Eww. You have cum in your hair." Ted shuddered.

"I prefer hair products to style my hair." Brian smirked.

"Then what the fuck is that? It looks suspiciously like cum." Debbie gave Ted a smile.

I glanced at the forbidden area and in better light; I could see not one but three white hairs, one next to the other. Oh, shit. It wasn't going to end well.

"If you were painting the room, I'd say it was white paint," Ben said thoughtfully.

"But it's nooot!" Michael sang, catching on. His eyes were fastened to the white hair. "Welcome to the Gray Hair Club. Memberships are for life."

"It's white," Brian muttered, covering the area with his palm.

"Oh, my God! I've been spared of such horror. I still have my youth." Emmett sighed in relief.

"The only one of us who doesn't have to worry about growing old for another decade or so is Justin," Ted declared.

I rubbed Brian's shoulder, knowing the snide remarks didn't help his bruised ego.

"And even then, it wouldn't be noticeable. He's blond." Debbie winked.

"That's it. I'm dying my hair," Brian exclaimed.

"The hell you are!" I snapped. "I love your hair the way it is. Besides, I'm allergic to hair dye."

That shut him up, and we eventually moved to the sitting room where we showed them pictures from Ibiza. I made sure to say as many times as possible how much I'd loved every moment there.

At some point, we got confused over some pictures and their location, which resulted into a small quarrel.

"You need to get your story straight," Emmett demanded.

"Anyway, I still like the tree." I beamed, glad to show them how beautiful that old tree I immortalized was. I was probably going to paint it at some point. That was how much I loved it.

Brian kept saying it was just a tree, but then again he wasn't an artist. He wouldn't understand.

"We need a rehearsal for tomorrow for talking about the pictures. Your mom would like to know all about them," he said almost mockingly, clicking on the next picture.

Sadly, I hadn't sorted them out well enough. Some of our personal photos got mixed up with the safe ones everyone could see.

The one we were looking at was awfully personal. Not even Brian knew I'd taken it. He was asleep, face down, the thin sheet covering a few inches of his ass, but I liked the way his feet dangled off the bed. I'd always liked his feet, but in that particular moment they'd looked exceptionally beautiful.

"What the fuck? Now I know why you were tired in the morning. You spent your nights being a creep," he muttered, elbowing me in the ribs.

I laughed, slapping his arm. "This got mixed up. Sorry."

That wasn't the only one, though. Thankfully, none from our nude photo shoot ended up in this folder. That had been all Brian's idea on one afternoon when we were supposed to enjoy our post coital bliss.

By the end of showing them our memories and telling them about our adventures, it was late at night.

Before we left, Ben gave us a DVD of our stag party. I dreaded seeing what exactly had happened.