Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Author's Chapter Notes:

All your reviews melted my heart, with your worry for Brian. I promise he's going to live.

Brian's POV

On the mark of my 38th week, Justin stomped his foot down, telling me to stop going to work.

I listened to him for various reasons—because I feared for my life when he got that angry, I was asleep on my couch most of the time, and every time I got upset for whatever reason, I got the worst case of Braxton Hicks.

We were at the beginning of September, a week after the beginning of my break.

I was thankful for the rain. I could wear a coat to conceal my fabulous 215 pounds.

We were on our way to the diner after what could have been the last visit to Dr. Hump. He'd checked and rechecked our vitals (mine and Munchkin's), making sure he was safe and ready to meet us if I went into labor.

I hadn't shown my face on Liberty Avenue in weeks, so I shouldn't have been surprised when every fag in the diner turned to gape at me. Thankfully, no one had figured out what was going on, but they could tell something was up. And for a change, it wasn't my cock.

That was another memory I'd rather not revisit—the moment I realized I couldn't see my dick.

Debbie spotted us and rushed to greet us with a bright smile.

"How are you, honey?" She kissed me, touching my stomach over the coat.

I pushed her hand away, eyeballing her. Give them ideas, will you?

"Famished," Justin answered. "Mr. Bottomless Pit here ate my food on the way to the clinic."

"Bottom being the key word. Ha!" Debbie pinched my cheek.

"Debbie!" I groaned, sliding into an empty booth, which was no easy feat in my whale state.

Justin sat across from me. "So we'd like lunch. Two for Brian."

"Don't get me upset," I warned him. "I'd like Munchkin to stay asleep for a little while longer."

"He's kicking you a lot?" Debbie placed our order, then joined me on the booth.

"Braxton Hicks," I explained.

"Oh. Already?"

"I'm 39 weeks along. Any day now…"

"I have this bet with the boys," Justin interjected, cheerfully. "The second Munchkin is out, Brian will demand a treadmill and a stationary bike in his private room to start working on his silhouette."

"If I don't die first."

Fuck. I'd said too much.

Justin sniffed loudly, kicking my ankle under the table. "Do you want me to punch you again? Your lip is just healing after the last time."

"I'm merely reminding you that's a high possibility!"

"I don't care. You'll survive. If you say it one more time, I'll kill you myself!"

"Guys…" Debbie looked between us, then narrowed her eyes at me, slapping me behind the head.

"Cut it out," I hissed. Munchkin decided to wake up and practice his jujitsu skills on my insides. "You too, demon child." I poked a finger in the spot his little hand appeared.

Our lunch was silent, just like the ride home.

Every time I'd brought up the potentially disastrous end of my pregnancy, we had a huge fight.

The second we arrived, Justin locked himself in his studio, while I went to bed with my iPod. One earbud for me, one for Munchkin. He liked the Stones and I couldn't deny him.

Deep into the night, Justin shuffled into the room. He came bearing food and an apology blow job.

That was how I spent most of my days: in bed listening to music or reading magazines, eating, and getting head. Life was good.

Until it wasn't.

.

.

.

Only one day away from my 40 weeks mark, I woke up in the wee hours of the night needing to piss badly. Nothing new.

The surprise was a sharp kick, like nothing before, on my way back to bed.

I actually stopped and grabbed the edge of the dresser, bending over and gasping for breath.

"You okay? Did you bump into something?" Justin slurred out from his spot under the blankets.

Another kick. "Fuck." I leaned against the wall, gritting my teeth. "Jus—"

He was next to me in a flash, his eyes wild with worry.

"Help me to bed." I gripped his hand for support.

"Is it…"

"No. Just the usual. Hand me the iPod. Maybe it will put him back to sleep."

"You sure? I'll call Dr. Hunt, just in case."

I managed a smile. "Justin…just in case doesn't mean you have to wake him in the middle of the night. Don't be a twat. I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes, not finding my joke funny. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No."

"Brian, you need a C-section. If they don't give you one in time… I can't lose both of you. I can't lose either of you. It will kill me," he said fervently.

"It's nothing. Come back to bed."

We lay for a while, him spooning me.

Of course, he'd been right. It got worse.

I had no idea how Justin managed to take me to the car, but the pain had me delirious. Men weren't designed for such horrible pain. Not even Jack's beatings had me prepared for this moment.

I slumped in the backseat sweating and shouting.

I wasn't aware of what Justin was telling me, but I could hear his panicked voice speaking. It dimmed and everything around me seemed to narrow. Tunnel vision got a new meaning.

I had no idea what was going on.

Then I became aware of more voices and saw flashes of people's faces—Justin, a nurse, Dr. Hump, Justin again. Then everything went black.

I had a flashback of my last surgery, and seeing Vic.

This time, though, it was a sea of endless black. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't find my voice. I wanted to run, but I couldn't feel my legs.

This is it? Seriously?

This is the fuss all about Mighty Death?

Well, fuck you! Death sucks.

Where is everybody?

Where is Marilyn? Judy? Freddie? James? Anyone? Even God.

Help! I'm stuck in this blackness!

Is this Hell? Maybe it is. But isn't it supposed to be warm? I was kind of freezing.

Then I heard something—a loud cry.

Munchkin!

I couldn't move my hands, nor see him.

He needed me.

I'm here, Munchkin. Hold on.

I had to fight this back veil.

Daddy's here, Munchkin.

His cry got further and further away. It was replaced with Justin's voice yelling my name until his throat was raw. But after a while, I couldn't hear him anymore, either.

I was floating in the black nothingness.

After a longer while, Munchkin's cry pulled me back.

My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton but I pried them open. Blinking several times to get accustomed to the harsh neon light, I focused on a figure by the window. Justin. He had his back to me. He was holding Munchkin, his little, wrinkled face turned over his shoulder facing me.

"Justin." I could barely hear my scratchy voice, but he heard me and whirled around.

"Brian!" He rushed over, his sneakers squeaking. "I've been so worried. When I thought it was over, you slipped into a coma! Typical drama queen moment. I had a baby, now let me rest."

I smiled, reaching a hand to them. "Munchkin."

"Let me help you up first and give you some water."

"Munchkin," I repeated. He wasn't going to keep me away from the little intruder who'd turned my insides purple in the past few months.

"Oh, fine. Here. Careful. He just ate." Justin sat next to me on the bed, helping me up as best as he could with Munchkin still in his arms.

"Oh no." My heart sank. "You gave him formula."

"I knew you wanted to give him your milk so…I kind of…you know…"

"Milked me?" I scoffed. "I feel violated."

"No, you moron! I put him to your tit. Here." He placed Munchkin in my arms.

He was so small and hot, squirming and trying to free one of his little arms from the bundle of blankets.

"Hey, Munchkin. We finally meet."

"Speak for yourself. He's up close and personal with your tits. Here you go. Sip from this cup—don't drink! I'll go after the doctor." Justin put a glass with a straw in my hand, grinning. "It's great to have you back, Brian."

"Yeah well, it sucked there."

"Whatever it takes to have you back." He kissed my forehead. "Don't let him get out of the blanket," he said over his shoulder as he disappeared out the door.

"So it's just us, huh?" I held my pinkie for Munchkin to grasp. He might have smiled when he touched me, or maybe it was my imagination. "You're no fun. Why must you be asleep?" I stroked his cheek, afraid to break him if I pressed my finger too hard.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes!" Dr. Hump cheered, stepping into my room.

I snorted. "I couldn't leave that brat alone with my kid," I joked.

Justin sat next to me, draping one arm over my shoulders. "I can't believe you're still alive. You scared me to death."

"Did you want me to miss the opportunity to wear Armani's new fall/winter collection? I've been looking forward to that moment for months."

"My label queen." He kissed me softly.

"Tell me about Munchkin. Everything." I looked between Justin and Dr. Hump.

"Justin brought you right on time. Your little Munchkin had managed to wrap the umbilical cord around his neck and you were this close to having a seizure. I'm going to chide you later for not taking it easy in the past few weeks as you'd promised."

"I…" Holy shit!

"Later." He waved me off. "Well, Patrick was born measuring 17 inches—I guess he'll take after Justin in height, and weighting eight pounds and twenty ounces. It explains why you gained so much. And in the past week, he's gained another pound."

"Whoa! Back up. Past week? I've been out of it for a week?"

Dr. Hump side-eyed Justin then nodded to me. "I thought he told you."

"I didn't get that far."

"Anything else? Oh, right. That Apple score or whatever you said it's called." I grinned at Munchkin when he started sucking on my finger. He couldn't possibly be hungry if Justin had just fed him, but being a Taylor, I didn't put it below him to be hungry again.

"Apgar score, Brian. Yes, it was nine. That's your fault for distressing him and not listening to Justin to come earlier to the hospital. What did I tell you? When your Braxton Hicks intensify, you need to check yourself in the hospital."

"Aw, doc. I hate hospitals. Which brings me to a new question. When do I go home?"

"Let me check you up, and we'll see. Justin, take your son to the nursery ward."

"WHAT?" I shouted, holding Munchkin closer. "Don't touch him, Sunshine. He's staying. We discussed this, Dr. Hump. I want a cot in here." Then I turned to glare at Justin. "You left him alone in that room? What's wrong with you?"

"Jeez, Brian! It was the doctor's decision. Now that you're better, we can bring him here." He checked through a look with Dr. Hump.

"Let me check the patient. You have to let him go, Brian."

"I'm not going to run away with Munchkin," Justin said seriously.

Reluctantly, I handed him to Justin, keeping my eyes on him.

Dr. Hump started the check-up, making me hiss when he got to my stomach. He smiled warmly, assuring me it was normal to hurt a little.

A little? Try a lot.

Many minutes later after being poked and prodded, he deemed me well enough to have Munchkin in my private room. We'd be able to go home in a couple days, or less. It depended on me.

Later that night, Justin told me about the family visiting every day. I dreaded the reunion tomorrow.

"Have you called Keith, too?" I asked, right before falling asleep.

"Yes. They're coming at the end of the week."

"Good. Now, let's sleep. Before Munchkin wakes. I want to be present to his next feeding."

Chapter End Notes:

I've no clue if what I wrote is accurate...if that makes any sense...but I hope I kept it as close to the reality as possible.

The miracle has happened. I answered some of your reviews!

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