Brian's POV

"Brian, wake up."

No. I rolled on my side, but my IV tugged at my arm making me hiss.

"Come on, dear. Munchkin needs your tit."

"I jus' fell 'sleep," I slurred, trying to open my eyes and keep them open.

"The joys of having a newborn." Justin placed Munchkin in my arms, helping me with my shirt. He was an expert at this, apparently.

"OW!" I shouted when Munchkin bit me and started sucking.

"Careful, Brian! Don't move him while he's eating!" His hands steadied Munchkin, as he glared at me.

"He's not eating, he's tearing my nipple apart!" I scowled at the little guy in my arms.

Feeling him feed was the weirdest sensation I experienced in my life.

"One of the nurses told me to switch after a while. Also, she told me you might not be able to breastfeed him a lot. Maybe only the first month."

"Don't use that word. It gives me the creeps."

Justin rolled his eyes. "You hungry? I'm going to grab something from the vending machine."

"Coke."

"I doubt they sell that in a hospital. Besides…you're feeding Munchkin. We don't want him high!"

I raised an eyebrow. "On sugar? So now I'm not allowed soda. Awesome."

"Oh, that Coke!" He burst out laughing.

I narrowed my eyes at the twat when Munchkin burst in tears, startled by the loud noise.

"Shit." I shifted him in a better position, rocking him. "Your dad is a twat. Forgive him. He's always so loud—especially when he comes."

"You can't tell him that!" Justin hissed, scandalized.

"Go after my drink. I have a baby to calm, no thanks to you."

Of course, all my bouncing didn't do any good. It actually did more damage. Munchkin unceremoniously covered my shirt in puke, before relaxing and falling asleep.

Seriously?

By the time Justin returned, I'd managed to take my shirt off and keep Munchkin asleep. I also ripped the stupid IV from my arm. It irked the hell out of me.

"Why didn't you wait for me to start the strip tease show?" He pouted adorably.

"Someone puked all over me."

"Aww! His first puke."

I glared, not finding anything funny. "Do something useful and put Munchkin in his cot then get me a clean shirt."

"Do it yourself. You heard Dr. Hunt. The sooner you walk around and feel better, we can go home."

Justin bossing me around had always helped.

Slowly and carefully, I turned around, sliding my legs out of the bed. "Hold the baby. I'm not sure I can do both—stand and hold him."

"Were you always such a drama queen?" He muttered, dropping his purchases at the foot of the bed, before grabbing Munchkin carefully. "Hey, sweetie. Oh, he's sleeping."

"What does it look like he's doing?" I leaned against Justin, resting my elbow on his shoulder.

We shuffled to the baby cot, which was a few steps away from my bed, but it felt like miles away.

"Hurts?" Justin bit his lip, glancing at me when I grabbed the place where I had the surgery.

"A little," I lied through my teeth. I wasn't ready for his coddling.

He placed Munchkin in the cot, and we stood above him for a few minutes, simply watching him sleep.

I rested my head against his. "We did well," I whispered.

"You did. I still can't believe this happened."

"Want me to pinch you?" I joked, nuzzling his ear. He smelt so good, but for once in my life, sex was the last thing on my mind.

"I have proof of our little miracle in front of my eyes." He grinned, turning and hugging me. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"How about you help my amazing self to the bathroom?"

His eyes cut to my arm, widening. "What happened to your IV?"

"I took it out."

"Christ, Brian. You're worse than a baby. I'm surprised no one has come to check on you. Let's go."

While I pissed, I caught a first look at my stomach. It really wasn't as bad as I'd imagined—not much skin flapping. But then I saw the cut. Damn.

"You look fine. I mean, you carried Munchkin for nine months. If you want to compete in Steel Abs, you'll have to wait until next year."

I traced the cut, wincing slightly. Even though it was a scar, never to go away, it was proof we now had Munchkin.

"I'm sorry," Justin said softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "I know you hate scars."

"Fuck it," I said determined.

"Sorry? I thought you said…."

I turned into his arms. "Fuck the scar, Justin. It doesn't matter. I don't need to impress other fags with my looks. All that matters now is you and Munchkin. As long as you still like what you see—it's all that matters."

"You mean it?" His wide eyes stared at me filled with hope.

"My days of tricking are over."

Before we could meet for a kiss, a high pitched cry separated us.

"You've got to be kidding me. What does he want?" Is it too much to ask for a kiss with my partner?

"His baby radar is working all right. You know our alone moments are numbered, right?" Justin chuckled.

"I'm not impressed," I declared, heading back to Munchkin, crying his lungs out. "Hey. What's up, little guy?"

The second he was in my arms, he stopped crying. His wet, blue eyes stared at me curiously.

"Go back to sleep." When I made to put him in his cot, he burst in a fresh round of tears. "Okay, okay." I carried him to the bed, where I slumped on it.

Justin joined us, sprawling at my feet, opening a Twix. "Want one?"

"No more sweets for me."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, biting on both sticks, moaning. "Fuck, so good. I hadn't had a Twix in ages."

"Give me my drink." I extended a hand to him, wriggling my fingers. "And open it, will you? I kind of have my hands full."

"You don't say?" He laughed quietly.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, spare from Justin's munching and the sounds of my fizzy drink.

"Why don't you try sleeping? It's one in the morning," he said softly, rubbing my ankle.

"I don't want to wake him." I looked down at Munchkin, sleeping deeply.

"Here, I'll take him." He wiped his hands on his jeans, leaning closer to take Munchkin from my arms.

His small body tensed and he fussed a little when he felt Justin trying to get him away from me.

"Let him stay here. I'll lower on the bed and keep him here."

"But you won't rest."

"Don't worry. You try getting some shut eye too. You look tired."

"Yeah well…who do you think took care of him while you had your drama queen coma?"

I snorted. "We had to get even. What? Not only you in a coma for three weeks." I pressed my lips together, unsure why the fuck I brought up that time.

Justin snuggled into my side. "In my defense, I was having a wonderful dream."

We'd never talked about that. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Since the last thing I remembered was asking you to prom…I envisioned a whole life for us."

"You did?" Typical my favorite twat.

"Yes. I dreamt…if you want to call it that, you came to my prom whisking me away. We went somewhere warm. It was like a private beach and we spent our days sunbathing and fucking and drinking fancy cocktails. It was a wonderful life."

"I see. It must have been harsh to wake up to the cruel reality to hear what actually happened," I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Especially when you weren't there!" He sighed. "But you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you actually visited, even though you never showed your face."

I smiled, not ready to remember all my sleepless nights when he wasn't well back then.

"You know what? I just remembered!" He sat up, jerking me up too. I was so close to falling asleep.

Even Munchkin whimpered.

Justin didn't seem to notice. "One night when I woke up from a nightmare…of course…I thought I saw you at the window of my room door. I thought it was my imagination."

"Ah. I was sure you'd caught me that night, but when no one commented on you seeing me the next day, I was sure you didn't actually see me."

"Oh yeah, like I dared mentioning your name around Mom," he mumbled. "She got hysterical every time someone said 'Brian'. Besides, I was busy focusing on the stupid therapy to get the hell out of there already."

I threaded my fingers through his, squeezing. "You did amazing. I don't think you'll ever understand how strong you are, Justin. Not many would have pulled through that."

"I had to talk sense into you, which meant I had to leave the hospital."

I laughed, leaning into him again.

"Sleep." He kissed the top of my head.

Even though I woke several times during the night, no thanks to Munchkin being fussy, by visiting hours I was wide awake and surprisingly rested.

I was by the changing table installed in my room, staring at what Justin had done with Munchkin's last diaper. Here I thought, I'd be the helpless one, but he was the clueless one.

After minutes of working on taking the knotted diaper off the baby, I started the process of cleaning, powdering, and putting on a fresh diaper.

"There. Squeaky clean." I grinned, maneuvering him back in his onesie.

While I was buttoning up Munchkin's bunny covered onesie, the door opened, revealing Debbie and Michael.

"He's awake!" She squealed.

I quickly hugged Munchkin to my chest, in an attempt to keep her away from hugging me.

"What?" Justin shot up, looking around dazed. "Oh, hey." He yawned loudly.

"When did you wake up? Why didn't you call, Sunshine?" Debbie was on a roll.

"It was late last night," I explained. "I'm fine, as you can see." I caught Michael staring confused my way.

All through the madness of the past several months, he'd become distant. We had our fallouts like in every friendship, but it felt more permanent this time. Truthfully, it scared me shitless to lose him.

"Hey, Mikey. Is there food?" I nodded to the bag in his hand.

He cracked a smile. "I have donuts."

"Give me my grandson so you can eat." Debbie pulled Munchkin from my arms, immediately starting to babble to him.

"Did you wash your hands?" I demanded.

"First thing when we stepped out of the elevator," Michael said, laughing.

You're so not helping. I snatched the bag of donuts from his hand, heading back to bed. "No sprinkles ones?" I looked inside the bag, groaning.

"Stop being a cry baby. The chocolate coated ones are awesome." Justin pulled one out. "Thanks, Michael."

"They're mine," I muttered to Justin.

"Actually, I got them for Justin. We didn't know you were awake. I'd have gotten you a sprinkles one," Michael said quietly, sitting in the chair by the bed.

"Oh." I grinned at him. He knew me well. "So… what's new?"

Michael talked about his and Ben's problems with Hunter, about new shipments at his store and how excited he was to finally get the personalized cups and t-shits ordered months ago.

"What?" I frowned.

"Do you still have that t-shirt I brought the other day?" He glanced at Justin.

"It's in the duffle bag. I can't take it." Justin waved his chocolate covered fingers through the air.

"Show me." I felt out of loop.

Michael pulled the t-shirt in question from the bag, and showed it to me.

Whoa.

Rage t-shirt. I'd forgotten about these. I talked to the right people to create these months ago.

"They just came?" I gasped. "What kind of trolls work there?"

"Don't worry. They didn't send anything until they had five hundreds of everything: t-shirts, cups, pencils, notepads."

"Oh. Sounds reasonable. Where did you store them?" I laughed, imagining his store overflowing with boxes.

"I helped him sort everything yesterday. I took some home, sent some home to Michael and Ben's, and left about fifty of them at the store," Justin explained. "There was barely room to move in the store when we arrived yesterday. Of course, you had to go overboard."

"What? You want another party for Rage?" I joked. "That is me going overboard. These merchandise items were a must. Wait a sec. Did you take Munchkin with you?"

"No, Debbie stayed with him here."

"Damn."

"Don't look so sour. I can take care of a baby. I raised three so far," she announced loudly.

"Three?" Michael choked on his spit.

"Well, of course. You, for one. Then you brought that asshole with you one day." She pointed to me, and I grinned trying to look innocent. "And then the asshole dropped Sunshine on my head."

"I couldn't keep him at the loft," I protested.

"Sure. I cramped your style." Justin elbowed my ribs.

"Ow. Gently. Everything hurts." I slapped his hand.

By the time Dr. Hump came to visit, I'd finished two donuts and was busy talking louder than Debbie about anything really to keep her from telling Sunshine shit about my awkward teenage years. I had Mikey on my side, since he was a collateral victim.

Dr. Hump deemed me ready to go home after my afternoon check-up.

I was so happy I had to physically restrain myself from kissing him. The victim of my happiness was Munchkin, unsuspectingly dropped in my arms by Debbie when she had enough of coddling him.

"You hear that? We're going home!"

He kicked his limbs up, squeaking when I squeezed him close.

"I guess he doesn't share your exuberance."

"Because he doesn't know yet how wonderful it's home. Far away from this crappy place."

"We'll have to see each other again, Brian," Dr. Hump said amused. "I want you every two weeks at my cabinet for checkups. Especially Patrick."

"Why? Is there something wrong?" Fear gripped me. Why didn't they say anything before?

"It's customary!" Debbie chimed in. "Just wait until you'll have to see him get his first shot. I cried more than Michael when the doctor pushed the needle—"

I cringed. "Shot?"

"Immunization." Dr. Hump nodded. "Every baby gets these shots. At first, every couple of months and as he grows, the periods in between grow too. The last one is at sixteen—against meningococcal disease."

"Sixteen…months?" I checked.

"Years."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"I remember that one. It hurt like a motherfucker," Justin said. "Don't you?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why the fuck would I remember something as traumatizing as that?" I scowled.

"Oh yeah, I remember it all right!" Michael snorted. "You came home with me and didn't move from the couch for hours, saying they'd killed you. I think you even cried."

"I didn't!" I retorted, now vaguely remembering that experience.

"Of course, ice cream saved the day," Debbie added with a smile. "They stopped whining about being stabbed by the mean nurse when I gave them each a bowl of ice cream."