Brian looks wiped out by the time he gets back from his appointment with the attorney.  Linds is not back yet, still with her lawyer, I guess, so when Brian arrives, Gus and I are playing a sort of version of that game where you have to draw the clues.  He comes up with a word, and I have to draw it, then I give him a word and he does a drawing.

I don't think he'll have much career as an artist, but his vocabulary surprises me.  He seems to have grown up all of a sudden.  We're laughing over my efforts to draw "because" when Brian walks in.

Gus jumps up and runs to him, clutching all his drawings.  Brian sits down and while I call room service for some decent coffee and some fresh milk for Gus, Gus is pressed up against his father asking him what he thinks all the drawings are.  Brian looks so exhausted I wonder if I should try to distract Gus, but even as I watch, something in Brian seems to relax, and by the time the coffee arrives, he and Gus are giggling together over Brian's identification of a bus (a Gus drawing which might not be great on perspective, but is definitely a rectangular shape with wheels) as a horse, and another of a dog (definitely four legs and a tail) as a seagull.

"Don't be silly, Daddy!" Gus says, laughing and laughing, his mini-Brian face joyful and full of life and love for his father; while gradually Brian's face relaxes and reflects the same joy, the shared love.

When Lindsay finally gets back she seems really upset and of course wants to talk the whole thing to death (and of course have Brian magically fix everything in a matter of hours that she and Mel have spent months, maybe years fucking up).  But fuck that!  The whole point of inviting her down was to give Brian a chance to spend time with Gus.  It's supposed to be something he enjoys, not something he suffers through.

So I suggest that we could take Gus for a few hours, give him dinner and then bring him back to the hotel and watch him while she catches up with her old friends.  She's reluctant at first, but Gus is wildly excited by the idea, and I guess she doesn't have the energy to deal with him, so she eventually agrees.  Guess she's not all that happy with me about it but tough shit.

She can make some other muncher's ears bleed with the tale of how Mel has done her wrong, while Gus gets to spend some guy time with us.

*****

Brian

He's fucking brilliant and deserves some kind of medal for getting us out of there before there was actual bloodshed. Or at least before I lost it completely and tore into Lindsay in a way that would have fucking destroyed any hope there might be of us working together to sort out the situation with Gus.

But thanks to him, we can make a getaway.  We hit the road as soon as we've got Gus' stuff down to the car.  We're on our way back to the loft when a voice from the back seat pipes up, "Diner, Daddy."

Justin turns around to him. "You want to go to the diner, Gus?"

"Yeah!" He bounces excitedly.  "Let's go to the diner."

Justin's got this look on his face like he's about to go all dykey over how cute it is that Gus remembers the diner.  I'm not thrilled, but hell!  why not?  It's still early, not much after five, so no one we know will be there.  Except Deb, may be.

Deb.

That gets me back to what I've been trying not to think about all afternoon, ever since Linds finally spilled her guts about what's been going on north of the border.

I wonder just how much Mikey and Deb know about that.

*****

Justin

Gus is a bit shy at first which isn't surprising because Deb goes nuts when she sees him, and that's enough to scare anyone.  But by the time she's sat him down with a hot dog and a milk shake - totally ignoring Brian's order of juice and a sandwich, he's more than happy to be fawned over and told how much he's grown and all that shit.

At least she waits until he's eating before she says to Brian, "So where's my granddaughter?  Where are the girls?"

Something in Brian's face relaxes then, and I realize that he'd thought she must have known.  He just shakes his head and says, "Sorry, Deb.  Mel didn't come down this trip."

She pouts and goes off on one of her rants (sheesh, no guessing where Mikey gets his whiney-gene from) but Brian shuts her up by saying simply, "We paid her flight and even booked her into the fucking hotel, Deb, but short of kidnap, we can't fucking force her to come down here."

She sighs.  And then starts on about how Mel isn't even taking her calls, and Michael won't tell her what's going on, but she knows there's something and all she wants is to see her little JR and all that.  Gus looks up at one point, as if he's going to say something, but then he seems to change his mind and goes back to drinking his milkshake and Debbie, thank God, at last goes back to work.

I have a burger with Gus, and Brian steals some of my fries, but that's all he eats.  I know he's upset - not just about whatever's going on with Mel and Linds and that whole mess, but about the way that his family has disintegrated around him.  But just when I'm trying to work out what I could possibly say to cheer him up I hear a squeal behind me and although Brian's trying for his best 'what have I done to deserve this' look, his eyes have suddenly lightened, lost that deep peaty look they get when he's not happy.  I squish over and Emmett slides in beside me. 

He gushes for a few moments over Gus - how much like Brian he is, how much he's grown.  When I prompt Gus to say "hello" he gives Emmett a shy smile and then says, "I remember you.  You used to live with us."

Emmett beams all over his face and I realize then that Gus has the same gift that Brian has for making people feel special without even really trying.

Emmett doesn't ask about Linds or Mel which I guess means that he must already have spoken to Ted.  But he does say kind of pointedly that he's really glad that Gus is back in Pittsburgh, and that he must be looking forward to spending time with his Daddy.  Brian gives him a look, and then a nod and a ghost of a smile while Gus nods emphatically and then says, "And my Dus."

"Oh, that's so cute," Emmett says.  "He still can't say your name properly."

*****

Brian

Fucking Emmett.  Things had been okay up till then.  Both of them were happy and I was starting to unwind after the whole shitty day.  But as soon as Emmett opens his mouth, they both look upset.  Justin is kind of mortified that Gus can't pronounce his name properly, and Gus … Gus looks almost as if he's ready to cry; his face is red and he's obviously close to a full on hissy fit.

I give Emmett a patented Kinney death glare, but before I can say anything, Gus bursts out, "I can too say his name.  He's my Dus."

Something in the way he says it strikes me, and I put my hand over his on the table.  "Of course he is, Sonnyboy," I say quietly. 

A few tears trickle down his little face then, and I put my arm around him.  It's easy to forget that this must be a fucking nightmare for him too, and he's been coping with it pretty well, all things considered.  I hug him gently and then reach for a napkin and wipe his face.

"There's nothing to cry about, Gus," Justin says, reaching across the table to pet his hair.  "Honestly.  I'm happy to be your Dus if that's what you want to call me."

"You are my Dus," Gus insists in a wail, frustration in his voice as if we're just not getting it. "You are, you are!"  

Fuck me!

"Gus," I say, hugging him a little tighter to calm him down, hoping that I have got it, that I'm not about to screw up big time. "What's my name?"

He gives a gulp and looks puzzled.  "Daddy," he says, his voice shaking.

"No.  That's what you call me.  Only you,"  He looks happier when I say that, so I keep going, "Just like I call you 'Sonnyboy'.  But what's my name?"

He smiles then, and tilting his head a little to the side, whispers shyly, "Brian.  Brian Kinney."

"That's right," I tell him.  "And what's Mommy's name?"

"Lindsay Peterson," he says, more confidently now.

"And what's Dus' name?"

"Jus'in Taylor."

He stumbles a little over the 'st' in Justin, but it's clear enough. 

Of course he can say Justin's name.  He just doesn't call him 'Justin' any more than he calls me 'Brian'.

Because to Gus, Justin is his 'Dus'.  Just like I'm his 'Daddy'.

I look across the table at "Dus" to see if he's got it now.  Judging by the way his eyes are swimming I'm pretty sure he's finally got the fucking message. 

Poor Sonnyboy.  Dealing with all these stupid fucking adults who are too thick to see what's right under their noses.  Linds and Mel lived together, and they're Mommy and Momma.  I've been with Justin just about all of Gus' life, and as far as he's concerned, we're Daddy and Dus.

"Oh, my God!" Emmett says, eyes fluttering and hands clapped to his mouth like Joan Crawford in full flight.  He looks as if he's going to cry as well.  I have visions of being trapped in the fucking diner of all places with three weeping divas - or else getting washed out the door on a flood of tears, like fucking Alice in Wonderland.

So I do my best to stem the fucking tide, starting with the one who at least has some excuse to be on the verge of a meltdown.  I pat Gus on the head and hand him a couple of fries off Dus' plate.

"That's right, Sonnyboy," I tell him.  "Justin is your Dus.  And if anyone tries to tell you different, you tell them your Dad said so, so it must be true."

The eldest drama queen heaves a big emotion-filled sigh and stands up - after giving little Sunshine a huge fucking hug of course.

"You three will want to talk," he says. "So I'll just leave you alone to get on with it."

Then he fucking tries to hug me.  Stupid faggot.  I stand up to try to fend him off, but while he's got his arms all tangled around me, he whispers, "I never thought I'd say this, but God I wish my Daddy had been just like you."