Homework

Chapter 5:  I've Got a Plan


 

Justin

We’ve made it through to our first weekend in our new home without killing each other. We didn’t even have any major queen outs. Well, the adults didn’t. Gus threw a bit of a tantrum on Wednesday when I picked him up and he realized that not only wasn’t he going to be spending any time with his doting Grandma, but that I don’t know how to make her vegetable soup which is apparently his new favorite and he can’t go even a day without it. Thanks, Mom.

I was tempted to bribe him with cookies or something, but sanity kicked in and I managed to ignore all the drama (just like I would with the elder Kinney when you come to think about it) and convince him that tinned tomato soup and toast were okay when it was “guy time”. Sheesh!

I talked to Daphne about it later and she says (on the strength of her numerous psych and counseling electives), that Gus was just testing the boundaries and we can expect more of that kind of thing. I guess that makes sense. He’s had so many changes to deal with even just since he’s been back in Pittsburgh, let alone all that went on before that. And now he’s living with two people that he might love, but that he really doesn’t know all that well. Plus, although we’re trying to get some structure and routine into his life, we’re only just establishing that, so I suppose he kind of needs to know that although his Dad adores him, and I do too, we’re not going to be total pushovers, and just let him get away with everything.

So I’m glad I managed to hang tough with him and not just cave and try to placate him by offering him stuff that might be a treat, but isn’t really good for him. ‘Cause he would have totally known that he’d kind of “won” if I’d done that. Instead, I kind of ignored his pouting and his wailing that his Grandma was the only one who could look after him in the afternoons and the implication that I was totally useless because I didn’t know how to make the right soup. I just got a tin of tomato soup out of the box we’re using as a store cupboard and heated it on our little breakfast unit and said something absolutely cheesy about how sometimes when it’s just the guys together it’s okay to have something out of a tin and by the time the soup was heated and the toast done he was fine with the whole thing.

In fact, for the rest of the afternoon and evening, he was chattering away about all the things that “the guys” can do together that dumb girls can’t.

I’ll leave Mom and Daphne to sort that one out. I didn’t feel ready to take it on. I was just relieved that I’d made it through the afternoon without majorly fucking up.

Anyway, on Friday night we take Gus over to Deb’s. She’s actually having a night off because she’s been working the early shift all week and Carl won’t let her work double shifts anymore, no matter how much she bitches about it. So we get summoned to dinner to explain what’s going on and why Linds has apparently disappeared off the face of the planet.

In deference to Gus, Deb leaves the interrogation till after dinner, at least. Then, while Gus and I help Carl with the washing up, Brian takes Deb outside and explains to her what’s been happening with Lindsay. It’s not yet dark and through the window I can see them sitting on the rickety old benches by Deb’s outdoor table. Brian looks kind of wired and slumped, at the same time – kind of like a puppet; as if the wired-ness is the only thing holding him up at all.

I’m not surprised, really – well, except maybe that he’s letting Debbie see it; if she does, that is. But I guess he figures she knows him, and she nearly always sees through his bullshit, so it’s probably not worth him putting on too much of an act with her; and he probably doesn’t have the energy anyway.

It’s been a fairly … challenging … week.

Don’t get me wrong. We both love Gus, and we love having him with us. We certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere else, the way things are at the moment. But we had no preparation for suddenly becoming full-time parents. Between trying to establish a routine for Gus and keeping things like meals organized and making sure that he’s okay and not fretting over Lindsay and dealing with the move into the new place, and having to kind of live out of boxes to some extent because we don’t have a proper kitchen and dealing with all the dust and stuff from the renovations …

All that has been difficult enough.

But when you add to that the fact that we have to stop and think about how much noise we make … well, okay, how much noise I make … when we’re fucking in our own damned bed ... I think that’s been kind of driving us both crazy. It just reinforces that there isn’t a moment of the day when we can afford to stop being “Dad and Dus” and just be … us.

At least the rest of the house has been thoroughly christened because after Gus goes to bed we’re fucking anywhere and everywhere except in our bedroom. Not that either of us mind fucking outside the bedroom. But it’s a pain in the ass (and not in a good way) to have to stagger up the stairs to bed afterwards, when I’m feeling boneless with pleasure and just want to roll over wherever we are and go to sleep.

Last night we sixty-nined each other when we got to bed. Brian figures I can’t scream as loud when I come if my mouth is wrapped around his cock.

The truth is, I guess we’re both egotists and we’re not used to having to consider anyone else all the time. Hell! We’ve only just started to live together and get used to considering each other on a full time “will you be home for dinner?” kind of basis.

But now we’ve got Gus to consider 24/7 and that’s a whole different thing.

I mean, if I forgot the time and painted till 3 in the morning with my cell switched off (like I always used to do when I’m painting, but I can’t anymore) then Brian and I might have gone at it one way or another – major queen outs or frozen silences. Whatever. Or if he worked late every night for a week, I might have had to come up with a way to remind him that there are good reasons for him to come home while I’m still awake once in a while.

But we can’t put Gus through that shit. And knowing that we have to think about Gus every fucking time we make a decision about anything – even just what we have for dinner … that’s … I don’t know … constricting, I guess.

I’m finding it hard.

Mister “you shouldn’t rely on me for anything” must be going slowly nuts and I don’t really know how to help, except to be there as the safety net if he feels like he has to go off somewhere to blow off steam so he doesn’t feel like he’s abandoned his son if he just needs some “Brian-time’. And if that means that he goes to Babylon or the Baths and gets his dick sucked or fucks some convenient piece of ass, I can live with that.

It’s way better than him doing a total freak out and deciding that he just isn’t capable of looking after Gus, and that Gus would be better off with someone else. Because if there was a viable candidate around, he just might do that. Fortunately … or not … there really isn’t anyone. No one Brian would ever be able to convince himself was a better option, anyway.

So I’m pretty sure that he isn’t going to dive off that particular Kinney-cliff … so if we can just work out a way to find some balance in our lives, we’ll all be okay. Better than okay.

Because the other side of all this … and I feel totally schizoid here … is that I fucking love that we’re the ones that Gus looks to for love and stability; the ones he relies on; the ones he trusts. And I know Brian feels the same way.

I see it in him.

He’ll be sitting at that little dinner table, all wired and trying not to let it spill anywhere near Gus, and then Gus will give him one of those big smiles and maybe not even say anything, but just beam at us both and give this really happy sign, like being with us is just totally the best thing ever. And all of a sudden everything in Brian relaxes and he looks … well, kind of the same as Gus … as if just being with us, with Gus and me, is the best thing that’s ever come into his life.

Which really … it is. And he knows that.

Just like I know that being with Brian like this, building a life with Brian like this, and with Gus, is the best thing ever in my life.

I’d just like to be able to fuck freely in my own bed is all.

 

*****
 

Brian

Deb’s reaction to the whole fucking Lindsay debacle is surprisingly subdued. For once, she just listens to what I tell her without immediately starting to throw around a shit-storm of blame. When I get to the end and tell her that we’ve got Gus for the foreseeable future and that no one can see Lindsay, or even call her yet, she sighs but just sits in blessed fucking silence for a while.

Then she pats my hand and says, “How’re you doing, honey?”

I shrug.

For some idiotic fucking reason I can’t speak right then. I just sit there like I’ve done so often in my life and let the warmth of Deb’s caring wash over me with an almost smothering intensity. It’s like one of her fucking hugs, it’s so damned tangible. And for some pathetic reason I feel like I need it right now.

I am so fucking afraid of getting all this shit wrong. Of fucking things up for my son.

And if I can rely on anyone to tell me when I’m doing that – Justin aside, and he’s in it with me, so maybe he’s too close – it’s this loud-mouthed, slightly ridiculous fat woman who knows more about mothering than either Lindsay or that bitch ex-wife of hers has any fucking clue about.

She doesn’t say anything more, just looks at me for what seems like a long fucking moment; then she pats my hand again, and then my cheek, and says, “Alright.”

She stands up and looks like she’s getting ready to take on the world if she has to, and says, “Now … you’re going to leave that gorgeous son of yours here with me and take Sunshine and go shake your booty at Babylon for a few hours.”

I stand as well, grateful for the offer, but reluctant to … I don’t know … leave Gus like I’m just dumping him or something, I guess.

But Deb as usual won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and when we go inside and she asks Gus if he’d like to stay with her for a while and have some of her special Italian ice cream, of course he’s all fucking for it.

I’m at a bit of a loss, because Gus is going to be staying at Jenn’s tomorrow night and I feel like we’ll have no fucking time with him all weekend, but as usual little Sunshine comes to the rescue.

“I don’t think we’ll do Babylon tonight,” he says. “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow and my Mom is taking Gus tomorrow night, so we’ll probably go then. But it would be great to maybe go to Woody’s and play some pool.”

Deb’s okay with that, and so am I because it means that we can come back and get Gus and have him sleep in his own bed tonight, so I don’t feel so bad about farming him out all fucking weekend. Deb says she won’t let him stay up too late, and that he can sleep for a few hours in Vic’s old room; so Justin and I head out to Woody’s.

Ted’s there with his own blond and for once Emmett isn’t working on a Friday night, so he’s there as well. We all settle down with a drink while we wait for one of the pool tables to free up. Ted already knows about Linds because I had to talk to him about the money thing, and now that Deb knows I figure we might as well let the rest of the fucking family in on it. I get the drinks while Justin fills Emmett in and by the time I get back they’re discussing fucking baby-sitting arrangements.

A tall dark and built walks past the table and gives me a look that lets me know I could be relieving some fucking tension in the bathroom in as long as it took to lead him there, but … fuck it! I don’t know if the little blond twat would mind, but I’m not in the mood to take that fucking risk. Besides, he’s had to deal with as much as I have this week … more … because at least Gus didn’t throw a fucking tantrum at me over not being picked up by his fucking Grandma. So it hardly seems fair to ease my stress in a way that makes his worse.

Instead, I reach out and pinch his ass, and when he glares at me, I jerk my head towards the bathroom. If I’m going to fuck anyone, it might as well be the one I really want.

 

*****
 

Justin

I’m not blind. I saw the guy hit on Brian, and I knew he was thinking about it.

But instead he hauls me into the bathroom and we fuck in one of the stalls. It’s not perfect. It’s not nearly as comfortable as doing it in our own bed … or even at Babylon. But it’s hot and it’s real and it feels like us. It makes me feel like me again.

By the time we come out, a table has freed up, so Ted and Emmett play Brian and I. Blake says he’d prefer to watch. He’s a nice guy, I think. I mean … I don’t really know him, but he really seems to love Ted and that’s all that really matters, I guess. That and he does his best to get along with the rest of Ted’s “family”. That’s not a small thing. I learned that while I was with Ethan. He was never prepared to spend any time with my friends. Kept saying they were too old and pedestrian and plebian and made me feel like only an idiot would want to associate with them.

Well, they are older than me. And maybe they’re not always spouting off trying to show how smart and terribly evolved they are … but they’re loyal and kind and a lot smarter than Ethan about what’s important. Once the glamor wore off, he came across as a shallow idiot compared to Emmett, who might chatter away about nonsense most of the time, but who’s been through a fucking lot and knows more about people than Ethan ever will. He’ll probably be more successful than Ethan too. Brian tells me his business is coining money. I’m glad. He’s been a good friend to me. And to Brian.

But I guess it isn’t always easy to fit in with your partner’s friends, and Blake does his best and never seems to mind when Ted and Emmett start laughing over some private joke.

Brian and I win … of course, so we sit down again while Ted and Emmett buy us a round of drinks. We’re both just drinking beer, and this is only our second, so we’ll both be okay to drive home. While we’re drinking them, Emmett suddenly says, “What you need is a night Nanny.”

Brian snorts. “I’m not leaving my kid with any fucking Fairy Poppins,” he says.

Emmett waves a hand dismissively. “No, honey, but think about it. If you had an on-call baby-sitter, then you could go out any night you wanted to after Gus was asleep. You said he’s always in bed by 7.30 at the latest, and you know that neither of you would be caught dead going out earlier than that anyway.”

Blake nods agreement.

“You could find a college student or someone,” he says. “They could come to your house and study there while you go out for a few hours. I’m sure you could find one you’d feel comfortable with trusting.”

So am I.

I can think of one right off the bat.

I look at Brian and see him grinning back at me, tongue in cheek and I know he’s had the same thought.

I guess tomorrow I’ll be calling Daphne.

 

*****
 

Brian

Thanks to Emmett’s fucking brain wave, by the time we get home and get Gus into bed we’ve got a plan to get some better fucking balance back into our lives.

We’ll set up a weeknight schedule with Daphne so that she comes over for dinner every night at around 6. That means that if one of us can’t get home, the other isn’t left high and dry. If both of us get caught up in shit, Daphne can collect Gus from Jenn’s and bring him home. If she’s here most nights, it will just become part of Gus’s routine and he likes Daphne so that shouldn’t be a problem. Then if we decide to go out, she can stay here and study and if we’re really late she can crash here and go home in the morning.

We’ll try to make sure one of us is always available to pick Gus up from school on Wednesdays and Thursdays, but the rest of the week is kind of … not so much taken care of, but now we have a … I don’t know … safety net or some shit. More like a fucking safety valve, really.

It means that if we want to go out, we can. We’re not going to be stuck at home like some tragic hetero-wannabes.

If we decide we want to stay in, Daphne can either hang with her BFF for a while, or study in my office or just fuck off home.

We’ll pay her either way.

Of course, if she’s got a fucking hot date one night, that’s no fucking biggie. But Justin says that she’s studying hard at the moment, and will be right through the summer.

She’s doing some fucking Rehabilitation Counseling course. She finished her undergrad degree last year, but now she’s doing this and she’s got another year to go. She’s got exams coming up and then she’ll be doing some sort of practical shit over the summer and will have notes to write up every night, so she’s not going to be spending too much time partying. Apparently her current flat mate is about to graduate and she’s been dreading having to go through all the shit of finding someone else to share the rent. This way, we can make sure that isn’t a problem, so hopefully she’ll go for it.

Fuck it! I’m an ad man.

I can sell anything.

Between convincing her that she’ll be doing us ‘like the biggest favor ever’ and holding out the bait that she won’t have to worry about sharing her tiny flat with any more fucking idiots who don’t even know how to boil an egg without fucking up the whole kitchen (Justin’s heard stories, and I’ve been there) … she’ll buy it.

Or at least, we’ll be able to come to some fucking arrangement.

Something that means that he won’t have to hightail it home every fucking night when he’s in the middle of being fucking brilliant and doesn’t really want to stop in case it all evaporates by morning.

After a week of feeling like I’ve put a fucking millstone round his neck, and not having any fucking clue as to how to cut him loose from it short of pushing him off another fucking cliff and dealing with all the shit that would result from doing anything that fucking self-destructive, I feel …

Relieved. Like somehow we’ve found a way to avert a train wreck.

At least now I’ve got a fucking plan.

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