Fic: Never Did Run Smooth - Part III (Brian/Justin, QaF, Gus POV)

[freakykat]

banner by qafmaniac

Title: Never Did Run Smooth (Gus series, 3/3)
Author: freakykat
Time Frame: post 513 - future fic
Series/Sequel: Gus series/Sequel to By any other name
Summary: The kids get a surprising result.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Humorous, some cursing of course, way too schmoopy
Notes: Thanks to wouldbedorothy for beta-reading. Always the best! Fair warning: Some serious kind of schmoop. Now granted I tried to keep it IC (and if I didn't let me know) but like wouldbedorothy so wisely said: "After 15 years and two kids, they get to be schmoopy." :) Enjoy! This is dedicated to devotedfan! Have a great birthday!!
Disclaimer: I own none of this - they belong to Showtime, Cowlip and others. I only play with them a little. Once I'm done, I'll dust them off and give them back.

Thanks to everyone for all the encouragement and great feedback! I loved writing this and hope you guys enjoyed reading it!

By Any Other Name

Never Did Run Smooth : Part I
Never Did Run Smooth : Part II



Never Did Run Smooth - Part III


The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare



“Check.”

“Check?”

“Yep. Check.”

I look down at the chess board. I can’t believe this. I’m getting my ass kicked by a seven year old. “Damn it.” I have to talk to Uncle Ted about teaching her this stupid game. “You sure you’re not cheating, Ally-Mac?”

Her eyes flash annoyance and she sticks her tongue out. “Daddy’s right, Gus. You’re just a sore loser -- like Dad.” I make a face at her because, okay, maybe DJ and I hate to lose, but she and Dad aren’t any better. She watches as I reluctantly move one of my knights, the only move I have left really, to block one of hers, and then smiles. Crap.

It’s quick. Her hand moves the piece and she grins at me as she says, “Checkmate. Sucker.”

“No more games with you.” I say, gathering up the pieces and board as I ignore her laugh. She heads to the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll go pick a movie, since I won.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. But no Disney crap.”

She stops and smirks quite well for someone her age. “Please. A little credit.”

She clunks down the stairs to the lower floor, stumbles once, says something she shouldn’t, and then it’s quiet. It might take her some time to pick out what she wants to see, so I take my time cleaning up our mess. I wonder if she closed the door at the bottom of the stairs. The loft’s silence is welcome, though, so I‘m not going to complain. It gives me time to think, and I always feel like we’re the best here, the four of us. It had taken a while, getting used to owning the whole building. It was a little much at first. But once it had been finished, it was great. Who the hell else could own a three story loft except for Dad and DJ?

There’s the sound of shoes clomping up the stairs and Al comes barreling at me, holding my cell phone in one hand. Her face is flushed, and my heart starts to race.

“Something wrong, Al?”

“I don’t know! It’s Auntie Emmy, but he won’t tell me anything. Says he wants to talk to you.”

I grab the phone, taking a seat on the small couch in the Dads’ living room, and Al stands on the cushions next to me, bending to press her ear against the phone. I tilt it slightly so she can hear better and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Auntie Em?”

“Hey, baby! I just wanted to give you a heads up about your fathers.”

I close my eyes. Great. Another damn fight. I try not to glance at Al, but I can sense her disappointment. I thought going out with Uncle Michael and Ben was a good sign. They had seemed fine when they’d left. DJ had even laughed at something Dad had said. I’d taken that as a sign they had talked.

Damn it.

“How bad was it?”

There’s a pause and then a, “Huh?”

“The fight, Auntie Em. How bad?”

“What fight?” His voice crackles over the line and then he exclaims, “Oh, no! No! That’s not what I meant, sweetie. Fuck no! Oh, sorry, baby.” He takes a deep breath, and I swear he’s trying not to giggle. What the hell is going on? “No. It was great. Seriously, Gus, if you had been here…”

I can look at Al now, and she’s grinning. She talks into the phone. “Tell us what happened, Auntie Emmy!”

“Drew, hold on, let me finish here!” I can hear him sigh and then he continues. “Drew says hi and that he thinks your Dad was totally justified.” There’s some sort of debate, and I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin. I tap my shoe on the floor, shrugging when Al holds her hands out.

“Hello, Auntie Em?”

“Hey! Sorry about that. Okay, so here’s the blow by blow, no pun intended. Your dads came in together, to the shock and relief of the whole of Woody’s, ‘cause you know everyone really is rooting for them. And whatever you did, baby, good job. Proud of you! I always knew you had a matchmaker in you.”

I stifle a groan. Jesus, it was like pulling nails. “Thank you, Auntie Em. Now what happened?”

“Right! Anyway, they came in, a little subdued for them, you know. Not their usual ‘Get a fucking room!’ - you didn’t hear that, Alex - all over each other. But it was looking good. Your Dad kept saying things and Justin would laugh. I was so fucking glad, I bought us all a drink. Somewhere after, like, half an hour, your Dad left to do something -- still don’t know what -- and some baby-faced thing sits down next to Justin.”

Al mumbles an, “Uh-oh,” and I know my eyes must look like saucers.

“So he starts to - Is Al still listening? Never mind. He starts to come on to him. It was really quite sad. I mean, I think those lines were being used when I was your age. Poor thing was fucking hammered. Justin was nice and kept politely turning him down. Course, guy didn’t take a hint and put his hand on Justin’s - well, you can fill-in-the-blank there. At that point, Ben and Drew were about to get up and intervene, but that’s when your Dad showed up. I mean, I’m sure Justin could have taken care of it, of course… Anyway, your Dad grabs the guy by the collar, literally picks him up and moves him to the next empty stool, then warns him that the next time ‘you put your fucking hands on my husband, you’ll be pulling back stubs.’”

Al covers her mouth with her hand.

All I can say is, “Holy shit!” I glance at Al and she nods.

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t hear anything.”

Auntie Em practically squeals over the phone. “I know! I fell off my goddamn stool when I heard him. I think all of Woody’s came to a screeching halt. It’s not like we don’t know how your Dad feels… but, okay, it’s that… he’s never done anything like that.”

I shake my head. “What did DJ do?” I know he hates being treated like he’s still some kid.

“Oh, that was the best part! Your Dad turns to him and starts to say that he knows Justin doesn’t like him to act like Justin can’t take care of himself, but that he wasn’t just going to sit around and let some guy touch him… and so on. And, somewhere in the middle of that semi-sweet speech, Justin jumps him.”

Al starts to hop up and down. “Woo-hoo!”

I wave at her to stop. “Al, I can’t hear! So, DJ jumped Dad?”

“Yeah. They were getting hot and heavy at the bar. I think Brian said something about needing to get home and they left. That’s why I was calling. Thinking you and Al should make like a tree and be scarce.”

I laugh at that because -- it’s so Auntie Em. “Right. They’ll be here any minute. We’ll disappear. Thanks for calling, Auntie Em.”

“Anytime, baby. Good job with whatever you said to your Dad.” He made a few kissing sounds, and then the line went dead.

I look at Al, who is doing some kind of victory dance around the coffee table, and start to laugh. “We better get out of here, kid.”

She makes her way to the stairs, still doing that stupid dance, when the door to the upper loft opens and the Dads crash through. They don’t see us, and I push Al as fast I can, even as she cranes to see for herself that they are making up.

Oh yeah… they certainly are…



Al is sitting at the counter, kneading the cookie dough I gave her and smiling at me every other minute. I can’t say I blame her. It’s nice to have some semblance of order around here. I search the drawers but can’t find the cookie cutters, and then I remember we had taken them upstairs to the other kitchen.

“Um…”

Al looks at me, pausing mid-knead. “What?”

“No cookie cutters.”

She blinks at me and I point up. She glances down at the dough and tilts her head to one side. “Maybe we can make one big cookie.”

“Nuh-uh. Remember what happened last time? No thank you. No more firefighters.”

She strains to listen, but really the walls in this place were practically soundproof - on purpose, thank you - so there was no way of knowing what the hell was going on upstairs. “They could be asleep.”

I snort and wipe my flour-dusted hands on a kitchen towel. “Doubtful. They haven’t checked on us yet, which means… well, it just means it’d be a bad idea.”

Al shrugs. “They’ll be in their room, though.”

I shake my head again. No way was I going to chance it. I pull out the Saran Wrap and take the dough, placing it in a bowl and covering it. I look at her pouting face and make one back. “We can make them tomorrow night.”

She leans her chin on her hands, looking up at me. “Fine. But can we at least get popcorn for the movie?”

I laugh, pulling out the box. “You got it.”




We’re sitting on the couch in the family room, and Al’s fallen asleep somewhere between the point where Gonzo was flying in the air, being shot at by Doc Hopper, and when Miss Piggy and Kermit went on their ill-fated date. I know she’s tired, since the latter is her favorite scene. I can see her on the other end, one hand falling off the edge, the other one tucked under her face.

I stretch my legs out behind her and try not to kick her as I make myself more comfortable, lying down on my side. I can feel the drowsiness falling over me now and yawn to keep it at bay.

I was so going to see a giant Animal scare the crap out of those evil dudes.

And I’m waiting for Dad and DJ to make an appearance.

There are footsteps growing louder and hushed whispers, and I smile. The Dads had come to check on us. I close my eyes so that they don’t realize I’m waiting for them. It’s not like I’m still nine years old and need my Dads to tuck me in. I sense when they enter and pause at the door.

“Do you want to carry them?”

“Um… have we time-warped back ten years? Does Gus look a kid to you?“

“Yes.“

Dad snorts. “Well, I think he’d be pretty pissed if we carried him to bed, Justin.”

Thank you, Dad.

“He looks comfortable. I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Then we don’t.”

I feel a hand over my hair a moment later. It’s Dad, and he leans down to give my forehead a peck. I know he’s doing the same to Al a second later. DJ covers us both with a blanket, his hand brushes back my hair, and I try not to let a giddy laugh out. Okay, maybe mentally I was still nine.

It’s back to the way it’s supposed to be.

I assume they’ll be going back upstairs, but when I hear DJ make a little gasp, I know he just saw what was onscreen.

“Oh, come on, Brian. Can we just watch the end?”

I try not to laugh at the sound of his voice and Dad’s tortured sigh. I hear him flop on the loveseat across from us and his “oof!” when DJ sits on him. “Sunshine, you might want to think about cutting back on the fucking sweets.”

I open my eyes slightly and I can make them out through the misty haze of my vision. They’re both in their jogging pants, Dad with his damn wifebeater and DJ in one of Dad’s old shirts. I try not to sigh… They’re going back to their honeymoon phase, I can tell. DJ smiles up at Dad, touching his face with his fingers. “It doesn’t matter what you say… you give a shit.”

I can tell Dad is trying not to smile as he looks at the TV. “Shove it, Sunshine.”

“I can’t believe you used the term husband.”

DJ is grinning now, and Dad grimaces. “Shit. You’re never forgetting that, are you?”

“No fucking way.“ DJ wraps his arms around Dad’s neck and says as he kisses his temple. “It was sweet and romantic.“

“Justin… stop.” Dad is making a face and DJ is playing with his hair now.

“You give a shit,” DJ begins to sing-song between kisses on Dad’s face. “You so care about me… You love me SOOOO much….” I think Dad is rolling his eyes, but I can’t really make it out. “Brian Kinney gives a shit.”

There’s a small pause, and then I’m sure Dad grins and looks up at DJ, with that look he always gets when he looks at him, and I almost laugh at his response.

“Fuck you.”

DJ gives a laugh and I close my eyes. I guess this is some weird inside joke between them. I think I’m going to pretend to wake up so they stop, because it feels wrong to be a part of this moment that’s between them. But, before I do, DJ speaks again.

“Did you really think I was going to leave, Brian?”

“Justin…”

“Brian.”

There is a sigh, which I know came from Dad, and then he surprises me by answering. I can sense he‘s looking at me and Al before he does. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?”

“I’m a shit, Justin. Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.” I want to correct him, to tell him that he’s the best man I know and the greatest Dad, but I know that if he knew I could hear him it would be…

Not good.

“You can be difficult.” There’s a snort and DJ ignores it. “But so can I. We both make mistakes, Brian. It’s who we are.” I’m not sure what is going on, but I hear a kiss and I figure DJ is doing what he does best. Soothing. “But don’t you think fifteen years and the two kids makes a difference?”

“You left more than once in the fifteen years, you know.”

“Yeah. And, as I recall those times, no matter how stupid the reasons, we needed the time apart. But we found our way back…”

“I swear, Sunshine, if you burst into song, I will divorce your ass no matter…”

DJ is laughing and asks, “No matter what?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

Dad sighs. “No matter how much I love you. Okay? Happy?” Then, after a pause, he asks quietly, “Did you really think I don’t respect you?”

“No. I was just… being me. You know, one of those shit times.”

“You know I do, Justin.”

“I know.”

“No more bullshit, then, about the tricking?”

There’s a pause and Dad’s voice sounds irritated when he says. “Justin.”

“You never said it out loud, Brian.”

“For crying -- did I really need to? I married you. You know I wouldn’t have if…” Dad stops and then softly finishes. “It’s been years, Justin. You know that.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear it.”

I open my eyes for a moment and see that their foreheads are touching now. They’re smiling at each other, so I close my eyes again.

“So, no more bullshit about the non-tricking?”

“No more. No shit about leaving you?”

“No.”

“And no more stupid, irrational, I cannot believe you still think he could possibly be an issue, shit about Ethan?”

“The fucking fiddler?”

“Brian… it was over a decade ago. It was stupid… on both our parts… and it was over back then. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

There’s some silence, where I know their mouths are busy doing other things, so I squeeze my eyes tight and wait for them to speak. Or go away. Whatever happens first.

“You two can stop pretending to sleep now.”

Crap.

I sigh, open my eyes and glance down the length of the couch at Al, who’s grinning at me. “You, too?”

She nods and starts giggling.

The Dads are shaking their heads and trying to look stern. I’m sure we’re getting a lecture about privacy, eavesdropping, and all that good stuff. Though they need to think about having these conversation in places that aren’t the family room. But at the moment… with Al laughing, DJ looking ready to join her, and Dad staring at them both the way he is… I could give a shit.


Epilogue


Dad hands me a picture and silently points out the ridiculous middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt with socks up to his knees. I snicker and DJ turns to us, rolling his eyes before returning to talking with Aunt Daphne on the phone, and cooking dinner while he does so.

It’s his turn and I’m grateful. Dad never cooks. He tried once, but… yeah. No. Take-out king in our house. That’s him.

Al climbs onto Dad’s lap, still wearing the stupid mouse ear hat I got her, and giggles at the picture Dad is holding. He makes a face and shakes his head.

I’m still as shocked at his grand sacrifice as I was when he first told us about it.

I know he’s planning a new surprise “vacation! damn it don’t call it a honeymoon!” for their anniversary, but it says a lot about how much he loves us that he planned a family one.

Ma had almost busted a gut when he’d told her about it, and he still refuses to talk to her.

He puts down the stack of photos. “I can’t believe I did that.”

I laugh, looking at a particularly embarrassing one of Dad and DJ. “You and me both. What made you do it?”

“Some little shit I know - you didn’t hear that, Jitterbug - once put the idea in my head.” He glances at DJ, that look he always gets that I can’t even begin to describe, and smiles. “I just wanted to prove I listen.”

I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about and shrug. Whatever. It was a fucking awesome vacation. I don’t care how old you are.

DJ is laughing at something Aunt Daphne is saying and looks over at us. “Oh, nothing. Just making Mom’s meatloaf and looking at the pictures from when we took…” He stops abruptly when Dad starts to laugh really loud, and throws a towel at him. “Shut up, asshole!”

Dad lets go of Al, who takes his seat as he makes his way to the kitchen. He smiles and DJ laughs, leaning over the counter to kiss him.

I look at Al and she shrugs at me.

“Ally-Mac, our parents are so weird.”

We glance at them, watch as they talk quietly and share another kiss…

She grins at me. “Yeah. Ain’t it great?”

I laugh.

I couldn’t agree more.


End.