So this is probably the most effed up thing I've ever written. Plus it's chock-full of obscure sex references that aren't relevant to anything, really. But I guess that's why I like it so much. ;D I can't help but love this couple, even though it's wickedly immoral.

Characters belong to the genius that hosted the Oscars this year.

:D

For a terrifying split second, he seemed to have lost the red.

Stewie searched frantically through his pile of crayons. Without red, the picture would be ruined. It threw off any chance of it becoming an authentic masterpiece. What would the art museums say?

Of course, what was originally supposed to be a drawing of a certain dog turned out looking somewhat like an alpaca at one point, but he fixed that. Sort of.

With a sigh of sweet relief, the child found the red hiding under another sheet of paper. There were several other blank pieces of paper scattered around his room; it was smart to have backups in case your first artistic attempt was butchered beyond repair. Or if you didn't know how to salvage an alpaca-dog mix up. Only the really good ones could fix a mistake of that caliber. He took the red crayon and carefully scribbled in the collar on his drawing. It really brought the picture to life! He couldn't imagine what it would have looked like if he'd had to use pink.

Certain that this was one of his best drawings yet, Stewie decided to add more pizzazz to it in the form of a background and a floating red heart, just to make sure it stayed the best. And nobody would spit on this one.

Rupert watched with interest as the drawing popped more and more off the page with its vibrant colors and uncanny likeness to the real thing. It almost rivaled some of Chris' work.

Scratch that. It was so much better.

Once nothing more could be added to the piece, Stewie set aside all his crayons (he'd organize them later) and signed his name in tiny, vigilant handwriting in the bottom right corner. The drawing was so good he actually considered keeping it for himself, but that wasn't right. It was for Brian, and it would stay that way. Besides, he could look at it all he wanted if it received the honor of being displayed on the fridge. And he knew Brian cared for him too much to deny it that honor.

Stewie slowly ran his fingers over the drawing of the dog he liked so much. He made sure to capture the likeness to a T—bored and slightly irritated, but willing to let certain things slide. See, only real artists put that much thought into their pictures.

He wondered how Brian would react to it. "It" being Stewie's unbelievable act of kindness by going out of his way to create a work of art solely for his friend; no matter what the dog said, he couldn't convince the boy that any of his lovers had ever drawn for him—the gesture was just far too intimate for all of his stupid skanky girlfriends to comprehend.

Overwhelmed all of a sudden, Stewie lay on the ground and rolled over onto his stomach. He stared at the picture, his thoughts filling up with the real dog; his reaction, his gratitude, his smile.

His return "present", fuck yes.

Stewie slapped an arm over his eyes, embarrassed, and sat up. "That came out of nowhere, I swear to Satan," he explained hastily to Rupert. Rupert didn't look too convinced. "Okay, sorry. I'll make it up to you." Stewie scooted over to his teddy bear and held him close.

"Is that better?"

Rupert said no. He was still pretty upset.

Stewie kissed the bear, right on the mouth. Rupert didn't make a sound, so it must not have been satisfactory. "What do you want from me, then?" the baby grumped, exasperated. Some people were just so hard to please!

Rupert's expression made it pretty clear what he wanted from Stewie. Far from being offended, as Rupert did this all time, the child set him down with a sigh and removed his overalls. "This had better shut you up." Rupert said it would.

He took the bear in his lap, so focused that he didn't hear when the door opened. Therefore the deep voice startled him so badly he flinched away from Rupert.

"What're you doing?"

Bright red, Stewie whipped around to face the intruder, frantically making sure to hide the picture without seeming suspicious. "Drawing, what does it look like?!"

Brian didn't look fazed. "I was bored. Do you wanna watch a movie?"

His face still felt warm, so Stewie looked at his feet—and suppressed a surprised giggle at the sight of them. He cleared his throat, pulling his bare legs up to his chest. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. As long as it's not stupid!"

"When do I ever pick a stupid movie," Brian asked dryly, crossing his arms. He noticed that Stewie was hiding something behind his back, and stepped closer. His suspicions turned out to be correct when he saw the child reach back quickly and swipe it out of sight.

"I dunno, they're just always stupid comedies or whatever," Stewie said, distracted. Brian scoffed.

"You practically died during the last movie. I thought you were literally going to stop breathing."

"Because it was just that bad."

"People don't laugh like that when they think something's bad," the dog countered, staring down the baby with a smirk.

"That was a fake laugh!"

"I've heard your fake laugh. This was definitely not your fake laugh."

Stewie scowled, flipping Brian off. "Just go pick something, and make sure it's not as bad as the last one!"

Brian chuckled; they both knew he had won. "Wow, so you want something even funnier? Okay, but that'll be hard to find."

"Yes, it will," Stewie agreed, looking around for Rupert. Oh wait, he just totally blew his cover… He NEVER wanted to admit to liking that movie…it was so pedestrian

"Ah ha," Brian said, grinning. As Stewie shifted away, the dog could see a little of what the kid was hiding. "What's that?" he asked, his interest piqued. "Did you draw it?"

Stewie threw himself in front of the paper, beet red. "YES, I drew it! Where do you get off on looking at my things?! Did I ASK if you wanted to see it?! Did I?!"

Brian backed up, surprised. "Uh…no?"

The child froze, noticing the look on his friend's face. Wow. That outburst must've made him look irresistible in Brian's eyes.

"Sorry…it just looked really good…," the dog continued, holding his hands up in peace. "I won't ask anymore. Sheesh."

Oh, don't say sheesh! That just suggests that you're annoyed with me! Don't be annoyed with me!

Stewie recoiled a bit, sitting up straighter. "Um…I-I'm sorry…it's just…not finished." He tried a sheepish smile, looking more disturbed than anything. Brian raised an eyebrow, not sure how to continue this conversation.

"Well uh…I'm gonna go…search for a movie. Funnier than 'The Other Guys'. Come down when you finish your drawing." The dog left then, closing the door behind him out of habit. He knew Stewie liked it closed.

The child's heart sunk. He looked down at his masterpiece, thinking how happy he had been with it. Now it just seemed like a wasted effort. Brian would never love him that way if all Stewie did was yell at him. The baby sighed, ashamed of his attitude. There was no way he was going to give that picture to Brian now.

Rupert looked up at him with pleading eyes. Stewie shoved the bear away in frustration. "Not now, Rupert! You know I'm only using you!"

Rupert knew. But he didn't care because he was just a slut.

A slut filled with manufactured stuffing.

Stewie patted his bear's head and sat him upright affectionately. That's why he liked Rupert.

The movie made Stewie fall off the couch about four times, and they weren't even through the first hour yet.

Sure, it wasn't appropriate for a normal one-year-old to watch, but Stewie always, always made the argument that he wasn't like normal one-year-olds. Brian believed it, of course, but being a responsible adult, he still had to—sometimes—take into account the child's age. Tonight, seeing as everyone else was out having dinner at a hoity-toity restaurant that didn't allow dogs to celebrate Peter's inexplicable raise, Brian decided to let it slide.

He smiled down at the kid, who was currently covering his mouth in pleasure as he intently watched "the goddess" Kristen Wiig on the television, spouting off profanities as her best friend built a friendship with a complete bitch. Stewie had put up quite a fuss when he found out Brian wasn't allowed to come to the restaurant; so much that the family decided it was best not to bring a crying baby to such a place, and dumped him on Brian. Of course, the moment the family left, the child was completely fine and he and the dog had a good laugh over how things turned out. The dinner was going on longer than Brian had thought it would, but he was all right with that. He was touched, though not surprised, that Stewie had made that big of a deal just to stay home with him. He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize what it all meant.

Kristen Wiig's character had just drunkenly told off one of the flight attendants, and Stewie was on the floor once again. He was gasping like a fish out of water, delighted. Brian laughed a little himself at the sight; it was so cute. He knew he had done a good job picking the right movie.

"Could she be any more enchanting?!" Stewie cried, wiping at his tears as he laughed his heart out. "Where has she been all my life?!"

Brian knew that anything he said at this time would be ignored, so he just chuckled and crossed his legs on the cushions, enjoying the movie. Stewie eventually got back up on the couch, sat Indian style, and placed his head in his hands, anticipating more.

Unconsciously, he scooted closer to Brian, allowing their feet to touch. It sent a shiver down the child' spine, but the dog didn't seem bothered.

Stewie tried his hardest not to fall off the couch anymore; he wanted to prolong his physical contact with the warm canine beside him, however small or insignificant it may have been.

Stewie wasn't sure when the movie ended.

All he knew was that somehow there was something else on TV, something he thought looked familiar but couldn't put his finger on.

Maybe it was because Brian was feeling him up.

That may have been stretching it a little, but really, what do you call it when someone persistently rubs your back without you asking for it? Or better yet, when you haven't made any implication that you wanted him to keep going?

Not that Stewie had a problem with it. But it was a little weird. Brian normally didn't do this type of thing, especially to Stewie. He hadn't even said anything beforehand, he just…did it. Now that he thought about it, the child couldn't even remember when Brian had started.

The show on the TV changed all of a sudden. This one he recognized. It was the Teletubbies. Oh god, how such a creepy show could capture the attention of a scientific genius such as Stewie was beyond him, but he found that he was entranced, as always. Brian scooted closer. Caught in the spell the Teletubbies were casting on him, Stewie couldn't react.

"Turn it off," Brian said suddenly, sounding perfectly normal for someone who was obviously trying to be sexual.

Stewie tried to reach for the remote, but he couldn't bring himself to budge. Brian was rubbing his snout against the child's neck, slowly and deliberately. Feeling ticklish all of a sudden, Stewie flinched away from the dog, scooting to the far end of the couch where the remote was. Brian grabbed his arm, and the remote was forgotten.

He was pulled back into the dog's lap and Brian wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the child's small frame. Stewie didn't know what was happening. He certainly didn't know how to describe the feeling of Brian invading his personal space. He thought it would've felt good, but was "good" supposed to feel this awkward?

Brian bent down and licked at the boy's face tenderly, apparently not minding the TV anymore. Stewie was pretty sure he squeaked, but he didn't hear anything escape his mouth.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back and the dog was straddling him, not so tender anymore. He started kissing the boy, and at first it was amazing—the shock hadn't worn off, no; but it still thrilled him. However that sensation faded quickly. Brian was getting too rough, and Stewie got scared.

"Brian no," he gasped, his words coming out slurred. He pushed at the dog's nose, but he failed to hinder any of the dog's advances. Stewie couldn't hear anything around him anymore; the TV had either shut off by itself or he had gone deaf.

Brian continued to kiss him like this was just another one-night-stand, like it was routine. Stewie was hurt by the habitual vibe of the dog's actions and refused to kiss back, no matter how much he longed to.

The lab sat up, taking his collar off and setting it aside. Stewie understood what that meant, but he didn't know if he could do anything about it. "Dog, get the hell off me," he said meekly, trying to sound angry.

"It's a return present for the picture," Brian said calmly. Stewie's eyes grew wide with shock.

"How the Devil do you know about that?!"

"It's what you want, and you want it rough." The boy could've slapped the dog for the outright nonsensical bullshit he was spewing if he hadn't been so stunned.

Or if he hadn't been so right.

Still, Stewie wasn't one to be pushed around. If he said no, that was that, end of story. Brian obviously couldn't comprehend this simple fact.

"If I wanted it," the child said slowly, "I would've let you know. Now get. The fuck. Off me."

Brian licked his lips, his expression static. "You've been letting me know for a while."

Stewie wanted to protest, but he was really just surprised by the fact that Brian had caught on to his advances. The dog never let on. Then again, Stewie hadn't really been that discreet about it. Taking advantage of the silence, the lab bent down to kiss the baby again, but this time Stewie was ready. He reached up and bopped the canine in the nose as hard as he could, and rolled off the couch while Brian tried to snap out of his surprise.

"Wait!" Brian called, reaching out for Stewie, but the baby hightailed it out of the living room. Not knowing what else to do, he ran for the kitchen. Once his sock hit the tile, he went sliding into the far wall, cursing loudly as he crashed head-on. Brian entered the room as well, and Stewie, in a panic, scrambled onto the nearest counter and pulled a knife from out of nowhere.

"I don't wanna have to do it, man!" he said bravely, trading his British accent for a typical thug slur.

"It's dangerous to stand on a counter with a knife," Brian said. Stewie stared open-mouthed at him. That was the issue here?

As if his body decided to move on its own, Stewie dropped the knife and leaped off the counter, sliding on his socks yet again. Brian watched him crash into another wall, his expression back to being blank.

A second later Stewie ended up in the upstairs hallway. He wasn't sure how he got there so quickly; he didn't remember climbing up the steps or even leaving the kitchen. But from the sound of creaking stairs below him, he figured he had to get going.

His door wasn't locked. The other doors were. He knew that somehow; he also knew that his door wouldn't lock once he was inside, either, so he had to find a good hiding spot quickly.

There was something off about his room. Everything was still there, but it seemed compressed and suffocating. All his stuffed animal friends were facing his direction, watching him from the corner of the room, even though he knew he hadn't left them there.

His crayons were gone, though. The picture, too.

The door clicked open again and Brian came in, looking about as normal as he'd ever looked. Stewie backed into his dresser, looking around for his baseball bat. It wasn't anywhere. Someone must've taken it.

"Brian, go away," he said shakily. But Brian didn't go away. He entered Stewie's room just as he had earlier that night; calm, bored. Looking for something to do.

"Brian," Stewie said again, louder. His legs were trembling as he supported himself on the dresser behind him. "Go awa—"

He was on the floor then, flat on his belly, dazed. Either he had fallen or Brian had shoved him, but either way he knew the dog was right above him, so he frantically crawled towards his bed—not the ideal location for someone who was about to be raped, but what did make sense about this scenario?

Brian pulled him back by the leg with surprising force. "Ow! Ow, you stupid mutt, that HURT!" Stewie yelled, twisting around to get a look at the dog. Brian's expression was different now; he looked happy for some reason. He managed to pick the struggling toddler up and carry him to the bed, which didn't look at all like Stewie's normal bed, and throw him onto it. Brian climbed on top of the child and continued kissing him like he had been on the couch, as if he hadn't been interrupted by anything.

Stewie batted at the dog furiously, adrenaline shooting through his tiny body like a bullet. Brian's forceful kisses muffled the child's screams of protest, and all the while the boy could feel his clothes being taken off. Before he could fully register the fact, his skin was in direct contact with Brian's soft, cozy fur. He fit under Brian perfectly; the two of them were just the right size for this…embrace.

But now was no time to swoon. His first time with Brian was supposed to be special, not downright scary and weird. And it wouldn't hurt if Brian acted like Brian while it happened.

Stewie tried once more in vain to escape; the room was pitch black and he could only feel his way around the oddly large bed, but he grabbed what he assumed was a pillow and shoved it in the dog's face. Brian actually growled and yanked the pillow right out of Stewie's hands, lobbing it onto the ground with a force the baby didn't even know he had. The pillow split and white feathers flew out from the inside, floating in little spirals to the carpet.

"That's going to be you," the dog said. Stewie blinked, pretty sure that was a threat.

"I don't want to be split!" That was a weird thing to say. This was a weird conversation.

Stewie now knew enough about sex to understand what was going to happen to him. Sex was not a type of cake. But he was sure that the word "splitting" was pretty applicable to it, and that didn't settle well in his stomach.

"You're going to have to get used to it!" Brian countered, flipping the baby over. Stewie collided face-first into the plush bedspread and suddenly knew that he was being…sex'd.

If anyone asked Stewie to explain what sex felt like, he wouldn't know what to say. It was just happening, and the only word that kept flashing through his mind was "pillow". This, he figured, correlated to the whole "splitting" thing.

"Oh Brian, don't!" he cried, wondering if that was the right thing to say. He didn't know much about the process of rape.

"You said you wanted it rough!" Brian grunted back.

"Rough" like "ruff"? Like a dog…ha. Wait, no, getting raped here!

Stewie tried to fight it, but he had heard on countless occasions that sex felt amazing when it was with someone you loved or remotely liked, and he more than remotely liked Brian. Maybe he did want it.

Yeah…it actually wasn't that bad! Perhaps he had just been pretending to not want it to egg the dog on? Who knew and who cared, because he got it all the same.

"Brian, Brian, Brian!" Stewie moaned, grabbing onto the sheets. "Fuck me, yes—FASTER!"

"I'm fucking you, I'm fucking you!" Brian cried, panting and exhausted. Stewie would not have that—he had finally begun to enjoy this. Brian was not about to quit on him.

"Hurry it up, I want feathers!" Stewie demanded, now just feeling unbelievably annoyed that he wasn't getting what he wanted. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Faster, faster!"

"Faster…"

"Stewie?"

"Fas…"

Stewie opened his eyes. The contrast of the dream to what he woke up to jarred him considerably. He was still in his room, but everything was back to normal. All the stuffed animals were where he had left them. The crayons were still scattered, the picture still safely hidden. Even the bed was back to being his own bed. And there was no split pillow on the floor.

The boy slowly turned to his right, coming face-to-face with Brian. But it was the real Brian, not the cruel, mechanical one that had somehow crept into his dream. The dog was looking at him with sleepy, slightly worried eyes, and Stewie's heart melted. He noticed his companion's arms were wrapped around him protectively, like they always were when they slept with each other. Stewie snuggled closer into the dog's chest and sighed, just trying to shake off that awfully strange dream.

"Are you okay? Was that a nightmare?" Brian whispered, tightening his hold on the child. Stewie thought for a moment and decided, yes, it really was a nightmare. An arousing nightmare, but still one nonetheless. He nodded his head against his friend's soft fur, relishing in the genuine feel of it.

"I'm all right," he said, yawning. "Did I miss the movie?"

"You zoned out after a while, which really shocked me," Brian said, smiling. "You were loving Kristen Wiig." Stewie snorted. Who wouldn't love Kristen Wiig? "I looked over and you were sleeping, curled up in a little ball. It's been a couple hours…" He yawned. "I waited up for the family after putting you to bed. Hope you don't mind me joining you in here. Peter and Lois are in their room, still…um…still celebrating, if you know what I mean."

"That's horrifying. Why don't you just sleep in here permanently?" Stewie asked hopefully, using the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. If humans found that move adorable, a dog sure as hell should.

Chuckling, Brian yawned again; a loud, grand yawn—the kind that most dogs do after a long day. "I dunno, kid. You'd get tired of the company pretty fast. It's nice to have your own bed." Stewie found the dog's sleepy talk incredibly adorable and nestled closer.

"I like having you here," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It's…nice."

"Hmm."

Hesitantly: "Hey, Dog?"

"Mmyep?"

"I, um…about earlier today…when you asked about the picture I was drawing…" He felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Apologizing was not one of his strong suits, but it was always easier when he remembered that he would always be better at it than Brian was. Heck, anyone was better at apologizing than Brian was. "I'm…well…I snapped at you. And I'm…"

"S'okay," Brian said, stroking the kid's back affectionately. Stewie immediately thought back to his dream and how weird that back-rubbing had felt. But in reality, it was as nice as he'd ever imagined it to be. "I wasn't mad or anything." Another yawn. This one seemed final.

A few minutes passed, filled with comfortable silence. Stewie's face was still buried in his friend's coat and he could therefore only see fuzz, but he could eventually hear the soft, peaceful breathing that sleep brought. It helped him fall asleep shortly after, delving into a pleasant dream about horses and chocolate, with no pillows in sight.